The Worthines of Wales Wherein are more then a thousand seuerall things rehearsed: some set out in prose to the pleasure of the Reader, and with such varietie of verse for the beautifying of the Book, as no doubt shal delight thousands to vnderstand. Which worke is enterlarded with many wonders and right strange matter to consider of: All the which labour and deuice is drawne forth and set out by Thomas Churchyard, to the glorie of God, and honour of his Prince and Countrey |
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A discourse of Mountaynes.
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 | The Worthines of Wales |  |
A discourse of Mountaynes.
Dame
Nature drew, these Mountaynes in such sort,
As though the one, should yeeld the other grace:
Or as each Hill, it selfe were such a Fort,
They scornde to stoope, to giue the Cannon place.
If all were playne, and smooth like garden ground,
Where should hye woods, and goodly groues be found?
The eyes delight, that lookes on euery coast,
With pleasures great, and fayre prospect were lost.
As though the one, should yeeld the other grace:
They scornde to stoope, to giue the Cannon place.
If all were playne, and smooth like garden ground,
Where should hye woods, and goodly groues be found?
The eyes delight, that lookes on euery coast,
With pleasures great, and fayre prospect were lost.
On Hill we vewe, farre of both feeld and flood,
Feele heate or cold, and so sucke vp sweete ayre:
Behold beneath, great wealth and worldly good,
See walled Townes, and looke on Countries fayre,
And who so sits, or stands on Mountayne hye,
Hath halfe a world, in compasse of his eye:
A platforme made, of Nature for the nonce,
Where man may looke, on all the earth at once.
Feele heate or cold, and so sucke vp sweete ayre:
Behold beneath, great wealth and worldly good,
See walled Townes, and looke on Countries fayre,
And who so sits, or stands on Mountayne hye,
Hath halfe a world, in compasse of his eye:
A platforme made, of Nature for the nonce,
Where man may looke, on all the earth at once.
These ragged Rocks, brings playnest people foorth,
On Mountaine wyld, the hardest Horse is bred:
Though grasse thereon, be grosse and little worth,
Sweete is the foode, where hunger so is fed.
On rootes and hearbs, our fathers long did feede,
And neere the Skye, growes sweetest fruit in deede:
On marrish meares, and watrie mossie ground,
Are rotten weedes, and rubbish drosse vnsound.
On Mountaine wyld, the hardest Horse is bred:
Though grasse thereon, be grosse and little worth,
Sweete is the foode, where hunger so is fed.
On rootes and hearbs, our fathers long did feede,
And neere the Skye, growes sweetest fruit in deede:
On marrish meares, and watrie mossie ground,
Are rotten weedes, and rubbish drosse vnsound.
The fogges and mists, that rise from vale belowe,
A reason makes, that highest Hilles are best:
And when such fogges, doth ore the Mountayne goe,
In foulest daies, fayre weather may be gest.
As bitter blasts, on Mountaynes bigge doth blowe,
So noysome smels, and sauours breede belowe:
The Hill stands cleere, and cleane from filthie smell,
They finde not so, that doth in Ualley dwell.
A reason makes, that highest Hilles are best:
And when such fogges, doth ore the Mountayne goe,
In foulest daies, fayre weather may be gest.
As bitter blasts, on Mountaynes bigge doth blowe,
So noysome smels, and sauours breede belowe:
The Hill stands cleere, and cleane from filthie smell,
They finde not so, that doth in Ualley dwell.
The Mountayne men, liue longer many a yeere,
Then those in Uale, in playne or marrish soyle:
A lustie hart, a cleane complexion cleere
They haue on Hill, that for hard liuing toyle.
With Ewe and Lambe, with Goates and Kids they play,
In greatest toyles, to rub out wearie day:
And when to house, and home good fellowes drawe,
The lads can laugh, at turning of a strawe.
Then those in Uale, in playne or marrish soyle:
They haue on Hill, that for hard liuing toyle.
With Ewe and Lambe, with Goates and Kids they play,
In greatest toyles, to rub out wearie day:
And when to house, and home good fellowes drawe,
The lads can laugh, at turning of a strawe.
No ayre so pure, and wholesome as the Hill,
Both man and beast, delights to be thereon:
In heate or cold, it keepes one nature still,
Trim neate and drye, and gay to go vpon.
A place most fit, for pastime and good sport,
To which wyld Stagge, and Bucke doth still resort:
To crye of Hounds, the Mountayne ecco yeelds,
A grace to Uale, a beautie to the feelds.
Both man and beast, delights to be thereon:
In heate or cold, it keepes one nature still,
Trim neate and drye, and gay to go vpon.
A place most fit, for pastime and good sport,
To which wyld Stagge, and Bucke doth still resort:
To crye of Hounds, the Mountayne ecco yeelds,
A grace to Uale, a beautie to the feelds.
It stands for world, as though a watch it were,
A stately gard, to keepe greene meddowe myld:
The Poets fayne, on shoulders it doth beare
The Heauens hye, but there they are beguyld.
The maker first, of Mountayne and of Uale,
Made Hill a wall, to clip about the Dale:
A strong defence, for needfull fruit and Corne,
That els by blast, might quickly be forlorne.
A stately gard, to keepe greene meddowe myld:
The Poets fayne, on shoulders it doth beare
The Heauens hye, but there they are beguyld.
The maker first, of Mountayne and of Uale,
Made Hill a wall, to clip about the Dale:
A strong defence, for needfull fruit and Corne,
That els by blast, might quickly be forlorne.
If boystrous wynds, were not withstood by strength,
Repulst by force, and driuen backward too,
They would destroy, our earthly ioyes at length,
And through their rage, they would much mischiefe doo.
God sawe what smart, and griefe the earth would byde
By sturdie stormes, and pearcing tempests pryde:
So Mountaynes made, to saue the lower soyle,
For feare the earth, should suffer shamefull spoyle.
Repulst by force, and driuen backward too,
They would destroy, our earthly ioyes at length,
And through their rage, they would much mischiefe doo.
God sawe what smart, and griefe the earth would byde
By sturdie stormes, and pearcing tempests pryde:
So Mountaynes made, to saue the lower soyle,
For feare the earth, should suffer shamefull spoyle.
How could weake leaues, and blossomes hang on tree,
If boystring wynds, should braunches dayly beate:
How could poore soules, in Cottage quiet bee,
If higher grounds, did not defend their seate.
Who buylds his bower, right vnder foote of hill,
Hath little cold, and weather warme at will:
Thus proue I here, the Mountaine frendeth all,
Stands stiffe gaynst stormes, like steele or brazen wall.
If boystring wynds, should braunches dayly beate:
If higher grounds, did not defend their seate.
Who buylds his bower, right vnder foote of hill,
Hath little cold, and weather warme at will:
Thus proue I here, the Mountaine frendeth all,
Stands stiffe gaynst stormes, like steele or brazen wall.
You may compare, a King to Mountayne hye,
Whose princely power, can byde both bront and shocke
Of bitter blast, or Thunderbolt from Skye,
His Fortresse stands, vpon so firme a Rocke.
A Prince helps all, and doth so strongly sit,
That none can harme, by fraude, by force nor wit.
The weake must leane, where strength doth most remayne,
The Mountayne great, commaunds the little Playne.
Whose princely power, can byde both bront and shocke
Of bitter blast, or Thunderbolt from Skye,
His Fortresse stands, vpon so firme a Rocke.
A Prince helps all, and doth so strongly sit,
That none can harme, by fraude, by force nor wit.
The weake must leane, where strength doth most remayne,
The Mountayne great, commaunds the little Playne.
As Mountayne is, a noble stately thing,
Thrust full of stones, and Rocks as hard as steele:
A peereles peece, comparde vnto a King,
Who sits full fast, on top of Fortunes wheele:
So is the Dale, a place of suttle ayre,
A den of drosse, oft tymes more foule then fayre:
A durtie Soyle, where water long doth hyde,
Yet ritch withall, it cannot be denyde.
Thrust full of stones, and Rocks as hard as steele:
A peereles peece, comparde vnto a King,
Who sits full fast, on top of Fortunes wheele:
So is the Dale, a place of suttle ayre,
A den of drosse, oft tymes more foule then fayre:
A durtie Soyle, where water long doth hyde,
Yet ritch withall, it cannot be denyde.
But wealth mars wit, and weares out vertue cleane,
An eating worme, a Cancker past recure:
A trebble loude, but not a merrie meane,
That Musick makes, but rather iarres procure:
A stirrer vp, of strife and leaud debate,
The ground of warre, that stayneth euery state
With giftes and bribes, that greedie glutton feedes
And filles the gut, whereon great treason breedes.
An eating worme, a Cancker past recure:
A trebble loude, but not a merrie meane,
That Musick makes, but rather iarres procure:
A stirrer vp, of strife and leaud debate,
The ground of warre, that stayneth euery state
With giftes and bribes, that greedie glutton feedes
And filles the gut, whereon great treason breedes.
Wealth fosters pride, and heaues vp haughtie hart,
Makes wit oreweene, and man beleeue to farre:
Enfects the mynd, with vice in euery part,
That quickly sets, the sences all at warre.
In Ualley ritch, these mischiefes nourisht are,
God planted peace, on Mountayne poore and bare:
By sweat of browes, the people liues on Hill,
Not sleight of brayne, ne craft nor cunning skill.
Makes wit oreweene, and man beleeue to farre:
That quickly sets, the sences all at warre.
In Ualley ritch, these mischiefes nourisht are,
God planted peace, on Mountayne poore and bare:
By sweat of browes, the people liues on Hill,
Not sleight of brayne, ne craft nor cunning skill.
Where dwels disdayne, discord or dubble waies,
But where ritch Cubs, and currish Karles are found?
Where is more loue, who hath more happie daies,
Then those poore hynds, that digges and delues the ground.
Perhaps you say, so hard the Rocks may bee,
Ne Corne nor grasse, nor plough thereon you see:
Yet loe the Lord, such blessing there doth giue,
That sweet content, with Oten Cakes can liue.
But where ritch Cubs, and currish Karles are found?
Where is more loue, who hath more happie daies,
Then those poore hynds, that digges and delues the ground.
Perhaps you say, so hard the Rocks may bee,
Ne Corne nor grasse, nor plough thereon you see:
Yet loe the Lord, such blessing there doth giue,
That sweet content, with Oten Cakes can liue.
Sowre Whey and Curds, can yeeld a sugred tast,
Where sweete Martchpane, as yet was neuer knowne:
When emptie gorge, hath bole of Milke embrast,
And Cheese and bread, hath dayly of his owne,
He craues no feast, nor seekes no banquets fine,
He can disgest, his dinner without wine:
So toyles out life, and likes full well this trade,
Not fearing death, because his count is made.
Where sweete Martchpane, as yet was neuer knowne:
When emptie gorge, hath bole of Milke embrast,
And Cheese and bread, hath dayly of his owne,
He craues no feast, nor seekes no banquets fine,
He can disgest, his dinner without wine:
So toyles out life, and likes full well this trade,
Not fearing death, because his count is made.
Who sleepes so sound, as he that hath no Sheepe,
Nor heard of Beasts, to pastor and to feede?
Who feares the Woolfe, but he who Lambes doth keepe,
And many an hower, is forst to watch in deede.
Though gold be gay, and cordyall in his kynd,
The losse of wealth, grypes long a greedie mynd.
Poore Mountayne folke, possesse not such great store,
But when its gon, they care not much therefore.
Nor heard of Beasts, to pastor and to feede?
Who feares the Woolfe, but he who Lambes doth keepe,
And many an hower, is forst to watch in deede.
Though gold be gay, and cordyall in his kynd,
The losse of wealth, grypes long a greedie mynd.
Poore Mountayne folke, possesse not such great store,
But when its gon, they care not much therefore.
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