University of Virginia Library


27

A praise of Poetrie,

some notes therof drawen out of the Apologie, the noble minded Knight, sir Phillip Sidney wrate.

[_]

Sidney's notes have been omitted.

When world was at the very woorst
And vice did much abound
And for offence the earth was curst
Yet charitie was found.
Among the wise and woorthie sort
Who euer had good chance
with treble fame, by their report
True vertue did aduance.
The Poets and Philosophers
Stept first on stately stage
And plaid their parts with hazards great
In euery world and age.
In eury age while wits of men
Could iudge the good from bad
Who gat the gift of toong or pen
Of world great honor had.
Good Poets were in hie esteeme,
When learning grew in price
Their vertue and their verse did seeme
A great rebuke to vice.
With blunt base people of small sence
They fall now in disdaine
But Sydneyes booke in their defence
Doth raise them vp againe.

28

And sets them next Diuines in ranke
As members meete and fit
To strike the worlds blinde boldnes blanke
And whet the bluntest wit.
Heere followes Histories good store
That much thereof shall tell
If paines may purchase thanks therefore
My hope is answerd well.
Amphyons gift and grace was great
In Thebes old stories saie
And beasts and birds would leaue their meats
To heare Orpheus plaie.
In Rome were three of peereles fame
That florisht in their daies
Which three did beare the onely name
Of knowledge, skill and praise.
In Italy of yore did dwell
Three men of spechall spreete
Whose gallant stiles did sure excell
Their verses were so sweete.
In France three more of fame we finde
Whose bookes do well declare
They beautifide their stately minde
With inward vertues rare.
In England liued three great men
Did Poetrie aduance
And all they with the gift of pen
Gaue glorious world a glance.

29

In Scotland finde we other twaine
Were writers of good woorth
Whose studies through their Poets vaine
Brought many verses foorth.
In Ireland to this present time
Where learning is not mich
With Poetrie in verse or rime
Their language they inrich.
In Wales the very remnant yet
Of Brittaine bloud and race
They honor men of speshall wit
And giues a Poet grace.
Albinus long that rained heere
Made verses in his youth
And in his age as doth appeere
With verse auancst the truth.
Among the sauage Indians still
(Who knowes no ciuill thing)
They honor writers of some skill
Their parents liues to sing.
Among the anshent noble Danes
And Saxsons long ago
We read of many Poets names
Whose woorthy wits did flo.
The graue wise learned men of Greece
Durst neuer shew their art
Till those Philosophers presumd
To plaie the Poets part.

30

Some sang in verse, their naturall
Philosophie we finde
And in sweete songs heroicall
Exprest their secret minde.
So morall counsels vttred were
In that same selfe sweete sort
Thus Poets flourisht eury where
As stories makes report.
And marshall matters in those daies
Were song and set aloft
So some the art of warre did raise
Vnto the skies full oft.
Sibillas prophesies in verse
Were alwaies vttred well
The oracels of Delphos to
In verse would woonders tell.
In pollicies wise Solon plaid
The Poet sundrie waies
Good things were better soong than said
Which gaind immortall praise.
Plato tooke Solons works in hand
And plaid the Poet right
And set that Atlantike Iland
Full plaine before our sight.
The Booke of Herodotus bore
A famous title fine
(Yea such as none did giue before)
Of all the muses nine.

31

Domician was a Poet rare
And did therein excell
So many princes now there are
That loueth Poetrie well.
Three conquerours of mightie powre
Gaue Poets such a grace
That they would neuer frowne nor lowre
On them in any case.
As Plutarke saith, a tyrant wept
A tragedie to heare
Who sawe his murthring minde thereby
As in a glas full cleere.
Amid a great reuolt in Rome
A woorthie Poet stood
And told of bodie and the minde
A tale that did much good.
Two Poets turnd a tyrants hart
From rigour vnto ruth
And wrought him with their wits and art
To fauour right and truth.
Nathan did faine a tale indeed
To Dauid when he fell
Whereon the king tooke such great heed
He saw his follie well.
In Dauids Psalms true miter floes
(And songs of Sallomon)
Where great delite and pleasure groes
Are woorthie looking on.

32

A dialogue that Plato made
Giues Poets great renowne
Brings ech rare wit to sun from shade
To weare the laurell crowne.
True stories old with new delite
Shall fill your harts and eares
For they of Poets praises write
Their books good witnes beares.
If aunshent authors and great kings
No credit gets herein
Darke-sight sees not no stately things
That doth great glory win.
Plucke vp cleere iudgement from the pit
Of poore espreet and sence
And wipe the slime from slubbred wit
And looke on this defence.
That Sydney makes, a matchles worke
A matter fresh and new
That did long while in silence lurke
And seldome came to view.
He cals them Poets that embrace
True vertue in hir kinde
And do not run with rimes at bace
With wanton blotted minde.
All idle verse he counts but vaine
Like cracks of thorns in fire
Or summer showrs of sleete or raine
That turns drie dust to mire.

33

These rurall rymes are but the scum
And froth that flies from seas
Or doth from some sharpe humor come
That breeds a new disease.
In braine that beats about the skull
And so brings foorth a toye
(When musse or moone is at the full)
Of paines or pleasing ioye.
Like long wingd hauke, doth Poet sore
Ore mountaine or hie trees
And loud as cannon can he rore
At ech vice that he sees.
His scope as hie as reasons reach
May clime in order due
Not to giue counsell nor to teach
But to write fancies new.
Of this or that as matter mooues
A well disposed minde
That vice doth hate and vertue loues
And he good cause doth finde.
So ruling pen as duties bounds
Be kept in eury part
For when the Poet trumpet sounds
It must be done by art.
As though a sweete consort should plaie
On instruments most fine
And shew their musicke eury waie
With daintie notes diuine.

34

Ech string in tune as concord were
The guide of all the glee
Whose harmonie must please the eare
With musicke franke and free.
The Poets Lyra must be strung
With wire of siluer sound
That all his verses may be sung
With maidens in a round.
So chaste and harmles should they be
As words from preachers voice
With spiced speech in ech degree
Wherein good men reioice.
Not farsed full of sollies light
That beares ne poies nor weight
But flying cleere in aire like flight
Whose force mounts vp an height.
And seems to pearce the cloudie skies
Such poets Sidney likes
Whose gentle wind makes dust arise
As hie as morice pikes.
That lifts aloft the soldiers hart
Who doth aduance the same
And bends his bodie in ech part
Thereby to purchase fame.
The sword and lance of marshall men
Their Lions courage showes
The poets with their wit and pen
Tels where their furie flowes.

35

They both are knowne as soone as seene
As things of great import
The one may verie far ore weene
The other in some sort.
Stands on his honor sundrie waies
And offreth life therefore
The poet seekes no more but praise
As poets did of yore.
Whose words strooke dead the stoutest groomes
That euer were in place
And sweeped cleane like new made broomes.
The foulest cause or case.
As water washeth ech thing white
And sope might scoure with all
The canker of foule worlds delite
(More sharpe than bitter gall.)
So poets with plaine terms makes cleane
The foulest conshence liues
And by good words from vice doth weane
(Through councell that it giues.)
The childest wit and churlisht mind
Lo then how poets may
Both alter maners and bad kind
To frame a better way.
Of heauens and the highest throne
Where God himselfe doth sit
Good poets still should treat alone
To showe their slowing wit.

36

As by their muse they caried were
Beyond our sight or vew
Into a fine and purer aire
Or speshall climat new.
Where all things are as cleane as gold
From furnace to the stamp
So poets should this world behold
And shine as cleer as lamp.
That light doth giue to eury eie
Which doth in darknes dwell
And glorie show of heauens hie
To damned spreets of hell.
Which darknes in a dungeon keeps
From sight of vertues lore
Where ignorance in slumber sleeps
Like dunse for euermore.
Sir Philip Sydney praiseth those
Whose waking wits doth see
The depth and ground of verse or prose
And speakes with iudgement free.
Of all the matters vnder sun
Both secrets hie and lowe
And ouer them with pen can run
As far as skill can goe.
Sift eurie word and sentence well
And cast away the bran
To show the kernell, crack the shell
In peeces now and than.

37

That eurie one shall taste the nut
Or see where worme hath fed
And shoot an arrowe at the but
And drawe it to the head.
Like archer that can hit the white
And win the wager straight
With cunning knowledge and delite
And suttle sence and slaight.
Which looks into the world so round
And searcheth eury place
To see what may be easlie found
Or spoke of ech mans case.
To rime and roue in retchles sort
He counted reuell rash
As whip doth make a horse to snort
When carter giues a lash.
So ballet makers doth with wind
Stir vp a hiue of bees
And of the abundance of vaine mind
With words in aire he flees.
As though it were a thunder crack
That neuer brings foorth raine
But dailie threatens rune and wrack
With ratling rumors vaine.
Vaine commedies that stirs vp vice
He did condemne and hate
He holds that babble of no price
That doth infect a state.

38

Corrupts with words good maners still
Offends both eie and eare
Brings in loose life by customs ill
And takes away true feare
Of God and man, such Poets leud
Were banisht and exilde
Because with foule condishons shreud
Their country they defilde.
Good Poets were in eury age
Made of and nourisht well
They were the floures of gardens gaie
That gaue the goodly smell.
The true forewarners of great things
That after did befall
The ioy of godly vertuous kings
And honest subiects all.
Our age and former fathers daies
(Leaue Goore and Chauser out)
Hath brought foorth heere but few to praise
Search all our soyle about.
Yet of all those that newly wrate
In prose or verse of late
Let Sydney weare (for stile of state)
The garland lawreate.
His bookes makes many bookes to blush
They shew such sence and wit
Our dribbers shoots not woorth a rush
When he the marke doth hit.

39

His phrase is sifted like fine floure
That maketh manchet bread
Sweet eury where and nothing soure
That flowes from Sydneyes head.
Sweete dewe dropt out of Sydneyes quill
As raine great moysture shoes
And from his muse there did distill
A liquor sweete as rose.
Aquintesence, a spirit of wine
Naie Nectar better namde
A breuage for the Gods deuine
Of compounds made and framde.
That whosoeuer drinks thereon
Immortall shall be made
His books he left to looke vpon
When we in worldly shade
Sits mumping eury houre of daie
And scarce knows where we are
Our braines like bucke doth stande at baie
Beset about with care.
Of this or that when Sydneyes books
Cals vp a drowping ghost
For whosoeuer thereon looks
(With worldly troubles tost)
He shall finde quietnes thereby
And Christian comfort great
Woorth all the treasure vnder skie
It climes to Ioues hie seat.

40

And sits among the Angels sweet
Where psalmes and himnes are sung
And all base humors vnder feet
Are out of fauor flung.
The poets that can clime the cloudes
Like ship boy to the top
When sharpest stormes do shake the shroudes
Sets ware to sale in shop.
Of heauenly things that earthly men
Can scarcely vnderstand
Did not our Chausers golden pen
(That beautifide this land.)
Reach to the sunne and highest star
And toucht the heauens all
A poets knowledge goes so far
That it to mind can call.
Each wonder since this world began
And what was seene in skies
A poet is no common man
He lookes with Argoes eies.
Like Linx throw steele or stonie wals
No secret scapes his sight
Of future time and what befals
In world by day or night.
He sees and somtimes writes thereof
When scornfull people scowle
And makes of earnest words a scoffe
Or cals faire speeches fowle.

41

Our countrie breeds vp Poets still
As grasse springs from good ground
For there doth flourish learned skill
Where knowledge doth abound.
Looke what our elders wits did sowe
Or left behinde in heapes
Our age and haruest people mowe
Or with sharpe sickle reapes.
The seede of sence, faire fruit brings foorth
In feeld a thousand fold
And is in value price and woorth
More preshous than the gold.
What can be counted foule or cleane
But Poets thereon talke
Yet thousands knowes not what they meane
When they in cloud will walke.
As from the fountaine water floes
(Conuaid by gushing pipe)
So from the pen of Poet goes
Fine words and sentence ripe.
That ech good minde may well digest
As sweete as honie sure
His termes are taken with the best
If verse be neate and pure.
As riders whisking wand doth feare
The horse whereon he sits
So wrangling people eurie where
At verses vex their wits.

42

If any writer touch the gall
In pastime be it sed
Then downe coms tressels house and all
Vpon the poore mans head.
Yet wise men will good words embrace
And take each thing in worth
And giue each word and line a grace
That poets do set forth.
Diuine du Bartas merits praise
Most excellent verse he wrate
So sundrie writers in our daies
Haue done full well of late.
In Spensers morall fairie Queene
And Daniels rosie mound
If they be throwly waid and seen
Much matter may be found.
One Barnes that Petrarks scholler is
May march with them in ranke
A learned Templers name I mis
Whose pen deserues great thanke.
A number more writs well indeed
They spring vp newly now
As gazing world their works shall reed
So shall world praise them throw.
But sure my noble Sidneies skill
I neuer can forget
To him my seruice and good will
Shall euer dwell in det.

43

Of learned lore the onely light
Which blazde like lampe most cleere
And as a star in moone shine night
Could vnder cloud appeer.
Seemd dim and darke to dazled eies
But faire and bright to those
That vnderstood the stately gise
Of learned verse or prose.
Could crack the nut of [illeg.] shell
And shew the kernell plaine
For by his works who notes them well
In world he liues againe.
The booke that doth of poets treat
In golden robes so shines
It triumphes still with honor great
Among the best diuines.
Which booke deckt vp in trim attire
Of authors wise and graue
In matters of mine owne desire
Great light to poetrie gaue.
And made me write of poets praise
Thus so to starrie skie
My Sidneies honor heere I raise
As far as fame can flie.
FINIS.