A Mvsicall Consort of Heauenly harmonie (compounded out of manie parts of Musicke) called Chvrchyards Charitie [by Thomas Churchyard] |
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AN EVERLASTING MEMORIE OF CHRISTIAN comfort to the Queenes most excellent Maiestie. |
 | A Mvsicall Consort of Heauenly harmonie |  |
AN EVERLASTING MEMORIE OF CHRISTIAN comfort to the Queenes most excellent Maiestie.
O grashous dame, in whose graue iudgment greatThe heauens hie, lies open plaine to sight
The earth belowe, takes from thy regall seat
(In darkest daies) his hope and cleerest light.
For at thy feet, a world of woorthies fall
Elizabeth, a monarke to them all.
An Empresse heere, three kingdoms showes vs plaine
On which three realms, our Queen may rightly raine.
O treble Queen, the sweete and highest part
That we like best, and shrillest voice doth sound
The onely meane, to shew deepe musicks art
Where all the skill; of well set song is found.
Grant silly man, a grace that meanes to sing
Of heaunly loue, and of none other thing.
He sings of peace, a song should lull asleepe
The fellest feends, and fearfull bugs below
Peace charms with words, the wolfe that wearies sheep
That neither lambe, nor kid astraie shall goe.
For as the hen, hir chickens keepes from kite
So charitie, doth saue hir children all
From common plagues, and wicked worlds despite
She spreds hir wings, to keepe hir birds from cold
And learns poore chicks, to picke vp graines of gold.
This charitie, so checkles ore hir broode
She scrapes the earth, to make hir yoong ones feed
And freely from, hir selfe doth spare them foode
She takes in hart, such care for those that neede.
If charitie, were not the onely nurse
To nourish vp, each thing that life doth beare
This backward world, would grow from ill to woorse
And brutish folke, would banish loue and feare.
Warme Christian loue, as long as life doth last
Doth bide the shocke, and brunt of eurie blast.
And kindled once, in any princely hart
It burnes and flames, as hot as Æthna hill
Creepes throw the vains, and nerues in euerie part
Cannot be quencht, with water, wit nor skill.
A heaunly grace, maintains a heaunly loue
Each thing diuine, diuinely is set foorth
Planted like rocke, that nothing may remoue
Garnisht like gold, or perle of greatest woorth.
The charitie, I meane is garded so
And for hir faith, through fire and aire may goe.
But what is that, to him that sings a song
Of twenty parts, when he one voice must sound
Presumes to tell, a tale perchance too long
Sing hie or lowe, how ere the tune he takes
For one smalliar, the song begins againe
No shift may serue, for concord musicke makes
Most harmonie, consists in pricksong plaine.
Diuision doth, but teare in peeces small
The minnems long, and little crotchets all.
Full softly blowes, a quiet calmie winde
A still milde voice, doth please the hearers well
No note nor ring, so much contents the mind
As solemne sound, of cleere sweet siluer bell.
O that my muse, might get so great a grace
As credit win, throw any sound it shoes
I die to see, one fearfull frowne of face
VVhere these meeke words, and humble verses goes.
Now mirthles song, begin thy new found note
As strange a straine, as any eare hath hard
If world would learne, to sing the same by rote
Good charitie, should grow in more regard.
Play well thy part, so shall the greatest smile
And meanest sort, of force be pleasd the while.
Your Maiesties most humble seruant, Thomas Churchyard.
| A Mvsicall Consort of Heauenly harmonie | |