University of Virginia Library

previous section A Medicinable Morall
no next section

EPIGRAMMATA ANTE duos annos conscripta.


PRESENTED TO THE QVEENES MAIESTIE BEING THEN at Cambridge, for the name of his degree.

A Price , extracte from hautie house,
a Prince of pompouse porte
Approcheth here, whose auncitours,
triumphe in glories forte.
Cum noble lustie Poets cum,
strike vp in regall rate,
To pennes, to pennes, pursue the chase,
ye haue a game of state.
If, wit maye win a woorthie name,
if vertue purchesse praise,
If heauenlye hue deserue an hyer,
her bruite then let vs blase.
Eche Realme, doth boste him of his prince:
eache wryter doth aduaunce
His soueraigne: then happie we,
thryse happie, is our chaunce,
To whome the mightie puissaunte God,
hath lente a Queene of pryce,
Whose fame we iustly maye procure,
vnto the cloudes to ryse.
What pleasaunte smylinge, twincklynge starres,
what goddes of witte so greate,
Coulde fynde, for such excellente giftes,
in place so small a seate?
Well nature well, now maiste thou daunce,
and pastyme for a tyme,
For neuer shalt thou creature woorke
so quyte deuoide of crime.
O, maye not we full rightly tearme,
that sacred Royall breste,
A paradize, where chaste aduice,
of godlinesse doth reste?

Ye kynges, that rule by seas and lande,
and ye infernall ghostes,
Beare wytnesse nowe, we haue a Queene,
of whome our Ilande bostes.
And Cambridge, nowe thou doest inclose,
(hye thankes to hym aboue:)
A wyght, whome all the worlde adores,
And God hymselfe dothe loue.

TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE and moste noble Lorde, the Lord Robert Dudley, Erle of Leicester.

To heare a pleasant penned verse,
Augustus tooke delyte:
And well allowde, the wittes that could,
his prayses well indite.
From massie care of common wealthe,
ofte woulde he, for a space,
Translate him selfe, to interuewe
and iudge a Poets grace.
Augustus nowe is dead and gone,
his fame hath founde her wynges,
Of hym, the broode of Pegasse house,
and noble Muses synges.
If Englande had suche curious wittes,
that coulde in stately verse,
The factes, the feates of worthy wightes,
and royall gestes reherse:
Your lordshyps honour, should be made,
the myrrour of our tyme,
Because you loue to laye your lookes
vpon a Poets ryme.
Some mountynge wittes, that loue to mount,
and soore aloofe in skie,
Bothe will and can arreare your fame,
and lodge it in the skie,
If we be not to rude vnkynde,
You and your golden yeares,
Wherin you lyue, shall geue assaulte
vnto the furthest eares.
Not onely we shall liue in you,
the daies that you dwell here,
Shall shine and shewe to other worldes,
in you sette foorthe so clere.

A iewell, welcome to the worlde,
by whom the worlde shall wynne,
And welcome to that happy age,
wherein you dyd begynne:
Moste hartie welcome vnto vs,
on your aduice dothe staye.
The pondrous peyse of publique weale,
and vrgent weyghtie swaye.

In aduentum clariss. viri Thomæ Hennagii Epigramma.

If that my penne could paynt my mynde
or wyt bewray my wyll:
Then shold your worship know my thoughts
that lurke for lacke of skyll.
I would excuse my rashe attempt,
the noblesse of your name,
I would sette foorthe in wordes of weyght,
and fynely fyled frame:
But eloquence she me denyes,
she dothe my hande repell:
And makes me shrynke to shewe myne arte,
to hym where arte dothe dwell.
Then blame your selfe, because I doo
indyte my mynde in fewe:
We simple Poetes, dare not byde,
Your heedfull learned vewe.

I iustly may mystrust my selfe,
that haue a gyltie mynde:
And moste mystruste, when he is iudgde,
that can the guylt unwynde.
I felte a sharpe and harde conflicte,
in writynge of this rime:
Good wyll prickte on, rudenesse reclamde,
great strugglyng for a tyme.
But, eche thynge hath at last his ende,
aduaunst hym good wyll tho,
And shame exilde, he badde me wryte,
the victor vrgde me so.
That streyght, my base vnspiced style,
was subiecte to your syghte,
Whiche ought not once to touche your steppes,
vnworthy there to lyghte.
But geue hym leaue, by gyfte of verse,
his meanynge to escrie:
Whose handes, to present prouder price,
his power dothe denye.
And geue me leaue in fyne to saye,
thryse welcome to this place
Welcome, for shape, welcome for skyll,
welcome for ancient race.

TO THE DVKES GRACES departynge.

Aryse reporte dothe runne abroade,
that Fame hath fethered wynges:
By healpe wherof, from eare to eare,
posthaste the goddesse flinges.
An harbynger, oft tymes to wight,
to speedie in her flight,
She flynges and friskes, through landes and seas,
she neuer loues to light.
O fame, where dydste thou then soiorne?
Inuironde in what place,
Waste thou? that we in no wise knewe,
the commyng of his grace:
His worthie noble princely grace,
whose martiall feates of warre,
Whose high attemptes, and hardie hande,
dothe fraie his foes from farre.
If vnderstandyng had ben geuen,
yf thou hadste sayd the worde.

The Duke shall come, that valiant Duke,
That weeldes the wreakefull sworde.
No penne, no poet shoulde haue seaste,
nexte to the very beste,
In trymme attyre, of sundry toungues,
his praise we woulde haue dreste.
Then beare with vs, (O famous prince)
Your commynge was not knowne,
Though verses ebbe, yet loue aboundes,
our heartes is, all your owne.

FINIS.
previous section A Medicinable Morall
no next section