The Shorter Poems of Ralph Knevet :: :: University of Virginia Library

Because th' are few that doe things worthy praise,
Free truth is counted flatterie now a daies:
And though it be our common Poets shame,
Truth cries thy Muse not guiltie of that blame.
Thou Orpheus-like our Heroes dost incite
To warlike gests, and Mirmidons to fight.
Such successe wish I, that this Booke may be
As free from Envie, as from flatterie.
The most indulgent thought my Pen drops forth
I dare not thinke can adde unto the worth
Of this rare piece; which shall (where it doth come)
Strike Envie blind, and base detractors dumbe.
And so I wish all cankerd spight may die,
Dispis'd, condem'd by noble industrie.
And though th' ast those which this taske better fit
From me much love expect, from them much wit.

RO. WOTTON

[4] To any to whom I write.

Blame not my Muse, thou that dost find thy name
Not Marshal'd here, as thou wouldst have the same:
No blemish tis to thy repute: for (know it)
I act no Herald here (Sir) but a Poet.

[5] To the same.

(Kind Gentlemen) Souldiers, or Clarkes, or both
My Muse as gentle greetes you well (in troth)
And tels you shee can't wooe yee at your tables
By venting fripperies of Jests, or fables
Not worth the Phrygian Princes eares; nor raise
A bare name to her selfe, by vulgar praise.
No, no: she joyes in action: and know that
By the protection of a Bever Hat,
Or silken out-side, shee disdaines to force
Your presence; but had rather take a course
To shew her selfe to you in reall pow'rs
Then bid her welcome, and she's ever yours.

R. K.

[6] To Captaine HENRY SHELTON.

If many yeeres in honours service spent;
If vertues suting with a brave descent,
Can give true lustre to a Name; then thine
May seeme least to require a Verse of mine.
To give thy worth just height: yet Time displayes

Many fine heads, that oft have earnd the bayes
In these and meaner taskes: for fame must know
She cannot pay those glories, shee doth owe
To great and good deserts, except some aides
Be sent her from the nine Castalian maides.
Had Homer (whom seven Cities strove to owne)
Not beene; then who had great Achilles knowne,
Or Hector in these times. Then let none blame
My Muse, although shee beares a part with fame
In thy due prayse; whether shee doth commend
Thy truest valour, that did alway tend
To noblest ends, or praise those honest Arts
With which thou didst attract the Souldiers Darts.
Nor art thou lesse expert to live belov'd
In Peace, then Warre: to love thee all are mov'd
By thy humanitie, and pietie.
Then let detraction foule and calumnie
Be alway Dumbe: and let the World know ever,
Thou maist be envy'd much, but flattered never.

[7] To Mr. THOMAS KNEVET of Ashwell Thorpe.

Thou, that dost know thy Starres, canst calculate
Thy geniture, and see to what end fate
Did lend thee to the earth; auspicious be
Thy favours, like thy Starres to mine and me:
Thou knowst thy Starres (I say) for good men know
Wherefore th' are borne, and what to God they owe,
And how farre th' are engag'd to Prince, or state:
For Grace, and Wisedome be the Starres and fate

That governe them: these like those twinne fires bright
Doe prosper all those that Sayle by their light:
These Steere men safely to the Haven of blisse,
In spite of strongest contrarieties.
These be thy Starres, that set th' above thy blood,
True patterne and true patrone of whats good:
Thou art the Glasse in which the World may see,
What once our Gentrie was, and still should bee.
A lover of thy Countrie, and of arts
Art thou; disdaining to make thy good parts
Ambitions Ladder, but had rather stay,
Till time shall see thy merit rise like day
And strike a Rosie blush in Honours face;
'Cause shee had mist so long so fit a place
For her best favours, which they shall admit
To great Imployments, answering thy wit,
And heroique vertue; such great happinesse
I wish to thee, that dost deserve no lesse.

[8] To Sir ROGER TOWNSEND.

I Sent my Muse unto the house of fame,
Of her to enquire out some Honourd name
Worthy of my Verse, and shee commends to mee
A Townsend; then I quickly thought of thee;
Then whom, a wiser head, Sol doth not see;
Thy actions with such judgement seasond bee.
Thou from thy fortunes height dainst to looke on
Lowly Parnassus, and poore Helicon;
On humble Helicon, whose withered bayes,
Witnesse the Frostie dulnesse of these dayes.

When merits starve, because they scorne to bee
Base fortunes slaves, and fooles are raisd (we see)
And Knaves, for now great men make greatest use
Of these to hide, or perpetrate abuse.
We Arts unhappie servants must be glad
To fall before an Asse, in Scarlet clad,
And or like Egypts foolish Priests adore
Monsters, in shapes of men, o'r still be poore.
We sorted are with the Plebeian rout,
And live as men borne onely to weare out
Serges, eat offalls, or to fetch our drinke
From the Spring head, or consume Lampes and inke;
When silly Silke-wormes strout in sundry shapes
Like Proteus, when Sycophants and Apes
Baboones, Buffones and sprucer trencher Squires,
Be neatly drest in Honors richest tires.
But you Sir Roger (on whose honord name,
More noble Vertues are scor'd up by fame,
Then Time hath lent you yeares) an Artist are
And Artist[s] love; then double be your share
In truest happinesse, and let your night
Day, morne, and even, on you shine ever bright,
And from your geniall bed let fruites appeare,
Worthy your worthy selfe, and your Bel-vere.

[9] To Sir CHARLES LE-GROSSE.

The King of Pyrrhus shewd the Muses nine
And Phoebus portraited by sculpture fine:
But thou faire Knight-hoods fairer ornament
Conspicuously dost to our eyes present

Phoebus, the Muses nine, the Graces three,
Mercurie, and Mars, yea more Gods then bee
In Homers Iliads; or at least much greater:
For thy mind's a Pantheon, or a Theater,
Wherein all vertues, and all graces stand,
In decent order link'd, with hand in hand.
The[e] 'mongst the chiefest of the Arts few friends
I list: and so adore thy noble ends,
That if my Quill to vertue can life give,
Thy honourd fame shall Nestors age outlive.

[10] To Sir JOHN HARE.

Want in a plentie is too rife with us;
So in the streame chin-deepe stands Tantalus
Wooing the coye Apples: and tis oft found
That wit is scarce, where riches doe abound.
For golden Asses are no dainties here,
They may be dayly seene, even everie where.
But you (Sir John) whose youth with store is crown'd,
Are nothing lesse to Art, and Nature bound
Then Fortune, yea such is your worth that now,
A Knight-hood becomes few so well as you.

[11] To Sir WILLIAM YELVERTON of Ruffham.

Tis meete [a] Virgils Quill should write of thee,
Where such a concurrence of G[r]aces bee;
That were all Gentrie out of frame, we might
By thee take patterne, how to set it right.
Thy worth a brisker Muse then mine requires;
Then let them sing while mine alone admires.

[12] To Sir MILES HOBART Knight of the Bathe.

Never dranke I of Pegasus his well,
Nor in Parnassus dream't (that I can tell)
Though I write Verse, for I would have men know it,
The Times are good or ill, make me a Poet.
To praise Ulisses wise, as much my care is,
As to condemne Thersites, or vaine Paris.
And as sweete Orpheus to his Harpe did set
High tun'd Ditties, great courages to whet;
So ever bee't my taske, to move great spirits,
And honourable soules, to brave demerits.
Mongst whom (Sir Miles) me thinkes I see you rise
Like Phosphorus, grac'd with such qualities,
That they, as well as your high orders rites,
May justly ranke you with the best of Knights.

100

[13] To Sir JOHN HENNINGHAM.

To praise your lon[g]liv'd, or long honord name,
A wrong were to your vertues (Henningham)
Let those which can affoord nought else that's good,
Extoll the borrow'd honors of their blood.
Your Gentrie you may justly call your owne,
Although you bought it not, nor from furd-gowne,
It tooke; nor in Tobacco papers wrapt;
It brought from Spaine; nor with a white Coyfe capt
It chatting found in that great guiltie hall,
Where Cerberus for Golden soppes doth baule.
But from your honord vertues the same flowes,
And this true Gentrie is: the rest are showes.

[14] To Sir HEYMAN LE-STRANGE.

As doth the purple headed rose prickt in
The tender bosome, of the Paphian Queene,
All beauties of the Garden farre out shine:
So doe those worthy parts, and Arts of thine,
Set thee above most (divine Le-Strange)
That know'st as well to walke the Muses range,
As thine owne groves: and canst without a thred,
Find what in learnings Laberynth is hid.
The age discovers few such men alive,
That rich, can also teach their minds to thrive.

101

[15] To Sir THOMAS SOUTHWELL.

Tablets of Gold, with richest Rubies set
Shine not so bright, as doth the Cabinet
Wherein your soule is lock't; a Palace fit
For such a noble courage, and a wit.
Ever maist thou give Adders audience
Unto tame flatterie: nor let sence
With sugred baytes delude thy intellect:
But ever let some noble end direct
Thy good disignes: yea let them alwayes bee
Both correspondent to thy stemme, and thee.

[16] To Sir THOMAS WOODHOUSE.

You are the man, that well descerne what betters
An high fortune, and can preferre good letters
Before those painted plumes, which Crowne the crest
Of swelling honor: such great interest
In your most worthy parts possesseth art,
That your high wisedome seemes to have got the start
Of your great fortunes, though they well befit
Both your thrice worthy Pedigree, and wit.

102

[17] To Sir THOMAS RICHARDSON.

Hee, and no judge, that never had the skill
With words, one better then himselfe to kill:
Nor ere did lay a plot for to oppresse
The new made widdow, and the fatherlesse:
Nor ever did Church-lands or Commons wring
From God; both dead and living injuring:
Certes is cleere from many crying crimes;
Yet such, as be, made customes by the times.
But you Sir Thomas 'midst your fortunes must
Regard, that you, and what is yours are dust
That in this world, you have but a short lease,
And may be turn'd out when your Land-lord please.
Know eke that what is yours, is yours to give
And live so well, that you may die to live.

[18] To Sir ROBERT GAUDY.

First, if I might safely crave this worlds pelfe;
To be belov'd next would I wish my selfe,
And rather then the first alone I'de chuse,
The second I would take and that refuse.
But you Sir Robert have fates blessing got,
Y'are wealthy, and belov'd, yea and what not
Nor ever were the Starres more just (I swear't)
With such great goods, to trust such good desert.

103

[19] To Sir DRU DRURY.

As did love wounded Echo dote upon
The beautiful Narcissus, that lov'd none;
So doth my Muse affect your worthy parts
Applauded every where, by tongues and hearts.
And though I in your praise come short of many
Yet may my love to you ranke me with any.

[20] To Sir JOHN HOBART.

Since [th'] are no thriving arts: but whats well gain'd
May with much comfort, and long be retain'd,
But Justice oft cryes the oppressour quit,
By sending his yong Heyre too scant a wit
For his large meanes; that soone all goes to pot:
For fooles doe ill keepe, what knaves have ill got.
But you (Sir John) are free'd from such blacke brands,
Both by the cleannesse of your fathers hands.
And your owne ripenesse, who can use your fortune,
Both spend, and spare, as time and cause importune:
Sole master of your selfe, and pelfe, you are,
Which is a freedome among great men rare.

104

[21] To Sir ROBERT BELL.

To ring out thy great frame, if I had skill,
The E'cho thereof should our Iland fill.
So consonant's thy vertue to thy wit,
And so thy outward feature graceth it,
That my Muse may one sillable adde well
Unto thy Surname, and call thee Le-bell.

[22] To Sir WILLIAM DE-GRAY.

I Take thy name on Fames bare word (Sir Knight)
I know thee not; yet sweare I think th' art right
Because thou art belov'd; then ever bee
My Muse obsequious to thy worth, and thee.
He that good store of sincere love hath wonne,
Wisely hath playd his game, and fairely runne.

[23] To Mr. FRAMMINGHAM GAUDY.

Gaudy such store of worth doth Crowne thy name,
That it like to [a] columne stands which fame
To lasting memorie, and honour builds,
Whereon thy vertues hang like Pensile shields,

105

As Trophyes of those glorious Victories,
Wonne from the lesser Worlds great enemies
Then let thy fame with time vie dayes and yeares,
Let death be joy to thee; to others teares.

[24] To Mr. SHEPHERD of Kyrby.

(Old Melibee) that hast the hearts of all,
Because thy love is likewise generall:
Not Time alone, but thy deare Countries cares
Which far exceed thy yeares, have chang'd thy haires
To white: then let thy Silver age thee fold
In more contents, then did thy age of gold.

[25] To Mr. WEBBE of Breckles.

That curious Webbe which proud Arachne spunne,
Or that which chast Penelope begunne,
Match not this piece whose worth exceedes all choice,
That Pallas to owne it may well rejoyce
Arachnes silken webbe descipherd plaine
Joves scapes, and what might thee Olympists staine
But (worthy Webbe) all beaut'ous graces bee
Both morrall, and Divine be discribed in thee.

106

[26] To Mr. ANTHONY HOBART of Hales.

When the Thessalian witches uttered
Their charmes to Luna, she wont to looke red:
So doe true vertues blush to heare their praise,
While the praisd Peacocke his gay plumes displayes.
But you may safely heare while safely I
Commend your wisedome, or your honestie:
For he that attributes to merits true
Deserved praise, payes vertue but her due.

[27] To Mr. PHILIP WOODHOUSE.

Methought I stood that sacred fountaine night
Where high conceites in blessed draughts are lent
Whose cristall brest seem'd sudainly to rent
And when a Nimph of rarest majestie.
Whose hayre seem'd Gold, and skinne cleare Ivorie,
Upon her browes an Arch of bayes was bent,
Her presence taught even Trees to complement.
For all the Laurells bow'd, and modestie,
With a low voice, seem'd, to give suffrage free,
To make her Empresse of faire Helicon.
With that I heard a grone, which seem'd to be
Sent from the urnes, of Poets dead and gone,
Whose Ghostes envy'd this peerelesse Ladies grace.
That should them all in loftie straines surpasse,
Mistake me not (I thinke) your Muse was shee,
That like this Sylvane Nymphe appear'd to me.

107

[28] To Mr. WILLIM POSTON of Paston.

(Yong hopefull sprigge) that art borne to inherit
Abundant wealth (if thou dost not preferre it
Before the freedome) know that thy best use
Of thine; is to be liberall; not profuse.
Know likewise that content is your best store;
And that to covet more, is to be poore.
For Covetise as well wants whats her owne,
As what is not: seeke rather to be knowne
By the great vertues, then thy great estate;
Nor let thy tempting heapes of drosse elate
Thy mind above thy selfe; but still remember
In May, and June, what followes in December.
Marke how thy youth, thy pleasures, and thy wealth,
Yea life and all doe flits away be stealth.
Know that this world is but a Tombe of clay,
To keepe thy body till the latter day:
Thinke ever that th' art neare thy day of doome,
And be prepard to waite on the Bridegroome.
Thus maist thou be a thrice most happie one
In life, in death, and resurrection.

[29] To Mr. PETTIE of Morley.

Some of thy wealth talke, but I praise thy wit,
And many worthy vertues gracing it.
But thy great love to Arts, so make[s] me thine,

108

That my true heart shall ever be the shrine
Of thy good name, which in the Booke of fame
I'le register to dull oblivions shame.
And if my penne can adde ought to thy worth,
In spite of Envies throate, it shall come forth:
Till then; accept this my great loves small treasure;
And Hercules his height by his foote measure.

[30] To Mr. JOHN HOLLAND.

Thou that art made of better temperd clay,
Then Titan ere made any; who dost pay
Thy youth to time, with greater interest
Of vertue, then of yeares, and promisest.
More goods, then are of faire Pandora fain'd;
And hopes more beaut'ous then her boxe contain'd.
Bee thou like Phoebus, or his bayes, and find
The blind God, and blind Goddesse ever kind.
Be such that I to take may ever long,
So faire a Theme as Holland for my Song.

[31] To Mr. BARTHOLOMEW COTTON.

And here too growes a Tree, that may in time
Beare golden Apples, in a colder clime
Then is Hesperia in; for so presage
Thy blossoms (Cotton) and thy spring of age.

109

Then let kind fortune give thy worth full sayles,
Till Honour greete thee with as many hayles,
As ere Sejanus had: and let thy name
Become th' example of well gotten fame.

[32] To Mr. THOMAS WARDE of Bixley.

If my devout Muse could ever bring
Ought worth acceptance, or an offering
Unto thy Vertue, justly I might deeme
My selfe thrice happie in so good a theme.
Yet let thy worth vouchsafe to take these lines,
As the pledges of my great Love, and signes
Of true affection, wanting alone
Art to discover that impression,
Which the conceit of thy most high desert
Hath Charracterd so deepely in my heart.
And though my penne a pencill be scarce fit
To Paint out to the life thy merrit; yet
My heart shall ever be engag'd to thee;
Because I thinke thou lov'st the Arts and mee.

[33] To Mr. THOMAS LAYER of Booton.

Should I forget your name, you well might thinke
'Twas neither lacke of paper, nor of inke,
Nor time, but want of good discretion,
That caus'd the fault: nor i'st your place alone;

110

Not the command of your Horse troupe (I meane)
But that more great command, wherewith you reyne
Hot mettald passions, which doth invite
My Muse these few lines for your sake to write.
Your want of vice, and your attractive parts,
That force no feares, but bring you loves and hearts
Make me a debtor to your worth: then know you
I pay you this, as part of what I owe you.

[34] To Mr. JAMES CALTHORP.

What May hath vow'd, if August truely payes
What tongue or pen (Calthorp) can reach thy prayse
Then let no harmeful blasts those blossomes kill,
Let no affection ere mis-lead thy will.
Be wise, and good, let death long stand aloofe:
And let thy mind be chance, and danger proofe.

[35] To Mr. WILLIAM BLADWELL.

Joy be to thee, of thy new place (say I)
That seem'st to affect noble cavalrie,
A glorie which Fraunce vaunts of, to our shame,
We are become so carelesse of our fame.

111

Some tripping Hackney, we had rather backe
Or-dastard race-horse, or some snafled Jacke,
Then mount the praunsing Courser, by whose pride
The Riders courage might be multipli'de.
And yee our Knights have yee forgot your name,
Or doe yee wilfully neglect your fame;
Yee by your Spurres seeme to be Chevaliers,
But by your Steedes y'are Northerne Borderers,
Or some Heath-scourers, fitter farre to flie
Then mannage combate 'gainst an enemie.
O sleepe not still; least yee contend too late,
Your honours from the dust to vindicate.

[36] To Mr. RAPH BLEVER-HASSIT.

Not onely thy affection did I prise
Showne to our Militarie exercise,
When here I wrote thy name (deserving Hassit)
No, no: thy honestie, and vertue was it,
That wonne me to this taske; then here I give
What next high heaven, may make the[e] longest live.
I hope youl' kindly take't; for I dare say,
Such presents are not brought you every day.

112

[37] To Mr. CLEMENT HYRNE.

Honest, and honord Hyrne; that dost enshrine
Such worth, as should Fortune her selfe resigne.
And hers, to thee; none truely might thee call
Her meere favorite; or her, prodigall;
Ever be shee (I wish) thy vertues slave,
And readyer farre to give, then thou to crave.

[38] To Mr. EDMUND KNEVET.

Except thy worthy brother, scarce I find
A Gentleman, more truely mine, in mind
Then thee; nor let opinion so ill see,
To thinke thy out-side makes me honour thee;
I meane thy ranke, or state; no let men know;
Nor my thoughts, nor thy merits flie so low:
For thou hast my affection nobly bought
At Vertues highest rate, and not for nought.

113

[39] To Mr. AUSTINE HOLLE.

If I could hate thee; or of my selfe so much;
To entertaine foule Envy; thy wits such,
I like th' Illyrian Beldames on't should gaze,
Or like Mayes frosts upon the budding maze.
But certes, neither I to envie know,
Nor be thy rare endowments fix'd so low,
That Envie can ecclipse them: then here see
What love and admiration offers thee.

[40] To Mr. EDWARD WOOTTON.

I find thee such: so kind, so true to mee,
That I must owe both love, and life to thee
Nor was't thy love alone, but thy desert,
That made me in this place thy name insert,
For this I say; and speake but what I know;
Thy mind and body doe such rare gifts show,
As scarce are found else-where (which used well)
The times will hardly yeeld thy paralell.

114

[41] To Mr. EDWARD DOILY.

To season fresh acquaintance, these lines take
From him, that for his friends, and vertues sake
Dares rather doe, then speake: for talke he deemes
Is womanish; but action men beseemes.
If ought abides then in me, or my Muse,
Worth your command; tis ready for your use.

[42] To Mr. JOHN CRUSO.

Thou that art farre more worthy of the bayes,
Daigne to assist my home-spunne untun'd layes
With gracious censure, for upon thy tong,
Depends the grace, and fortune of my song.
So sharpe a wit, and judgement dwell in thee,
Refin'd by such rare knowledge, that I see
Apollo's trees may grow else-where, then on
Our greene Parnassus, or our Helicon.

115

A DISCOURSE OF MILITARIE DISCIPLINE.

Loe my Thalia, that was whilome seene
Frisking among the Nimphs, in Forrest greene,
To Satyres pipes; and that did sing (long since)
Her morals smooth, to Pan the Shepheards Prince:
Is now prest to a farre unfitter taske;
And like Bellona, arm'd with steely caske;
Powres warlike accents forth, and numbers meete
For trumpets sterne, and stately buskin'd feete.
Then of yee thrice three sisters that sit on
Parnassus greene, and flowrie Helicon;
Spinning your gentle flaxe in the coole shade;
Because the Arts are growne too poore a trade,
To find yee smockes withall: and that great Goddesse
(Pallas) who (wheresoever thy abode is)
Canst scarce discharge th' expences of thy lights,
With writing Poems in long Winter nights:
Be yee propicious to your gentle swaine;
One draught of pure Castalian juyce him daigne;
And with an active furie touch his braine,
That he may set his notes in loftie straine
He that extols the thing, which all men praise,
Shall hardly merit those immortall bayes,
That glorious wreath, that Crowne which is meete for

Arbor Vittoriosa triumphole. Honor d'Imperadori & di Poeti, Petrarch.

(Onely) a Poet, and an Emperor.
What need we praise Apollos radiant light:
When dullest Hindes, can apprehend by sight
More lustre in his face; then we can Paint,

116

With best conceites; or numbers nere so quaint.
But so pernicious, are the minds of men:
So sinister their wils: so fraught with teene;
That things, which alway doe deserve applause;
Are oft contemnd by some: and heare the cause.
In this worst age; each man extols that thing,
Which doth to him much gaine, and profit bring:
He onely is a friend unto himselfe:
Devoted onely, to his idle pelfe
Religion and the soveraigntie of Kings,
He deemes to be, but ceremonious things.
That love which he unto his neighbour owes;
He payes in complements, and fained showes,
And as for that respect, which doth pertaine
Unto his Parents he accounts it vaine:
And while he thrives, and hath enough to give:
On parish almes will see his mother live.
Friendship he deemes a foolish fond conceit;
If it brings in no profitable freight,
(Dull Camell) when he see'th the Azure heaven
Full fix'd with Starres, and the bright Planets seven,
The Elements; all beasts, all foules, and fish,
Trees, plants, and herbes, with all that heart can wish,
Created for his use; yet thinke[s] that hee
Is borne, from all exteriour duties free.
The com[m]on-wealths deepe wounds, pierce not his skin:
He careth not who loose, so he may win.
Not any sad thought would he entertaine,
When Fame talk'd of so many worthies slaine,
By adverse Mars, and Fortune (that coye wench)
Maligning English valour, and turn'd French;
That now with swelling vaunts, they dare report
Their glorie equal'd our[s] at Agincort.
Nor will he bestow one auspicious thought
Upon the Danes designes; nor cares he ought

117

Who winnes the day, who conquers, or who fals;
Be they our friends, or proud Imperials.
Thus; (by the deprav'd nature of Mans will)
That worth in others is maligned still;
Which in themselves they want; and onely deeme
That good, which doth in private profit them.
Thus things that merit all respect, and grace,
Are under valu'd, and accounted base.
All morall, and all martiall discipline,
They slight as vaine: yea, be the same devine,
They'le censure it: foule shamelesse brats
That would seeme Eagles, though as blind as bats.
But we (that are sent by Apollo bright,
To vindicate all vertue, from the spight
Of foule detraction, whose envenom'd darts,
With equall rancour wound, both Armes, and Arts)
(Alcides-like) whose monsters will expell;
Whose slandrous tongues (as with exorcists spell)
Shall by our pow'rfull numbers be conjur'd;
In circles of their mouthes to rest immur'd.
But intermit (my Muse) thy hastie chace;
And give those Harpies leave, to breath a space:
Another worke doth thy assistance aske:
Then (my Virago) take thee to thy taske:
And with a pirrhique straine grace every line;
So shouldst thou sing of Martiall Discipline
Although we (men) be led by reasons lampe;
Yet ought we goe astray; because the dampe
Of grosse affections doth put out that light,
And from the right way makes us wander quite:
That we, of silly Beasts may learne to tread
The pathes, which to true happinesse doe lead.
The painefull Bee doth teach us industrie.
The Turtle to observe pure chastitie.
The Pismire warnes us to be provident.

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The Nightingale shewes how we should repent.
The Robin-redbrest learnes us charitie.
The Storke how to requite a curtesie.
The Cocke shews valour who had rather die,
Then yeeld to his insulting enemie.
By these; we (men) instructed are likewise
In Warlike feates, and Martiall policies.
The

Grues cum loca calidiora petentes mare transmitiunt trianguli formam efficiunt. Cic de Nat.

Cranes (by day) keepe order in their flight;
And alway one stands Sentinell at night.
When that the Indian

Ichneumon est animall magnitudine felis: luto conuolutus cum aspide pugnant. Plin.

Rat doth undertake,
Against the Aspe, his partie good to make;
His body he all over daubes with durt;
That his foes venome can doe him no hurt.
The

Elephantis frigidissimus est sanguis, obid aestu torrexte a Draconibq; exputantur, &c. Plin.

Dragon farre to weake, to maintaine fight
Against the Elephant; kills him by sleight:
For in some Thicket, he in ambush lies:
And (ere he be aware) doth him surprise.
The

In venire mollis tenuisq; cutis Crocodilo: Ideo se vt territi mergunt Delphini sub euntesq aluum ibam secunt spinu. Plin.

Dolphin, not of force, with his sharpe finne
To pierce the Crocodiles hard scaly skinne,
Seemes to retreate, as wearie of the fight;
And diving downe, doth counterfeit a flight:
Then from the deepes, remounting sudainely,
His foes soft belly wounds, and makes him dy.
The Horse, the Bull, and Bore know when and how
Both to assaile their foes, and shift a blow.
If these brute creatures (led alone by sence)
Can so expertly make their owne defence,
To save that bloud, which we account so base
That oft we spill it, to enjoy the case;
Then we should be ten thousand times more wise,
To save that life, which we so highly prise.
Nor is the losse of life the greatest ill,
Redounding from the want of warlike skill:
For honours, freedome, goods, oft goe to wracke
In each ill mannag'd state, where that doth lacke.

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Great Alexander, in his growing pride,

Granicus Bithyniae fluvius pugna quae inter Persas & Alexandrum fuit nobilis. Diod 1, 17

Upon the bankes of Granicus had di'de:
Or (captive taken) had attended on
His proud foes carre, through streetes of Babylon.
If his strong Phalanx, had not calm'd the pride,
Of Persian brav'rie, at her highest tide.
This strong Battalion stretch'd even to the skies
His fame; and to both Seas his victories.
So glorious Conquests have beene oft obtain'd,
By numbers few, well disciplin'd, and train'd.
But mighty multitudes (where skill doth want)
Of good successe can very seldom vaunt:
For Victorie is coye, and will not bee
Forc'd, by rude multitudes; but rather shee
Unto a few well Disciplin'd, doth yeeld
Her selfe, with all the Honour of the field.
Proud Xerxes, whose huge troopes dranke rivers drie
And even with lowly plaines, made mountaines high,
Did flee from Greece, in a poore fishers boote
Who whilome had so many Ships a floote,
As made a large Bridge, over Hellespont;
That had Leander liv'd, he might upon't
Have had a safe recourse, by night, or day,
To that faire Towre, where his sweet mistris lay.
Worth doth consistt in qualitie alone;
Not quantitie: for the small precious stone,
Is at high rates, and value ever priz'd;
When greater flints, and pibles are despis'd.
Even so, the vigour of an Armie stands
(Chiefely) in expert, and well order'd bands;
And not in throngs of men; whose force unskil'd,
Doth rather let, then helpe to winne the field.
Old Rome, her Empires Armes had never spred,
From high-brow'd Taurus, to Sols wat'ry bed;
If that her expert Legions (so oft tride)

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Could have beene match'd, in all the world beside.
Nor did her greatnesse any whit decrease,
Untill that antient Discipline did cease,
By which shee had, to her first height, ascended;
And her wide Empires bounds so long defended.
Her Majestie stood free from all decay,
While she her thirtie Legions kept in pay.
But when sweete Asias womanish delights,
Had turn'd her Captaines into carpet Knights:
Yea when her Souldiers, and Commanders both,
Were wholy given to pleasures, and to sloth;
And when true Discipline was laugh'd to scorne;
Her naked sides then by her foes were torne.
Great boundles minded Caesar (not content,
With Conquest of the Westerne continent)
Did passe the Seas, to find our Britaines out;
Who entertaind him with such courage stout;
That (if of skill, there had not beene a lacke)
The haughtie Romane had been beaten backe.
Nor in those times, when Romes ambition fierce
Did search each corner of the universe;
Stood we in greatest danger; for Romes hate
Is more then trebled toward us, since that.
For now the time[s], doe greatest perils shew;
So many foes we'have, and friends so few.
Needes then must my impartiall Muse commend
Those, whom their countries love doth move, to spend
Some houres, in Mars his Schoole, where loyall hearts
May learne the rule, of Militarie arts.
But thou (faire Norwich) by whose stone-rib'd side,
The gentle Yare in sandie path doth glide,
Creeping along thy meade with a slow pace,
As ravish'd with the beautie of thy face:
And parted from thee, still his love doth shew
With frequent lookes, and softly sigh adue.

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I praise thy wisedome, and thy prudent care,
That art in Peace, providing against warre:
As witnesse may that warlike practise bee,
Which now is so exactly taught in thee.
Oh what a gracefull qualitie it is,
To be expert in Martiall properties.
The Tennis-court, and bowling grounds smooth face,
Compar'd with the Artill'rie yard seeme base.
Those great Olimpicke Games, and Isthmian plaies
Did never merit such applause, and praise;
As doe those Martiall gymnickes in our daies:
Those games through ostentation were ordain'd:
But ours for publicke weales sake be maintain'd.
To know each motion well, and to performe
Each title of command, in truest forme:
To doe the Muskets Postures dextrously:
And nimbly for to let a Bullet fly:
With advantageous skill to manage pike:
To know [how] to defend, and how to strike,
Doth not alone at hand, prevaile in fight,
But also doth farre of[f] the foe affright.
These warlike principles be not obtain'd
All sudainely; but by long practise gain'd;
And (being gotten once) are soone forgot;
If often exercise preserves them not.
For frequent use, and action must supplie
The habit; least it in a sudaine die.
And like the lampe, be soone extinguish'd quite,
When th' oyle is gone that should maintaine the light.
The antient French so fierce a people were,
And so great conquest got'they every where,
That mightie Kings in awe of France then stood,

Τον Φραγηον φιλον εχης, γειτονα ουη εχης. Eghnihard

Seeking her friendship not her neighbour-hood:
When Charles the great in Italy had queld
The Lombards: and the Saracens expeld

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From Spaine: and when the Saxons were compeld
To the French yoke their stubborne neckes to yeeld,
Dismay'd then were the Easterne Emperours:
Yea all the world did then feare Frances force.
Much honour likewise did Christs zealous Knight
Great Godfrey winne for France; when he did fight
His Saviours fields, in those unchristn'd lands,
Where his chiefe hopes on frenchmens valour stands
But vertues growne t'extreames, breed worse effects.
Then ere could have beene caus'd by their defects.
For this fierce Nation us'd to Warres, and spoyles,
When forraine foes did faile, broch'd civill broyles:
That their Kings (for to remedie these harmes)
Were forced to forbid the use of Armes
Unto the vulgar sort, and them compell'd
Or to turne up the bowels of the field,
Or for to plie mechanicke faculties;
Debarring them from warlike exercise.
Thus France her antient reputation lost,
Beaten by Sea, and Land, on everie coast.
And few I thinke but Frenchmen will denie,
That French are Europe[s] basest Infant'rie.
Armour for Warre, from the Arsenall is brought,
But weapons for the Victorie be wrought
In forge of discipline: could furious might,
Or strength of brawnie limmes prevaile in fight,
Then who could match those huge Patagones,
Or buckle with those Westerne Savages
Whom Spaine makes slaves: or if activitie
Alone could winne a glorious Victorie,
Then who could match the Light Numidians
That like wild Goates on craggie rockes can dance
Then who could match the Kerne or Galloglasse,
That on the quaking Boggs as safely passe,
As we on firmest plaines: or if the skill

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Of mannaging a horse at Riders will,
Could winne the day, then had not in such sort
The French beene slaughtr'd at their Agincourt.
Or if by number conquest might be wonne,
Then had the Greekes been foyl'd in Marathon.
Thus neither horsemanship, nor many hands,
Strength, nor activitie, the field commaunds:
But the well order'd foote that be refin'd
By exercise, and throughly disciplin'd,
These alway winne the fortune of the day,
For Fortune doth true Fortitude obey.
Nor in those elder times (before the Munke,

Bertoldus Swartz invented Gunnes, An. Dom. 1380. They were first used by the Venetians. Gord.

Invented had his murther-spitting trunke;
That plague of valour, height of Hels dispite)
Was warlike Discipline so requisite,
As now it is: for there's requir'd more skill,
To handle well a Gunne, then a blacke bill.
Of Policie, order's the soule alone:
And Natures very life (that being gone)
Things cease to be: for should the golden Sunne
Swarve from the course, which he hath wont to runne
Roaming at randome up and downe in heaven:
Or should the Starres; and those bright Planets seven,
Not walke those rounds, which God hath the[m] appointed,
Soone should the worlds great fabricke be dis-joynted
But a great Armie (where nor Captaines know
What to command, nor silly Souldiers how
To execute) is like a Galeon
Of mightie bulke, ill rig'd, and floating on
The surging maine, without sufficient stores
Of tackling, ballast, and wave-sliceing ores,
With sayles untrimm'd, and wanting at the sterne
An expert Pilot, that should well discerne
The Chanels course; and know each creeke and cape,
And by what point, his course he should forth shape.

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(Doubtlesse) if Æoles ruffling sonnes should kenne
This forlorne vessell, in so weake plight, then
From their fierce rage, shee hardly should escape
To harbour, without perill of rape.
Even so those great Armadoes, that consist
Of huge unexpert troupes, and a long list
Of mens bare names, doe oft become a prey
To their fierce foes, and seldome winne the day.
That sonne of Mars, that valiant Epirot,

O tresgrand Epirote; O vaillant Albanoys. Dont la main a desfait les Turc. vingt et deux fois. Rowsard.

That matchlesse Prince, thrice worthy Castriot,
In two and twentie bloudy fights, compeld
Huge Turkish Armies, to forsake the field:
Nor ever did his greatest strength, and force,
Exceed five thousand men (both foote and horse)
On order, doth eternitie depend:
And Victorie, is Disciplines faire end.
Victorie, that blisse of Kings, that sole good
Which Warre affords, whose face besmeard with blood,
More tempting loves doth to her darlings offer;
Then Cleopatr'as lippe, when shee did proffer
A courtly Kisse, to great Marke Anthonie;
Who with the splendour of her Majestie
Was to a Statue strooke, and stood amaz'd,
As one that on the Gorgons scalpe had gaz'd.
But some there be (I know) that thus object:
What need we thus our businesse neglect?
What needes this Sturre? this idle exercise?
Secure are we, from forraine enemies;
Our streetes have in these many yeares not heard
The voice of Warre, there's nothing to be fear'd:
No inrodes, nor incursions, doe affright
Our fearefull Hindes: no out-cries rais'd by night
Are signals of approaching foes: no fires
Doe crowne our Beacons: and all those are lyers,
Which say that Spaine, dares venture for the trie

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Another Voyage, against Britanie.
Let us tend our affaires, confine our selves
Unto our Shops; and while the Peasant delves,
And rips his Mothers wombe, to find out wealth,
Let us grow rich by sleight of tongue, and stealth.
While others ply their Militarie Arts,
We will be sure to learne to play our parts;
To cogge, and foyst, to keepe our measures short,
To vent bad Ware, and take good Money for't.
Let's cocker up our Wives, and keepe them neate;
Raise our selves high with sweete lascivious meate
For luxurie: Lets cheate, and cousen all;
The pinching Carle, and profuse prodigall.
In truth to cheate the wicked no sinne tis;
They must be plagu'd for their iniquities.
But heare me (friend) thou that hast done more ills,
Then ere were punish'd on those wofull Hills,
Of mournefull Magdalene: thou who dost thrive
By knaverie, and cous'nage; which canst dive
Into the depth of craft, to rake for pelfe;
And robbe ten thousand, to enrich thy selfe:
Thou which dost maske thy crimes, with gestures pure;
And think'st th' art safe, so long as th' art secure:
Be not deceiv'd: for know thy sinne alone,
Deserves nought lesse, then an invasion.
But though all forraine enemies should faile;
(As Vengeances too small to countervaile
Our wickedn[e]sse) the Devill may find out
Some daring Ket, in borroughs here about;
To plague us, and make pillage of our goods,
To fire our houses, and to spill our bloods.
If heavens just wrath, should send such punishments;
Then who should be best able for defence;
But these that be with warlike skill endu'd,

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To bring in order the rude multitude.
And while those dolts, that have but skill enough
To weight their plummes, or measure out their stuffe,
Shall be unable to obey command;
These shall be fit, each one, to lead a band.
But suppose that heavens awfull ordinance,
Had confin'd Warre, to Germanie, or France:
Suppose our Land from broyles should alway bee
As safe, as Ireland is from vipers free:
Yet is this exercise, and warlike sport,
Thrice more praise-worthy, then the Tennis court,
Or Bowling Alley, where losse and expences,
Breed many discontentments, and offences.
Then (worthy Citizens) into whose hearts
The wise Prometheus, hath infus'd three parts.
Of those pure spritefull flames, which he did steale,
From bright Apollos radiant charret wheele;
Yee that your private cares can intermit,
And spare some houres, for publike benefit:
Frequent yee still Bellona's Court, and know
More Postures, then can all the Souldiers show;
That ere Bloud-thirstie Belgia daign'd to spare
From all the furies of a lingring warre
But (that your exercise may ever last)
Yee must be joyned all together fast,
Within the Golden cord, of Unitie:
All may enjoy the same immunitie,
In place ben[e]ath command: it skils not who
The colours beares (so long as theres no foe)
That place, or grace, which all alike may merit,
(In my conceite) all may by course inherit.
Then let no Envie, nor ambitious thought,
Breake that societie, which time hath wrought
By vertues helpe: let disagreement never,
The joynts of your fraternitie dissever:

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But if foule Discord, that Tartarean elfe,
(Who in eternall darknesse, waste[s] her selfe
With dire imaginations, and damn'd thought,
To bring each worthy exercise to nought)
Shall fill your hearts, with the Cadmeian seede
Of strife; then let my Muse, with pow'rfull reede,
Those mischiefes charme, and repossesse your minds
With that respect, which lovely concord binds.
So did (of yore) the Thracian Lyrist 'swage,
With his concenting notes, the direfull rage
Of Greekish youths, when they had forgot quite
The golden fleece, for which they went to fight,
Each other seeking to deprive of life,
So fell was their debate, so great their strife.
Discords the bane of things, a poysn'us worme,
That doth infest the joynts of States, a storme
Which many Common-wealths hath ruined,
And many hopefull actions frustrated:
Nor can I here, forbeare to interpose
Those unauspicious quarrels, that arose,

Saladinus etiam Hierosolymam sponte nobis reddidissit, nisi diffidijs nostris cognitis, consilium mutasset. Ex litteris Rich. I. ad Coelest.

Betweene stout Cuer de Lyon, and his brother
In law, and Armes, who sworne to aide each other,
Yet entertaind (in stead of love) deepe hate:
And by a separation, tempted fate
To the defeate, of their great enetrprise
For which proud Philip Richards worth envies,
He is requited with as deepe disdaine;
And soone (for spite) returnd to France againe:
But (if their mutuall vowes they had not broke)
Christs Citie then, had cast off Isma'ls yoke.
But Concord, is the strength of Warre, in field,
And Campe, more forcible, then sword, and shield:
Of Conquest, that's the truest augurie;
The life of hope, portent of victorie.
Faire Belgia had long since beene deflowr'd,

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By the Hesperian Dragon, and devour'd,
Had shee admitted any inbred strife:
Concord's her sinewes, bloud, and very life.
Her sheafe of arrowes bound together fast,

A Lyon with a sheafe of Arrowes in his paw; the Armes of Holland.

Are th' auspice of her welfare; which shall last;
So long, as doth the rampant Lyon hold,
His shafts unbroke: and as (in dayes of old)
The wearie Greekes, at Troy found good successe,
When they had got the shafts of Hercules:
Even so, Scylurus arrowes shall maintaine

Scylurue 80 liberos habens moriturus fasciculum iaculorum singulis porrexit, iussuque, rumpere. Quod cum non poss ne ipse singula iacula exemit; atque, ita facilé confregit omnis, filios admonens his verbis: Si concordes eritis, &c. Plut. A pop.

The Netherlands, against the pride of Spaine.
Concord's that golden chaine, let downe from heaven
On whose well order'd linkes, dependeth even
The worlds stabilitie: it doth combine
Both hearts, and hands, and prosper each designe.
In ill attempered bodies, sicknesse breedes,
Which on the disproportion'd humours feedes;
For these uneven'ly mixt, such a Warre raise,
That it the bodies common health decayes,
If some Physicion doth not them attone,
And by an ostracisme, expell that one,
Which is predominant: That confus'd masse
Of things (which Chaos hight) maintained was
By Discord, and while shee there dominear'd,
No hight, no heav'n, no Sea, no earth appear'd;
(Thrust thence by love) shee crept into mens hearts;
Where shee began to play her devilish parts;
For being farre too weake, to worke her ends
Against the greater world, her force shee bends
Against the lesse; inciting men to jarres,
To murthers, treasons, and to Civill warres.
Faire Greece shee first exspos'd to Turkish pride.

Bellum inter duos Andronicos viam strauit. Turcis in Europam. Ann. Dom. 1321. Gregor Mauri proditione Iulianum vacunt Hispan. Valli A. Do. 713 Narses (contumelia accepta ab imperatrice Sophia accersit Longobardos in Italian. Anno Dom. 66. Paulus Diac.

The Moores from Africke, shee to Spaine did guide.
The Lombards shee brought into Italy.
And on the cheekes of France, and Germany.

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The bloudie Characters are to be red,
The balefull sturres, that Discord there hath bred.
Nor doth Apollo any Climate see,
That from her malice, hath beene alway free:
Then from your brests, drive that Echidna dire
(O brave Pretorian band) and with the fire
Of sacred love; do Envies eyes out-seare:
And from foule Slanders mouth, her tongue out teare
Let friendship banish all debate, and strife,
And give your exercise both strength, and life.
Nor let my gentle Muse alone inspire,
Loves sweete consents, but fill'd with that pure fire,
Which Phoebus lends his impes, let her high fits,
Move noble hearts (as time and place permits)
To learne this Art of order, and to know
Their Rankes, and Postures perfectly; for now
Monstrous abuses routed have the age;
And Knaverie rides in Knight-hoods equipage:
Few keepe their Rankes; yet in the front stalkes pride
And alway takes the right-hand file beside:
Shee leadeth on the forlo[r]ne hope, and will
(Though shee to Hell-gate march) be formost still.
Great evils, with great honours be combin'd
And march like Pikes, with Muskets interlin'd.
Our Postures are French conges, and few can:
Know Mounsieur, from an English Gentleman:
So like are we to them, so frenchify'd
In garbes and garment: but great God forbid,
That our newfangled change should ere declare.
Such sad events, as did the Scimitar,
Of King Darius: for his Sword alone,
A sheath of Greekish fashion, did put on:
And then his Magi cry'd, it was a signe,
That he to Greece, his Empire should resigne:
But we our selves, our gestures, and our swords,

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In French are drest up; yea our very words
Have put on French dissimulation:
Oh, blind, absurd, fond, foolish nation,
That (light Chamaeleon-like) art what thou see'st;
A painted Argos, of all gath'rings piec'd.
But are we all transform'd to Woolves, and Apes?
Doe none retaine those old Herculian shapes
Of Vertue? yes: for God defend, that all
Should be Lycanthropiz'd; least heaven should fall.
To stop up with her ruines, Sinnes blacke jawes,
And crush oppressions unrelenting pawes.
No, no: (thankes be to our kinder Starres) yet lives
That Vestall flame in many brests, which gives
Refreshing heate, to each good enterprise:
These helpe old Atlas, to proppe up the skies:
These stand (like brazen Colosses) unmov'd
By chance, or passion: these never lov'd
Informing dogs; nor ere (to fill their purses)
Heard Orphanes cryes, or Widowes baleful curses.
These neere to any greatnesse did aspire;
But Vertue: nor ere sought to be higher
In fortunes favour, then in Gods: these scan
Worth, by desart; and though they truely can
Make good their Gentrie many wayes; such wayes
As now the basenesse of the time bewrayes,
As large demeanes, great place, or pedigrees;
Yet these disdainning that their worth should bee
Produc'd from smokie titles, or base pelfe,
Or dust, and rotten bones, each from himselfe
His worship, or his honour, doth derive;
And by his proper actions doth descrive;
A Gentleman: for Fortune can't inherit
(By right) those graces, which pertaine to merit:
And wretched is that Gentrie, which is gotten
From their deedes, that long since be dead and rotten.

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The favour of the Prince, and Fortune, arts,
And Ancestrie, are but the outward parts
Of true Nobilitie, for her soule is,
An harmonie, of vert'ous qualities:
But should we search the world (may some replie)
From Cales, to Calicut, and sharply prie
Both into Universitie, and court;
Traverse all Countries, and belay each port,
We hardly should meete with so brave a wight.
Yes, yes; such be they whose names to recite,
My Muse is proud; nor ever shall these want
Roome in my Verses (be they nere so scant)
For worth as well deserves a Panegyricke,
As vice doth Satyrs, or a Thiefe a Diricke,
Selfe-wild opinion is, mistaken farre
To deeme, that noble vertues praises are
Smooth flatteries: and Envie is farre wide
To thinke that any baser end can guide
A Poets aymes. Although we know those walkes,
Where Fortune upon heapes of ingots stalkes,
And see her golden Temple dayly full
Of sweating Votaries: where Knave, and Gull
Have accesse free; and though we well descry,
What offrings shee accepts most gratefully:
Yet we her Altars shunne, because we know,
That many (which her favours buy) doe owe
To Justice such hard debts, that mercies bayle
Will scarce be found, to save them from hell-Jayle
Vaine, foolish Men, although they plainely see
All good is there, where grace, and wisedome bee,
Yet they of Fortune, doe a Goddesse make,
Advancing her to heaven, and for her sake,
Dare plunge themselves into a fouler lake:
Then Curtius did Romes pestilence to slacke.
But (noble Gentlemen) yee that doe hold

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Faire vertue, at a higher rate, then gold:
Yee, whose affections scorne to serve the times,
Whose sleepes rue not the harmes, of fore-past crimes,
Whose names were neere marked with the privie seale
Of Fame, for pilling of the common-weale:
Yee that (from Cities tumult severd) know
Those sweet contents, which from retirement flow
Though not Tiberius-like at Capreae:
For privacies, as oft the Midwives bee.
Of ils, as good: but yee reserve your leasures
For nobler ends, then vaine and flitting pleasures:
Nor doe the times bid us securely sleepe,
But rather warne us a strong gard to keepe.
The East looke[s] blacke with danger, and the South
Seemes to invade the North, with open mouth.
Our beaten foes their forces now unite,
Arm'd with dire mischiefe, rage, and fell despite.
But Spaine is poore, and weake (as some replie)
Long Warres exhausted have his treasurie.
The Netherlands: have drawne his Coffers drie
Yet Indian mines (we answere) soone supplie
Those wants; for from the Western world doth come
His Navie duely, fraught with treasure home.
Nor is the Warre maintain'd by Austrian purses
Alone: for somewhat beside Buls and curses
The Pope allowes, and to the offring cals
Many fat Priests, and well fed Cardinals,
For whom (though nere so sparing) would stand by
And, not helpe to roote out a heresie.
Another sort I heare speake better sence:
And those relie on Gods omnipotence:
Tis true: his mercie onely can us keepe;
But if we in our wickednesse still sleepe,
And yet suppose that he shall us defend,
We miserably erre: what doe protend

133

Our foule prodigious sinnes, but death and warre,
Titanicke pride, that God to his face dares.
Ramping Oppression, with her hundreth pawes,
Abusing to her private gaine the lawes.
And Covetise, that with her swinish snout,
Rootes up all goodnesse, to find money out.
Soft handed sloth, spruce smiling Luxurie,
Dull Drunkennesse, swolne-bellyd Gluttonie
Unbridled ire, pale Envie, viperous hate;
These are the Comets which doe ominate
The scourge of Warre; then tis time to repent,
Least we too late seeke to shunne the event.
Last night, when sweete repose had closd mine eyes,
Strange thoughts began my fansie to surprise:
For the dull God of sleepe, that hates the morne,
And from his gate of Ivorie, and horne,
Sends silent troupes of dreames forth everie night,
Caus'd horrid Phobetor me to affright,

Ovid. Meta. l. II

In sundrie shapes: me thought I was transported
To a strange Land, such as is not reported
By Munster, or old Sir John Mandevile.
Nor know I (Certes) whether t'were an Ile,
Or parcell of the maine; therein appear'd
Great Cities, Townes, and Towres, that seem'd to beard
The very clouds; and the soyle seem'd to bee
Exceeding fertile: for on every tree
The pendant clustres hung, as faire to sight,
As the Hesperian fruit: Grapes red, and white,
Pomegranates, Limons, Figs, and Oranges,
With wondrous plentie, seem'd the field to blesse.
Desiring then to see those happie men,
That had so faire a Countrie, to dwell in,
I to a Citie went, thinking to find
The beautifullest race, of all mankind.
(But there arriv'd) most strange t'is to be told,

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What various formes of beasts, I did behold:
Nothing like Man saw I there, but huge Apes
And hayrie Satires, greedie of foule rapes;
Buls, Buffles, Boores, fierce Tygers, Dragons, Dogs,
Beares, Camels, Woolves, slow Asses, Horses, Hogs,
And Monsters, such as Nilus never bred,
Nor Africas foule desarts nourished,
Iveery streete did clusters, on each hand,
As thicke as Tearme-tid Gallants on the strand.
All Birds of prey, and eke all uncleane fowles,
Did nestle there; fierce Eagles, Griffons, Owles,
Foule Ostriches, and Bats, I there descryd;
And earnestly their new guest all these ey'd;
That I sore fear'd their entertainement rough,
And often wish'd my selfe thence farre enough.
While I stood thus amaz'd, an Ape drew neare,
Whose age did in his rivelld face appeare.
This was their Cities Towne-clarke, it did seeme,
For he their onely speaker was I deeme
He with a low accoast, thus did me g[r]eete.
Stranger (quoth he) I kisse thy happie feete,
That brought thee hither, where thou mayst drinke store
Of richest draughts, that shall refresh thee more,
Then strong Nepenthe; and make thy wits quicker
Then can Lyaeus, or the spitefull licour,
That Jove, and all the Gods so freely swill'd,
The merrie night ensuing Phlegra's, field.
Nor let our various shapes, make thee disdaine
Our kind societie (my gentle swaine)
For although we, the shapes of beasts doe shew,
Yet we retaine the minds of men, and know
Thrice more content then they: Our Land is clep't
Faire Polytheria, where great Circe kept
Her court of yore: Circe that awfull Queene,
The daughter of the Sunne, who oft was seene

135

To change mid-day, to mid-night, and to cause
Æstivall Snowes and breake the vipers jawes.
To drive a river backe, to his spring head,
To make Seas stand unmov'd, and to strike dead
The harvest eare; her cup and wand so mightie,
Which made the Fiends obey her great Venite,
We stlil reserve: nor doe we deeme the race,
Whereof we are deriv'd our meanest grace:
From that victorious ancestrie we grow,
That did Faire Asias glorie overthrow,
In Troyes great ruines: nor were these (I sweare)
The baser sort, but such as consorts were
Of great Ulysses, on whose name still stickes
The honour of Troyes fall; nor need we fixe
Our worth aloue on a bare pedigree;
Our actions shew what our deservings bee;
Which yee men partly know, and must confesse,
That we have sent you succour, in distresse.
Here was the Ramme bred, that did bring
Great

Cum liber Pater per desertum Libyae excercitum duceret & siti admodum laboraret; implorasse à Patra auxilium dicitur; Quo facto apparuisse ei ex templo arietem; qui dum fugientem persequitur, peruenisse illo duce ad fontem amaenissimum. Alij terra arietis pede concussa fontem exilijsse tradunt Plin. 1. 6.

Liber Paters Armie to the spring,
When they in Africkes deserts were tormented
With scortching thirst. Those white

Anseres non sefellere, quibus saeris Iunoni in summa inopia cibi tamen abstinebatur, quae res saluti fuit, namq, clangore eorum alarumq crepitu excitus. M. Manlius &c. T. Liu. lib 8

Geese the prevented
The Gaules from taking of the Capitoll
Were some of us. And that py'd Memphian

Vide Alexand. ab Alexand spartiam. Marc.

Bull,
For whom the Egyptians fell at deadly jarres
Was ours.

Vide M. Valer. de ficta relig.

Sertorius in his Spanish warres,
Sought counsell of our Hind. The Asse
Of Apuleius; and the

Bos locut; Rematque tibi. Liu. li. 35.

Oxe that was
Heard speake at Rome. The Epidaurian

Vide Plin. l. 4. Ouid. Met. 15. Titii Sabini Cauis.

Snake;
And Dogge that dy'd for his deare Masters sake
Were bred with us. The Coblers prating Daw;
And

Aues a Psaphone edodae eloqui; Magnus Deus Psapho. M. Val.

Psapho's Birds did here their first ayre draw;
And so did Mahomets tame Pigeon,
That holpe to found his new religion.
I could tell later prankes, till I were hoarce,

136

Of Willoughbyes blacke Cat, and Banckes his horse;
This place (I tell thee) is the onely Cell,
Where arts enlink'd with rich content doe dwell.
And that thine eye may witnesse what I say;
Here follow me: then he leades me away
Unto a Castle, whose high towred brow
Did checke the winds, and seem'd to over-crow
The cloudes: there Lyons, Tygers, Panthers sweete,
As tame as fawning Spaniels did us meete.
Then to a spacious Hall we came, that stood
On pillars of tough Brasse; nor stone, nor wood
Were seene in it; and there I pleased my sight
With the Picture of the Dulychian Knight:
Eurylochus, and he whose braines were wash'd
So well with Wine, that life and wits were cash'd
Were Pictur'd there, and many a Greeke beside
That with Ulysses there did long abide.
Faire was the stuffe, but thrice more faire the art,
That there was to be seene in every part.
While I admir'd here what mine eyes beheld,
The Ape brought me a cup with wine up fill'd
And bids me drink't; that then I might find grace
To see things farre more rare, in that faire place.
I in my trembling hand receiv'd the cup,
That was of Gold, and dranke the licour up:
Then soone the poysons force did touch my braine,
And through my body crept in every veine:
And while my case I thought to have deplor'd,
Thinking to speake my griefes, aloud I ror'd:
My hands (I saw) were chang'd to grisly pawes
My clothes to shaggie haires; with yawning jawes
My mouth did gape; and I perceiv'd my shape
Was like a Lyons: then began the Ape
With gentle words, to cure my discontent.
Good friend (quoth he) thou shalt thee not repent
Of thy arrivall here; though thou hast lost

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Thy former shape, and feature, be not crost:
For shrowded in this shape, thou shalt obtaine
More knowledge, then did ever mortall gaine.
Then by long winding stayres, and walkes he drew me,
Unto a spacious roome, where he did shew me,
The

Vide Artatel. De Magiae.

Booke, the Gemme, and Magicke horne, all which
If any man can get, he shall be rich,
Long-liv'd, a King, and fortunate,
Yea what he will: the Rings of Polycrate,
Of happie Giges, and wise

Vide Corneli. Agripp. De occult. Philos. li. I. cap. 27.

Iarchas; and
The Sword of Paracelsus, with the wand
Of Circe, and the roote

Vide C. Plin. secun. l. 30. ca. 2.

Osirides,
With Zoroastres his Ephimerides;
And those mysterious books which taught great

Romani ex Sibyllinis libris edocti se dominos mundi instituerunt. Arb.

Rome
To make the World obey her awfull doome;
These and an hundred things as strange, beside
The Ape did shew me; also there I spi'd
Lopez his poyson, in a Glasse of Crystall;
Ravillacs bloudy Knife, and Parries Pistoll:
But looking into a darke hurne aside,
I Mattockes, Spades, and Pick-axes descri'd,
With Pouder barrels, heap'd up altogether:
Then did the Ape me lead, I know not whether:
But many stayers deepe, I am sure we went;
That Hels darke way so steepe as this descent,
I weene is not: at last a gloomie cell
We came unto, that seem'd as blacke as Hell,
But for the Torches which there daily burn'd:
Such is the Cell, where (when the Pope's enurn'd)
The Fathers meete, to find another foole.
Fit for the tryall, of the

Porphyria cathedra qua nonus Pontifex continuo ab eius creatione residet vt sedentis genitalia ab vltimo Diacono attrectentur. Sabellicus.

porphyre stoole.
This was their Counsell-house, wherein they sate
Discussing matters, that belong'd to state:
Mischiefes, and treason, warre conspiracies,
False treaties, stratagems, confed'racies,
Were here hatch'd and now hence was comming forth,

138

A plot against the Lyons of the North.
The subtile Dragon, and the Griffon fierce
That seekes the Empire of the Universe:
The Eagle, and the

The armes of the Ancient Kings of France were Trees Crapaux Saturne, in a Field Sol. Guil.

Toade, were here assembled;
To heare whose bloudy projects, my heart trembled:
Against the Northerne Lyons they were bent,
To use all crueltie, and punishment,
For wrongs late done: The Dragon fell doth crie
Th' are Heretickes, and therefore ought to die.
The Griffon sware, t'was not to be allow'd,
That Luth'ranes should their heads in this world shroud.
The Eagle wish'd, he never might be bli'st,
If ere he spar'd a filthy Calvinist.
The spitefull Toad did wish his bones might rot,
If ere he ment to save a Huguenot.
The Dragon much did praise their readinesse,
And promis'd that the action he would blesse,
And vow'd he would be lib'rall of his crosses
To those brave soules, that durst adventure losses
Of lives, or limmes, in that designement; and
If any chanc'd to fall, he would command
The Angels to transport him presently
To heaven, without a Purgatorie.
But that the world might not their malice s[c]ent.
They meant to cast out tales; that their intent
Was to give to Religion, her first grace
And puritie: thus with a painted face
They masked their devilish end. While I gave eare
To their damn'd counsels; I felt a new feare:
For from beneath I heard an hideous sound,
As if some Earthquake dire had cleft the ground
Or Hell her selfe approach to make one
In their mischievous consultation.
So Neptune scourged with the Northwind rores:
Such is the clangour, of a thousand ores

139

Falling at once upon the surging wave:
The Witches in their conventicles have
Such Musicke, as was this: for t'was the noyse
Of the infernall pow'rs, that did rejoyce,
To see that Hellish-plot contriv'd, and wrought,
That might bring all the world againe to nought.
With such obstrep'rous sounds, my sence they strooke,
That I sleepes gentle fetters then off shooke,
Nor is our danger but a dreame (I feare)
So many signes presaging it, appeare.
For what can we expect, but sturdy blowes,
From our combin'd exasperated foes.
Then high time tis fresh courage for to broch
When pale-fac'd death and ruine seemes t'approch.
(Brave Gentlemen) learne to be prodigall
Of bloud; feare nought that may befall
But infamie; meete death in any shape,
And grapple with blacke danger, though he gape
As wide as Hell: know that this life of yours
Is but a breath, or blast, or like Mayes flowers
Yet never is priz'd at so high a rate;
As when tis nobly lost: then animate
Your selves with brave example, and shunne not
That Fate, which our late worthy heroes got,
With endlesse fame to boote. Yea let Spaine know,
And never thinke on't, but with horrour, how
We children are to those, that did defeate
Their great Armada; and them often beate
Abroad, and eke at home, and let proud France
Review those times, when her Warres did advance
Our English Gentlemen. Let that blacke day
Of Agincourt, with terrour still dismay
Her halfe-dead trembling heart: nor ever let her
Expect successe, or any fortune better
'Gainst us: twice with two num'rous Armies shee

Anno Do. 1387 Charles 6. with a Navie of 1200 saile, threatned to invade England, having provided such store of Munition & strange engines, as the like was seldome heard of. Anno Do. 1545 The French with an Armie of 60000 men came for England; but feare their entertainment would prove too hote, faintly and friendly they went home againe.

140

Did England treate; yet durst but once scarce see
Our pale Cliffes, with her paler lookes, and then
Turn'd sterne, and cowardly ranne home agen:
If shee the third time, should attempt the like
Let the like feares her heart appall, and strike.
But (whatsoever betide) t'is meete that we
Should stand upon our gard, and ever be
Prepar'd, both to make good, our owne defence,
And strike our foes: but since experience
Is thought our greatest want there must be found
A medicine to applie to that deepe wound,
Which Discipline is call'd; this wholesome cure
Yee Gentlemen must often put in ure;
Yee, that have charge of Bands, your dutie tis
To traine them up, with frequent exercise.
Nor by your Must'ring once, or twice a yeare,
Doe yee discharge your duties, but I feare
If forraine foes should drive us to our fence,
We all should suffer for your negligence.
Tis rather fitting, that each Month should yeeld
A day, to draw your Souldiers to the field.
For our tough Husbandmen, on whom depends
Our chiefest strength, so mind their proper ends,
That they to weild their Armes have soone forgot,
If often exercise enures them not.
These with their Bowes, of stiffe, and trustie Eugh
The Cavalrie of France oft overthrew.
And in one Month more spoyle, and Conquest wonne
Then they had thought could in a yeare be done.
But now the fierie weapons have cashierd
Those ancient Armes, that made our name so fear'd
Through all the World, nor hath ease so decay'd
Our courage, or our nerves, but by the aid
Of Discipline, we may retrive that Fame
Which we so lately lost; and rayse a name,

141

That may our bragging foes afresh dismay,
More then the name of Spinola doth fray
Our women, or our women-hearted men.
Nor doe I that old Genovese contemne:
He dares doe much, where we dare not oppose:
He Conquers all, especially leane foes:
If they be fat, they are not for his diet,
He rather an whole twelve-month had lie quiet;
Till they be famish'd to his hand: what though,
He to his fellow Genewayes doth owe
Large summes; his Master will pay all tick-tacke,
If the Platefleete comes home without a wracke,
When that the Towne is wonne: what Towne? Breda
By whom wa'st wonne? by Marques Spinola.
I scarce beleeve't: then goe and see; for there
Upon the gate in scul'pture doth appeare
The mem'rie of that famous enterprise.
How wonn't he; by assault or by surprise?
No: by a famine. In what space? a yeare,
Wanting two monthes. What force had he there?
Twice twentie thousand men. Then there he spent,
More then he got. I, that's most evident.
Yet much renowne he had. I, that or nought,
Though it at a deare rate King Philip bought.
But if Don Ambrose may of Conquest boast,
For taking in the Towne, with so much cost,
And time, and losse; then what did Heraughiere
Deserve; that in one night accomplish'd cleare,
A Conquest more compleate, with seventie men;
Then he so strong, and so long space could win.
As when the cunning Forresters have plac'd
Their wel-woven toyles, and heards of wild beasts chac'd
Into their snares; yet daring not invade
The furious heards, with bore-speare or with blade,
For feare of their fell ire; with a strong gard

142

They them surround, and keepe them thus upbarrd,
Till pinching famine makes them faint and weake;
And then at will their teene on them they wreake.
Thus was Breda by Spinola obtain'd.
Sharpe famine, not his force, the Citie gain'd.
Ostend to ruines turn'd, he wonne at last
For Phoebus through the Zodiacke thrice had past.
Yet still the Towne held out: some others prate
Of his Acts done in the Palatinate,
Where few were to resist: yet this is hee
That's thought invincible; although wee see
His base retreat from Bergen did well shew
That he may meete his match sometimes. Tis true:
Yet tis not good to thinke our strength so great,
That he dares not against us worke some feate.
Our craggie Cliffes, we ought not to trust to;
Whose hugh Enclosures bound our Iland so.
Ambition dares the roaring billowes passe;
Of force to raine towres of lasting brasse;
Whose cankerd rage we must meete face to face
With Spartane hearts (for so requires our case)
Since for defence we have no Wals of stone,
Our surest gard must be our Wals of bone.
And yee, our unkind brethren that affect
The faire terme of Catholicke in respect

Apostroph. to our Papists.

Of your Religion, and with that name,
Contend in vaine, to hide your mothers shame;
Your Mother Rome, that famous Paramore
Of Kings, and Princes, that need Hellebore.
Shee (like Semiramis) is wont to kill
Her Lovers, when of Lust shee hath her fill.
Yee that beneath an English face, doe hood
A Spanish heart, preferring forraine good,
Before your Englands health; alwayes in hand,
Upon the ruines of your native land,

143

To build Spaines Monarchie, and make that Prince
A Catholicke in Empire, that long since,
Was only fain'd in faith to be the same.
But trust yee not the talke of flatt'ring fame.
That tels you Spaine is mercifull, and just,
Not led by ill desire, or any lust
Of domination, to set footing here,
Least his false play too soone to you appeare,
And yee too late your follies see: let not
Utopian joyes your judgements so besot,
To make you think that change of Government,

The Duke of Medina Generall of the Spanish Forces in 88 said that his sword shold not make any difference betweene Papist or Protestant, so hee could make way for his Master to the Conquest of the Iland.

Produceth the most absolute content:
Trust not Spaines glosses, but rather conceit
What proud Medina said in eightie eight.
Spaine for Religion fights (as he pretends)
But spoyle, and Conquest, are his mainest ends.
When Paris had stolne his light Minion,
No lesse then fiftie Kings combin'd in one,
Protested, that for this disgracefull rape,
Troy should not their severest vengeance scape:
Yet was not just revenge the chiefest end
Of their designe (whats'ere they did pretend)
For each sought to get Helen for a wife,
And this indeede was cause of so much strife.
Even so your Patrone of Castile protests,
That he his Armes puts on, for a redresse
Of holy Churches wrongs; when he nought lesse
Intends; setting Religion for a stale,
To catch the Empire of the West withall.
Beleeve it, Conquest is his certaine end;
To which, he doth by direst mischiefes tend;
To that through Seas of Guiltlesse bloud he wades,
Cutting his passage out with murd'ring blades:
Or like Amilcars sonne, with flames of fire,

Sicut Haniball per Alpes. Liu.

And Vinegar, makes way for his desire.

144

(England subdu'd) could yee hope to stand by
Secure spectatours of the Tragedy:
No, no: though for a time yee might be free,
Your lives should make up the Catastrophe.
This priviledge perhaps yee might obtaine,
That is, to be the last that should be slaine.
Then joyne with us; be not so impious,
To stand against your Countries Genius.
Let us together joyne, with hearts upright,
The which shall pray, while our hands ply the fight.
Strive not (like Phaetons jades) to overthrow
Your Master, least yee also fall as low.
Attempt not to unbarre your Countries gate
To forraine foes, least yee repent too late
Your treacherie, for be assur'd that none
Did ever Traitours love (the Treason done.)

[43]. A Threnode

[_]

Upon the Death of those two Honourable Gentlemen, Sir JOHN BURROWES, late Lieutenant of the English Infantrie in the Ile of Ree, and Sir WILLIAM HEYDON, Lieutenant of the Ordinance.

The thousand Torch-bearers of Jove,
Which mightily to his Bed him light,
Where Juno entertaines his love,
With merie glee and sweete delight;

145

Were scatter'd all about the skie,
That seemed of a Saphires die.

All Creatures were at silent rest;
Except those wights, whose musing hearts,
Some extreme passion did infest,
And they were playing then their parts.
The Thiefe was plodding on his way,
But softly; least the Dogges should bay.

True lovers (whom the day divorc'd
From sweete discourse) now met and kist:
The Witches on their wands were horst,
And Luna on their Hearbs downe pist:
Nor had the Cocke yet stretched his throte
With his all cheering early note.

But t'was the time, when Morpheus dull
From his two Portals, sendeth out
His dreames, that fill mens fancies full
With fond conceite, and fearefull doubt,
Then I upon my Pillow laid,
With drearie thoughts was much dismaid.

A strange appearance my mind strooke;
Methought I was in Forrest wide,
And neere unto a Chrystall brooke,
Upon whose greene bankes I descry'd
A goodly Lady much distrest,
(As by her wofull plight I ghest)

A mantle greene shee seem'd to weare;
Which by a curious hand was wrought:
Townes, Rivers, Mountaines were seene there,
And what is in a Lan[d]schap sought:

146

And all the workmanship most fine,
A wavie border did confine.

Upon her dolefull browes was set
A stately Crowne, that did appeare
Like to that towred Coronet,
Which Cybele was wont to weare.
The Roses from her cheekes were fled,
Her tresses were disheveled.

With teares her eyes beblubberd were,
Lamenting sate shee on the grasse:
And I 'gan to approach her neere,
To find the cause of her sad passe;
A drearie spectacle then strooke
My throbbing heart, that for feare shooke.

For by her side there lay two wights,
Whose cheekes were mark'd with deaths pale brand,
Who seem'd t'have beene right goodly Knights,
Though now they lay low on the Strand,
As if they by untimely fate,
Had beene brought to that wretched 'state.

For one was gor'd with grisly wound,
From whence the bloud afresh flow'd out,
Which cruddling on the gelid ground.
Did cover all the grasse about,
The Lady for him sore did weepe,
And with her teares his wound did steepe.

The other Knight all wanne and pale,
With water seem'd all to be smear'd:
The drifling drops full thicke did fall,
From his bright lockes, and manly beard,

147

As if that Neptune had him slaine,
And cast upon the shore againe.

Disdaine was fix'd upon his brow,
As if he yeelding up his breath,
Had scornd that fate which made him bow:
But t'was his lucke to drinke his death.
While I beheld this sight forlorne,
The Lady 'gan afresh to mourne.

And with Pearle-dropping eyes up-reard
Unto the glittring skie; thus spake:
Yee awfull Gods that oft have heard
The vowes, and pray'rs which I did make,
Upon whose Altars I have left,
The spoyles that from my foes were reft.

What great offence of mine hath mov'd
Your hearts to such impatient ire,
To kill those Knights, whom I best lov'd,
Whose service I did most desire.
Oh fading hopes, oh false delights,
Oh joy more swift then Summers nights.

(Burrowes) thy valour was a flowre,
Whom lightning dire at length did strike.
Though it had borne off many a showre.
(Heydon) thy worth was Aprill-like,
Which had it a faire May beheld,
Such flowers had shew'd, as neere did field.

Or like a sturdie Ship of Warre,
(Brave Burrowes) was thy manly might,
Which vessell had beene famous farre,
For faire successe in furious fight,

148

Whose sides at last a Canon gor'd,
And then the deepes her bulke devour'd.

And to a Ship in all her ruffe,
New set afloate was Heydon like;
Whose [------] the Tritons tooke in snuffe,
And under water did her strike.
Thus doe the greatest goods flit fast;
Some soone, some late; but all at last.

Yee Sisters that in darknesse lie,
Removed farre from mortall eyne,
Where yee that fatall distaffe plie,
From whence is drawne Mans vitall twine:
What various fates have yee assign'd,
To these my Knights, so like in mind.

Sweete honours thirst my Burrowes call'd
To forraine lands, to seeke for fame;
Where he with courage unappall'd,
Great toyles, and dangers over-came.
There vanquish'd he base fortunes might
Griefe, Sicknesse, Age and all despite.

Himselfe in Ostend he engag'd,
Where Death with Funerals was weary'd.
Though Pestilence, and Pellets rag'd,
Yet he nor wounds nor sicknesse feared.
The noble heart more constant growes.
When great perill it selfe shewes.

In Frankendale he did oppose
The conquering troupes, of Tilly stout
Whom he repulst with bloudy blowes,
And longer might have kept them out,

149

If it had beene his Soveraignes will
That he the Towne should have kept still.

His latter Scenes he playd so well,
So sweet was his Catastrophe:
That Fame shall never cease to tell
His worth unto posteritie,
Who shall his name among these read,
That for their Countries cause are dead.

At length he fell: so fals at last
The Oke that many stormes hath stood:
From paine to Paradise he past.
And wonne his blisse with losse of blood.
Then let his bones soft lodging have;
And let sweete flowres spring on his grave.

But my deare Heydon I lament,
As doth the tender mother mourne
For her yong sonne, untimely shent,
That was to some great Fortune borne:
The cruell Fates conspir'd his death,
When first he drew an Infants breath.

Oh, Froward Fate that giv'st good parts,
Yet dost envie men should them shew.
So chance to many, goods imparts,
But grace to use them, unto few.
(Aye me) that Death the greatest ill,
Should greatest vertues alway kill.

Grimme Mars, and Mercurie did sit
As Lords, at thy Nativitie.
Mars gave the valour, Hermes wit;
But both an wofull destinie.

150

They at thy worth repin'd my Knight
And did cut short thy life for spite.

Even as moyst Zephyre powers downe fast
His showres on the new sprouted rose,
That it her blossomes soone doth cast,
And all her fragrant odour loose:
So Heydon in his prime was strooke:
Betimes his vigour him forsooke.

Accursed ever be that Ile
That beares the Holy Bishops name,
Which did me of my Knights beguile:
Let warre and spoyle, nere leave the same
Nor ever let the forraine yoke
Be from her servile shoulders broke.

Let gastly Ghosts frequent her plaines,
Let night hags there be heard to rore:
Let Syrens dire with drearie streames,
Make Saylors shunne that balefull shore.
Let thunder stricke their Vines amaine,
By thunder was my Burrowes slaine.

And let those deepes, that guiltie are
Of Heydons bloud, be turn'd to shelves,
That them t'approach no ships may dare,
For feare to cast away themselves.
O let ten thousand ills betide
Those places, where my worthies di'd.

(This said) a grievous sigh shee drew,
As if her heart-strings would have split;
And on the earth her-selfe shee threw;
That for to see her piteous fit,

151

The Dryads wept, the Satyrs lowr'd,
And water Nymphes their teares forth powr'd.

The Trees did sigh, the Hils did grone
The bubling Brooke did sobbe a maine,
And Echo made a pitious mone,
That I could not from teares refraine
The Birds with her in consort joynd,
And sought in vaine to ease her mind.

The Nighting-gale, on wither'd brakes,
These drearie threnodes forth did powre:
Wealth, beautie, strength (quoth shee) Time takes;
And Death approacheth every howre.
But Vertue endlesse life imparts.
Then live for ever (noble hearts.)

The Swanne mov'd with her plaints drew neere,
And thus began to sing his last:
No setled state of things is here;
Our lives, our joyes are but a blast.
But Sunnes that set faire, so shall rise:
Oh happie Death; and so he dies.

The Turtle true with heavie cheere,
Sob'd forth her mournefull Elegies
O Death (said shee) that slu'st my deare,
Now boast not of thy Victories:
Thy paines are joyes, thy darts are cures
Thy wounds are life, that alway dures.

I had but heard her dittie out,
When that the Cocke whose Sants bell cleere
Should call mens hearts to thoughts devout.
Made me from sleepe my eyes to reare,

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Upon my dreame I mused then;
And when day came, it downe did pen.

FINIS.

[44] Upon the death of Sir RALPHE SHELTON.

I am what, passion will: a stone, or tree:
A mad Hercuba or sad Niobe.
For who can see such ruines, and not feele
A marble chilnesse creepe from head to heele:
Like sad Electra that could not abide
To see Troy Urn'd: but her pale face did hide.
Or Phoebus-like that brooks not to behold
The Thyestaean dainties, but did fold
His head in Pitchie cloudes, so loathes my eye
To be spectator of this Tragedie;
Wherein, thou Shelton no meane person werst
And did'st so to the life well act thy part
That we lament thy exit, and give thee,
Sad sighes, instead of a glad plaudite.
Yet shall not griefe so prejudice thy worth,
But fame shall sing alowd thy praises forth
To checke the pride of France; who in thy fate,
Lost three for one: it at so deare a rate
Thou sold'st; yet was it cheape to them (I sweare)
Out valuing more lives, then they had there.
Thy life, and death were fatall both alike

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To France: first in a Duell didst thou strike
French braverie downe; and boldly trodst upon
The dustie Plumes, of that proud Champion,
That durst thy valour tempt: with thine owne hands,
Thou paidst thy owne revenge; which ever stands
Huge Columne-like, to counter-checke the pride
Of France; and shew how bravely Shelton dy'd.