The Works of William Fowler :: :: University of Virginia Library

Furthe from his golden Ins and tent, afore Aurora fair,
The Sun evin belted in his beames did from his place repair,
And Isseued owt with swifter course than one Would evin hawe said
he was abowe our Hemisphere vplifted with a braid;
And heir a litill staying, than he lookes him round about,
as dois the wyse and sagest men for thingis thay stand in dowbt,
And to him selff with in him selff with rage beginnis to say:
“quhat thinkis thow best now to be done, what will thow do this day?
Now is the houer that thow sould hawe evin of thy selff more cair,
becaus thow seis that mortall men, whose dayis dois death impair,
Yit being deid do no wayes die bot by thair fame dois liwe,
and by thair vertewus famous acts do far thair death surviwe.
If it so be as it dois seme that law salbe in vane,
that so the heavins fixt with ws so stable to remane,
And gif the fame of mortall men by death dois more incress,
which ought by death to quenshed be and quikly brought to less,
Than of my glore and excellence must cum my fall and end,
and suddenlie for which I rage sall all to ruine tend.
What gretar wrong must I looke for, quhat worser may be fall,
that I no more sall hawe in heavin than man on earthlie ball?
So far inferiour is my state, and basser is my cace,
That I might equall be with man, I crye of speciall grace;

119

And yit four barded breathing horss with cair I intertane,
and in the Occean tham dois feid so long as I remane,
I with my spous dois spur thair sydis and whipps thame with my wand,
and yit aganis me dois a mans vndantound fame with stand.
If I war in the glorious heavins of Starrs not onelye he
who first is of the Planettis all and highest in degrie,
Bot evin the secunde, or the thrid, It wer, as I now say,
ane Iniurie by hatred cumed, and not through sport and play.
So now it weill besemeth me to kendle all my ȝeill,
and to my flight Ioyne double wingis that I may more prewaill.
Now do I grudge at mortall men, I beare them now Inwye,
I hate and now despysis thame, nor can I this denye,
Whome all I sie, yea, afterhend a thousand thousand yeares,
thay floorish more than in thair lyfe and famous more appeares,
And I not more, bot to remane Environed with woe,
and can not gett beyond my greifis, nor yit beyond thame goe;
I am evin as I was at first, no better is my state,
nor yit my glorie more hes growen, nor yit my fame more greate;
And so I am as first I was before the earthe was plaist,
ay turning in a circled scheit, day, night, but end, in haist.”

When that the Sun these wordis had said with greif & grit disdane,
he than reseumd a swifter course far spediar more agane,
So that the same more sudden was than falcon In his flight,
that from the high discending doun vpone his pray do light.
The thought of man may not attane, far les his tounge and style,
for to Imagine what I saw with feare and dreid this whyle.

Than did I recken all our lyfe most abiect, vyle, and vane,
evin by his swift and rinning course which nothing might restrane,
Whose solid course and movement did cause me Iudge much more
the same to be contemptebill which gentle I held before.

120

Whair than I thought it vanitie, a vaness wondrous great,
that so our hartis suld liwe to that whose stay and whole estait
Tyme dingeth and depressis doun, and whillis we more do think
to holde thame fast, we leist tham hold and passeth at a clink;
He thairfore who hes of his state ones sowcy, cair, and feare,
let him prowyid and weill foirsee that so it may appeare,
Whillis as he may through hevinlie grace, his hope so founded be
and stablisht in a stable place of long eternitie.

For when I saw the Turning tyme so gallantlie to go,
and lightlye rin behind his gwyde that hes no rest nor ho,
Whose swiftnes was so wonderfull, so infinit and large,
that for to tell my toung nor thought be able of that charge;
For thair without distructioun at all at any tyme
I saw the frost with Roses mixt, the harwest with the pryme,
And that which semed more wonderfull, I saw, evin at one point,
the nipping colde with ferwent whote and fyrie flams conioynt;
And he who with a Iudgement firme dois all these thingis regard,
in tyme sall sie thame so to be; for which I litill caird
In these my rekles youthles dayes, and in my lustie age,
which makis me now dispyte my selff and with my selff to rage;
For than my hope did follow muche my foolish vane desyre,
and bothe my hope and foolish thoughts to folye did aspyre,
Quhair now in eild before my eyes of Conscience is a glass,
whairin my self and faultes I spye, and what sumtymes I was,
And as much as I may see me to my deathe declyne,
remembring of my litill lyfe and of my latter fyne,
Whair in the morning I see me a gallant chylde and light,
and now a havie, feble, waik, and aged man at night.

What than is more mans mortall lyfe or longer than a day,
coulde, cluddie, short, and full of woe, that quiklye waistis away?

121

It brawe may seme and long appeir through outward shaw to be,
bot all that fair apparance Is of litill worthe we sie.
Quhat humane hope, quhat mortall trust, quhat ioy dois men so blinde,
what makis these mortallis folke to be so proude in mynde,
Or yit so puftlye lift thair headis in vanetie and pryde,
and knowest not how they sone sall die, or long in lyfe sall byde?
I now behoulde evin of my lyfe the flight to be at hand,
and with the same the dayes of all whairin men liwe and stand,
And in the swift and fleing course of this resplendant Sun,
I sie the world wrack is cumed and rwine is begun.

O lustye bloods, I sie yow now your selfis to confort soe,
and in your folye all delyte and further thairin goe;
Yow all ar cairles of your death, yow measure all the tyme
evin with the largest, thinking it salbe ay in pryme:
Liue for to die, think on your deathe, for deathe on you dois call;
the hurt foirsene bringis lesser harme and doole when it dothe fall.
Perchance I sparple all my speache most vanelie to the wind,
bot that I tell for treuth it hould and keip it in your mynd;
if to my speache yow tak no heade and not my counsell keip,
your branes do all oppressed lye with heavie deidlie sleip.
For this muche more yow ought to mark, becaus the houers and dayis,
the Monthis, the yeares to gretar goes, togeather all decayis,
And we with litill Interwall and litill distant space
hawe all to searche for other partis, for other rowmes and place;
Do not against the treuthe thairfoir your hardned hartis indure,
as ye haif done and practised vnto this tyme and houer,
Bot turne your eyes vnto your self, and spye quhair ȝe offend,
and prease your selfis, whils as ȝe may, your faultis and sinnis to mend;

122

Abyde whill deathe bend his bow or yit delashe his shaft,
as dois the moist part of the world which is a band most daft.

Than after that I had espyed, as I now cleir espye,
the flight and chaise of Phœbus fair that rolleth in the skye,
from which by Tyme such heavie loss and harmis I do sustane,
I saw a sort and kynde of folk in silence walkt agane,
But feare of tyme, or of his rage, or of his furious faird,
whome Poets and Historiens did keip within thair guaird;
The Sun had more enwye at thame, and bwir thame more despyit,
who by thair knawlege and thair witt and verteuis most perfyit
Wer mounted to suche topp of praise that never semed decay,
who passed from the vulgare trace and cage and commoun way;
In contrare thame he, onlye he, who onlye fair dois shyne,
with gretar force did him adres to mak thame all declyne,
So that he than began agane a course more swift & greate,
and to his horse redoubled wer thair prowendare & meate;
And shee of whome I wreit before, I meane the quene of Fame,
deworst hir self from some of hirs who lyeth now but name.

I sometymes hard, bot yit of whome I can not tell nor say,
and this much also hawe I red and tane the same away,
that all these humane worldlie workis, that Primprint may be cald,
ar pittis of blind obliuioun whare darklye men ar thrauld;
Ane other sentence hawe I red, that Phebus in his spheir
sall by his force revolt, and turne not ones a single yeare
Bot Lustres and that longer age of hunder yeares account,
sall ouer the death of mortall men victoriouslye surmount,
And by this revolutioun we sall beholde agane
mens famous and illustrious fames to pass away in vane.

123

For looke how muche they wer renound who wer betuix these floods
whair Peneus rinnis and Hebrus slydis, and all these folkisincludis
Of Macedone, of Thracia, and of Thessalia,
that borders with Boetia and landis of Attica,
Or yit so sunder distant be as far as Zanthus rins
whair Troianis duelt, and Tiber now whairin the Romans wins;
The fame of all these people brawe hawe haisted to thair end,
and, gif not yit, they yit sall sone all to that Iornay tend.
I hard lykwyse one say: “your fame no otherwise dois byid
than dois a plesant changeing blenk shyne in the Wintar tyd,
Whiche sone a litill cludde obscuris and brekis and maketh dark,
and to great names great tymes to be a great and vennemous spark;
Your Triumphs and your prydfull pompe sall all to dust declyne,
your lordshippes sall all pass away, & than your kingdomes syne;
Your helthe, strenth, age, all mortall thingis, lyfe, fame with fair renoun,
tyme waistis, makes waks, defaces, killis, distroyes and beated doun;
And alss from these of menest rank sall than be tane away
not only that whiche outwardlie tyme brought vnto decay,
Bot evin thair knawlege, learning, skill, proportioned with thair witt,
thair eloquence, and thair ingyne, sall quiklie from thame flitt;
Nor yit sall tyme, who dois this world turne in his wandring flight,
that never restis, not yit returnis, leawe of to shaw his might
Afore all mortall men be him, both godlie and vniust,
be all reduced to earthlie ash and to a litill dust.

124

Bot sum may say, ‘sen humane glore and this thair famous pryde
hes suche a multitude of hornes and prickes against hir syde,
No merwell is that it be perst, if it soiourne and duell
beyond the commoun custumed vse, this dois the vulgar tell.’
Bot lett thame pratt; if that our lyfe in haist did not consume,
we sone suld sie all humane gloir to pass away like fume.”

I hearing this, and now becaus none shuld the treuth with stand,
Bot thairto fayith and credeitt gif but doubt or more demand,
I saw our glore incontinent, our pompe and glorious show,
to faid, to waist away, to melt evin as the Sun dois snow;
And than I saw that Turning tyme to hawe brought bak agane
the spoyle and pray of all your names which I estemed all vane,
And to be of no importance, suppose the vulgar sort
beleueth not, nor yit dois know, bot otherwayes report.

O people blinde, that so yow playes and sportis yow with the winde,
and dois on fals opinioun feid and errouris of the mynde,
With gretar praise advanceing more that death that growis by age,
than that which in the Creddill comes and futur greifs dois swage!
How happie ar alreddie these that deitt in swadling bandis!
how wretched more that through thair age death to thair grawe demandis!
And some thair be manteneth this, and hold it for no scorne,
To deme thame happie most and blist that never hes bene borne.
Bot lett this people answer me, with errouris so acquent,
that through the lentheninge of thair lyfe they seme so weill content,

125

And thinkis thair growing age sall mak thair fames more famous grow,
quhat is it worthe whiche they so pryse? I pray thame let me know—
Confused dreames, and pufts of winde, vane fables, sturt, and stryfe,
this is the fame that they do crawe be long desyred lyfe.
So far is tyme so cowetous, and wars so much in wreath,
that that which now is called fame he makis a seconde death,
For whose defence and steidfast stay thair is no more remeid
than wes for our first former lyfe, so swiftlye tyme dois speid
For to Triumphe abowe the fame and glore of mortall men
and of this world miserable, a dungeoun dark, and den.

Finis Triumphi temporis.