University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The poems of George Daniel

... From the original mss. in the British Museum: Hitherto unprinted. Edited, with introduction, notes, and illustrations, portrait, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart: In four volumes

collapse sectionI. 
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
To Time and Honour.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse sectionII. 
collapse section 
  
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXVIII. 
 XXXIX. 
 XL. 
 XLI. 
 XLII. 
 XLIII. 
 XLIV. 
 XLV. 
 XLVI. 
 XLVII. 
 XLVIII. 
 XLIX. 
 L. 
 LI. 
 LII. 
 LIII. 
 LIV. 
 LV. 
 LVI. 
 LVII. 
 LVIII. 
 LIX. 
collapse section 
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
collapse section 
  
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
collapse sectionIII, IV. 
collapse section 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXVIII. 
 XXXIX. 
 XL. 
 XLI. 
 XLII. 
 XLIII. 
 XLIV. 
 XLV. 
 XLVI. 
 XLVII. 
 XLVIII. 
 XLIX. 
 L. 
 LI. 
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
collapse section 
  
collapse section 
  
collapse section 
collapse section 
  
 1. 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

To Time and Honour.

Faire Albion, of the world thou fairest Ile!
And thou Deare Yorkshire, thou my native Soyle,
My Nurse, my Mother; oh, how can I pay
My Gratitude? Muse! teach me what to Say;
How shall I praise thee most? let me looke backe
To former Ages, and I heare 'em Speake
With almost wonder; what prodigious name
Can boast he Saw, he went, and overcame,
ffurther then some of ours? Third Edward's Son,
Son of brave Sire! how did he overrun
The face of ffrance? and Victorie Create
In his owne fortune; pardon, if I say't,

33

Hee was not Second to those names wee heare
Pronounc'd with Admiration and ffeare;
Not that Great Alexander, nor the name
Of Punicke Hannibal, nor Cæsar's ffame,
Outshine his Glories; had he seene a Day
As large in Time, he'd beene as great as they;
Him Shall I praise? or his brave father most?
Or his great Grandsire? or of Richard boast?
That Richard Lion's-heart; and from that Stemme
Bring downe the Glorie, to fifth Harrie's name,
Or the fowerth Edward; these and many more
(Though not in ffame) in Blood-inferior,
Might I repeat; but better let them goe
To swell huge Chronicle in ffolio.
How shall I praise thee most? in thy full peace!
Thy nat'rall Bounties, and the large increase
Which everie yeare forth brings; thy inborne wealth,
Thy selfe-existence, where wee need noe Stealth
Of Marchants to enrich vs; but might rest
Safe in our Selves, with native bounties blest;
Shall I praise one, or All? for All are thine.
Noe more will I admire the Southerne Shine,
Nor Easterne perfumes, nor the wealth o'th' west;
But thinke thee fairest, Sweetest, richest, Best;
fforgetting Chaucer, and Dan Lidgate's Rhime;
Loe here, the Glorie of our modern time,
A learnèd Age; Since great Elizae's reigne
And peace came in; the proud Italian

34

And iustly proud in Poesie, will allow
The English (though not Equall) next him now.
The noble Sidney, crown'd with liveing Bayes;
And Spencer, cheif, (if a peculiar praise
May pass, and from the rest not derogate)
The learnèd Jonson, whose Dramaticke State
Shall stand admir'd Example, to reduce
Things proper, to the light, or buskind Muse.
Many the present Age afford, of which
Heare ffalkland, Digbie, Beaumond, Carew, Rich,
In their Composures Severall; with whom
Maye, Allein, Randolph, Shirley, Rutter come;
Sons of thy wombe all these; with whom may I
(Though in a weake and humble Poesie)
Thy glories Celebrate, and quitt the Score
Nature obligeth me; I aske noe more.
Not that I covet fame; let those high names
Inherite all the Glorie of their Thames,
And live to many ages, though I fall,
In scornèd Dust, and have noe name at all:
Suffice it I may sing vpon thy flood,
Neglected Humber; or my Muse (lesse proud)
Sport in the Sedges of my neighbouring Streame,
Poore as my verse, neither deserving name.
And may the village where I had my birth
Enclose as Due, my Bodie in her Earth.