Devoreux Vertues teares for the losse of the most christian King Henry, third of that name, King of Fraunce; and the vntimely death, of the most noble & heroicall Gentleman, VValter Deuoreux, who was slaine before Roan in Fraunce. First written in French, by the most excellent and learned Gentlewoman, Madam G. Petau Maulette. And paraphrastically translated into English, Ieruis [Gervase] Markham |
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 | Devoreux |  |
In praise of the worke.
Fame houering in her three-fold Region,Beheld how Aretea did complaine
In tragicke tunes, th'vntimely rape of one,
VVhom froward Fate, and forward Zeale had slaine.
But when she heard the noble Deuoreux nam'd,
Vnto his graue she made a speedy flight,
VVhere base Obliuion sat, who now asham'd
Hides her foule head in shades of endlesse Night.
Then not content her valarous Palladine
Should be interred in so small a roome;
That after time may think his Stemme deuine,
She makes the spacious world his glorious Toomb,
And bad this Lady doe the obsequies,
VVho offereth holy teares for sacrifice.
R. Allott.
To my most affectionate friend, Ieruis Markham.
To worthy Deuoreux, Armes, and after Age,A wondrous Colosse doth thy Muse inhaunce,
His boistrous feete are fixed on the stage
Of peacefull Albions strond, and fruitfull Fraunce,
Vnder whose forked Arch whole Nauies ride
Filling their emptie sailes with Deuoreux Fame,
That Fraunce, Spayne, Flaunders, and the world beside
Amazed stands to heare great Essex Name.
From out his eyes he darts the golden beames
Of perfit Honors neuer-setting Sunne,
Whose influence in each soule fresh courage streames
All this, nay more, thy sacred teares haue donne,
Wing'd by thy fierie Muse they mount the skyes,
And moue to weeping ruth heauens twinkling eyes.
R. Allott.
In prayse of the worke.
Once borne of mortall Parents, mortallyEarth turnes to earth in noble Deuoreux:
A second life immortall wits infuse,
And crowne him now with immortalitie:
His Mother French, for he in Fraunce did die,
And Phænix of his ashes there renues;
His Father is a gentle English Muse,
From whence he challengeth nobilitie:
English and French thus enter-married,
Haue issue double Fame: his fame, theyr owne:
As gold of that Great-worke, that powrefull Stone,
So Fame of Vertue, and it selfe are bred;
His first birth night to this, this a true morne;
May his noble Brother be as well twise-borne.
E. Guilpin.
To his deere friend Ieruis Markham.
No longer let dismembred ItalieThinke scorne of our (thought dull for colder) clime,
VVee are not so frost-bitten in the prime,
But blest from heau'n with as great wealth as shee:
VVith all her Citties shall one, our Cittie
Compare for all the wealth of this rich time;
Thames shall with Po vie Swanns, Swanns musicke chime,
London with subtle Venice, pollicie;
Shee shall drop beauties with faire Genoa,
Though humorous trauailers repine thereat:
But not with glorious Florence will they say,
So farre fam'd for her wits triumuirat;
To that proude brag thou Ieruis shalt replie,
VVhose Muse in this song giues them all the Lye.
E. Guilpin.
1
ARETEÆ Lachrimæ.
1
Woe-wearied with the euer-weeping woeThat breaks the aged raines of withered Fraūce,
And thinking how those thoughts to ouer-goe
That giue eternall memory to mischaunce,
Or willing to deceiue th'vnwilling foe,
Of euer-springing teares, by some dead traunce,
Earlie before the early Sunne could rise,
I rose from rest, when rest rose from mine eyes:
2
And freed from that which frees it selfe from care,(For quiet nere was consort with complaynt)
Led by Hopes hand, though drawne on by Dispaire,
(The Factor for improuident constraint)
I walkt alongst a streame, for purenes rare,
Brighter then sun-shine, for it did acquaint
The dullest sight with all the glorious pray
That in the pibble-paued channell lay.
[1]
3
No moulten Christall, but a richer Mine,Euen Natures rarest Alcumie ranne there,
Diamonds resolud, or substance more diuine,
Through whose bright-gliding current might appeare
A thousand naked Nymphes, whose Iuory shine
Enamoling the banks, made them more deare
Then euer was that glorious Pallace gate
VVhere the day-shyning Sunne in tryumph sate.
4
Vpon the brym, the Eglantine and Rose,The Tamoriske, Oliue, and th' Almond-tree,
As kinde companions in one vnion groes,
Foulding theyr twinding armes, as oft we see
Turtle-taught Louers eyther other close,
Lending to dulnes feeling sympathie.
And as a costly Vallance ore a bed,
So did their garland-tops the Brooke ore-spred.
5
Their leaues, that differd both in shape and show,(Though all were greene, yet difference such in greene)
Like to the checkerd bent of Iris bow,
Prided the running Mine, as it had beene
The bower of Beautie; whence alone did flow
More heauenly streames then former age had seene,
Taking their current from that learned Hill
VVhere lodge the Mothers of admire and skill.
2
6
Amongst the Sommer blossoms of theyr bowesA thousand seuerall colour'd Birds was set,
VVho mou'd (as seem'd) by charitable vowes,
Or excellent compassion, euer wet
VVith honourable teares, (for Fates allowes
That sencible, from sencelesse, still shall fet
Models of pitty,) came there with melodie,
To cheere mens minds, fore-done with miserie.
7
And with the murmring cadence of the waueThat made a pretty wrangling as it went,
Chiding the banks which no more lymit gaue,
They ioynd their well-tun'd throats with such consent,
That euen mad griefe at sight thereof grew graue;
And as inchaunted, stayd from languishment,
Prouing, then there, delight was neuer greater,
And griefe how much the more, so much the better.
8
Thether came I to seeke out lost Delight,(Delight that was in Eden banisht man)
But presently appeard vnto my sight
A soule-sad Nymph, griefe-tortur'd, pale and wan;
Vpon whose countenaunce rigorous Despight
Registred much, or more then Mischiefe can:
All that shee was, was pittifull and ill,
Such as to lymne, my weake wit wanteth skill.
[2]
9
VVith balefull Cypresse was her for-head crownd,And fatall Yewgh made bracelets for her hands;
A shole of night-Crowes with a deadly sound,
And dismall Shrike-owles round about her stands:
Her eyes within a wofull Ocean drownd,
Oyle-like increast newe fire on dollours brands,
And with a dym blew burning Lampe she bare,
Shee offred sacrifice vnto Dispaire.
10
Those curious rich abylliments which oncePleasd all the world, because they pleasd her well,
Now torne and staynd, disparadg'd for the nonce,
Like Autumne leaues too negligently fell:
And falling, in disorder all a-tonce,
VVith lesse respect then least regard can tell,
Carelesly trail'd after her as shee went,
To proue shee lou'd no vesture but lament.
11
And yet for all thys Chronicle of shame,Thys ample Legend of mis-fortunes worst,
This boundlesse volume of desertlesse blame,
Thys figure of despight, thys Map accurst;
VVell might I know her now ill ruind frame
Had euen some-times the rarest features nurst,
And beauties abstracts still were left so claire,
That wilfull blind must say, once she was faire.
3
12
Once was shee fayre, and that her mangled gowneVVhich halfe forsooke to shroude her sacred skin,
VVas of a stuffe immortall, as Ioues crowne,
Rich-seeming Azure-Veluet, wrought within,
VVithout, and euery part; all wauing downe
VVith golden Flower-deluces, that had bin
Charmes from dishonour, and despight mischaunce
Brought ten times thousand Tropheys into Fraunce.
13
All thys I knew, yet knew not what mishap,VVhat life-confounding griefe, wasting good thought,
Her heauie soule in agonie should wrap:
Nor could the meane by any meane be sought
VVhy her eternall sighes (clowd-like) did lap
Her ioyes in mourning garments, sadly wrought,
Nor why shee tore her flame downe-burning haire;
Yet still shee sigh'd, and still her locks did taire.
14
Tyll with a knee bow'd humble low salute,(For who will not doe reuerence to admire)
Approching neere her, I made humble lute
Her god-head would giue grace to my desire,
And tell mee what woe murdred her repute,
Making her sighes to set her teares on fire;
And shee whose griefe could not surprize her glory,
Set her sad tongue in tune to tell the story.
[3]
15
* O you immortall Daughters of delight,Admir'd alone, triple triplicitie,
Fayre Thespyan Goddesses, whose onely might,
VVith holy fire inspires our memorie;
Euen you deare Muses, ayde me to recite
Her dolefull accents, and her agonie:
Bathe my cold temples in some blessed spring,
That dare not else dreame of so great a thing.
16
But you! ô you, you that alone are you,VVhom nothing but your selues your selues can match,
From whom, and to whom, all the Vertues flew:
For ere high Ioue the worlds worke did dispatch,
Your curious moulds within himselfe he drew,
Making his Dietie thereon to watch,
Vowing, Beautie and Vertue, till your birth
Should not be seene, or knowne vpon the earth.
17
You, Sisters both in nature and admire,The golden typ of euery praysing tonge,
That make one Ile boue all the world aspire.
(O thinke not Fraunce this furie doth thee wrong,
For who that speakes, speakes not with double fire
If but one thought of them glaunce in his song?
Then pardon mine inuoke, and let me ring
Iustly on them that teach all Swannes to sing.)
4
18
Heare mee, ô holy ones, and helpe my stile,Glorious adopted fayre Northumberland,
And thou rich Rich, richest did ere compile,
Th'onely history shall eternall stand
VVhen ruine els shall all records defile,
And burne out mem'ry with Obliuions brand;
Ayde you those Muses that should ayde my pen,
For you'r ador'd of Muses, Gods, and men.
19
Euen for his soules sake whom your soules lou'd deare,Fayre Ladies lighten fauour on my lay,
And him behold, though mee you will not heare,
Him, whose omnipotence of fame beares sway
Farther then from the high Alpes highest staire
The worlds great eye hath power to see by day:
You that liue aye in him, hee in your thought,
Exhalt my Muse, vntuterd, not vntaught.
20
Be you, you glorious Angels of his prayse,(VVhose but report lends earth a heau'nly soule)
The first beholders of my tragick layes,
VVhom if you blesse, there's none dares to controule,
(For curst is hee that what you say, gaine-sayes)
Or chyde mee for your Brother I enroule
Aboue the host of former liuing men;
A noble worke, fit for a golden pen.
[4]
21
Bovv then your eares (the Adamants of loue)Vnto the song that wounded Honour sange,
And let her teare-steept words some pitty moue,
For thus shee sigh'd, and thus her tale began.
* Know (said this Nymph, thats reuerenst all aboue)
I am the same on whom some-times did hange
The rule of Fraunce, her sway, her Emperie,
Her type of state, her Kingdoms dignitie.
22
Twas I that bent their backs with loaden wealth,That gaue them lawes to gouerne gloriously,
Twas I that made them breathe eternall health,
And gaue them names, Nations to terrefie:
I brought them vvonder by desert, not stealth,
And lodg'd them in the bookes of memory;
In briefe, twas I, that with theyr neighbours store
Made them more rich then ere was Realme before.
23
But see alas, a left-hand chance of illMadding theyr braines made lunatick with pride,
Hath turn'd thys Turret downe, valleyd this Hill,
All topsie-turuie throwne on euery side:
Thus haue they torne my vesture, broake my will,
Doom'd mee in endlesse banishment to bide,
All things are out of order, woe alas,
I am not ARETEA, as I was.
5
24
Now doth the father hate his lyuing sonne,The neighbour loathes his neighbour bounds him in,
The married paire would haue their knot vndone,
Lawes serue for naught, but baits to draw on sinne,
After religion painted zeale doth runne
Mocking his moanes, that ending, new begin;
And like the ruind batteries of a wall,
Things shapt, vnto their vnshapt Chaos fall.
25
Adder-deafe eares they haue when wisedome charmes,VVilfull in ill, ilnesse beyond conceite,
Foolish to shun, wise to draw on their harmes,
Rich to deceiue themselues by selfe deceite:
All they desire is ciuill home alarmes,
Burning the houses of their owne receite;
VVracking the vessels that transport their good,
VVithin the Ocean of their owne harts blood.
26
Eight times haue I giuen end to their vnrest,And seald vp discords gates with wealthy peace,
Their streetes and Temples all with Oliues drest,
As oft hath testifi'd their warres surcease:
But woe, I dye that this should be exprest.
Mars giuing blood-drunk Ate new release,
Hath at this present set fresh brands on fier
To kindle those old warres Time did expire.
[5]
27
For as a mighty Deludge after raineGliding with furie from the hils desent,
Finding all bounds too straite for his remaine,
VVith roaring clamors (as the earth did rent)
Bursts through the Meads, & ouer-flowes the plaine,
Chiding the rocks in which his waues were pent:
Then drownes the Plough-mans profit in his fall,
His house, his hay, his labours, hope and all.
28
Briefly, so like a Tyrant doth it rage,Madder, since vnresisted being mad,
VVhen an incountring bridge seekes to aswage
The thunder-deafning current proudly glad:
As these sterne men (borne in this yron age)
Haue done, who making all my pleasures sad,
Are nor content to teare their Countries bones,
And spoyle her life and soule, with bed-rid grones:
29
But being Paracids, abortiue borne,In whom old Nature chalengeth no right,
Bring in their murdrous hands (to Fraunce forlorne)
The minatours of shame, engins of spight:
As pride, inchastitie, horrour, blood, and scorne,
Monsters of hell-black sunnes vnto the night;
Thinking to stop that royall Champions breath,
VVhose life preseru'd Diuinitie from death.
6
30
Euen him whom I had planted strong and hie,(High in the world, strong in the harts of Kings)
To be a scourge vnto their tyrannie:
Bating the furie of their enuious wings,
By meanes of that almighty Henry;
Henry de Valois, on whom vertue rings:
Vnder whose gracious aspect, I did hope,
My lawes should take new vertue, larger scope.
31
And the all white, pure Virgin-colour'd faith,Of soules eternall quiet, lodg'd in skies,
That turnes the dying pangs to ioyes in death,
Should to the height of heights aspire and rise:
Hence sprang it, and for this my true hart saith,
I ioyn'd to him, the man most stout, most wise
Th'other all great Henry: whose in-sight,
Might guide, support, and gouerne him in right.
32
But ô, these monstrous men, Monsters, not men:VVhom the earth-shaking heauens in thunder fram'd,
To make my ruine boundlesse; they, euen then
Haue rays'd their blood-bath'd hands, yet vnasham'd,
Against the Lords anoynted: (VVeepe my pen)
For they haue slaine their King, (brute beasts vntam'd)
Their sacred King, their worlds God, whose true care,
Made their great names florish on earth so fare.
[6]
33
But he, too excellent to know what's ill,(The gooddest holy one that breath'd this ayre)
Troubling no thoughts to think what others will,
Neglected what they meant, what harts they beare,
Neither ambition, palme-like growing still,
Nor lookes, nor policies, nor nightly feare,
Made him beware, which each day growing on,
Double each day afflicted me with moane.
34
* At th'end of this sad memorable storie,Crossing her armes as one in desperate case,
There broke from her two eyes (the starres of glorie)
Two bloody streames of teares, that ranne a pace,
VVhich her immortall sighs (woes oratorie)
Straue both to interrupt and to disgrace,
So mightily, that pitty did not stint
To place him selfe in harts of yron and flint.
35
Heere, heere, sayd she (assoone as say she could,Or that her woes gaue words leaue how to speake)
Heere mayst thou see my sorrowes stood vnfold,
The deludge of my care, hence, hence doth breake,
The tumult of my sighs, the heate, the cold,
Of my flame-burning thoughts, benum'd and weake:
This is the cause of my first borne lament,
And the true greefe which doth my soule torment.
7
36
And yet tis but the first step to my care,Or but the superficies of my paine;
A preface to my moane, an Index to dispaire,
A little thred, lending a mighty meane
To search the Laborinth where languors are,
A rising cloude against a storme of raine:
For mount on mount was thrown, masse vpon masse,
Till greatest greefe grew greater then it was.
37
This woe, that spred it selfe from East to VVest,Bounding the Artick and Antartick pole,
Ambitiously enuied he was supprest
VVithin the circute of the worlds controle;
VVherefore as if all tremor, all vnrest,
VVere insufficient richly to condole
My starre-crost misaduentures in disdaine,
Adds a new greefe, to make new worlds complaine.
38
Euen now affliction heaues her heauie arme,And spreads black sorrowes Ensigne through our land;
Calamitie braues all the world with harme,
And burnes vp peace with warres worst fier-brand:
Tempests, no calmes, mens eares doe rudely charme,
And all prepostrous things in tumult stand:
All fortunes draw vs to infortunes gates,
(Fortune, the first and last that ruins states.)
[7]
39
O Fortune, thou great Amorite of Kings,Opinions breath, thou Epicurian ayre,
Inuention of mans soule, falsest of things,
A step beyond our iudgement, and a stayre
Higher then men can reach with reasons wings;
Thou blind-fold Archeresse, thou that wilt not heare,
Thou foe to persons, manners, times and all,
That raysest worthlesse, whilst the worthiest fall.
40
O thou, whom all may find, but none auoyde,Deceitfull Queene of mutabilitie,
Swift are thy feathered feete, still vnanoyde,
Loftie thy minde, thy hopes to heauen flie,
Thy wings are light, like flames neuer destroyd,
Vpon a Globe thou stand'st, turning our miserie:
Of thee must I complaine, dread Nurse of woe,
From whom, both heauen and earthly things doe floe.
41
Thou thrall to none but to Philosophie,That Monarchies and states turn'st at thy will,
Leauing no more marks of their dignitie,
Then ships in water leaue, or feathered quill
Leaues in the liquid ayre, when speedilie
It glides through it, scaling the starry hill:
Monster-bearing Mother, why didst thou long,
Hauing done thy worst, yet to doe greater wrong?
8
42
But why of this great nothing doe I plaine,Stoning to death these shadowes with my teares?
And rather doe not with their drops constraine
The substance to lament for my dispaires?
VVhy doth not this salt Ocean of my braine
Conuay my mournings to more better eares?
Beating the marble-skye for this offence,
Chiding no more Fortune, but Prouidence.
43
O Prouidence, the conduct to our life,The ground of vertue, hostile foe to sinne,
That rearest Towers, and appeasest strife,
That gatherst all disperced exiles in:
Thou, that inuentedst lawes, gaue man his wife,
Thou Mistris vnto auncient discipline,
Thou, that bearest heauen & nature round about thee,
That makest all things, nothing being without thee.
44
O why art thou growne blind? leading astray?Confounding vertue? making vice thy friend?
Sacking the sun-shine Towers of the day?
Prefixing wandring miserie no end?
VVhy hast thou giuen Barbarizme sway,
And wilt not let Order on thee attend?
VVhy art thou fled from vs? whither art thou gone?
Leauing both men, and all things else alone.
[8]
45
Tell me, thou Architectresse of this frame,Thou, that vpon the great booke-firmament
VVritest in golden starres each creatures name,
Their liues, their fortunes, and intendiment,
VVhy dain'st thou not that we may reade the same,
And spelder our misdeeds why we be shent?
If to behold the letters be thy will,
Teach vs to reade, that we may rid our ill.
46
Lend vs diuine eyes to our heauenly part,To reade on that almighty Chronicle:
So shall the date of vertue neuer part,
But double wonder with more miracle,
(Ay me) against the wind breathes my poore hart:
Vaine is my wish, vaine euery article,
Of mine inrag'd desire, my wrath boots not,
Men must be men, and must not know their lot.
47
Then on thou saddest Muse of my sad thought,Or what besides more sad then sadnes is,
You Goddesses for earths sole wonder wrought,
Ladies of my plaint, creators of all blisse,
In whose aspects vertue is chastly taught:
You hearers of mine inuocations wish,
Hallow my song with Diamonds from your eyes,
Since woe is god-like, falling from such skyes,
9
48
And thou that hast grownd-sharpe mine ore-worne moane,Adding new fire to cinders of my griefe,
Make thine eares plyant to receiue my groane,
(Thine eares, the Consestorie of beliefe,)
Exhalt thine hart (perfect afflictions throne)
Cancell th'accounts of pleasure: and in briefe,
Make euery office of receite in thee,
A store-house of this greatest miserie.
49
After the sonnes of mischiefe and misdeed(These tyrannous blood-drinking miscreants)
Had slaine their King; An act which did exceed
The worst that Time noteth in recreants:
VVhen they had banisht Vertue, torne her weed,
And sworne themselues, Shames deuoted tennants,
Fell deadly loue-sicke with Ambitions face,
VVhose Feuer, naught could cure but my disgrace.
50
* Ambition, fie vpon thy painted cheeke,(VVoe worth the beauty sleepes not with the face)
For thou art hatefull, foule, vnfaire, vnmeeke,
A poyson-painted pleasure mad men chase:
Thou reasonlesse desire, that mak'st men seeke
To kisse the Sunne, whilst fire doth them embrace,
Thou onely strong, disorderd, rulelesse passion,
That marr'st mens mindes, & putt'st thē out of fashion.
[9]
51
Thou angry house-mate, thou seditious guestThat begg'st, and yet loath'st Hospitalitie,
Thou murd'rer of the minde that giues thee rest,
Rewarding kindnes with indignitie;
Thou element to mischiefes shape digest,
False Prophet, teaching naught but heresie:
Thou robb'st the rich of gold, almes from the poore,
And gyu'st them backe but hope to mend their store.
52
Thou, that in Rome within a hundred yeeresRaysd and ore-threw seauenty-three Emperours:
Mother of ciuill discord, home-bred teares,
Thou infinite great ill no end deuoures,
Prides Minion, and the ladder to dispaires,
A day eternall, ended by no houres:
Twas thou that taught'st them all the waies to sin,
And ending, how new mischiefes should begin.
53
By thys Lieuetenant-generall of hellConducted to assault all holy things,
They racst my buildings, burnt my virgin-Cell,
Defacst my Temples, spoyld mine offerings;
Brake all my statues Fame had caru'd so well,
And quencht my burning Lamps in bloody springs:
All the bright Censors round about my shrine,
Are dampt, and smoard vp with forgetfull Time.
10
54
Thys inauspitious starre, this fatall ill,Thys messenger of Maiesties low fall,
Hauing subiected all things to his will,
And bound mee euerlastingly to thrall;
Great grife, which growes by vse to greatest skill,
Raisd royall passions to a ciuill brall,
And by strong arguments, approu'd this trew,
That leaden thoughts, then earth nere higher flew.
55
Thence came it, that mine all-forsaken Fame,Full of sicke-feathers, weake, and desperate,
Impt her broake plumes, and like a iealious flame,
VVith enuious hast mounting the highest gate,
And striuing to out-goe in swift-pac'd game
Clowd fashond Smoake, (the Vsher to his state)
I heau'd my head aboue a sea of teares,
And through the world sought ayde for my dispaires.
56
VVas nere a corner (if there corners beAs some imagine) in this gloabie round,
VVhither Fame bore not mine indignitie,
Comenting stories of my bleeding wound.
Faire Sien, whose face saw theyr impietie,
Bore through her channell to the Oceans bound
My huge infortune, thence the salt-Seas course,
To all the world my miseries discourse.
[10]
57
Yet pittifull vnpitty'd, pittying eyesSuruayd mee, but with common charitie:
This customary, vsuall sacrifice,
Silly God-helpe, verball integritie;
Camelion almes, a foode which doth suffice
Hardly the eare: though ayre most commonly
Is all his sustenaunce. O thys was that
VVhich poorest made, made poorer mine estate.
58
At length, (though bed-rid with perpetuall griefe,And Mountaine-laden with my miserie)
By Fame instructed, (shee that is the chiefe,
And great all-teller what great'st wonders be)
I heard of thee faire England, where reliefe
Is stored in a Siluer Treasurie,
That plac'd alone, rul'st others, ruling many,
Too good by much to bee conioynd with any.
59
Of thee sang Fame a glorious golden storie.* Oh not that prodigall prayse spending Fame
VVhich like a bubble, rayseth vp his glorie,
That shadow-like continueth in the same:
And in the end; whilst no wet eye is sorie,
Dyes in Times bosome, which forgets his name.
Nor that vaine Fame which turnes more quick thē eyes,
Soone witherd fruite, bright flame, that early dyes.
11
60
But that pure Fame, which is the soule of Kings,(Much better for that better residence)
The true discouerer of all worthy things,
The honny-tast, and pleasure of our sence
That beares eternitie vpon her wings:
That borne ere Time, shall liue when Time is hence.
Thys holy Fame, ô England, spake of thee,
More praise then I can write, lesse then I see.
61
Fame told me thou wert Ioues delightfull seat,His Oliue-garden, wall'd with Iuorie,
VVhose spring, warrs canker durst not dare to eate,
An Eden, full of quiet dignitie:
Thy people rest when others broyle in sweat:
Shee drew thy line from immortalitie,
And bad me flie to thee for my redresse.
Hee that torments, can make all torments lesse.
62
Vnto the faire-shapt body of thys praiseFame adds a head, more beautious, more diuine;
Shee tells mee then; Pallas thine Empire swayes.
(Pallas, sayd I) nay one of better line:
Shee that mounts others, but whom none can raise
By any tytle, figure, or in fine,
Higher then her owne height; because it is
The highest step in all the scale to blisse.
[11]
63
Shee hath no like; and therefore no compareIs excellent enough to sorte with her:
To say shee's best, were to say others are,
And there's no other whom I may prefer
To such celest'all honor. O who dare
In any Name but hers, her Name inter?
(Then thus saith Fame) ELIZA from that Land
Controules the world, with an vnconquer'd hand.
64
Tis shee, that whilst Confusions smoakie clowde(Stirr'd from the raging fires of ciuill warrs)
The heads of all her neighbour-Kings doth shrowd,
Infranchising Oppression by those iarrs,
Doth, with an hoast of heau'nly thoughts endow'd
Preserue her Countryes face from bloody scarrs:
So that no fogge of putrified wounds
Is seene within the circute of her bounds.
65
Tis shee that taught, teacheth PhilosophieTo be more excellent then heere-to-fore:
It others, but shee, it doth ornefie,
Vnto all Arts shee is the sacred dore.
Shee, heales Afflictions-vlcers with her eye,
And vnto those which tortious wrongs deplore,
Shee giues propitious Balme, such as they craue,
Or such as Iustice wrong'd deserues to haue.
12
66
Fame told mee further, that by nature there,In thee ô England, (ô all-peace-full Ile)
Courage growes vp, and best resolues appeare:
The auncient Heroes, whom old Time did file
Vpon record, to liue when he should weare,
Iustly compar'd, no sence can reconcile
Or match with them, whose actions vnoutgone,
Breathe at this day about ELIZAS throne.
67
An endlesse bead-roule of deceased Kings,As many Princes, Nobles, Generalls,
Golden-spurd Knights, (the plumes of Honors wings)
Fame reckond vp, and call'd them Principalls.
But Death, the certain'st of vncertaine things,
Long since had reueld at theyr burialls;
So that I beat my breast with desperate paine,
Least Nature could not make the like againe.
67
But Fame, (the happy Herrauld of Desire,)Chyd the weake humor of my vaine mistrust:
And told mee, Englands prayse was neuer hier.
For though her houshold-Armes lay long to rust,
And want of vse made many soules retyre
From what they would, to what perforce they must,
Yet Souldiours borne they haue continu'd still,
As good by nature, as the best by skill.
[12]
69
But those whom others harmes haue call'd abroad,And Arm'd to guard the innocent from wrong,
They, Demy-god-like, from his vast aboad
Haue chast Oppression, and made Tyrants throng
In heapes to hell, and Charons boate ore-load,
All which to name, would make my storie long:
And dull thine eares, though it content thy minde,
Sith sweetest things doe soonest cloy by kinde.
70
O Norris, I could liue vpon thy name,And weare more penns then ere were made to write,
I could each howre draw stanzaes of thy fame,
And make my braines perpetually indite;
But ô! thy vertues shall inspire a flame
Better then mine, much better to recite
Thy noble Gests, which gallantly shall stand,
VVhilst Ireland is, Spayne, or the Netherland.
71
Vere, I could breathe a spirite in thy praise,(Thou Father to a most oppressed Land)
But that I know, Honor intends to raise
Miraculously from that frozen strand
A wit; which set on fire to see thy dayes,
Shall register the glories of thy hand:
And, for that all my prayses are too few
For him; to whom I, and all praise are dew.
13
72
For thee ô Essex and thy noble line,Euer most great, yet greater then it was,
Thou sun-shine, drying widdowes teared eyne,
The Columb which supports a royall masse;
Thou excellent, deriu'd from most diuine,
The work ELIZAS power hath brought to passe:
To thee am I deuote, and from thy deeds,
I draw this breath, on which my spyrit feeds.
73
Yet (Princely Lord) imagine not I dareTo take in hand the legend of thy deeds:
I hold the best conceite too poore and bare,
To ayme at that, which all our ayme exceeds.
VVho liues, shall see the rarest wits that are,
Contend to memorize the growing seeds
Of those ripe vertues which are graft in thee,
More then in any like posteritie.
74
Suffice it; I, as silly Palmers vse,That seeke to shorten day-long laboring way,
Mongst rude discourses, often-times infuse
The Acts of Kings and Princes, and alay
Labour with labour: so my trauail'd Muse
Fordone, and rauisht with this sweet assay,
Glaunceth vpon thy Name, thy Name doth then
Beget thy deeds, thy deeds the maze of men.
[13]
75
Yet if pure zeale could tune delicious lines,Or calmes would rest within my troubled braine,
Then would I taske my spyrit, which inclines
To sing of thee, and with those notes constraine
Enuie to burst; and as thou brighter shines,
So would I rayse my thoughts, and so far straine
My high-pitcht notes to make the world resound,
Till I growne horce, loose life, loose skill and sound.
76
But ô fayre furie; Mistris of my wit,VVhither doost thou exhale me? flag a while,
Thou for such glorious accents art vnfit:
These sweet imaginarie hopes beguile
My quick-inchaunted soule; come sadly sit,
Enough is thee, if thou in teares compile
A wofull tale, that they which heare the same,
In ruth may say: our fortunes were too blame.
77
* Thus then it was. This Nations sacred prayse,From eare to eare, through all the world conuayde,
Quickend my spyrits, and my mind assayes
To beg some pitty there, where Angels sayd,
Commiseration like a Monarch swayes:
Thence came it, that thus torne and ill arayd
I thither went. O I shall euer thinke,
VVhat Nectar of delight mine eyes did drinke.
14
78
The Sunne I saw, was well, the worlds faire eye,For by ELIZAS light, all Nations see,
Her throne, like to her selfe, most gloriously
Amaz'd beholders: round about it bee
Troups of deere-breathing starrs, which whilst she's by,
Shine dim, yet sweetly gracing their degree,
But when to make light dearer, she's vnseene,
They shine as bright as they all Sunnes had beene.
79
Round about these, as Planets in their spheares,Predominant to rule all other men,
Sages, and Princes, Knights and Squires appeares,
Euer almighty: most almightie then
Is he, whom her life-giuing grace endeares,
And lends a leaue to search through Dangers den
For all the praisefull Honours: or beside,
VVhat ought or should with Knighthoods fame abide.
80
Before her Maiestie thus fell I downe,Forsaken, comfortlesse, and most opprest,
And ere I spake, I often-times did swoune,
(Greefe hardly parts from a care-filled brest)
My teares her foote-steps pittiously did crowne;
And on the ground whilst I my sight inuest,
Despight the interruptions of my bale
I eccho'd forth a sorrow-broken tale.
[14]
81
More were my plaints then I haue power to tell;For when cleare Maiestie with gracious looke
Lends a mild eare t'Afflictions passing bell,
Conceite redoubles, and what power forsooke,
Makes it selfe powrefull; nothing thinks he well
VVhich is not oft repeated. Thence I tooke
Courage to bare my wounds, and euermore,
Begd ayde to heale th'apostumes of my sore.
82
I vow'd, if she would pitty my distresse,(Sith but in her ruth hath no dwelling place)
All Fraunce should wish her endlesse happines,
Sing her good Name, and daily interlace
Her praise with Angels of best worthines.
Nor should excelling wits white paper grace
VVith speaking lines, if those lines doe not speake,
ELIZAS honour, strengthning vs, growne weake.
83
ELIZA, which her Nation doth adorneVVith all the bridall-garments of the best,
VVithin whose Clime, the Muses high are borne,
Arts in esteeme, most honorably blest;
VVhere Error, like a Furie, liues forlorne,
Consum'd, and banisht from conceite of rest,
That all those Kings admire beyond the flood,
So small an Ile can hold so great a good.
15
84
I hop'd, by her assist, this fourth HenrieVVhich I oppose against these wicked ones,
Should in reuenge for their impietie
Raine sharpe destruction, and vpon their bones,
Heape Mountaines of tormenting agonie,
To quittance my most vndeserued grones:
And for they made my cheekes vniustly take
The shamefull blush they neuer can forsake.
85
I told her; that the power which giues her power,(The most almighty Maister of her thought)
VVould from his throne, thunder & lightning shower,
Till all my foes to hated dust were brought:
Furies I knew from nights black-shades would scower,
And haunt their bosomes, making them distraught,
Rage and consume the pleasure of their liues,
Hating them selues, their children, and their wiues.
86
Onely her Name, (the terror of her foes)Must patronize the actions of the iust:
A Knight of hers, that other Knights out-goes,
Must leade the legions of mine onely trust;
For Fraunce growne weake, failes in her owne dispose,
The purest minds are canker-eate with rust:
Lady I cry'd, ayde my distressed plight,
Oft didst thou helpe; yet nere a better right.
[15]
87
Heere ceast my sute, and with a pitteous voyce,Of faling teares I murmurd hidden woe,
(Dumb plaints in feeling harts makes greatest noyse)
VVhen least I spake, most was my sorrowes shoe,
Liberall-tongu'd care, is care which doth reioyce,
For vent of greefe, eases the ouer-floe:
And when I nothing sayd, then did I finde
Sorrow most eloquent; releefe most kinde.
88
For instantly with bowing of her head,VVhich signe makes all knees bend before her chaire,
She testifi'd, preuailing teares were shed;
For proofe whereof, her melting hart did reare
A holy dew into her soueraigne head,
VVhich thence from her cleare eye-sight did appeare:
And though she for her selfe no sorrow knew,
Yet did she weepe, to heare how others rue.
89
Then with her hand ELIZA lifts me vp,Cheeres my poore soule, repaires my ruin'd mind,
Makes me drinke comfort from the flowing cup
Of her most sacred breath; then doth she bind
My feares to exile, which till then did sup
The iuyce of my wast life, consum'd and pin'd:
And tels me; she'le pertake of my distresse,
Making it nothing, or then nothing, lesse.
16
90
VVhich to atchiue, shee bids mee there selectA princely Champion, fortunate and strong,
One whom my thoughts assures mee will effect
As great designes, and right as worthie wrong.
Many there were, that many would elect,
Not one vnworthie person in the throng:
But in my choice, I was deliberate,
For rash respect repents when tis too late.
91
On euery person ceaz'd my rauisht sight,Contemplating the beautie of theyr frames,
That Prince, mee thought, was finely shapt, vpright,
Such as was Marops at th' Olympick games:
Another, seem'd broad set, yet passing light,
Like wild Hypolitus, eschewing shames;
Thys was like Aiax, that like Hector was,
All did exceede, the meanest did surpasse.
92
Thys vniuersall excellence set out(As if Perfection knew no other soyle)
Astonisht mee, for all a like borne stout,
How could I choose, but reason would recoyle
Blame to my choyce? Since who doth from a rout
Cull forth a principall, leaues for a foyle
Th'vnchosen rest, when all I dyd behold
VVere Iewels-like, of one waight, and one gold.
[16]
93
But ô, the eye that neuer apprehendsThe truth of obiects by a slight suruay,
VVith grauer iudgement busily extends
His nimble sight, and what it doth suruay,
Notes not alone, but whereat others tends,
And in whose eyes all other eye-sights lay:
And then I might behold one Prince alone,
Vpon whose beautie all mens eyes were throwne.
94
Higher then others his cleare count'nance stoode,For he was taller much, more straight, more strong,
Like to the Forrests-King boue vnder wood,
Or like an Ensigne in a battailes throng;
His eye, like that which guides men in the flood,
Had all eyes fixt on it which went not wrong:
Euen in his lookes, Nature me thought had layd
Some excellence too rare for men too read.
95
Yet not so misticall, but blindest sightsMight prophecie, if his dread Soueraigne would,
(To whom is due the honour of his fights)
The world from her should all their glories hold.
And those which yet denie our Sauiours rights,
By him for her subdu'd, thence be intold:
Amongst conuerted Saints; Lady beware,
This power thou hast, and this is holy warre.
17
96
Mee thought hee was not fashond in the mouldOf common men; th'accustomd worke of Nature:
Nor in the worlds first models, (now growne ould)
But, as it seem'd by his externall feature,
Surpassing her great selfe, Nature grew bould,
And made him of some speciall temprature:
Then growne in loue with what her power coulde frame,
Obtaynd a spirit worthy of the same.
97
Essex, twas thee I meane, thou didst surprizeAll my desires to seeke my helpe by thee,
My sad petition-making teares suffice,
Thy soueraigne Goddesse did accord to mee:
The brute whereof no sooner could arise,
But all that euer were, or hop'd to bee
Great in the world, with Eagles speedie flight
Flew vnto thee, and offerd vp theyr might.
98
My state, which vntill then hunge doubtfull strange,And wounded gouernment past all recure,
From whom all hope of helpe farre of did range,
Of nothing but of crosse infortunes sure,
(Now in a moment see a suddaine change)
VVhē thou wert known mine ayde; could thē indure
No more such thoughts of feare; infants could tell,
VVhere ere thou went, there would best fortune dwell.
[17]
99
You memorable worthy GentlemenThat in these great occurrents tryde your chaunce,
For whose deere sakes we hold all Englishmen
In reuerent regard, and will aduaunce
Your fames before all other Noble-men,
VVhilst Fraunce hath powre to holde the name of Fraunce.
If your peculier names I not reueale,
Blame want of knowledge: not my want of zeale.
100
Forgiue mee, thou right habit of the warrs,Resolued VVilliams, all too soone dissolu'd,
VVhich raysd thine honour from thy Countries iarrs.
Forgiue me Clyfford, sith I haue reuolu'd
Of thy well purchast glory by thy scarrs,
And yet conceale it: you deere rest resolu'd,
Morgan and Brooke, pardon my sparing song.
Least poore in praise, I proue too rich in wrong.
101
Gallant men say, (and lesse you will not say)That he which leades a world of hands to fight,
Them to a world of blowes ought to conuay:
So he that many fames in praise would dight
To many rare conceits, must runne astray,
And garnish each one with a seuerall light:
But sith I want that wittie treasures store,
One two, two one Ile write of, and no more.
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102
A spatious field are they for royall brainesTo runne cariers in: th'ayre of them is great,
VVherein high-soaring thoughts may hold remaines,
And try their towring Sarcells if they'le seate
Theyr slie-inchaunting notes, aboue the beames
Of other sunnes, and like Times teeth, out-eate
Fore-going memory; bewitching Fame,
To sing of theirs, and of no other name.
103
* Essex to thee, (who then was part of thee)In this great busines was thy brother ioyn'd,
Hadst thou had more but him, then should he be
Thy best, thy deerest; but since vnconioynd,
Since all were worthlesse of such fame, but hee,
VVhere thy name is, there let his name reioynd,
Be euer chaynd in Fames best lyncks of gold,
Borne of one minde, created of one mold.
104
And now I come to thee most blessed Saint,Thou sweetest Nightingall in th'heau'nly quire,
Noble-borne VValter Deuorax, I faint
And tremble, least my new inkindled fire
Mount thee not hie enough; yet shal't acquaint
All the worlds eares how much I doe desire.
O heau'nly soule, thinke not I doe thee wrong,
Intending thy prayse first, to stay so long.
[18]
105
It was but that I might discharge my mindeOf all those thoughts which could create delight,
And then bequeathing them vnto the wind,
Sit with my selfe, and nothing else indight
Saue those rare goods, Nature and Rule did bind
VVithin thy bosome; and how VVarrs despight
Bryb'd Death to banish them; making the earth
Poore by thy losse, that was rich by thy birth.
106
I did but as the Syrens of this age,VVho winning eares to hang vpon theyr speech,
First to delight, lay their conceits in gadge,
(Delight, at which all Naturatts doe reach)
Then, hauing wonne them, that sweet vaine asswadge,
And with graue matter make a feeling breach:
So, if I did reliques of glory shoe,
Twas but a baite to draw men to true woe.
107
And now to Combats and Monomachies,Set battails, fieges, tourneys, dyre euents,
My harsh Muse doth bequeath her harmonies,
Of Citties gyrt; sad murthers, pitching Tents;
Of fires, and swords, and famines cruelties,
Valors true edge, and Angers hardiments,
My soule turnd to a pen, in bleeding lines,
Figures to life true Vertues true designes
19
108
* O thou Almightie-power which didst infuseSpirit into my spirit, to dare to doe
Thys act of memorie, (which they refuse
VVhom both desert and worth haue call'd thereto)
Breathe endlesse life into my fainting Muse,
That I may write, and by my writing wooe
Saints to displeasure, when ingratefull men
Suffers thee sleepe so long in darknes den.
109
No sooner had ELIZA giuen leaueTo princely Essex, Deuorax and theyr powre,
To helpe th'opprest, and from theyr backs to heaue
Tyrannies burden, which doth states deuoure;
VVhen easeful thoughts VVarrs summons did receaue,
And gaue adiew to Loues fantastick houre,
Then euery one prepard themselues to sea,
Prayd for fayre gales, and for a prosp'rous day.
110
A North-west winde then gently did begetTheir swelling sayles with child of Honors course:
Theyr steele-shod keeles, the rough-seas entrails slit,
And vnto Fraunce conuay'd faire Englands force.
And then disburdning them, on land did set
Rebells dismay; iust scourges of theyr worse:
And though their powers and Ensignes dreadful shoes,
Yet bred theyr Names most terror in their foes.
[19]
111
But to their Bead-men, whose continuall prayers,Flew into heauen from theyr breathing harts,
VVhose wishes, in Iehouas eyes appeares,
To them, and to the torrents of their smarts,
They brought delitious Balme, and newly reares
Their downe-fallne broken hopes: such happy parts
Playes Vertues sight, and such delight we haue,
VVhen we behold Reuenge we most doe craue.
112
* Reuenge, the infant of a fierie minde,VVhich euer-more succeedes a noble thought,
The foode whereon resolues doe feede by kind,
Nourishing Honour when its captiue brought;
The All from whence we any helpe can find
For our disparadg'd Names, to scandall brought:
For it in blood doth purifie disgrace,
Purging her staines, and making smooth her face.
113
The minde by wrongs is made a male-content,And clouds her shine in please-lesse melancholie:
Her holy humors are in passions spent,
Till by Reuenge shee is set at libertie,
And brauely to her first creation sent;
Euen from Reuenge got Iustice libertie.
For tis Reuenge, and Satis-faction brings
To iniur'd mindes, and to oppressed things.
20
114
The soule is like a boystrous working sea,Swelling in billowes for disdaine of wrongs:
And tumbling vp and downe from bay to bay,
Proues great with child of indignations;
Yet with Reuenge is brought to calme alay,
Disburdend of the paine there-to belongs,
Her lowers are turnd to bright-fac'd sun-shine braues,
And faire Content playes gently on her waues.
115
Thys truest Iusticer, this vpright Lord,(VVished Reuenge) the wronged persons hope,
VVith this deuided Nation doth accord
So sweetly, and doth lend so large a scope
Vnto Redresse, that euery breathing word
The gates of their contentments doth set ope:
And albe nothing's well, yet for it may,
They liue content, and make a holy-day.
116
* There stands a Towne close by the Oceans side,VVhose walls are often washed with the flood,
VVell senc'd, and full of VVarrs most auncient pride,
A common harbour for his neighbours good:
VVithin whose channell, safe securely ride
Many tall shyps, that many stormes with-stood:
Thither came Englands powre, and on that shore
Landing themselues, made rich sea, now sea pore.
[20]
117
Deepe, I imagine now how blest thou wasVVhich hadst the mayden-head of their first sight,
How did thy wish and fortunes come to passe?
Making thee shine more cleerer by their light
Then all the Townes in Fraunce. Thou didst surpasse,
Those auncient Mother-Citties held so bright:
I doe not meane thy neighbour Citties by,
For they were staind with blood and periury.
118
But those whose streets were guiltlesse of their ills,That made not zeale a cloake for damned deeds,
VVhose powre could bridle vnrestrained wills:
Euen these, at that time thou by much exceeds
As Mountaines doe the little sandie Hills,
Or well-growne Cedars marish-shaken Reeds,
Both for they first arriued on thy strand,
And thou first gau'st them welcome to the Land.
119
Short time with thee (though long with the opprest)These worthy Chiefetaines breath'd within thy walls,
None could perceiue, much lesse say they did rest
Theyr waking harts-honor from slumber-calls.
And (then in ease) knowing no worse vnrest,
Speedy prepares they make for these new bralls:
And from thee Deepe departing, march'd along
To Roan, both too faithlesse, & too strong.
21
120
Roan, (that falsefi'd the holy oath,She ow'd vnto the lawfull Kings of Fraunce,
That tumults rays'd by her deuided troath,
Vpon religions wounds, looking a skaunce)
Shuts her late-opend gates against them both,
And vowes to haue no Soueraigne but Mischaunce,
VVhich she bought deerely, and more deerely should,
If Valour might haue done, what Valour would.
121
Roan, me thinks I see thy palie face,Thy Towers ready ere their time to fall,
Me thinks I see thy Sonnes runne in each place
Madly afrighted, and for succours call,
Thy guiltie conscience blaming thy disgrace:
And from the loope-holes of thy ruind wall,
How many teare-fild eyes stood gazing round,
VVishing them selues away, or vnder ground.
122
O Villiers, thou thy selfe, (though then in theeVVas worthy courage; much to ill apply'd)
VVept in thy soule, that thou perforce must be
A Chiefetaine ouer sinne, and oft hadst try'd
To welcome peace, and shun calamitie,
But that these arguments made thee abide:
Feare of the misreporting multitude,
And fame to warre, against best fortitude.
[21]
123
These were the chaynes that bound thee to defame,And blinded thee from seeing what was best:
This Siren our Opinion, wind-borne lame,
Seeking to ease vs, brings vs to vnrest;
This, shunning-shame, brought thee to greater shame,
Thou couldst not harbour a more thanklesse guest,
For it adiudgeth nothing it doth see,
By what it is, but what it seemes to bee.
124
So helpe me truth, as I doe truly thinke,Opinion, th' onely torture of our minde,
Alas that any thing so vaine should sinke,
VVith muddy barbarizme, vnrefinde,
Into our harts deepe clossets, and there linke
All our beliefes to him, whose auntient kinde
Is to deceiue vs, promising the rest,
VVhich neuer was, or ere shall be possest.
125
The many Prodigies were hourely borne,From the distempred womb of thine amaze,
Thy Countries beauty by thine owne hands torne,
Thy dignities, which thy defaults did raze,
Thy guilty faintnes, thy obprobrious scorne,
The golden Crowne on which thine eyes did gaze,
Might haue been Oratours, for they could tell,
Thou didst all ill, in doing nothing well.
22
126
And you, which were his sinewes, and his force,The fatall hands to this ill plotting head;
You, that made nothing better, all things worse,
You are not blamelesse, you must I obrayd,
As petty springs from whose poluted source,
This streame became a Deludge. Be it sayd,
Vnder controle; this doubt doth still remaine,
VVhether was worse, the Leaders, or the traine.
127
But howsoeuer, euer this is true,You both repented what you vndertooke,
Thorough your eyes into your bossomes flew
VVounds vnrecurable: oft in your looke
VVhen paynted smiles lay publique in our view,
VVe might behold how much your ioyes forsooke,
Your vndisguised harts; for they sayd still,
The waking heauens will plague the sleeping ill.
128
Euen as cold Hemblock nums the vitall sence,Or iuyce of Mandrakes ouer-comes the brayne,
Euen so your feare, wedded to your offence,
Inforcst a trembling thorow euery vayne:
Nought but mistrust kept fatall residence
VVithin your breasts, the state-houses of payne.
And after you beheld the English bands,
Scarse could you hold your weapons in your hands.
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129
But yet deere Countrimen, mistake me not,(Deere I may call you, since by liues more deare,
Our peace, and your contentment was begot)
I doe not meane this while a dastard feare:
Far from the bounds of Fraunce hath been such blot,
But a taynt soule, seeing those Princes there,
VVho hated to vnsheath their swords in fight
If not for lawfull Kings, and Gods pure right.
130
This was th'afflicting corsiue of your harts,And howerly renouator of your ills,
This drew all your hard chaunces from desarts,
Yet made no lesse the mischeeues of your wills;
VVhy doe I seeke to colour your soule parts,
That knowing truth, no part of truth fulfills?
Therefore ile say as your deeds witnest then,
You were, what you were borne, most sinfull men.
131
By this time warre on both sides was prepar'd,And Furie like a strumpet runnes about,
First th'one, and then the others minde she squar'd,
And casts her venome ouer euery rout;
Scorne vpon scornes, and dares at them which dar'd,
VVere banded first within, and then without,
Combats were chaleng'd, tane, and then put off,
Cuffes were repay'd with cuffes, & scoffe with scoffe.
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132
As oft as day beheld them, and as longVVere fallies made, beate back, and new inforcst,
Night, Nurse òf ease, to whom calme rests belong,
Saw there no closed eye, VVarres waking worst,
Made night, as day, in vprores fatall strong:
VVhat in the day by counsaile was discourst,
The night did execute; what in the night,
VVas in the day effected by his light.
133
And thus this waighty busines, busie keptSuruiuing great ones, and their following trayne,
None slumberd, but such as eternall slept,
Their soules sent hence to ioyes, or endlesse payne,
And of their names an endlesse count was swept,
Into forgetfull Lethe, where they rayne
Secure from scandals on the liuing hurld,
Lost from mens thoughts, forgotten of the world.
134
In all the conflicts, battailes, turnaments,And dreadfull clamors of affrighting Armes.
O VValter Deuorax, thy soules blandishments,
(Not guilt, but guilding Honours choyce alar'mes)
VVere to all spyrits sprightly, presidents,
As far as Neptune flowes, or Phœbus warmes:
Thy Browesse shall extend that in VVarres fire
Didst euer first assaile, and last retire.
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135
There neuer fled before the Tygers facePoore Lamb so fast (ore-taken in his game)
As French-men fled from thee with winged pace,
After they had approu'd thy vertues flame.
Like fire and water, pent vp in one place
VVith thunder-renting all the heauenly frame,
Such were thy deeds: and more by much then so,
If more could be, or more from man could goe.
136
Euen as the fearefull Leuorit in the wood,Viewing the dreadfull Lyon full of rage,
Murther his dame, and feede vpon her blood,
Renting her limbs, his rigour to asswage:
VVith silent pace, and trembling in her moode,
Flies from the rancour of the beasts out-rage,
And euery step bethinks of what was done,
And euery houre adreads to be vndone.
137
So did the troopes where starre-eyed Deu'rax wentVVith fearefull admiration see his ire,
One to another was a President
To seeke their scapes by some more safe retire;
And yet their flights was no true banishment
Of their dispayres: for still his Valors fire,
Shin'd in their harts, and though he was not nye,
Yet Furie-like his deeds were in their eye.
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138
But what was it (ô perfit man) which thusGot powre in thy deere thoughts, and hal'd thee on,
To teare from Dangers gates the dangerous,
Exposing still thy person oft alone,
In spight of hazard most miraculous?
VVast Honours loue, hard gotten, and soone gone?
VVas't Enuie? or was't neyther which thee led,
Twas both, twas both, an Enuie nobly bred.
139
O Souldiers-Enuie, neere alie to Kings,Maiestick humor, carefull iealious thought,
Thou, which awak'st vs from ignoble things,
A passion neerest to a God-head brought,
Onely indefinite; to whom none brings,
Limit or bound: thou greater then our thought,
VVho holds thee, holds a power to make him able,
VVho looses thee, becomes most miserable.
140
And yet forgiue me (fayre one) twas not this,VVas neuer any thing how good so ere,
VVhich hath so rough a name as Enuie is,
That could liue in thy hart: for Angels there,
Keepe solemne reuels, and by power dismisse,
The earthie passions which our natures beare:
VVithout thee, well might humaine rarenes rest,
But holy things liued onely in thy brest.
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141
Vpon thy helme, sat Conquest ready drest,Delighting to behold thy sacred deeds,
And swore that Temple made her onely blest,
For by thine acts, her actions prayse exceeds.
Thou not her fayre, but she thy fayre possest,
Thy looks the tables whereon honour reeds
Instructions for her laude, inchaunted all,
And like thy sword, made best resolued fall.
142
That Engine of defence and punishment,VVhich well could chastice, who could well doe ill,
VVith thee was but a needlesse instrument,
Nature had giuen thee darts could better kill;
Thy hart-inchaunting looks, had they been bent,
In bitter frownes, or showd displeased will:
The strength of strengths, had humbly falne before thee
So much thy beauty made the world adore thee.
143
If Hercules by Hylas was subdude,And chaynd in golden fetters to his loue,
And if Patrocles held in seruitude,
Stix-washt Achilles: then I will approue,
And in thy powre, all powre, all loue include:
Making thy fame sit starres, and heauen aboue.
For thou hast courage greater then the one,
And beauty more then in the other shone.
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144
Thy cheekes were Lilly-fields where Roses grew,Thine eyes two Lamps, which lent the day his light,
Thy breath the ayre in which choyce pleasures flew,
Perfuming all things neere vnto thy sight;
Thy dangling tresses (hanging in our view,)
Thē Phœbus sounding strings were much more bright.
Thy lips, which kisse each other when they meete,
Taught them to kisse, which thought no kisses sweet.
145
Loue in thy lookes hung forth a conquering signe,Sharpning his arrowes on thy daintie brow,
I saw him light his Torches at thine eyne.
Oft haue I heard him for thy sake a-vow
Hee would no more mongst men be held diuine,
But for thy fauour his great tytles bow
To doe thee seruice, and become thy Squire,
Begging no more but count'naunce for his hire.
146
VVhat wonder is it then if mortall bredFell at thy feete? when such a sacred powre,
VVho at the tables of the Gods hath fed,
Hee which hath made Ioue tremble at his lowre,
Stoopes vassaile-like, and humbleth his proud head,
Begging the pleasures of a happy howre.
O great insearchable, almightie Fate,
Thys was your will, and you thus form'd his state.
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147
Euen you sad Daughters of the quiet night,VVhich in your priuate reuolutions write
VVhat hath, or shall vpon our fortunes light,
VVhose Stories none may see, much lesse recite.
You Rulers of the Gods; twas you gaue might,
That our great Grandam Nature should vnite
All her best treasures in those princely two,
That after-age might say: Thus could shee doe.
148
Nature, in which Diuinitie doth shine,Liuely presenting vnborne Dietie,
Is that same Spirit of Reason, most diuine,
VVhich causeth euery naturall worke to be.
All things shee doth preserue, and can refine
Muddy pollusions from impuritie.
Philosophie can teach no Art nor ground
VVhich Nature (elder borne) had first not found.
149
Nature, th'effect of Order, or the same,VVas neuer knowne so rich, so prodigall,
As when shee tooke in hand the blessed frame
Of this most famous worke; this Generall,
Delight of those that doe behold the same.
VVhich to renowne and make more speciall,
Shee to her-selfe, Learning and Vse combinds,
And then all three sleepe sweetly in theyr minds.
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150
Thys not to be disioyn'd tryumuerate,From any minde that will be perfit taught,
Possest in them an endlesse-during state,
By no fraile passion to distemper brought:
All what they could, to them they dedicate.
Nature is Learnings eyes, Shee, Natures thought,
Vse, wanting eyther, is imperfect made:
They without Vse, no better then a shade.
151
The finest Orpheus toucheth no more stringsThen the vnskilfull man which nere saw Lute,
Yet th'one, by Vse and Knowledge, sweetly brings
To th'eare delight, th'other harsh repute.
So Natures perfit man, (the best of things)
Tryes but what fitt'st with Natures gyfts will sute,
Till taught by Vse and Reasons holy skill,
Hee brings vnto perfection what hee will.
152
* VVhy on creation liues my Muse thus long?All the world knowes they are the best can be.
Contrary matter must be in my song,
No life but death, no birth but tragedie.
In teares, worne pen, write dissolution,
That accent better fits my melodie.
Deuorax, thy death is my desire to frame,
My prayer; thy Brother will but heare the same.
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153
But woe alas, this mine vpbrayding MuseVVhich tells mee what thou wert whē thou wert here,
Doth with the memory thereof, infuse
Into th'impou'risht world, (which held thee deare)
Matter of endlesse mourning; Horrors newes,
Shewing it selfe how vilde it doth appeare,
VVho seuerd from the glory which it had,
Is now a widdow, wofull, desperat, sad.
154
Looke how the Sea swells brauely in her prideVVhilst two faire Nauies daunce vpon her streame,
Seeming the starre-set heauens to deride,
But when leane Enuie with her poys'ning beame
Amongst them doth her venomd hate deuide,
Leauing no memory of theirs or them,
Mournes in black-smoaks, in clamors, and in blood,
Saying shee is not, which hath now no good.
155
Or as the gallant Tyltyards kingly drestVVith royall eyes, and famous Conquerours,
Boasts that no place can be more richly blest,
No, not the Courts of greatest Emperours:
VVhen night appeares, and calls them thence to rest,
VVhich him of all his happy loade deuours,
Becomes vnfaire, subiect to vild abuse,
Seruing for base, and most respectlesse vse.
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156
Such was the widdow-world when thou wert gone,An honor-loosing sea, in blood adrest,
A Realme dispeopl'd, a deposed throne,
A witherd garland, where no flowers rest,
A crowne not made of gold, nor rich'd with stone,
Twas altogether vild, wholie opprest.
But whether doth this sorrow beare my breath?
I yet should write thy life, anon thy death.
157
* A lingring siege, Calamities best friend,The wealthy haruest, gath'ring store of woes,
The worke where Deaths worke neuer finds an end,
The purchase got by blood, and lost by blowes,
Increasing, made the walls of Roan bend;
Famine an infant, past his child-hood growes,
And comd to riper strength, beginneth then,
Sterne Tyrant-like, to raigne ore feeble men.
158
His gouernment, from exile calls Dispaire,VVhich straight accuseth Hope of periurie,
Affliction, for a witnes doth appeare,
And adds beside more worse impietie.
Hope seekes to pleade, but no man giues him eare:
Then banisht, hee departs from miserie,
And taking with him all content of minds,
Flyes to the Campe, and better welcome finds.
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159
Souldiorly tryumphs giues him entertaine,All harts are open set to take him in,
Like an imperious Prince, through euery vaine
Hee rides tryumphant. VVhat before had bin
Low brought by VVarre, rises to life againe.
Those which had thought to end, doe new begin;
Nothing is held impossible, but this,
To faile of conquest, which incertaine is.
160
* The new made King, (whose tytle, holy, iust,VVas by some Rebels yet debard their streets)
VVarring in other parts (as needes he must)
VVith the report of their approches meets,
VVhich making complete his long-wished trust,
(Turning feares-gall, to conquests honny-sweets)
Inspyr'd him with desire to blesse his eyes,
VVith sight of them from whom his blisse must rise.
161
A speciall day both parties doe propose,(And newes thereof by Herralds published)
In which these two almightie powers dispose,
Like seu'rall Oceans ioyntly married,
To meete each other; and in sight of those
VVhich knew th'ones right, how it was iniured,
And how the others ayde might saue the weake,
To knit that loue-knot time should neuer breake.
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162
Dayes which beget dayes, naturally begot,Thys blessed day (worthy some holy Name)
And brought it purely forth, without one spot,
Spreading most vniuersally his flame:
VVhen Fraunce, that had not all old pomp forgot,
(Though she vsd little since shee was faine lame)
Now pranks her selfe, like an old widdow-bride,
And striues t'out-goe her youths admired pride.
163
England as much, (and by so much the moreAs her long peace taught how she might be braue)
Adorns herselfe, and as her birth-day, wore
VVhat euer curious was, and did ingraue
Admire in such as saw her: starres before
Rode twinckling, like heauens spangles on the waue,
Some marcht behind; but in the mid-poynt went
Two Sunnes, which made, made one Sunne excellent.
164
In selfe-like order Fraunce directs her state:And then, like two great elements conioynd,
But not propostrous, as distemperate,
Theyr ioyfull clamors note a blest reioyne:
This Plannet-like coniunction, soone begat
The fayth which Times exchange shall nere disioyne.
Thus French with English mixt, they march'd together
Hope seene in both, and sworne to part from neither.
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165
VVhat better Emp'rour can the body holdThen sacred Hope? the element from whence
Vertue is drawne, fresh-looking, neuer old,
Matter most worthy of a strong defence:
It animates young men, and makes them bold,
Arming their harts with holy influence,
It like a seale, in tender thoughts doth presse
The perfect Image of all worthines.
166
This Hope is double, and hath double powre,As beeing mortall, and immortall fram'd,
In th'one shee's mouelesse, certaine euery howre,
In th'other, doubtfull, and incertaine nam'd.
Th'immortall Hope raignes in a holy bowre,
In earthie closurs is the mortall tam'd:
And these two contraries, where ere they meete,
Double delight, and make our thoughts more sweet.
167
Hee that hopes least, leaues not to hope at all,But hopes the most, hoping so little hope,
Augmenting of our hope, makes hope grow small,
And taking from it, giues it greater scope.
The desperat man which in dispaire doth fall,
Hopes by that end ill-fortunes to reuoke.
And to this hope belongs a second part,
VVhich we call Confidence, that rules the hart.
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168
This second part of hope, this Confidence,VVhich Tully calls a vertue that doth guide
The spyrit to an honest residence,
VVithout whose ayde no pleasure will abide
In our world-wearied flesh: This strong defence
Against our aduerse Fate: now full of pride,
Perswades the English Legions, that it is
Impossible their chaunce should runne amisse.
169
O Hope, thou Nurse of aged feeblenes,Thou common good which bid'st when naught is left,
Thou best maintaynour of lifes happines,
Excluding from our harts misfortunes theft:
How art thou made the cause to wretchednes,
Of all thy proper nature quite bereft?
VVhat, canst thou erre? I passing wondrous well,
Chieflie, when Hope and Loue together dwell.
170
You men tormentors, Hope, and foolish Loue,(The last our guide, the first is our consort)
The one to execute our thoughts doth proue,
The other of successe giues good report:
Nothing in minds doth greater mischiefes moue,
Then where you hold your howerly resort.
And though to fights you neuer publique bee,
Yet are you plagues, much worse then eyes can see.
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For you are they which feede the mighty mindeVVith sweetest poyson of desired prayse,
You make vs trust for that we shall not finde,
And like the lookes which onely should displease:
For did not loue of dangers inly binde
Our harts to hazard, and the paynted ease
Of our owne hopes, arme all our Spirits breath,
VVe should not seeke, nor gaine vntimely death.
172
Thou euill-good, I would exclaime on thee,Did thine owne selfe, not others guide thy will,
But being least thine owne, what iniurie
By thee was done, shall liue in others ill.
* The French and English now ioyn'd faithfullie,
Doe eythers eares, with others glory fill,
And th'aduerse part felt daily by their blowes,
That though their harts were friends, their fames were foes.
173
One striues to goe more faster then the rest,Saying, the buis'nes crau'd a winged-pace:
Another, seeing his deere friend opprest,
For loues sake will depose him of that place.
Thus vnder zeale, by each it is exprest,
To what a crowne of wonder aymes their race:
And what for loue they did; wert truly knowne,
VVould prooue a iealious feare to be out-gone.
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174
This happy Emulation (God of warre)VVhich oftest comes vnconquerd from the field,
This which makes Monarchies stretch out so farre,
Not made to faynt, because it cannot yield,
VVell wot I, would haue made a fatall scarre,
(Such as all Fraunce would tremble yet to weild)
If it had gone, whither it would haue flowne.
But ill he spoyles, which spoyles naught but his owne.
175
O Pollicy, scarse knowne in times that's past,Or being knowne, yet least of most esteem'd,
Thy prouidence most worthily shall last,
And in these latter dayes be better deem'd,
Because thou sauedst, what Furie might haue wast,
Though much thou hast done ill, yet this act seem'd
Better then any; and so much more farre
As calme-facst Peace, exceeds blood-shedding VVarre.
176
O, hadst thou loued thy neighbour friends as well,And taught them how to shun pursuing harmes,
Then had not I sat sadly in my Cell,
For woe inuoking words, for eares strong charmes:
None yet had seene this Tomb, none heard this Bell,
This paper-noyse, this Epitaph alarmes:
But best content with rest, vntaskt to write,
I had admir'd what others could indite.
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177
But leauing this, no helpe-attayning Plaint,(Because great Natures worke must still be so)
My Muse hence-forward shall no more acquaint
Men with th'imagin'd causes of our woe,
But euen with feeling plainenes barely paint,
Our sorrowes day. Saying, twas thus, and so,
For then are griefes Tones, most best ordered,
VVhen th'are with plainenes truly vttered.
178
A day was borne, ô would it had not been,Or ere it was, I would the generall domb
VVhich shall dissolue this masse, might haue been seene,
That then these sorrowes from a timelesse tomb,
Exhal'd by zeale, made by our passions keene,
Might still haue lodg'd in an vnsearched womb:
But sith that cannot be, because it was,
Report what that dayes ilnes brought to passe.
179
* Vpon this day, this day that follow'd fast,Fore-going dayes, full of contagious chaunce,
Mishap, which by degrees did howerly wast
The force of Rebels, and the blot of Fraunce,
Right like her selfe, (that long well will not last)
Vpon good things casts a dispightfull glaunce.
And to approoue how ill in well would shoe,
Flies from the bad, and to the good doth goe.
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180
Vnwelcome Furie, thou wert ill aduis'd,Hell would become thee better then their Tents:
Could not some vast vnknowne place haue suffis'd
For receptacle to thy vild intents,
But euen where Honour was imparadis'd?
Must thou of force goe thither? what repents
Can clense thy faults? no teares of thine preuaile,
For they are showres of spight, no streames of zeale.
181
Mishap, ile curse thee with a bitter curse,(Yet t'will not helpe me: then as good vndone)
Then the most vildest, I will make thee worse,
(VVhy so thou wert before) what shall be done
To make men loathe thee, (common mischieues Nurse)
By thee ile say, the best beame of our sunne,
As much as halfe his light, Deuorax I meane,
VVas by thy hand vnseene, shamefully slaine.
182
If any then (for all will be displeas'd,Cheefly those blessed ones which knew him well,
And also those vpon whose eares haue ceas'd,
Rumour of his renowne, Fames loudest bell,
Busie to haue their iealious thoughts appeas'd)
Aske how twas done, and bid my story tell
How he was slaine, then will I thus begin,
And paynt with truth his death, with shame thy sin.
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183
I will report in that abortiue dayVVhen thou vncharitably left'st thine owne,
Those that well knew thee, those that did obay
Thy lamentable powre: and all alone,
Disguis'd with Vertues vizard, brought'st decay
To those that neuer saw thee, or thy throne.
Thine old acquaintance, by thine absence eas'd,
Began to smile, which long had been displeas'd.
184
Those minds which had been worthy, had they heldAn awfull reuerence to their lawfull King,
VVhose hands were good, if they could rightly weld
Their weapons as they should, or did not bring
Vpon them guiltlesse blood. Oft times refeld
And beaten with continuall skirmishing,
VVhether growne now more strong or desperate,
I know not; but they'le once more try their fate.
185
Once more they'le tempt theyr fortunes with theyr swordsOr make more speed to Deaths vnwelcom Inn:
Occasion, and the day, fit time affords,
Debating counsaile holds it meanes to winne;
Vulgar vnto the mighty still accords,
And doe their wils, be't lawfull, or a sinne:
VVherefore the flowers of all the Citties pride,
VVell armed, in a fayre Batalion ride.
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186
But what is it so priuate can be mentBut VVarres intellegencer, Rumor knowes?
And if not for dispight, yet to th'intent
He may be still him selfe, in furie goes:
And vnto what the one side's fully bent,
Maliciously vnto the other shoes;
This now well-prating Parat, tels the ende
VVhereto the Citties issues doe intende.
187
Forth-with (ô Essex) thou a counsaile tooke,Though none could vtter what thou knewst not well,
(For all experience, lodg'd within thy looke)
And there agreed, that force their force should quell,
Like number, gainst like number vndertooke
To bate the pride which now began to swell:
And Deu'rax, who was Honours daily guest,
VVould guide them to their fame, or to their rest.
188
VVhat in the heauenly Parlament aboueIs written by the finger of the first,
Mortals may feele, but neuer can remoue,
For they are subiects to the heauens worst.
Hence came it Deu'rax, that no prayres, no loue
Could stay thy forward course, thine youths flame burst
Into impatience, when Aduise, thy friend,
Sought to protract the hasting of thine end.
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189
Euen as the sunne in all his royaltieAt noone-tide casts his lookes vpon the ground,
And wooes the fruites with eye-cleare Maiestie,
Curing the VVinters vlcerated wound,
So Deu'rax looke, such beames of dignitie
From him vpon the Armie did rebound:
And from his beames all gazers tooke that fire,
VVhich mounting vp, would neuer more retire.
190
VVhen Hector wore the purest roabes of warre,And louer-like would haue no blemish spide,
Courting bright Glory, all his hopes deere starre,
Fam'd then to be Achilles promis'd bride,
VVas not so rich, nor shin'd his praise so farre
As Deuorax did: which in the troope did ride,
Before all others, like the breake of day,
VVhich throgh nights shadowes makes his burnisht way.
191
I thinke his soule (for oft it happens so)Like a deere Prophetesse by holy flame
Had a fore-knowledge, or some sacred shoe
Of what should after happen: For this same,
VVhich we call death (the soules release from woe
The worke which brings our blisse to happy frame)
Sildome arests the body, but wee finde
Some notice of it written in our minde.
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192
I know his blessed Genius, sacred bred,VVhich in a moment, by her thoughts suruaies
All the celestiall houses, and doth spred
Ouer the earth, and through the vastest Seas;
Thys day, (by some deuiner humor led,)
Doth apprehend the changes of his dayes:
For he was not himselfe, (though euer best)
But stranger, with strange honor, strangely drest.
193
Neuer rode Bride-grome to salute his Bride,VVith such delight as hee to his vnrest:
All speed was leaden-footed; oft hee cryde,
By dallying time, our hopes will be deprest.
Then straight hee notes how swift the day doth slide,
And feares it will not last till hee be blest.
At length, in all poynts fitted as hee would,
Hee marcheth on, encouraging the bould.
194
Arm'd was he royallie through euery part,His head except, which had no steelie guard:
Those Angell-lookes, which could enchaunt a hart,
Flint-moulded, or in yron closurs bard,
Nakedly borne, vnpollished by Art,
Like the attracting Sunne, with his beames, snard
The vapours of the warre to flie vnto him,
VVhose mists of death, in touching did vndoe him.
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195
The vapors of the warre, the clowdie smoake,The mantles to that winged messenger,
VVhich from the Cannons intrailes rudely broke,
Or from a lesser hand deliuerer,
Kills where it comes, woundeth the hardest Oake,
Batters stone walls, and leaues no register
Of any comely worke, thys ayrie deuill,
Became in loue with good, it selfe all euill.
196
VVith him it was in loue, (or fayn'd to be)For euen as hayle-stones fall vpon the ground,
Or in the Sunne playes little Attomie,
Euen so flew bullets, with a musick sound
Of whistling notes, Death charming melodie
About each part of him, yet made no wound;
So that those liuing, and that dying lay,
Thought him VVarrs selfe, with whō VVarre seem'd to play.
197
And well it might be so, if VVarre, like men,Had beene created with a sicklie soule,
Full of our melting passion; I would then
Haue so imagin'd, but because tis foule
And most deformed, (if some mournfull pen,
VVith inck not full so black, did not controule
The rugged iestures of his hatefull face)
I would not thinke him guiltie of such grace.
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198
VVarre, of one matter made, hath but one thought,Barb'rous obduracie, conceiting blood,
Yet from those vnions infinits are brought,
But all of one like humor, and one good:
VVarre, simply is but spoyle, till Vertue taught
How it might be refin'd, and vnderstood
A better thing; reporting twas the Sire
Of Honour, which all mortall men desire.
199
Thys thin-leau'd Gold vpon a Copper linke,This Venice ceres on an Ethiops face,
This Di'mond set in Lead, this faire-pau'd sinke,
Cheats the whole world, and vnder shew of grace,
Depriues vs of more ioyes then we can thinke:
This robs vs of the riches wee imbrace.
Mee thinks, the losses which we find by it,
Should make men loathe, and vildly spet at it.
200
But fie; thys furie is too vehement,(Many dead boughs hang on a soueraigne-tree,)
VVarre, rightly handled, is most excellent,
And easie makes impossibilitie:
It mounts the Alps, and through vast Seas doth rent,
By it in blood a way to heau'n we see:
And euen by it, (though long before thy time)
Deu'rax thou didst into the heau'ns clime.
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Looke how a gust of winde vpon the flood,Comes scouring, and ore-takes the Saylers eye,
Or as a tempest, renting vp a wood,
Seemes swifter then the nimblest thought to flie:
VVith speede as great, or more in likelihood,
Thys worthy Deuorax to the charge doth hie;
And as the thunder rents the heauenly frame,
So teares his Launce the rankes in which hee came.
201
As earths great wealth falls by the Reapers hand,So fell his foes by his deuouring sword,
The Parragons and Minions of that Land,
Buying theyr proofe too deerely, doe accord,
That his renownes preheminence shall stand
Aboue all former Princes: and afford
Matter for greater meruaile then hath beene,
Or had he liu'd, should els-where haue been seene.
202
But what auailes it to say thys hee did,VVhen twas but showes to that he would haue done?
VVhat better am I to say thus hee rid?
Thus hee tryumph'd, thus did his foe-men runne?
VVhen what hee was, from present is, is hid,
Remembraunce, by such memorie vndone;
VVho knew him, knew hee was the best of any,
VVho knew him not, may learne by mee and many.
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204
But loe, the battaile grew by this time old,And yet the worst of it was still vnborne,
Many a life was deerely bought and sold,
But now in happy state, and now forlorne:
Contagious changes euery one behold,
The Rebels first, sith vanquisht and ore-borne:
The English next, who hauing slaine their foes,
Came weeping backe, but could not tell their woes.
205
The Fountaine whence these miseries did spring,(O noble Deuorax) flow'd from thy great thought,
Thy sacred resolutions towring wing,
A step aboue Fames height intirely sought:
And if to doe enough, were that sweet thing
VVhich thou aspyr'dst to; it was fully wrought:
Thou didst enough, if conquest might content,
And who doth more, is worthy to be shent.
206
But thys false-painted Dietie, call'd Laude,VVhich makes vs thirst for vaine Eternitie,
Twixt our Desires and Hope, a cunning Bawde,
Vshers the soule vnto Extremitie:
And helpt by slie insinuating Fraude,
Couers her deeds in scrowles of Pietie;
This hath led others, but it led not thee,
For thou esteem'st no such vaine Imagrie.
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A most religious humor was thy guide,A feruent zeale to raise vp Maiestie,
A hate vnto this hell-bred Monster Pride,
A loathe thou took'st gainst vp-start Tyranny.
Religion, Loue, and Honour sanctifide,
VVith all the other beames of Pietie,
Gaue light vnto thy foot-steps, and brought forth
Thy minde to dare to doe these acts of worth.
208
No Idoll-beautie in thy hart was seeneTo gouerne what thou vnder-took'st in this,
Thou hadst no Mistres, but thy sou'raigne Queene,
And shee, of all mens prayse most worthy is:
Her beames, (I doe confesse) made the beames keene
Of thy best mettald Spirit; what's amisse
That shee makes perfit? what can perfit die,
If first it be not moulded in her eye?
209
Thou liuely worke of her great excellence,VVel-worthy Matter for her powre to frame,
I could attache thee of a high offence,
In beeing too regardlesse, what became
Of thine excelling fortunes; what defence
But was too little to begirt thy Name?
For her works sake, though not thine owne respect,
Thou should'st haue banish'd farre this warrs defect.
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210
But woe vnto this too late counsayling,VVoe that I haue a cause to counsaile thus,
VVoe of all woes, conscience perpetuall sting,
Aliue and dead, haunt him that iniur'd vs,
In curses would I name him, would shame ring
His name, and hold it meritorious:
But hell, for more-great mischiefe still doth hide it,
Because if knowne, no creature would abide it.
211
An vnknowne villaine, for he was vnseeneThe while the skirmish heate continued,
VVith others, like himselfe, (which monsters beene,)
In a remoted place were ambushed,
And viewing all the battailes irefull teene,
And how Fames beautie was imbellished
In Deu'rax deeds; growne enuious of the staine,
Sent from his peece a bullet through his braine.
212
Most damned wretch, thou hast most vildly done,The Musket back recoyling told as much.
The glasse of Honour now was fully runne,
VVhat hart but this base dastard-blow will touch?
Vngratious engin which eclipcst our Sunne,
For euer be thou curst: and let all such
As heare thee, hate thee; let thy stinking breath,
Be loath'd, and held the sauour of foule Death.
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Now from his hands fell downe the golden raynes,And gaue the Horse that libertie he sought;
The remnant of his sences, which remaines,
Fled from their Pallace; all to ruine brought.
The blood ranne freshly from his weeping vaines,
His bodies King a heau'nly Empire caught.
But all his vertues, to his brother fled,
And vow'd to liue with him, since hee was dead.
214
Looke how a shole of Rauens for a baite,Tangle their liues in danger of the snare,
Or starued VVolues, (that wanting what to eate)
Seeing a pray, pursues it without care;
So those, which nothing but theyr deaths awaite,
Seeing the falling of thys noble Starre,
(I meane the Rebels, rest of all defence)
Hazard new deaths to steale the body thence.
215
But they whose harts had long time liu'd therein,(For twas a little kingdome of theyr loues)
Seeing thys reprobate, and damned sin,
Both for reuenge and honour, stoutlie proues
To beate them backe: so that new fights begin.
The fight of fights, which stones to wonder moues.
One would faine get, the other will not loose,
Both hange in doubt, and can nor will nor choose.
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216
At last, Impatience coniures vp Resolue,VVhich (like a Spirit rays'd) thundreth about,
Rents Towers, & trees, and Mountaines doth dissolue;
Euen so like rag'd the English, when base Doubt
Made question of their chaunce, straight they absolue
Themselues from feare, then through the damned rout,
Made thousand seuerall wayes, & by mayne strength,
(Got where he was) recou'red him at length.
217
From the sad ground they heau'd his wounded head,(VVedded too soone vnto deuouring dust)
His saddle for a Bere, supplies the stead,
His Horse his breathing ioy, his valours trust,
VVhich boare him liuing, now must beare him dead:
All things were quite transform'd to what they must,
As soft as foote could fall, (ô Snaile-pacst mones)
They brought him to his Tent, with sighs, with grones.
218
But when this obiect in the middle wayIncounterd with his noble Brothers sight,
VVhat tears, what vowes, what plaints, what shall I say,
VVhat euery thing that can but shape the plight
Of insupportable distresse. O day,
Blacker then hell, more desolate then night,
VVhat not to be imagin'd care, didst thou
View in his face, and reade vpon his brow?
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Fraunce, thou might'st this day praise the King of Kings,VVhich rays'd thee vp a King of thine owne seede,
VVho like a brooding Henne, vnder his wings
Nourisht thee kindly, wept to see thee bleede,
And lost him selfe, to gaine thee quiet things:
For had thy haps been other-wise, this deede
Had been thine vtter ruine, and decay,
Thy Glories last knowne houre; and Shames first day.
220
O Roan, thou ayme-cryer to this woe,Be proude, thy fortunes by thy King was blest,
Else, thou which now art high, had then layne loe,
As low as leueld plaines by fire deprest:
VVhat thou wert then, now had been nothing so:
Infants yet hanging on their Mothers brest,
Should haue come far thy mem'ries to haue seene,
But missing thee, not knowne where thou hadst beene.
221
Nor so contented had great Essex stayde,But brought an other name vnto thy Land,
Yet better fortune thy worse chaunce alayde,
He which did lift it vp, now stay'd his hand:
Had he been for him selfe, not others ayde,
His strange reuenge by all tongues had been scand,
And for each drop his Brothers wound did shed,
A million of French Gallants had layne dead.
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222
Nor came he home wholy vnsatisfide,VVitnes thy widdowes yet within thy streete,
Thy walls, and houses scarse reedifide,
The Orphants wayling at their Grandams feete,
Thy Churches vselesse, and vnsanctifide,
These records with reuenge in part doe meete,
But greater had it been, and better would,
If Might did what it might, not what it should.
223
Fraunce, that wert beautious, ô be comly still,Be not a Vassaile, that an Empire was,
Loue thy dread Lord, be gouernd by his will,
Thy ruling of thy selfe brings ills to passe,
Confound his foes, and thine owne mischiefes kill:
Be you your selues helpers in your ill case,
Least your ingratitudes doe draw perforce
From you his loue, on you your neighbours force.
224
And then againe, Essex returne againe,Yoaking your vntam'd necks, making you bow,
In whose almighty minde cannot be slaine,
The mem'rie of his Brother. I auow,
And heere presage, if euer your disdaine,
And forfet troaths of such sad dayes alow,
You will accurse your selues, and banne your breath,
And pray the Mountaynes to bring speedy death.
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But vnto those yet vncreated times,O Muse bequeath these secret Prophecies,
And let his end draw to an end thy rimes,
Dye with his death, and in his obsequies
Intomb thy soule: thy soule which weary climes,
And falls with faintnes as he seekes to rise;
And seate his numbers in their sweetned eares
VVhere best delights, and best wits fire appeares.
226
* Thus ARETEA with a heauie looke,Ending with sighs, what was with teares begunne,
Turnes from my presence: and with woe for-sooke
Further discourse. But I that swift did runne
Vpon Desires feete, with reuerence tooke
Hold of her garment, and cry'd, stay deere Sunne,
Thou which hast taken prisoner all my thought,
Ransome my minde, let his release be bought.
227
If thus thou doe depart; from me will partMy rauisht sence; for charritie (faire Saint)
Stay; and as thou hast banqueted my hart,
So glut mine eyes, ô holy Mayd, acquaint
My sight (yet drownd with ouer-flow of smart)
VVith those rare miracles which Art doth paint
Vpon his famous Tomb: for twere a shame
Forgetfulnes should sleepe vpon his Name.
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228
I doe assure my selfe, religious Fraunce,VVhich loues the lawes of Hospitalitie,
VVill not ingratefully forget his chaunce,
Or for a world forgoe his memorie:
I know her eyes with tribute-teares doe glaunce
Daily vpon his Tomb, his valiancie,
VVhich for her sake brought him to earthly mold,
Liues writ in Iet, in Marble, Brasse, or gold.
229
Or if twere so that her distempred mindeFilld with her owne griefe, should forget her friend,
I know his Countries spirit (most refinde)
And those whom Nature binds to such an end,
VVill raise a Piramed of some strange kinde,
Vpon whose Colombs euery wit shall spend
The fire of his best Muse; that who succeeds,
Shall beg from him, or weare no witty weeds.
230
* It may be so (the heauenly one replide)And feare of that, I feare, keeps him obscure,
Or else for that experience late hath tride,
That handy works doe neuer euer dure,
They are content to let him vnknowne bide,
Till they may frame the worke more certaine sure.
Or Time that can dissolue these holy things,
Hath taught vs now to doe lesse holy things.
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Yet least thou shouldst too much complaine, and fretThe world, by telling wherein she offends:
(For what we doe amisse, behind we set,
Few to their faults reproue, with patience tends)
Come, and ile carry thee where Time hath set
His Tropheys vp, to last when all things ends,
Earth hath them not, nor Sea, nor heere, nor there,
But no where, some where, some where, euery where.
232
* VVith that me thought the power of AmazeCarry'd my Soule far from my common sence,
VVonder me thought, with a starre-shyning blaze,
Lighted her to some sacred residence:
Earths eyes were clos'd, onely my minde did gaze,
Much I beheld, yet knew not what, nor whence
Any thing issued: Sight of many things
Confounds the sight, and no true iudgement brings.
233
A world of worlds I saw, yet no worlds there,Aboundance of delights bathing in teares,
Passion, and stoick dulnes euery where,
Vassailes, and Kings: Kings as no Kings appeares,
A thousand hands, a thousand Towers doe reare,
As many moe the walls in sunder teares,
Beauties stood thicker much then spotted starrs,
But double moe defects which faces marrs.
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234
VVhen I saw all things, I saw nothing well,Millions about me now, but straight-way gone;
I numberd much, and yet could nothing tell,
Infinets when I summ'd them, were but one;
Desirous for to know this heauenly hell,
I saw twas meere Imagination,
For by the hourely changes it did bring,
I saw it was no euer-during thing.
235
About this great imaginarie round,This Kingdome of the vnrestrayned thought,
VVhere all things are, which are not to be found,
I made a long large progresse: then she brought
My tyr'd conceits to a more holy ground,
VVhere many curious molds were rarely wrought,
Of all the VVorthies, which were nobly bred,
Sleeping secure in Honours quiet bed.
236
Not far from them was built a MonumentOf sparkling Di'monds fast bound in with gold,
And round about it for an ornament,
Lawrell I might, and Cipresse Groues behold;
The gates were of the dayes best blandishment,
And euery Piller wrought, seem'd to vphold
A singing Angell, and a weeping Saint;
The strangest mixture Thought did euer paint.
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This place delightlesse, had me thought Delight,And filld his emptines with rare conceite,
This nothing, me thought, all things did dispight,
And seeme, more rich then the most rich receite
Of Edens excellence: there thoughts did wright
Happy content, contented with deceite.
And as me thought I view'd these glorious gates,
I reade these lines written in golden Plates.
THE TOMBE.
You which desire to ope this dead mans dore,Or you that passe by it without regard,
Rest here your eyes, and filling them with gore,
Behold this Tombe of words, and lines prepard:
On Marble, let, and Iasper, mayst thou po're
Tyll thou poure out thy sight, yet be debard
To read the sacred heau'n-out-lyuing scroule,
VVhich hath the deeds of this almightie soule.
238
Drawne by the charming Musicke of these roes,And guided by the strength of my desire,
I prest into this ayrie house of woes,
Praysing the thoughts which made me to aspire:
The sights I saw, seem'd not me thought like shoes
Of earths inuention, they bore-brighter fire,
But looking long, they vanisht: then appeare,
Nothing but lines; and these me thought they were.
41
THE STATVE.
O thou new Age, appareld with desire,To know them whom the liberall powers create,
Of most heroick spirits sacred fire,
Raysing their deeds to heauens starre-spotted gate:
Behold this Empire-meriting young Prince,
Clos'd with his vertues in this Tombs black shade,
VVho fought for Fraunce, and those which euer since
Should not for shame see his great glory fade:
And if a fayre desire thou take to spread
Through this worlds Theater (which sings his deeds)
His glorious prayse, and with it rayse the dead,
Name but his name, for it all names exceeds,
The sound of Deu'rax borne through thousand Lands,
Eternally on Mem'ries Altar stands.
239
VVith this last word the lines were vanished,And by some sacred hand tane from my sight,
By that great losse my ioyes were banished,
For yet my longings were not orderd right,
This vnseene seene, this tale halfe vttered
Driue me from ill, into a worser plight:
Then to my Guide, thinking to make my mone,
Shee was departed to, I all alone.
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240
Euen ARETEA was departed thence:No signe was left of any thing but woe,
Mine auncient woe, my thinkings recompence,
Delight, me thought, was chang'd to nothing so.
Now stood my feete in their old residence,
Painefully mouing, taught by Care to goe,
But now in heauen, and now in hell I range,
So swift our thoughts are, and so apt to change.
241
Vast solitarines bounded my sight,(For all is desolate, where not selfe-kinde
Vnto selfe-kind affords a mutuall right)
Of spatious trees, of flowres, and fruites I finde,
Millions of consorts pittying my plight:
But their dumb eloquence wound more the minde,
And in their silent listning, seeme to say,
VVe are Griefes hearers, why doth Griefes tongue stay?
242
This heauie summons to my wounded hart,Awakt the sleeping sparks of my best zeale,
VVhich mixed with my Countries fatall smart,
(Both cause, and mourner, of this early peale)
Compeld me play Calamities sad part,
And striue thy prayse, ô Deu'rax to reueale,
Affliction in my bosome long deprest,
Broke from my lips, and thus flew from my brest.
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243
Alas, mine eyes that these your falling tearesShould make two Riuers, and yet not erect
Their Funeralls aboue the mouing spheares,
But sadly on these flowres, with sighs defect
Paint lamentable verses, pittious feares,
The witnesses of thousand Griefes respect:
O now exhalt these fountaynes of my brayne,
They happy are which for good Chaunce complayne.
244
Nor eyes, nor verse, fill'd with this tearie source,VVhich with pale colours ploughs my furrowed face,
Can vs suffice, till my sad tongues discourse,
Relent obdurate Pitty, mourne Disgrace,
All paynes, all mortall anguishes, all worse
Then payne or anguish, or the wofulst case
Can be imagin'd; ô what payne haue I
To see againe, a new Achilles die?
245
VVoe me, mine eyes, seeke shadowes for your sight,To sounding Rocks recount your miseries,
The Sunne is not for you, seeke lasting Night,
Long not for Day, place galling agonies,
And fore-knowne mischiefes next thy heauie plight,
Of woes, and wrongs, found new societies,
VVeepe, weepe, poore Fraunce, this losse by Fate down hurld,
Is not alone to thee, but all the world.
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* Alas fayre Nimphs, you Ladies of cleare springs,If eyther loue or pitty (which still dwells
In femall harts) lament those heauie things,
VVhich presse our fortunes downe to many hells,
VVhy doe you let these flow'rs which dumbly sings,
VVeepe ere you weepe, and with tormenting yells,
Sigh long before you. O great powers decline:
Teares shed for Vertues sake, are teares deuine.
247
* You VVood-Gods; hence leaue haunting of your Caues,Come weepe with me this lamentable crosse,
VVhich fatall Death, (the Emperour of graues)
Hath heapt vpon our dayes; ô bare-bon'd glosse,
Of what we all must be; what nothing saues:
Can there alas then this be surer losse
To see all vertue in a forgotten Tombe?
Of Fortune ô ineuitable dombe.
248
* O Fate, thou faithlesse measurer of times,Most vnindiffrent Mistris to young yeares,
VVhich haue the purest soules: now note thy crimes,
Tell vs who caus'd thee hasten our dispaires,
Inroling Deu'rax in these buriall rimes?
VVhy didst thou bandie mischiefe gainst the spheares,
Taking away what heauen to earth did lend,
And bringing rarest things to quickest end.
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249
In spight of thee, and Death; his gentle Name,His glorious Name vnder his soule shall shine,
It from the skyes shall take the dayes bright flame,
And on the heauenly stage his deeds deuine
Shall sacredly be reade, and by the same
Eternity shall liue, his vertues Mine,
Shall be a rich example vnto Kings:
Tis prayse, not shame to follow vertuous things.
250
* Daughters of Ioue, since happy MemoryInroles the deeds, are worthy of record,
In golden letters (lasting Charractrie)
Vpon a pollisht Marble; ô accord,
And in that Booke, heauens royall Lybrarie,
VVrite downe his Prayses: then that Prayse afford,
Limits beyond all earth, or seas proud rage,
Leauing their beames to guide this yron age.
251
* You Sisters of Apollo, sacred nyne,O through all worlds, within your lyuing Arts,
Beare his renowne, and graue within your shryne
The honour of his great almighty parts,
Let it flye farther much then Sunne can shyne:
For he was euen a Monarke of all harts,
Nor euer did the VVarriours in times past
Attayne more honour then his Time imbracst.
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* O tryple crown'd Diana, ô great Queene,Latonas Daughter, Sister to the Sunne,
Thou Delphian Lamp, Lady of euery greene,
VVith that sad Christall water which doth runne
From thy celestiall eyes, sadly be seene,
To wet this Tomb where Englands fame doth wonne.
Make it a lyuing spring, thinke there remaynes,
VVhat ere the earth, or rich, or fayre contaynes.
253
VVhat ere on earth is rich, delightsome, fayre,Holy, or vertuous, which the rare right hand
Of that most great, most infinite, most deere,
Father of all eternitie makes stand
Vpon this mold, vnder the tryple ayre,
VVhich bounds the boundlesse circute of the Land,
Vpon his soules-brow thinke thou seest the same,
The deere Conseruatour of his best Name.
254
Fraunce, which hath caus'd the losse of all this best,Come offer teares and sighs for sacrifice,
And (though too late) by it know thy vnrest.
Goddesse ELIZA, Queene of harts and eyes,
That lost this Name I loue, wish it good rest,
Say Deu'rax liue in peace, and t'will suffice:
I dare not beg a teare; yet Deu'rax gone,
You lost one of the best beames bout your Throne.
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255
* And you great Lord, greatest of all that's great,Loosing your Brother whom most worthilie
The earth adores, your breasts fayre Pallace beate;
Deere Essex prayse his new Natiuitie.
* You Soueraigne Ladies thron'd in my harts seate,
Northumberland, and Rich, for charritie
Ayde his rare prayse, and sweeten my poore rime
VVhich striues to make him conquer Death and Time.
256
* Lastly, you English people, Pallas Squires,Faithfully wall this Saint-like Tomb about,
And make his vertues grow from your desires,
Report by Valures tongue the world throughout:
That though the Fates incenst with enuious fires,
Breake Natrues thred, and captiuate the stout,
Yet shall his Name, the badge of Pietie,
Liue both in heauen, and earth eternallie.
257
And thus arest thy pace poore heauie Muse,Doe thy last seruice, end thy weary tale,
And on this well-built holy Tomb, infuse
The large deriued currents of thy bale;
Say (as to say all holy powers vse)
Glory adue, Honour, and Vertues pale:
* The drowned Meads againe regaine their greene,
VVhat not in him, is in his Brother seene.
FINIS.
| Devoreux | |