The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton For the First Time Collected and Edited: With Memorial-Introduction, Notes and Illustrations, Glossarial Index, Facsimilies, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart. In Two Volumes |
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A Conceipt vpon an Eagle, and a Phœnix.
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 | The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton |  |
A Conceipt vpon an Eagle, and a Phœnix.
There sate sometime an Eagle on a hill,
Hanging his wings, as if he could not flie:
Blacke was his coate, and tauny was his bill,
Grey were his legges, and gloomy was his eye;
Blunted his talents, and his traine so bruised,
As if his brauery had beene much abused.
Hanging his wings, as if he could not flie:
Blacke was his coate, and tauny was his bill,
Grey were his legges, and gloomy was his eye;
Blunted his talents, and his traine so bruised,
As if his brauery had beene much abused.
This foule olde birde, of some vnhappy brood,
That could abide no hauke of higher wing,
(But fed his gorge vpon such bloody foode,
As might, in feare, maintaine a cruell king,)
Faire on a rocke of pearle and pretious stone
Espied a Phœnix sitting all alone.
That could abide no hauke of higher wing,
(But fed his gorge vpon such bloody foode,
As might, in feare, maintaine a cruell king,)
Faire on a rocke of pearle and pretious stone
Espied a Phœnix sitting all alone.
No sooner had this heauenly birde in sight,
But vp he flickers, as he would haue flowne:
But all in feare to make so farre a flight,
Vntill his pennes were somewhat harder growne;
He gaue a rowse: as who should say, in rage
He shew'd the fury of his froward age.
But vp he flickers, as he would haue flowne:
But all in feare to make so farre a flight,
Vntill his pennes were somewhat harder growne;
He gaue a rowse: as who should say, in rage
He shew'd the fury of his froward age.
And, for this Phœnix still did front his eyes,
He cald a counsell of his kites together;
With whom in haste he wold the mean deuise,
By secret arte to leade an armie thither,
And so pull downe, from place of highe estate,
This heauenly bird, that he had so in hate.
He cald a counsell of his kites together;
With whom in haste he wold the mean deuise,
By secret arte to leade an armie thither,
And so pull downe, from place of highe estate,
This heauenly bird, that he had so in hate.
Much talke there was, and wondrous heede was held,
How to atchieue this high attempt in hand:
Some out were sent to soare about the field,
Where flue this grace and glory of the land,
To mark her course, and how she made her wing,
And how her strēgth might stād with such a king.
How to atchieue this high attempt in hand:
Some out were sent to soare about the field,
Where flue this grace and glory of the land,
To mark her course, and how she made her wing,
And how her strēgth might stād with such a king.
And forthwith should such cages be deuised,
As should enclose full many thousand fowles;
By whom her seat should quickly be surprized,
And all her birds should handled be like owles:
No time detract: this deede must needs be don:
And ere they went, the world was wholly won.
As should enclose full many thousand fowles;
By whom her seat should quickly be surprized,
And all her birds should handled be like owles:
No time detract: this deede must needs be don:
And ere they went, the world was wholly won.
But, soft a while: no sooner seene the land,
But, ere they came in kenning of the coast,
So great a force their fortune did withstand,
That all the brauery of the birds was lost:
Some leakt, some sanke, and some so ran on groūd,
The cages burst, and all the birds were drownd.
But, ere they came in kenning of the coast,
So great a force their fortune did withstand,
That all the brauery of the birds was lost:
Some leakt, some sanke, and some so ran on groūd,
The cages burst, and all the birds were drownd.
But when the Eagle heard what was become
Of all his flight, that flick'red here and there;
Some sicke, some hurt, some lame, and all and sūme
Or farre from hope, or all too neere in feare.
He stoupt his traine, and hung his head so sore,
As if his heart had never burst before.
Of all his flight, that flick'red here and there;
Some sicke, some hurt, some lame, and all and sūme
Or farre from hope, or all too neere in feare.
He stoupt his traine, and hung his head so sore,
As if his heart had never burst before.
| The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton | |