The Works of Michael Drayton :: :: University of Virginia Library

With noysome Heat infests his chearefull Rayes,
Filling the Earth with many a sad Disease;
Which then inflam'd with their intemp'rate Fires,
Her selfe in light Habilliments attyres.

And the rathe Morning newly but awake,
Was with fresh Beautie burnishing her Browes,
Her selfe beholding in the Gen'rall Lake,
To which she payes her never-ceasing Vowes,
With the new Day me willingly to rowze;
Downe to faire Thames I gently tooke my way,
With whom the Winds continually doe play.

Striving to Fancie his chaste Brest to move,

A description of the delightfull course of the renowned Thames in two following Stanza's.

Whereas all Pleasures plentifully flow,
When him along, the wanton Tyde doth shove,
And to keepe backe, they easily doe blow,
Or else force forward, thinking him to slow;
Who with his Waves would check the Winds imbrace,
Whilst they fanne Ayre upon his crystall face.

Still forward sallying from his bountious Sourse,
Along the Shores lasciviously doth strayne,
Making such strange Meanders in his Course,
As to his Fountaine he would back agayne,

Medway, a River of Kent, comming by Rochester, and falling into the Thames.

Or turn'd about to looke upon his Trayne;
Whose sundry Soyles with coy Regards he greets,
Till with cleare Medway happily he meets.

384

Steering my Compasse by this wand'ring Streame,
Whose flight preach'd to me Times swift-posting How'rs,
Delighted thus as with some prettie Dreame,
Where Pleasure wholly had possess'd my Pow'rs,
And looking back on Londons stately Tow'rs,
So Troy, thought I, her stately Head did rere,
Whose crazed Ribs the furrowing Plow doth eyre.

Wearie, at length a Willow Tree I found,
Which on the Banke of this brave River stood,
Whose Root with rich Grasse greatly did abound,
Forc'd by the fluxure of the swelling Flood;
Ordayn'd (it seem'd) to sport his Nymphish Brood,
Whose curled Top, envy'd the Heav'ns great Eye,
Should view the Stock it was maintained by.

The Larke, that holds observance to the Sunne,
Quaver'd her cleare Notes in the quiet Ayre,
And on the Rivers murmuring Base did runne,
Whilst the pleas'd Heav'n her fayrest Liv'rie ware,

The five Senses all at once pleased.

The Place such Pleasure gently did prepare;
The Flow'rs my Smell, the Floud my taste to steepe,
And the much softnesse lulled me asleepe.

When in a Vision as it seem'd to me,
Triumphall Musike from the Floud arose,
As when the Sov'raigne we embarged see,

Simile.

And by faire London for his pleasure rowes,
Whose tender Welcome the glad Citie showes;
The People swarming on the pest'red Shoares,
And the curl'd Water over-spred with Oares.

A Troupe of Nymphs came suddenly on Land,
In the full end of this Triumphall Sound,
And me incompass'd, taking hand in hand,
Casting themselves about me in a Round,
And so downe set them on the easie Ground,
Bending their cleare Eyes with a modest Grace
Upon my Swart and Melancholy Face.

385

Next, 'twixt two Ladies came a goodly Knight,
As newly brought from some distressefull place,
To me who seemed some right worthy Wight,
Though his Attyre were miserably base,
And Time had worne deepe Furrowes in his Face;
Yet, though cold Age had frosted his fayre Hayres,
It rather seem'd with Sorrow then with Yeares.

The one, a Lady of a Princely Port,
Leading this sad Lord, scarcely that could stand;
The other fleering in disdainefull sort,
With scornefull Gestures drew him by the hand:
Who lame and blind, yet bound with many a Band,
When I perceived, neerer as they came,
This Foole was Fortune, and the braver, Fame.

Fame had the right Hand, in a Robe of Gold,

A Description of Fame, and her Habit.

(Whose Trayne old Time obsequiously did beare)
Whereon, in rich Embrod'rie, was enrol'd
The Names of all that Worthies ever were,
Which all might reade, depainted lively there,
Set downe in loftie well-composed Verse,
Fit'st the great Deeds of Heroes to rehearse.

On her faire Brest she two broad Tablets wore;
Of Crystall one, the other Ebonie:
On which, ingraven were all Names of yore,
In the cleare Tombe of living Memorie,
Or the blacke Booke of endlesse Obloquie;
The first, with Poets and with Conqu'rors pyl'd,
That with base Worldlings ev'ry where defil'd.

And in her words appeared (as a Wonder)
Her present Force, and after-during Might,
Which softly spoke, farre off were heard to thunder,
About the World that quickly tooke their flight,
And brought the most obscurest Things to light;
That still, the farther off, the greater still
Did make our Good, or manifest our Ill.

386

A Description of Fortune, and her Habit.

Fortune, as blind as he whom she did lead,
Changing her Feature, often in an howre
Fantastically carrying her Head,
Soone would she smile, and suddenly would lowre,
And with one breath her words were sweet and sowre;
Upon starke Fooles she amorously would glance,
And upon Wise-men coyly looke ascance.

About her neck, in maner of a Chaine,
Torne Diadems and broken Scepter's hung,
If any, on her stedfastly did leane,
Them to the ground despightfully She flung,
And in this Posture, as She past along,
She bags of Gold out of her bosome drew,
Which she to Sots and arrant Ideots threw.

A duskie Vaile did hide her sightlesse eyes,
Like Clouds that cover our uncertaine lives,
Whereon were portray'd direfull Tragedies,
Fooles wearing Crownes, and wisemen clog'd in Gyves,
How all things she prepostrously contrives,
Which as a Map, her Regency discovers
In Campes, in Courts, and in the way of Lovers.

An easie Banke neere to this place there was,
A seat faire Flora us'd to sit upon,
Curling her cleere locks in this liquid glasse,
Putting her rich Gems, and attyrings on,
Fitter then this about us there was none:
Where they set downe that poore distressed man,
When to the purpose Fortune thus began:

Robert, surnam'd Curthoyse, or Short-hose.

Behold this Duke of Normandy, quoth she,
The heire of William Conqueror of this Ile,
Appealing to be justifi'd by Thee,
(Whose Tragedy, this Poet must compile,)
He whom I ever have esteemed vile,
Marking his birth with an unlucky brand;
And yet for him thou com'st prepar'd to stand.

387

What art thou, but a Tumor of the mind,

Fortunes invective against Fame, in the 8. following Stanza's.

A bubble, blowne up by deceitfull breath,
Which never yet exactly wert defin'd,
In whom no wise-man e'r reposed faith,
Speaking of few well, untill after Death,
That from loose Humor hast thy time-lesse birth,
Unknowne to Heaven, nor much esteem'd on earth?

First, by opinion had'st thou thy Creation,
On whom thou still dost servilly attend,
And like whom, long thou keep'st not any fashion,
But with the world incertainely do'st wend,
Which as a Poste thee up and downe doth send:
Without prophane Tongues thou canst never rise,
Nor be up-holden, be it not with lies:

In ev'ry corner prying like a Theefe,
And through each Cranny like the Wind do'st creepe,
Apt to Report, as easie of Beleefe.
What's he, whose Counsell thou didst ever keepe?
Yet into Closets sawcily dar'st peepe,
Telling for truth, what thou canst but suppose,
Divulging that, which thou shouldst not disclose.

With extreme Toyle and Labour thou art sought,
Death is the way which leadeth to thy Cell,
Onely with Bloud thy favour must be bought,
And who will have thee, fetcheth thee from Hell,
Where thou, impal'd with Fire and Sword, do'st dwell;
And when thou art in all this Perill found,
What art thou, onely but a Tinkling Sound?

Such as the World doth hold to be but base,
Of Humane Creatures, and the most doth scorne,
That amongst Men sit in the servil'st place,
These, for the most part, thou do'st most suborne,
Those follow Fame, whose Weeds are neerely worne;
Yet those poore Wretches cannot come to Thee,
Unlesse prefer'd and dignify'd by Me.

388

Thy Trumpet such supposed to advance,
Is but, as those fantastically deeme,
Whom Folly, Youth, or Frenzie doth intrance,
Nor doth it sound, but onely so doth seeme,
(Which the wise sort a Dotage but esteeme)
Onely thereby the Humorous abusing,
Fondly their Error, and thy Fault excusing.

Except in Perill, thou do'st not appeare;
Yet scarcely then, but with Intreats and Wooing,
Flying farre off, when as thou should'st be neere,
At hand diminish'd, and augmented going,
Upon slight Toyes the greatest Cost bestowing,
Oft promising, Mens Losses to repayre,
Yet the performance, but a little Ayre.

On balefull Herses (as the fittest Grounds)
Written with Bloud, thy sad Memorials lye,
Whose Letters are immedicable Wounds,
Onely fit Objects for the weeping Eye;
Thou from the Dust Mens Worths do'st onely try,
And what before thou falsely didst deprave,
Thou do'st acknowledge onely in the Grave.

Fortune shewing her Power, and God-head, above Fame; in the six Stanza's following.

The World it selfe is witnesse of my Pow'r,
Ov'r whom I raigne with the eternall Fates,
With whom I sit in Counsell ev'ry How'r,
On th'alteration of all Times and States,
Setting them downe their Changes, and their Dates,
In fore-appointing ev'ry thing to come,
Untill the great and universall Doome.

The Starres to me an everlasting Booke,
In that eternall Register, the Skie,
Whose mightie Volumes I oft over-looke,
Still turning ov'r the Leaves of Destinie,
Which Man I too inviolate denie,
And his frayle Will thereby I see control'd,
By such strong Clauses as are there inrol'd.

389

Predestination giving me a beeing,
Whose depth Mans Wisdome never yet could sound,
Into whose Secrets onely I have seeing,
Wherein wise Reason doth her selfe confound,
Searching where Doubts doe more thereby abound;
For sacred Texts unlock the way to mee,
To lighten those that will my Glory see.

Those Names th'old Poets to their Gods did give,
Were onely Figures to expresse my Might,
To shew the Vertues that in Fortune live,
And my much Power in this all-moving Wight,
Who all their Altars to my God-head dight;
Which Alterations upon Earth doe bring,
And give them matter still whereon to sing.

What though uncertaine, varying in my Course,
I make my Changes ayme one certaine End,
Crossing Mans Fore-cast, to make knowne my Force,
Still Foe to none, to none a perfect Friend,
To him least hoping, soonest I doe send,
That all should find, I worthily bestow,
And 'tis a Reason, that I thinke it so.

Forth of my Lap I powre abundant Blisse,
All Good proceeds from my all-giving Hand,
By me, Man happy, or unhappy is,
For whom I sticke, or whom I doe withstand,
And it is I am Friendships onely Band;
And upon Me, all greedily take hold,
Which being broke, all Worldly Love growes cold.

Pawsing, she frown'd, when suddenly withall
A fearefull noyse ariseth from the Flood,
As when a Tempest furiously doth fall
Within the thick Waste of some ancient Wood;
That in amazement ev'ry Mortall stood,
As though her words such pow'rfulnesse did beare,
That each thing seem'd her Menaces to feare.

390

When Fame yet smyling, mildly thus replyes;
Alas (quoth she) what labour thou hast lost?
What wond'rous Mysts thou cast'st before our Eyes?
Yet will the Gayne not counter-vaile the Cost.
What would'st thou say, if thou hadst cause to boast?
Which set'st thy state out in such wond'rous sort,
Which, but thy selfe, none ever could report.

The Invective of Fame against Fortune, in 7. following Stanza's.

For what is Fortune onely, but Event,
Breeding in some a transitorie Terror?
A what Men will, that falls by Accident,
And onely named to excuse their Error?
What else is Fortune, or who doth preferre her?
Or who to her so foolish is to leane,
Which weake Tradition onely doth maintaine?

A Toy, whereon the doting World doth dreame,
First soothed by uncertaine Observation,
Of Mens Attempts that being the extreame,
Fast'neth thereby on weake Imagination;
Yet notwithstanding all this Usurpation,
Must to thy selfe be incidently loathing,
Most when thou would'st be, that art rightly nothing.

And with the World insinuating thus,
And under so allowable Pretence,
Closely incrochest on Mans Genius,
In good and evill taking Residence;
And having got this small Preeminence,
When to thy selfe a Being thou would'st frame,
Art in conclusion onely but a Name.

Those Ignorant, which made a God of Nature,
And Natures God divinely never knew,
Were those, to Fortune that first built a Stature,
From whom thy Worship ignorantly grew;
Which being adored foolishly by few,
Grounded thy looser and uncertaine Lawes
Upon so weake and indigent a Cause.

391

First Sloth did hatch thee in her sleepy Cell,
And Thee with ease dishonorably fed,
Delivering thee with Cowardice to dwell,
Which with base Thoughts, continually thee bred,
By Superstition id'ly being led,
It an Imposture after did thee make,
Whom for a goddesse Fooles doe onely take.

Nor never do'st Thou any thing forecast,
But as thou art Improvident, so light,
And this most wicked property Thou hast,
That against Vertue thou bend'st all thy Might,
With whom Thou wagest, a continuall fight;
The yeelding Spirit, in Fetters thou do'st bind
But art a meere slave to the Constant mind.

Such is thy Froward and Malignant kind,
That what thou do'st, Thou still do'st in despight,
And art inamor'd of the Barbarous Hind:
Whom thou do'st make thy onely Favorite:
“None but the Base, in basenesse doe delight:
For wer't thou Heavenly, thou in Love would'st bee,
With that which neerest doth resemble thee.

But I alone the Herald am of Heaven,

Fame expressing her preeminence in Divinity above Fortune, in eight Stanza's.

Whose spacious Kingdome stretcheth farre and wide,
Through ev'ry Coast upon the light'ning driven,
As on the Sunne-beames, gloriously I ride,
By them I mount, and downe by them I slide,
I register the Worlds long-during houres,
And know the hie Will of th'immortall powers.

Men to the Starres me guiding them doe clime,
That all Demensions perfectly expresse,
I am alone the vanquisher of Time:
Bearing those Sweets, which cure death's bitternesse:
I all good Labours plentifully blesse,
Yea, all abstruse profoundities impart,
Leading men through the Tedious wayes of Art.

392

A discription of the Palace of Fame, in the 4. following Stanza's.

My Palace placed, betwixt Earth and Skies,
Which many a Tower, ambitiously up beares,
Whereof the Windowes are glaz'd all with Eyes,
The Wall's as neatly builded are of Eares,
Where ev'ry thing in Heaven and Earth appeares,
Nothing so softly whisper'd in the Round,
But through my Palace presently doth sound.

And under foot floor'd all about with Drummes,
The Rafters, Trumpets, admirably cleare,
Sounding alowd each Name that thither comes,
The Crannies, Tongues, and Talking ev'ry where,
And all Things past, in Memorie doe beare,
The Doores unlocke with ev'ry little breath,
Nay, open wide with each word which Man sayth.

And hung about with Armes and conqu'red Spoyles;
The Posts whereon the goodly Roofe doth stand,
Are Pillars graven with Herculian Toyles;
Th'Atchievements great, of many a Warlike Hand,
As well in Christned, as in Heathen Land,
Done by those Nobles that are most renown'd,
That there by me immortally are crown'd.

Here, in the Bodies likenesse whilst it lives,
Appeare the Thoughts, proceeding from the Mind,
To which the place a glorious Habit gives,
When once to me they freely are resign'd,
To be preserv'd here: and are so refin'd,
That when the Corps by death doth lastly perish,
Then doth this Place the Minds true Image cherish.

My Beautie never fades, but still new-borne,
As Yeeres increase, so ever waxing young,
My Strength is not diminished, nor worne,
Time weak'ning all Things, onely makes me strong,
Nor am I subject to base Worldly Wrong;
The Power of Kings I utterly defie,
Nor am I aw'd by all their Tyrannie.

393

The Brow of Heav'n my Monuments containe,
(And is the mightie Register of Fame)
Which there in fierie Characters remaine,
The gorgeous Seeling of th'immortall Frame,
The Constellations publishing my Name,
Where my Memorials evermore abide,
So by th'old Poets was I glorify'd.

Fame having ended, Fortune soone began,
Further to urge what she before had said;
When lo (quoth she) Duke Robert is the Man,
Which as my Prisoner, I in Bonds doe lead,
For whom thou com'st against me here to plead,
Whom I alone deprived of his Crowne.
“Who can rayse him, that Fortune will have downe?

A fitter instance, Fame replying, none,
Then is Duke Robert, Fortune doe thy worst,
Greater on Man thy Might was never showne,
Doing to him all that thou could'st, or durst:
And since thy Turne allotted is the first,
Proceed; see which, the Norman Duke shall have,
After so long being layd up in his Grave.

Quoth Fortune, Then I found th'unstedfast Starre,

Fortunes Relation of her power in the Life of Duke Robert.

Whose lucklesse working limited his Fate,
That mark'd his sad Nativitie with Warre,
And Brothers most unnaturall Debate,
As to be punish'd by his Parents Hate;
For that the Kingdome which the Conqu'ror wonne,
Should be the wracke of him, his first-borne Sonne.

By that which Nature did on him bestow,
In him her best, that strayned her to try,
Thereby, himselfe I made him overthrow,
In humane Birth so powerfull am I,
Marking his Brest too openly to lye,
From both his Brothers different too farre,
Too mild for Peace, too mercifull for Warre.

394

Duke Robert of high Courage, yet of a flexible nature.

And yet the Courage that he did inherite,
And from the Greatnesse of his Bloud did take,
Though shrowded in so peaceable a Spirit,
When once his Wrongs came roughly to awake,
Forth, with so strange and violent Furie brake,
As made the World apparantly to see
All humane Actions managed by mee.

Robert, in his most hopefull Attempts, most unfortunate.

That till Revenge was wholly him bereft,
(In ev'ry Thing opposed by my Pow'r)
For him to leane to, nothing being left,
And Danger him most threat'ned to devoure,
To the last Period of the utmost Houre,
Oft by vaine Hopes, that he might get my love,
There was no Perill, but I made him prove.

Duke Robert claymed Normandie, by his Fathers promise, to be delivered him, so soone as his said Father had conquered England: under which colour he invaded it, and got the better of his Father, at the Battell of Archenbray.

For whilst his Father, with the Norman Sword,
His prosp'rous entrance upon England made,
I layd the Project, that this youthfull Lord
In the meane time did Normandie invade,
Upon his Syre, and made him draw his Blade;
The meane whereby he thought he could not misse
That which he else might fayle of, to make his.

That Robert dayly in disgrace might runne,
With the Great Conqu'ror, as he still did grow
Neerer his Death; who vexed by his Sonne,

The Conqueror ever laboured to settle the Kingdome of England upon his second sonne William.

(His Pride which but too openly did show)
His State devised wisely to bestow
Upon his Second, that his Dayes to close,
Himselfe he might more quietly repose.

And then, lest Time might chance to coole his Blood,
That lucklesse Warre by ling'ring I supply'd,
That whilst Duke Robert justly censured stood,
For Disobedience and unnaturall Pride,
In heat of this, the Conqu'ror William dy'd,
Setting young Rufus upon Englands Throne,
Leaving his Eldest struggling for his Owne.

395

Which in short time so many Mischiefes bred,
(As sundry Plagues on William's Off-spring sent)
Which soone rose to so violent a Head,
That Policie them no way could prevent,
When to destruction all things headlong went;
And in the end, as consummating all,
Duke Robert's irrecoverable Fall.

Whom then I did auspiciously perswade,
Once more with Warre to fright the English Fields,
His Brother (then King William) to invade,

Duke Robert prepareth an Armie to invade England.

To make him know the diff'rence of their Shields;
Where though his Armes he ne'r so wisely wields,
And though by him the Kingdome were not taken,
His Scepter should be violently shaken.

These sundry Soyles, in both of which was sowne
(By so approv'd and Fortunate a Hand)
Seed, which to both might prosp'rously have growne,
Had they remain'd in Friend-ships sacred Band,
In opposition when they came to stand:
Farre wyder wounds to either of them lent,
Then all the power that Europe could have sent.

Thus did I winne King William in his life,

Normandy left to Robert, and England to William.

His Conquer'd Realme on Rufus to bestowe,
What he had got by strength, to leave in strife,
Those to molest that from his Stock should growe;

Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, Brother to the Conqueror, though he loved King William Rufus, yet for the hate he bare to Lanfranke, Bishop of Canterbury, whom William much affected, forsooke him, and tooke part with Duke Robert, drawing many of the Nobilitie to his side.

Which by my Cunning I contrived so,
To plague his Issue with a generall ill,
Yet the extreme to fall on Robert still.

That Prelate Odo (that with William held)
To Bishop Lanfrank for his deadly Spight,
That William lov'd, against the King rebel'd,
With all his Power abetting Roberts Right,
Ayded by Mortayn's and Montgomerie's Might,
Upon this Land to bring a second Warre,
Of her late Conquest, whilst she bare the Skarre.

396

When Duke Robert had landed at Southampton for invasion, Rufus, by his faire promises, of Homage & Tribute, wonne him to dismisse his Army, and to returne into Normandy.

And when he was in so direct a way,
Great Friends at hand his Enterprize to back,
Ready before him, when his Entrance lay;
Nor could he thinke of ought that he did lack,
Yet wonne I him his Enterprize to slack,
Stopping the Course which rightly he had runne,
All to undoe that he before had done.

Thus did I first provoke him to that Rage,
Which had so farre prevayl'd upon his Blood,
And at my pleasure did the same asswage,
When this brave Heat in stead might him have stood,
So to my Humor alt'red I his Mood,
By taking Armes, his Cost and Coyne to lose,
And leaving them, to animate his Foes.

That by concluding this untimely Peace,
I might thereby a ling'ring Warre begin,
That whilst these Tumults for a while did cease,
William on Robert might advantage winne;
Thus let I Treason secretly in,
Giving deceitfull Policie the Kay,
Into the Closet where his Counsels lay.

Thus, in the habit of a faithfull Friend,
I drew into him a most dang'rous Foe,
His Wit, that used to no other end,
But to cloath Treason in a vertuous show,
Which he for currant so contriv'd to goe,
As he in secret hurt Duke Robert more
By this soft Peace, then in the Warre before.

And to thee, Fame, I then my Pow'r addrest,
Nay, Thee mine onely Instrument I made,
That whilst these Brothers at this point did rest,
Robert to Warre, I wonne thee to perswade,

Godfrey, Duke of Bulloyne, Generall of the Christian Army.

With those that went the Soldan to invade,
With great Duke Godfrey pressing forth his Bands,
From his proud Pow'r to free the Holy Lands.

397

Thus, by thee, Fame, did I his Humor feed,
The only way to draw this Duke abroad,
That whilst at home his presence most should need,
In forraine Parts to fasten his aboad:
Him in this manner wisely I bestow'd,
That William dying, Robert being gone,
Henry might seat him on the English Throne.

His Eare so seas'ning with the sound of Armes,
As in ought else no Musike it could find,
Neither had any feeling of his Harmes:
On Palestine so placed he his Mind,
(Clearely that shew'd the Greatnesse of his Kind)
And him so high and with such force did beare,
As when he had most cause, he least did feare.

Thus was he throwne into his endlesse Thrall;
Which though the meane devised was by Me,
And ev'ry thing was fitted to his Fall,
Which none could hinder, though the most fore-see,
Yet here I made an Instrument of Thee;
“For where Destruction I doe once pretend,
“All that Man doth, still sorteth to that end.

He gone, and Rufus being rob'd of Breath,

Suffring an untimely death, being slaine with an Arrow, in Hunting. Henry, called Beaucleark, for his great Learning. He gayned the goodwill of the Laitie, by perswading them, that his Brother was to be elected King of Jerusalem; and of the Clergy, by his promises, to restore the Church Livings which his Father and Brother had taken from them.

And Henry Beaucleark coveting to raigne,
Offred so fairely by King Williams Death,
Whilst Robert doth in Palestine remaine,
Whereby a Kingdome he might eas'ly gaine;
What by his Pow'r, and Science to perswade,
Himselfe a Monarch absolutely made.

Whilst this great Duke imbraced was by Thee,
Which Thou as Thine do'st absolutely clayme,
But finds meere Shadowes, only missing Me,
And idle Castles in the Ayre doth frame;
Lo, such a mightie Monarchesse is Fame,
That what she gives, so easie is to beare,
As none therefore needs Violence to feare.

398

Till Robert safely from the Holy Warres
Returning, honour'd by the Pagans flight,
From forraine Battels, into civill Jarres,
From getting others, for his owne to fight,
Inforc'd to use the utmost of his Might,
With that brave Sword, in Pagan Bloud imbru'd,
To save himselfe, by his owne Friends pursu'd.

When wanting Summes, the Sinewes of a Force,
(Which his high Spirit too quickly came to find,
Ere he could put himselfe into his Course)
Most strangely seem'd to mollifie his Mind;

Thus had his Brother William Rufus overwrought him once before.

And on the sudden Henry seeming kind,
Offred, his love at any rate to buy,
So that fast to him, he the Duke might tye.

Henry too politike or plaine-dealing Robert.

Thus, of Duke Robert wisely did he winne,
Not then so well establish'd as he would,
Till he by Craft had closely cropen in,
Setting himselfe substantially to hold,
Offring him great Summes of bewitching Gold,
As yeerely Tribute from this Realme to rise,
Quite to blot out all former Injuries.

Which to the poore Duke yeelding much Reliefe,
Henry to passe his Purposes so brought,
Whilst Robert yet suspected not that Theefe,
Which under-hand so cunningly him caught;
Of whom, the least when Princely Robert thought,
Ev'n in a Moment did annoy him more,
Then all those Ills, that hap'd to him before.

Which to this Lord (beleeving well) unknowne,
And he not finding, eas'ly could not flie,
For it, a Bait into his way was throwne,
Which to avoid, Duke Robert look'd too hie:
“Into good Minds, Craft can the eas'lyest prie;
For in his plyant Nature, as a Mould,
Well could I cast what forme soe'r I would.

399

For by this

Three thousand Markes by the yeere, and the Survivor to be Heire to the other: Which Henry, after he had seated himselfe strongly in the Kingdome, neglected to pay, making a scorne of his Brother.

Tribute cutting off the Clayme,
Which he, the Elder, to his England made,
His former Hopes he forcibly did mayme,
Which for a while by Henry being pay'd,
But after by him fraudulently stay'd,
As from a Fountaine, plentiously did spring
Th'efficient Cause of Robert's ruining.

When as his Friends, so well to him that meant,

Many that prepared to ayde Duke Robert, who intended to have landed at Portsmouth, with an Army out of Normandy; when they found Roberts flexabilitie, and upon a Proclamation of their Pardon by King Henry, gave him all their Power.

To take his part and did their Force prepare,
Finding him thus their Purpose to prevent,
And how thereby 'twas like with him to fare;
Upon King Henry planted all their care,
Giving their Pow'rs, their Peace with him to make,
Gath'red at first the Norman part to take.

And I that friendly evermore had beene
To the stout Normans, which by me had wonne,
To prove my selfe the Earth's Imperious Queene,
And shew the World, by me what can be done,
To spight this Robert, William Conquerors Sonne,
With England against Normandie doe stand,

Fortune variable in the state of Kingdomes.

Conqu'red but lately by the Norman Hand.

Their Issue, which were Conqu'rors of this Ile,

That part of France, now called Normandy, was anciently called Nuestria; but of a people comming thither, out of the North-part of Germany, it became so called, as Northmandy, or Normandy, that is, the Country of the men of the North, in their Language.

At Hastings which the English men did tame,
Here Natives, graced with the English Stile,
To their first Countrey carry back their Clayme,
Conquest returning, whence it lately came;
That once as England felt Nuestria's Stroke,
To make Nuestria, to beare Englands Yoke.

Those angry Brothers in the field in Armes,
Then whom there were not two more deadly Foes,
Ech seeking other in the hot'st Alarmes,
And at their meeting, changing deadly Blowes,
Quickly that meant to winne, or soone to lose,
Robert would faine release himselfe of thrall,
Henry againe doth hotly put for all.

400

This Battell, in which Robert was overcome by his yonger brother Henry, was at a place called Tenacbray, in Normandy.

On him, which late in Palestine I smil'd,
Return'd, at fatall Tenacbray I frowne,
And from his Dukedome him that day exil'd,
Which had he wonne it, might have worne a Crowne:
And to be sure him in mis-hap to drowne,
Lastly himselfe, he in the fight did lose,
Taken a Prisoner, by his Trayt'rous foes.

Which bound to England basely did him bring,
Baselyer abus'd and mock't at of his owne,
A Captive where he should have beene a King;
Such was the lot by Me upon him throwne:
There, to lament his misery alone,
Prescrib'd to one poore solitary place,
Who should have progres'd all a Kingdomes space.

Could humane knowledge comprehend my hate,
Or Reason sound the depth of things Divine,
The World amazed at Duke Roberts State,
Might thinke no power, to be compar'd to mine;
And wish the Gods would all to me resigne:
In this man's fall apparently to see,
Above the Star's, what might there rests in me.

That Blade, on him, in Battell which had power,
Was too much blunted, to abridge his Dayes,
Time, that so fast from all away doth scowre,
Deferres his End with Dilatorie stayes,
Whilst he his Brothers Tyrannie obayes,
That He in Life a thousand Deaths might dye;

Duke Robert, taken in Battell, was by Henry committed to the Castle of Cardiffe, in South-Wales: From whence attempting to make escape, his Brother caused his Eyes to be put out, as some have written, with a Burning Glasse.

Where I will plague, so tyrannous am I.

The while in Cardiffe he a Captive lyes,
Whose Windowes were but Niggards of their Light;
I wrought, this Henrie's Rage not to suffice,
But that he rob'd Duke Robert of his Sight,
To turne this little piece of Day to Night,
As though that Sense, whose want should be the last
To all Things living, he the first should taste.

401

That Robert so unfortunately blinde,
No outward Object might disperse his Care,
The better to illuminate his Mind,
To see his Sorrowes throughly what they were,
To doe so much to this great Prince, I dare,
By taking from him, that which serv'd him best,
To his Affliction to turne all the rest.

And when he was bereaved of his Ease,
With the remembrance of so haynous Wrong,
Upon his Brest so strongly that did seize,
And his sad Heart so violently stung,
Yet made I Nature in that Prince so strong,
That Griefe, which many doth of Life deprive,
Seem'd to preserve and keepe him still alive.

Him I forbad, that any Foe should kill,
Nor by his owne Hand suffred him to die,
That Life to Robert should be lothsome still,
And that Death from him evermore should flie,
Making them both to him an Enemie,
Willing to die, by Life him double killing,
Urged to live, twice dying, he unwilling.

So many yeeres as he had worne a Crowne,
So many yeeres as he had hop'd to rise,
So many yeeres upon him did I frowne,
So many yeeres he liv'd without his Eyes,
So many yeeres in dying, ere he dyes,
So many yeeres shut up in Prison strong;
“Though Sorrow make the shortest time seeme long.

Thus sway I in the course of Earthly things,
To make Time worke him everlasting spight,
To shew how I can tyrannize on Kings,
And in the fall of Great ones doe delight,
In fyned Things my working infinite:
All Worldly changes, at my will disposed,
For that in me all Wonder is inclosed.

402

At Fortunes speech amazed whilst they stand,
And Fame her selfe much wondred at his woe,
When from Duke Robert Fortune tooke her Hand,
Whose Miserie shee thus had let them know:
When now to answere her despightfull Foe,
Fame from deepe silence seeming to awake,
For her deare Clyent, modestly thus spake:

Pope Urban, a great moover to this Warre.

What time I held my Residence in Rome,
Striving my selfe o'r Europe to advance,
To winne her Princes, to regayne the Tombe,
Which had beene lost by their misgovernance,
Awaking England, Germanie, and France,
All which were woo'd, and bravely wonne by Mee,
From the proud Pagans, Palestine to free.

Peter, a poore old Hermit, returning from Jerusalem, certified the Christian Princes, in what miserie the Christians lived there under the Pagans. Godfrey of Bulloyne, Generall of the Armie.

Peter, that Holy Hermit putting on,
T'all Christian Princes to preach out the losse,
And stirring brave Duke Godfrey to be gone,
Under the Banner of the Bloudy Crosse,
And whilst in so faire forwardnesse it was,
And every Eare attentive seem'd to stand,
To heare what Power brave Bulloyne should comand.

Thither did I all happy Spirits exhort,
As to that bus'nesse luckily to bring,
Allured by the confident Report,
That from so great an Enterprize did spring,
T'adventure in so Popular a Thing,
And deemed no Man worthy to be mine,
That was found backward in this great Designe.

What time this Duke, great William Conquerors Sonne,
That in his native Normandy did rest:
For of what else, his valiant Father wonne,
His Brother William Rufus was possest,
Which, whilst he striveth from his Hands to wrest,
This brave Attempt, brake like a Deluge forth,
By my shrill Trumpet sounded through the North.

403

Which having got free entrance to his Eare,
Such entertaynment hapned there to find,
As suffered no perswasion to be there,
From that high Purpose to divert his Mind,
For being most Religiously inclind;
Woo'd with this offer; wisely did prepare,
Himselfe to furnish for this great Affaire.

That Kingdome he doth carelesly neglect,
Which William Rufus wrongfully did keepe,
And only that doth constantly respect,
Where he once in his Sepulcher did sleepe,
At whose deare Death the very Rocks did weepe,
His Crowne of Gold this Christian Prince doth scorne,
So much he lov'd Him, that was crown'd with Thorne.

And though his wants him grievously oppres'd,

Duke Robert morgaged the County of Constantine in the Duchy of Normandie, to Henrie his yongest Brother, for mony to levy an Armie against William, who had gotten the Realme of England.

Of those great Summes which lately he had spent,
In levying Power, which him should have posses'd
Of England, and much hindred his intent,
Yet his brave purpose it could not prevent;
Although awhile it seem'd delay to make
Of that, which he resolv'd to undertake.

Wherefore this Noble, and cleere-spirited Lord,
Whilst the great bus'nesse standeth at this stay,
And since his State no better could afford,
In gage to William, Normandy doth lay,

Robert, to furnish his journey to the Holy Land, pawnd Normandie to his Brother Rufus.

Providing first his Souldiers how to pay,
And of the two yet rather chose to leave
His Crowne, then he that Army would deceive.

To his victorious Ensigne came from farre,
Th'in Iled Redshanks, toucht with no remorse,

The Scottish-Irish.

The nimble Irish, that with Darts doe warre,
The Scot, that is so cunning on his Horse,

Of what people Roberts power most consisted.

The English Archer of a Lyons force,
The valiant Norman, not the least among
The Camber-Britan, hardy, big, and strong,

The Welsh.

404

No Prince before ever led the English on so brave a service.

Which long inclos'd within these colder Climes,
He to the blessed Sepulcher did bring,
And taught them how they should redeeme the Times
Whence their Eternall memorie might spring,
To see the Place whereas their Heavenly King,
Their deare Redemption happily began:
Living on Earth, that was both God and Man.

Yee Ilanders, bound in the Oceans Chayne,
Lock'd up like Pris'ners, from the cheerefull Day,
Your brave Commander brought yee to the Mayne,
Which to my Court shew'd yee the open Way,
And his victorious Hand became the Kay,
To let yee in, to my rich Treasure, where
None ever come, but those that I hold deare:

And did thereto so zealously proceed,
That those faire Locks, whose Curles did him adorne,
Till he had seene the Holy Citie freed:

A Vow made by Duke Robert.

He deepely vow'd, he never would have shorne,
Which, for they so religiously were worne,
In every Eye did beautifie him more,
Then did the Crowne of Normandie before.

The Character of an excellent Captayne, continued, welneere thorow all this speech of Fame.

No Threats, his Hand could cause him to with-hold,
As I the sequell briefly shall relate,
Yet bare himselfe right wisely as he could,
And best became his Dignitie and State;
Teaching how his, themselves should moderate,
Not following life, so with his chance content,
Nor flying Death, so truely Valient.

So did he all his Faculties bestow,
That every thing exactly might be done,
That true foresight, before the Act might goe,
Others grosse Errours happily to shunne,
Wisely to finish well what was begunne,
Justly directed in the course of things,
By the straight Rule which sound Experience brings.

405

Idle Regards of Greatnesse he did scorne,
Carelesse of Pompe, Magnificent to bee,
That Man reputing to be Noblest borne,
Where was the most magnanimous, and free,
In Honour so impartiall was hee,
Esteeming Titles meritlesse and nought,
Unlesse with danger absolutely bought:

Giving the Souldier comfortable words,
And oft Imbalm'd his well-received Wound,
And in his need him maintenance affords,
To brave Attempts incouraging the sound,
Never dismaid in any danger found:
His Tent a seate of Justice to the griev'd;
And 'twas a Court when Want should be reliev'd.

So perfectly Celestiall was that fire,
Bestow'd in the composure of his mind,
To that High pitch as raysed his desire;
Above the usuall compasse of his kinde,
And from all Drosse so cleerely him refin'd,
As did him wholly consecrate to glory,
And made him a fit subject for a Story.

Who on Ambassage to the Emperor sent,
Passing along through Macedon and Thrace,
Ne'r came in Bed, nor slept out of his Tent,
Till he review'd Duke Godfrey's Reverent face;
Nor till he came into that hallowed place,
Above three houres, by night he never slept:
Such were the Cares his troubled braine that kept.

O wherefore thou Great Singer of thy dayes,

That famous Italian Poet Torquato Tasso, in his Poem of those Holy warres.

Renowned Tasso in thy Noble Story,
Wert thou so slacke in this Great Worthy's prayse,
And yet so much should'st set forth others glory?
Me thinks for this, thou canst not but be sorry,
That thou should'st leave another to recite
That, which so much Thou did'st neglect to write.

406

No one Prince in the whole Army, did so many brave Acts in his owne Person, as Duke Robert

. There was not found in all the Christian Host,
Any, then He, more forward to the field,
Nor could the Army, of another boast,
To beare himselfe more bravely with his Shield:
So well his Armes this Noble Duke could wield,
As such a one he properly should be,
That I did meane to consecrate to me:

Of so approved and Deliver force,

Robert fortunate in those warres.

Handling his Lance or brandishing his Blade:
For oft he had the leading of their Horse,
That where he charg'd, he slaughter ever made,
At all assayes so happy to invade:
That were he absent, when they gave the chace,
It was suppos'd the day did lose the grace.

In doubtfull fights, where danger hap'd to fall,
He would be present ever by his will,
And where the Christians for supplies did call,
Thither through perill Robert pressed still,
To helpe by Courage, or relieve by skill:
To every place so providently seeing,
As power in him had absolutely beeing.

When in the Morne his Courser he bestrid,
He seem'd compos'd essentially of Fire,
But from the Field he ever drouping rid,
As he were vanquish'd, onely to retyre;
Neerest his Rest, the furth'st from his Desire:
And in the Spoyles, his Souldiers shar'd the Crownes,
They rich in Gold, he onely rich in Wounds.

And when they had the Holy Citie wonne,
And King thereof they gladly would him make,

For which refusall, as some have supposed, God never prospered him.

All Sov'raigne Titles he so much did shunne,
As he refus'd the Charge on him to take,
He the vaine World so clearely did forsake;
So farre it was from his Religious Mind,
To mixe vile Things, with those of Heav'nly Kind.

407

He would, that him no Triumph should adorne,
But His high Prayse, for sinfull Man that dy'd,
By him no Marke of Victorie was worne,
But the Red Crosse, to tell Him crucify'd;
All other Glories he himselfe deny'd;
A holy Life but willingly he leads,
In dealing Almes, and bidding of his Beads.

And as a Pilgrim, he return'd agayne,
For glitt'ring Armes, in Palmers homely Gray,
Leaving his Lords to leade his Warlike Trayne,
Whilst he alone came sadly on the way,
Dealing abroad his lately purchas'd Prey;
A Hermits Staffe his carefull Hand did hold,
That with a Lance the Heathen Foe control'd.

But now to end this long-continued Strife;
Hence-forth thy Malice takes no further place,

Fortune quite vanquished by Fame.

Thy Hate began and ended with his Life,
By Thee his Spirit can suffer no disgrace,
Now in mine Armes his Vertues I imbrace;
His Body thine, his Crosses witnesse bee,
But mine his Mind, that from thy Pow'r is free.

Thou gav'st up Rule, when he gave up his Breath,
And where thou endedst, there did I begin,
Thy strength was buried in his timelesse Death,
And as thy Conqu'ror, lastly come I in;
And all thou gott'st, from thee againe I winne:
To Me, thy Right I call thee to resigne,
And make thy Glory absolutely mine.

To the base World then Fortune get thee back,
The Earth with drerie Tragedies to fill,
Empires and Kingdomes bring thou there to wrack,
And on weake Mortals onely worke thy Will;
And since thou onely do'st delight in Ill,
Heare his Complaint, who wanting Eyes to see,
Can lend thee Sight, which art as blind as hee.

408

Duke Roberts Complaint, to the end of the Legend.

At her great Words, amazed whilst they stand,
The Prince, which look'd most fearefully and grim,
Bearing his Eyes in his distressefull Hand,
Whose places stood with Bloud up to the brim;
And as in anguish, quaking ev'ry Lim,
After deepe Sighes, and lamentable Throwes,
Thus to the World disburthened his Woes.

Deare Eyes, adiew, by Envie thus put out,
Where in your places buried is my Joy,
With endlesse Darknesse compassed about,
Which Death would scarce have dared to destroy;
To breed my more perpetuall Annoy,
That, even that Sense I onely should forgoe,
That could alone give comfort to my Woe.

Yee which beheld faire Palestine restor'd,
From the prophane hands of the Pagans freed,
The Sepulcher of that most glorious Lord,
And seene that Place where his deare Wounds did bleed,
Which with the Sight my zealous Soule did feed,
Sith from your Functions, Night doth you dissever,
Seclude me now from Worldly Joyes for ever.

Yee saw no Sunne, nor did yee view the Day,
Except a Candle, yee beheld no Light,
The thick Stone-Wals, those Blessings kept away.
What could be fear'd? yee could not hurt the Night,
For then Teares wholly hind'red yee of Sight:
O then, from whence should Henrie's Hate arise,
That I saw nothing, yet that I had Eyes!

The wretched'st Thing, the most despised Beast,
Enjoyes that Sense as gen'rally as we,
The very Gnat, or what then that is least,
Of Sight, by Nature kindly is made free.
What Thing hath Mouth to feed, but Eyes to see?
O, that a Tyrant then should me deprave,
Of that which else all living Creatures have!

409

Whilst yet the light did mitigate my mone,
Teares found a meane, to sound my sorrowes deepe,
But now (aye me) that Comfort being gone,
By wanting eyes, wherewith I erst did weepe,
My cares alone concealed I must keepe.
O God, that blindnesse, darkning all delight,
Should above all things give my sorrow sight!

Where sometime stood the Beauties of this face,
Lampes cleerly lighted, as the Vestall flame,
Is now a Dungeon, a distressefull place,
A Harbor fit for Infamie and Shame:
Which but with horrour one can scarsly name,
Out of whose darke grates, miserie and griefe,
Starved, for vengeance daily begge reliefe.

The day abhorres me, and from me doth flye,
Night still me followes, yet too long doth stay,
Th'one I o'rtake not, though it still be nye,
Th'other comming vanisheth away,
But what availeth, either night, or day?
All's one to me, still day, or ever night,
My light is darknesse, and my darknesse light.

O yee, wherewith I did my comfort view,
Th'all covering Heaven, and Glorie that it beares,
No more that sight shall e'r be seene of you!
The blessed Sunne, that every mortall cheeres,
Eclips'd to me, eternally appeares,
Robert, betake thee to the darksome Cell,
And bid the World eternally farewell.

His speech thus ending; Fortune Discontent,
Turned her selfe, as shee away would flie,
Playing with Fooles, and Babes incontinent,
As never touch'd with humane miserie,
As what she was, her selfe to verifie,
And straight forgetting what she had to tell,
To other speech, and Girlish laughter fell.

410

When gracefull Fame, convaying thence her charge,
(As first with him, she thither did resort,)
Gave me this Booke, wherein was writ at large,
His life, set out, though in this Legend short,
T'amaze the World, with this so true report:
But Fortune, angrie with her Foe, therefore
Gave me the gift that I should still be poore.

FINIS.