University of Virginia Library

A few plaine verses of truth against the flaterie of time, made when the Queens Maiestie was last at Oxenford

Sith silent Poets all,
that praise your Ladies so:
My Phenix makes their plumes to fall,
that would like Peacockes goe.
Some doe their Princes praise,
and Synthia some doe like:
And some their Mistresse honour raise,
as high as Souldiers pike.
Come downe yee doe presmount,
the warning bel it sounds:
That cals you Poets to account,
for breaking of your bounds.
In giuing fame to those,
faire flowers that soone doth fade:
And cleane forget the white red rose,
that God a Phenix made.
Your Ladies also doe decline,
like Stars in darkesome night:
When Phenix doth like Phœbus shine,
and leands the world great light.
You paint to please desire,
your Dame in colours gay:
As though braue words, or trim attire,
could grace a clod of clay.
My Phenix needs not any art,
of Poets painting quil:
She is her selfe in euerie part,
so shapte by kindly skil.
That nature cannot wel amend,
and to that shape most rare:
The Gods such speciall grace doth send,
that is without compare.
The heauens did agree,
by constellations plaine:
That for her vertue shee should bee the only queene to raigne,
(In her most happie daies) and carries cleane awaie:
The tip and top of peerlesse prayse, if all the world say nay,
Looke not that I should name, her vertue in their place,
But looke on her true well-won fame, that answers forme & face
And therein shall you read, a world of matter now,
That round about the world doth spread her heauenly graces throw
The seas (where cannons rore) hath yelded her her right,
And sent such newes vnto the shore, of enemies foile and flight.
That all the world doth sound, the glorie Phenix gote
Whereof an eccho doth rebound, in such a tune and note,
(That none aliue shall reatch) of Phenix honor great,
Which shall the poets muses teach, how they of her shold treat
O then with verses sweete, if Poets haue good store,
Fling down your pen, at Phenix feet, & praise your nimphes no more.
Packe hence she comes in place, a stately Royall Queene:
That takes away your Ladies grace, as soone as she is seene.