 | Chvrchyards Challenge |  |
210
[Verses of value, if Vertue bee seene]
To the right Worshipfull my Ladie Fortescue, wife to the right honourable Sir Iohn Fortescue Knight.
Verses of value, if Vertue bee seene,
Made of a Phenix, a King, and a Queene.
Made of a Phenix, a King, and a Queene.
211
My
Phenix once, was wont to mount the skies,
To see how birdes, of baser feathers flew:
Then did her Port, and presence please our eies:
Whose absence now, breeds nought but fancies new.
The Phenix want, our court, and Realme may rue.
Thus sight of her, such welcome gladnes brings,
That world ioies much, whē Phenix claps her wings
To see how birdes, of baser feathers flew:
Then did her Port, and presence please our eies:
Whose absence now, breeds nought but fancies new.
The Phenix want, our court, and Realme may rue.
Thus sight of her, such welcome gladnes brings,
That world ioies much, whē Phenix claps her wings
And flies abroad, to take the open aire,
In royall sort, as bird of stately kinde:
Who hates foul storms; and loues mild weather fair,
And by great force, can bore the blostring wind,
To shew the grace, and greatnes of the minde,
My Phenix hath, that vertue growing greene,
When that abroad, her gracious face is seene.
In royall sort, as bird of stately kinde:
Who hates foul storms; and loues mild weather fair,
And by great force, can bore the blostring wind,
To shew the grace, and greatnes of the minde,
My Phenix hath, that vertue growing greene,
When that abroad, her gracious face is seene.
Let neither feare, of plagues nor wits of men,
Keepe Phenix close, that ought to liue in sight:
Of open world, for absence wrongs vs then,
To take from world, the Lampe that giues vs light,
O God forbid, our day were turnde to night,
And shining Sunne, in clowds should shrowded be,
Whose golden rayes, the world desires to see.
Keepe Phenix close, that ought to liue in sight:
Of open world, for absence wrongs vs then,
To take from world, the Lampe that giues vs light,
O God forbid, our day were turnde to night,
And shining Sunne, in clowds should shrowded be,
Whose golden rayes, the world desires to see.
The Dolphin daunts, each fish that swims in Seas,
The Lion feares, the greatest beast that goes:
The Bees in Hiue, are glad theyr King to please,
And to their Lord, each thing their duety knowes.
But first the King, his Princely presence showes,
Then subiects stoopes, and prostrate fals on face,
Or bowes down head, to giue their maister place.
The Lion feares, the greatest beast that goes:
The Bees in Hiue, are glad theyr King to please,
And to their Lord, each thing their duety knowes.
But first the King, his Princely presence showes,
Then subiects stoopes, and prostrate fals on face,
Or bowes down head, to giue their maister place.
The Sunne hath powre, to comfort flowrs and gras,
And purge the aire, of foule infections all:
Makes ech thing pure wher his clear beams do passe
Draws vp the dew, that mists and fogs lets fall,
My Phenix hath, a greater gift at call,
For vassals all, a view of her doe craue,
Because thereby, great hope and hap we haue.
212
Makes ech thing pure wher his clear beams do passe
Draws vp the dew, that mists and fogs lets fall,
My Phenix hath, a greater gift at call,
For vassals all, a view of her doe craue,
Because thereby, great hope and hap we haue.
Good turnes it brings, and suiters plaints are heard,
The poore are pleasde, the rich some purchase gains,
The wicked blush: the worthy wins reward,
The seruant findes: a meane to quit his paines:
The wronged man, by her some right attaines,
Thus euery one, that helpe and succour needes,
In hard distresse, on Phenix fauour feedes.
The poore are pleasde, the rich some purchase gains,
The wicked blush: the worthy wins reward,
The seruant findes: a meane to quit his paines:
The wronged man, by her some right attaines,
Thus euery one, that helpe and succour needes,
In hard distresse, on Phenix fauour feedes.
But from our view, if world doe Phenix keepe,
Both Sunne and Moone, and stars we bid farewell,
The heauens mourne, the earth will waile and weep.
The heauy heart, it feeles the paines of Hell,
Woe be to those, that in despaire doe dwell.
Was neuer plague, nor pestlence like to this,
When soules of men, haue lost such heauenly blisse.
Both Sunne and Moone, and stars we bid farewell,
The heauens mourne, the earth will waile and weep.
The heauy heart, it feeles the paines of Hell,
Woe be to those, that in despaire doe dwell.
Was neuer plague, nor pestlence like to this,
When soules of men, haue lost such heauenly blisse.
Now suters all, you may shoote vp your plaints
Your Goddes now, is lockt in shrine full fast:
You may perhaps, yet pray vnto her Saints.
Whose eares are stopt, and hearing sure is past.
Now in the fire, you may such Idols cast.
They cannot helpe, like stockes and stones they bee,
That haue no life, nor cannot heare nor see.
Your Goddes now, is lockt in shrine full fast:
You may perhaps, yet pray vnto her Saints.
Whose eares are stopt, and hearing sure is past.
Now in the fire, you may such Idols cast.
They cannot helpe, like stockes and stones they bee,
That haue no life, nor cannot heare nor see.
Till that at large, our royall Phenix comes,
Packe hence poore men, or picke your fingers endes.
Or blow your nailes, or gnaw and bite your thombs,
Till God aboue, some better fortune sends.
Who here abides, till this bad world amends,
May doe full well, as tides doe ebbe and flow,
So fortune turnes, and haps doe come and goe.
Packe hence poore men, or picke your fingers endes.
Or blow your nailes, or gnaw and bite your thombs,
Till God aboue, some better fortune sends.
213
May doe full well, as tides doe ebbe and flow,
So fortune turnes, and haps doe come and goe.
The bodies ioy, and all the ioints it beares,
Lies in the head, that may commaund the rest:
Let head but ake, the heart is full of feares,
And armes acrosse, we clap on troubled brest:
With heauy thoughts, the mind is so opprest.
That neither legs, nor feete haue will to goe,
As man himselfe, were cleane orecome with woe.
Lies in the head, that may commaund the rest:
Let head but ake, the heart is full of feares,
And armes acrosse, we clap on troubled brest:
With heauy thoughts, the mind is so opprest.
That neither legs, nor feete haue will to goe,
As man himselfe, were cleane orecome with woe.
The head is it, that still preserues the sence,
And seekes to saue, ech member from disease:
Deuise of head, is bodies whole defence:
The skill whereof, no part dare well displease,
For as the Moone, moues vp the mighty seas,
So head doth guide, the body when it will.
And rules the man, by wit and reasons skill.
And seekes to saue, ech member from disease:
Deuise of head, is bodies whole defence:
The skill whereof, no part dare well displease,
For as the Moone, moues vp the mighty seas,
So head doth guide, the body when it will.
And rules the man, by wit and reasons skill.
But how should head, in deede doe all this good,
When at our neede, no vse of head we haue:
The head is felt, is seene and vnderstood.
Then from disgrace, it will the body saue.
And otherwise, sicke man drops downe in graue.
For when no helpe, nor vse of head we finde,
The feete fals lame, and gazing eies grow blinde.
When at our neede, no vse of head we haue:
The head is felt, is seene and vnderstood.
Then from disgrace, it will the body saue.
And otherwise, sicke man drops downe in graue.
For when no helpe, nor vse of head we finde,
The feete fals lame, and gazing eies grow blinde.
The lims wax stiffe, for want of vse and aide,
The bones doe dry, their marrow wasts away:
The heart is dead, the body liues afraide,
The sinnowes shrinke, the bloud doth still decay,
So long as world, doth want the Star of day,
So long darke night, we shall be sure of heere,
For clowdy skies, I feare will neuer cleere.
The bones doe dry, their marrow wasts away:
The heart is dead, the body liues afraide,
The sinnowes shrinke, the bloud doth still decay,
So long as world, doth want the Star of day,
So long darke night, we shall be sure of heere,
For clowdy skies, I feare will neuer cleere.
214
God send some helpe, to salue sicke poore mens sores,
A boxe of baulme, would heale our woundes vp quite:
That precious oyle, would eate out rotten cores,
And giue great health, and man his whole delighte.
God send some sunne, in frostie morning white.
That cakes of yce may melt by gentle thaw:
And at well head, wee may some water drawe.
A boxe of baulme, would heale our woundes vp quite:
That precious oyle, would eate out rotten cores,
And giue great health, and man his whole delighte.
God send some sunne, in frostie morning white.
That cakes of yce may melt by gentle thaw:
And at well head, wee may some water drawe.
A Riddle.
Wee wish, wee want, yet haue that we desire:We freese, wee burne, and yet kept from the fire.
FINIS.
| Chvrchyards Challenge | |