 | Poems of Thomas, Lord Vaux |  |
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Thomas, Lord Vaux.
I. IN HIS EXTREAME SICKNESSE.
What greeues my bones, and makes my body faint?
What prickes my flesh and teares my head in twayne?
Why doe I wake, when rest should me attaint?
When others laugh, why do I liue in payne?
I tosse, I turne, I chaunge from side to side,
And stretch me oft, in Sorrowe's linkes betyde.
What prickes my flesh and teares my head in twayne?
Why doe I wake, when rest should me attaint?
When others laugh, why do I liue in payne?
I tosse, I turne, I chaunge from side to side,
And stretch me oft, in Sorrowe's linkes betyde.
I tosse, as one betost in waues of care,
I turne, to flee the woes of lothsome life:
I change, to spy if Death this corpes might spare,
I stretch to heauen, to ridde me of this strife:
Thus doe I stretch, and change, and tosse, and turne,
Whyle I in hope of heauen my life do burne.
I turne, to flee the woes of lothsome life:
I change, to spy if Death this corpes might spare,
I stretch to heauen, to ridde me of this strife:
Thus doe I stretch, and change, and tosse, and turne,
Whyle I in hope of heauen my life do burne.
Then hold the still, let be thy heauinesse,
Abolish care, forgeat thy pining woe:
For by this meanes soone shalt thou find redresse,
When oft betost, hence thou to heauen must goe.
Then tosse and turne, and tumble franke and free,
O happy thrise, when thou in heauen shalt be.
Abolish care, forgeat thy pining woe:
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When oft betost, hence thou to heauen must goe.
Then tosse and turne, and tumble franke and free,
O happy thrise, when thou in heauen shalt be.
II. HE DESYRETH EXCHANGE OF LIFE.
The day delayed, of that I most do wishe,
Wherewith I feede and starue in one degree:
With wish and want still seruèd in one dishe,
Aliue as dead, by proofe as you may see.
To whom of old this prouerbe wel it serues
While grasse dooth grow, the selly horse he sterues.
Wherewith I feede and starue in one degree:
With wish and want still seruèd in one dishe,
Aliue as dead, by proofe as you may see.
To whom of old this prouerbe wel it serues
While grasse dooth grow, the selly horse he sterues.
Tweene these extreames, thus doo I rone the race
Of my poore life, this certaynly I know:
Tweene would and want, vnwarely that do passe,
More swift then shot out of the Archer's bow.
As Spider drawes her line all day,
I watch the net, and others haue the pray.
Of my poore life, this certaynly I know:
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More swift then shot out of the Archer's bow.
As Spider drawes her line all day,
I watch the net, and others haue the pray.
And as by proofe the greedy dogge doth gnawe
The barèd bone, all onely for the taste:
So to and fro this lothsome life I draw,
With fancies forst, and fed with vaine repast.
Narcissus brought vnto the water brinke,
So aye thirst I, the more that I do drinke.
The barèd bone, all onely for the taste:
So to and fro this lothsome life I draw,
With fancies forst, and fed with vaine repast.
Narcissus brought vnto the water brinke,
So aye thirst I, the more that I do drinke.
Loe thus I dye, and yet I seeme not sicke,
With smart vnseene my selfe, my selfe I weare:
With prone desire and power that is not quicke,
With hope aloft, now drenchèd in dispayre.
Trainèd in trust, for no reward assignd,
The more I hast, the more I come behind.
With smart vnseene my selfe, my selfe I weare:
With prone desire and power that is not quicke,
With hope aloft, now drenchèd in dispayre.
Trainèd in trust, for no reward assignd,
The more I hast, the more I come behind.
With hurt to heale, in frosen yse to frie,
With losse, to laugh, this is a wonderous case:
Fast fetred here, is forst away to flie,
As hunted Hare that Hound hath in the chase.
With winges and spurres, for all the hast I make,
As like to lose, as for to draw the stake.
With losse, to laugh, this is a wonderous case:
Fast fetred here, is forst away to flie,
As hunted Hare that Hound hath in the chase.
With winges and spurres, for all the hast I make,
As like to lose, as for to draw the stake.
The dayes be long that hang vpon desert,
The life is irke of ioyes that be delayed:
The time is short for to requite the smart,
That dooth proceede of promise long vnpayed.
That to the last of this my fainting breath,
I wish exchange of life for happy death.
The life is irke of ioyes that be delayed:
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That dooth proceede of promise long vnpayed.
That to the last of this my fainting breath,
I wish exchange of life for happy death.
III. OF THE INSTABILITIE OF YOUTH.
When I looke backe and in my selfe behold
The wandring wayes that youth could not descry:
And marke the fearful course that youth did hold,
And mette in mind, each steppe youth strayed awry;
My knees I bowe, and from my hart I call,—
O Lord, forget these faultes and follies all!
The wandring wayes that youth could not descry:
And marke the fearful course that youth did hold,
And mette in mind, each steppe youth strayed awry;
My knees I bowe, and from my hart I call,—
O Lord, forget these faultes and follies all!
For now I see, how voyde youth is of skill;
I see also his prime time and his end;
I doo confesse my faultes and all my ill,
And sorow sore for that I did offend,
And with a mind repentant of all crimes,
Pardon I aske for youth, ten thousand times.
I see also his prime time and his end;
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And sorow sore for that I did offend,
And with a mind repentant of all crimes,
Pardon I aske for youth, ten thousand times.
The humble hart hath daunted the proud mind;
Eke Wysedome hath giuen Ignorance a fall;
And Wit hath taught that Folly could not find,
And Age hath Youth her subiect and her thrall.
Therefore I pray, O Lord of life and truth,
Pardon the faultes committed in my youth!
Eke Wysedome hath giuen Ignorance a fall;
And Wit hath taught that Folly could not find,
And Age hath Youth her subiect and her thrall.
Therefore I pray, O Lord of life and truth,
Pardon the faultes committed in my youth!
Thou that diddest graunt the wise king his request,
Thou that in Whale Thy prophet didst preserue,
Thou that forgauest the wounding of Thy brest,
Thou that didst saue the theefe in state to sterue:
Thou onely God, the Giuer of all grace,
Wipe out of mind, the path of youth's vaine race!
Thou that in Whale Thy prophet didst preserue,
Thou that forgauest the wounding of Thy brest,
Thou that didst saue the theefe in state to sterue:
Thou onely God, the Giuer of all grace,
Wipe out of mind, the path of youth's vaine race!
Thou that by power, to life didst raise the dead,
Thou that of grace restord'st the blind to sight,
Thou that for loue Thy life and loue out bled,
Thou that of fauour, madest the lame go right.
Thou that canst heale, and helpe in all assayes,
Forgiue the gilth that grewe in youthe's vaine wayes!
Thou that of grace restord'st the blind to sight,
Thou that for loue Thy life and loue out bled,
Thou that of fauour, madest the lame go right.
Thou that canst heale, and helpe in all assayes,
Forgiue the gilth that grewe in youthe's vaine wayes!
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And now since I, with faith and doubtlesse mind,
Do flye to thee by prayer to appease Thy yre;
And since that Thee I onely seeke to finde,
And hope by faith to attayne my iust desire:
Lord mind no more youthe's error and vnskill,
And able age to doo Thy holy will!
Do flye to thee by prayer to appease Thy yre;
And since that Thee I onely seeke to finde,
And hope by faith to attayne my iust desire:
Lord mind no more youthe's error and vnskill,
And able age to doo Thy holy will!
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IV. OF SUFFERAUNCE COMMETH EASE.
To seeme for to reuenge each wrong in hasty wise,By proofe of guiltlesse men, it hath not bene the guise.
In slaunders lothsome brute, where they condemnèd be,
With ragelesse moode they suffer wrong, where Truth shal try them free.
These are the pacient paynes, that passe within the brest
Of those that feele their cause by mine, where wrong hath right opprest.
I know how by suspect, I haue bene iudgd awry,
And graunted gilty in the thing, that clerely I deny.
My faith may me defend, if I might louéd be,
God iudge me so, as from the guilt I know me to be free.
I wrote but for my selfe, the griefe was all mine owne,
As who would proue extremitie, by proofe it might be knowne.
Yet are there such, that say they can my meaning deeme,
Without respect of this old troth, things prooue not as they seeme.
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Do make them selues suspect therewith, that needed not to kicke.
Yet in resisting wrong, I would not haue it thought
I doe amisse, as though I knew by whom it might be wrought.
If any such there be, that herewithall be vext,
It were their vertue to beware, and deeme me better next.
V. NO PLEASURE WITHOUT SOME PAINE.
How can the tree but wast, and wither awaie,
That hath not sometyme comforte of the Sunne:
How can that flower but fade, and sone decaie,
That alwaies is with darcke clouds runne.
Is this a life, naye death you maie it call,
That feeles eche paine, and knoweth no ioye at all.
That hath not sometyme comforte of the Sunne:
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That alwaies is with darcke clouds runne.
Is this a life, naye death you maie it call,
That feeles eche paine, and knoweth no ioye at all.
What foodlesse beast can liue long in good plight?
Or is it life, where sences there be none:
Or what auaileth eyes without their light?
Or els a tongue to hym that is alone?
Is this a life? naye death you maie it call,
That feeles eche paine, and knowes no ioy at all.
Or is it life, where sences there be none:
Or what auaileth eyes without their light?
Or els a tongue to hym that is alone?
Is this a life? naye death you maie it call,
That feeles eche paine, and knowes no ioy at all.
Whereto serue eares, if that there be no sound,
Or such a head, where no deuise doeth growe:
But all of plaints, since sorrowe is the grounde,
Whereby the hearte doeth pine in deadlie woe.
Is this a life, naye death you maie it call,
That feles eche paine, and knowes no ioy at al.
Or such a head, where no deuise doeth growe:
But all of plaints, since sorrowe is the grounde,
Whereby the hearte doeth pine in deadlie woe.
Is this a life, naye death you maie it call,
That feles eche paine, and knowes no ioy at al.
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VI. A LOUER DISDAINED, COMPLAINETH.
If euer man had Loue to deerely bought,
Lo I am he that plaies within her maze:
And finds no waie, to get the same I sought,
But as the Dere are driuen vnto the gaze.
And to augment the grief of my desire,
My self to burne, I blowe the fire:
But shall I come nye you?
Of force I must flie you.
Lo I am he that plaies within her maze:
And finds no waie, to get the same I sought,
But as the Dere are driuen vnto the gaze.
And to augment the grief of my desire,
My self to burne, I blowe the fire:
But shall I come nye you?
Of force I must flie you.
What death alas, maie be compared to this,
I praie within the maze of my sweete foe:
And when I would of her but craue a kiss,
Disdaine enforceth her awhile to goe.
My self I checke: yet doe I twiste the twine,
The pleasure hers, the paine is myne,
But shall I come nye you?
Of force I must flie you.
I praie within the maze of my sweete foe:
And when I would of her but craue a kiss,
Disdaine enforceth her awhile to goe.
My self I checke: yet doe I twiste the twine,
The pleasure hers, the paine is myne,
But shall I come nye you?
Of force I must flie you.
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You courtly wights, that wants your pleasaunt choyse:
Lende me a floud of teares, to waile my chaunce:
Happie are thei in Loue that can reioyse,
To their greate paines, where Fortune doth aduance.
But sith my sute alas, can not preuaile,
Full fraight with care, in grief still will I waile:
Sith you will nedes flie me,
I maie not come nye you.
Lende me a floud of teares, to waile my chaunce:
Happie are thei in Loue that can reioyse,
To their greate paines, where Fortune doth aduance.
But sith my sute alas, can not preuaile,
Full fraight with care, in grief still will I waile:
Sith you will nedes flie me,
I maie not come nye you.
VII. BEYNG DISDAINED, HE COMPLAINETH.
If frendlesse faith, if giltlesse thought maie shielde;
If simple truthe that neuer meant to swarue;
If deare desire accepted fruite doe yelde;
If greedie luste in loyall life doth sarue;
Then maie my plainte bewaile my heauie harme:
That seekyng calme, haue stumbled on the storme.
If simple truthe that neuer meant to swarue;
If deare desire accepted fruite doe yelde;
If greedie luste in loyall life doth sarue;
Then maie my plainte bewaile my heauie harme:
That seekyng calme, haue stumbled on the storme.
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My wonted cheare ecclipsèd by the cloude
Of deepe disdaine, through errour of reporte,
If wearie woe enwrappèd in the shroude,—
Lies slaine, by tongue of the vnfrendly sorte;
Yet heauen and yearth, and all that Nature wrought,
I call to vowe of my vnspotted thought.
Of deepe disdaine, through errour of reporte,
If wearie woe enwrappèd in the shroude,—
Lies slaine, by tongue of the vnfrendly sorte;
Yet heauen and yearth, and all that Nature wrought,
I call to vowe of my vnspotted thought.
No shade I seeke, in parte to shield my tainte,
But simple truthe, I hunte no other sute:
On that I gage, the issue of my plainte;
If that I quaile, let Justice me confute:
If that my place emongs the giltlesse sorte,
Repaie by dome, my name and good reporte.
But simple truthe, I hunte no other sute:
On that I gage, the issue of my plainte;
If that I quaile, let Justice me confute:
If that my place emongs the giltlesse sorte,
Repaie by dome, my name and good reporte.
Goe, heauie verse; pursue desirèd grace,
Where pitie shrinde in cell of secret brest,
Awaits my haste the rightfull lot to place,
And lothes to see the giltlesse man opprest:
Whose vertues greate, hath crounde her more with fame
Then kyngly state, though largely shine the same.
Where pitie shrinde in cell of secret brest,
Awaits my haste the rightfull lot to place,
And lothes to see the giltlesse man opprest:
Whose vertues greate, hath crounde her more with fame
Then kyngly state, though largely shine the same.
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VIII. OF A CONTENTED SPIRIT.
When all is doen and saied, in the ende thus shall you finde
The moste of all doeth bath in bisse, that hath a quiet minde:
And, cleare from worldly cares, to dreame can bee content,
The sweetest tyme in all this life, in thinkyng to bee spent.
The moste of all doeth bath in bisse, that hath a quiet minde:
And, cleare from worldly cares, to dreame can bee content,
The sweetest tyme in all this life, in thinkyng to bee spent.
The bodie subiect is to fickle Fortune's power,
And to a million of mishapps is casuall euery hour;
And Death in tyme doeth chaunge it to a clodde of claie,
When as the mynde, whiche is deuine, runnes neuer to decaie.
And to a million of mishapps is casuall euery hour;
And Death in tyme doeth chaunge it to a clodde of claie,
When as the mynde, whiche is deuine, runnes neuer to decaie.
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Companion none is like vnto the mynde alone;
For many haue been harmde by speach; through thinking, fewor none:
Feare often tymes restraineth words, but maks not thoughts to cease,
And he speaks beste that hath the skill when for to holde his peace.
For many haue been harmde by speach; through thinking, fewor none:
Feare often tymes restraineth words, but maks not thoughts to cease,
And he speaks beste that hath the skill when for to holde his peace.
Our wealth leaues vs at death; our kinsmen at the graue;
But vertues of the mynde vnto the heauens with vs we haue:
Wherefore for Vertue's sake, I can be well content
The sweetest tyme of all my life, to deeme in thinkyng spent.
But vertues of the mynde vnto the heauens with vs we haue:
Wherefore for Vertue's sake, I can be well content
The sweetest tyme of all my life, to deeme in thinkyng spent.
IX. TRIE BEFORE YOU TRUST.
To counsell my estate, abandonde to the spoile
Of forgèd frends, whose grosest fraude is set with finest foile.
To verifie true dealyng wights, whose trust no treason dreads,
And all to deare th'acquaintance be, of such moste harmfull heads.
I am aduisèd thus who so doeth frende, frende so,
As though to morrowe nexte he feared, for to become a fo.
Of forgèd frends, whose grosest fraude is set with finest foile.
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And all to deare th'acquaintance be, of such moste harmfull heads.
I am aduisèd thus who so doeth frende, frende so,
As though to morrowe nexte he feared, for to become a fo.
To haue a fainèd frend, no perill like I finde,
Oft fleryng face maie mantell best, a mischief in the minde:
A paire of angels eares oft tymes, doeth hide a serpent's harte,
Vnder whose gripes who so doeth come, to late complaines the smart.
Wherefore I doe adiuse, who doeth frende, frende so,
As though to morrowe nexte, he should become a mortall fo.
Oft fleryng face maie mantell best, a mischief in the minde:
A paire of angels eares oft tymes, doeth hide a serpent's harte,
Vnder whose gripes who so doeth come, to late complaines the smart.
Wherefore I doe adiuse, who doeth frende, frende so,
As though to morrowe nexte, he should become a mortall fo.
Refuse respectyng frends, that courtly knowe to faine,
For golde that winnes, for golde shall lose the self same frende again:
The Quaile needes neuer feare, in fouler's netts to fall,
If he would neuer bende his eare to listen to his call.
Therefore trust not to sone, but when you frende, frende so,
As though to morrowe nexte, ye feard for to become a fo.
For golde that winnes, for golde shall lose the self same frende again:
The Quaile needes neuer feare, in fouler's netts to fall,
If he would neuer bende his eare to listen to his call.
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As though to morrowe nexte, ye feard for to become a fo.
X. HE RENOUNCETH ALL THE EFFECTS OF LOUE.
Like as the Harte that lifteth vp his eares,
To heare the hounds, that hath hym in the chase:
Doeth cast the winde, in daungers and in feares,
With flying foote, to passe awaie apace:
So must I flie of Loue, the vaine pursute,
Whereof the gaine is lesser then the fruite.
To heare the hounds, that hath hym in the chase:
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With flying foote, to passe awaie apace:
So must I flie of Loue, the vaine pursute,
Whereof the gaine is lesser then the fruite.
And I also must lothe those learyng looks,
Where Loue doeth lurke still with his subtill slaite,
With painted mocks, and inward hidden hooks,
To trapp by trust, that lieth not in waite.
The end whereof, assaie it who so shall,
As sugred smart, and inward bitter gall.
Where Loue doeth lurke still with his subtill slaite,
With painted mocks, and inward hidden hooks,
To trapp by trust, that lieth not in waite.
The end whereof, assaie it who so shall,
As sugred smart, and inward bitter gall.
And I must flie such Circian songs,
Wherewith that Circes, Ulisses did enchaunt:
Those wilie Witts I meane, with filèd tongs,
That harts of steele, haue power to daunt.
Who so as Hauke that stoupeth to their call,
For moste desarte, receiueth least of all.
Wherewith that Circes, Ulisses did enchaunt:
Those wilie Witts I meane, with filèd tongs,
That harts of steele, haue power to daunt.
Who so as Hauke that stoupeth to their call,
For moste desarte, receiueth least of all.
But woe to me that first beheld these eyes,
The trapp wherein I saie, that I was tane:
An outward salue, whiche inward me destroies,
Whereto I runne, as Rat vnto her bane.
As to the fishe, sometyme it doeth befall,
That with the baite, doth swallow hooke and al.
The trapp wherein I saie, that I was tane:
An outward salue, whiche inward me destroies,
Whereto I runne, as Rat vnto her bane.
As to the fishe, sometyme it doeth befall,
That with the baite, doth swallow hooke and al.
Within my breast, wherewith I daiely fedd,
The vaine repast of amourous hott desire:
With loitryng lust, so long that hath me sedd,
Till he hath brought me to the flamyng fire.
In tyme, as Phenix ends her care and carks,
I make the fire, and burne my self with sparks.
The vaine repast of amourous hott desire:
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Till he hath brought me to the flamyng fire.
In tyme, as Phenix ends her care and carks,
I make the fire, and burne my self with sparks.
XI. BETHINKING HYM SELF OF HIS ENDE, WRITETH THUS.
When I beholde the baier, my last and postyng horsse,
That bare shall to the graue, my vile and carren corsse,
Then saie I seely wretche, why doest thou put thy trust,
In thyngs eithe made of claye, that sone will tourne to duste.
That bare shall to the graue, my vile and carren corsse,
Then saie I seely wretche, why doest thou put thy trust,
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Doest thou not see the young, the hardie and the faire,
That now are past and gone, as though thei neuer were:
Doest thou not see thy self, draw hourly to thy laste,
As shafts the whiche are shotte at birds that flieth paste.
That now are past and gone, as though thei neuer were:
Doest thou not see thy self, draw hourly to thy laste,
As shafts the whiche are shotte at birds that flieth paste.
Doest thou not see how Death through smiteth with his launce,
Some by warre, some by plague, and some with worldlie chaunce:
What thyng is there on yearth, for pleasure that was made,
But goeth more swift awaye, then doeth the Sommer shade.
Some by warre, some by plague, and some with worldlie chaunce:
What thyng is there on yearth, for pleasure that was made,
But goeth more swift awaye, then doeth the Sommer shade.
See here the Sommer floure, that sprong this other daie,
But Winter weareth as faste, and bloweth clean awaie:
Euen so shalt thou consume, from youth to lothsome age,
For death he doeth not spare, the prince more then the page.
But Winter weareth as faste, and bloweth clean awaie:
Euen so shalt thou consume, from youth to lothsome age,
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Thy house shall be of claie, a clotte vnder thy hedde,
Vntill the latter daie, the graue shall be thy bedde:
Vntil the blowyng trumpe, doeth saie to all and some
Rise vp out of your graue, for now the Judge is come.
Vntill the latter daie, the graue shall be thy bedde:
Vntil the blowyng trumpe, doeth saie to all and some
Rise vp out of your graue, for now the Judge is come.
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XII. BEYNG IN SORROWE HE COMPLAINETH.
Mistrust misdemes amisse, whereby displeasure growes,
And time delaied finds frēds afraied their faith for to disclose;
Suspect that breede the thought and thoughte to sighes conuarte,
And sighs haue sought a floud of teares wher sobbs do seke ye hart.
And time delaied finds frēds afraied their faith for to disclose;
Suspect that breede the thought and thoughte to sighes conuarte,
And sighs haue sought a floud of teares wher sobbs do seke ye hart.
Thus harte that meanes no harme must feede on sorrowes all,
Untill suche tyme as pleaseth the iudge the truth in question call;
Though cause of greate mistrust before that iudge appeare,
My truthe and mercie of my iudge I trust shall set me cleare.
Untill suche tyme as pleaseth the iudge the truth in question call;
Though cause of greate mistrust before that iudge appeare,
My truthe and mercie of my iudge I trust shall set me cleare.
Report these rimes at large my truthe for to detecte,
Yet truthe in tyme shall trie it self and driue awaie suspecte,
Beleve not euery speache, nor speake not all you heare,
For truthe and mercie of the iudge I trust shall set me clear.
Yet truthe in tyme shall trie it self and driue awaie suspecte,
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For truthe and mercie of the iudge I trust shall set me clear.
L. V.
FINIS.
XIII. BEYNG IN LOUE HE COMPLAINETH.
What dome is this, I faine would knowe,
That demeth by all contraries,
What God, or whether height or lowe,
Now would I learne some warrantise.
Some saie the blinded God aboue,
Is he that worketh all by loue:
But he that stirreth strife, the truthe to tell,
I alwaies feele, but knowe not well.
That demeth by all contraries,
What God, or whether height or lowe,
Now would I learne some warrantise.
Some saie the blinded God aboue,
Is he that worketh all by loue:
But he that stirreth strife, the truthe to tell,
I alwaies feele, but knowe not well.
Some saie Alecto with her mates,
Are thei which breedeth all anoye:
Who sitts like Haggs in hellishe gates
And seeks still whom thei maie destroye.
Some saie againe, tis destinie,
But how it comes, or what it is,
I let it passe, before I misse.
Are thei which breedeth all anoye:
Who sitts like Haggs in hellishe gates
And seeks still whom thei maie destroye.
Some saie againe, tis destinie,
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I let it passe, before I misse.
Despite doeth alwaies worke my wo,
And happ as yet holds hardly still:
For feare I set my frendshipp so,
And thinke againe to reape good will.
I doe but striue against the winde,
For more I seeke, the lesse I finde:
And where I seeke, most for to please
There finde I alwaies my desease.
And happ as yet holds hardly still:
For feare I set my frendshipp so,
And thinke againe to reape good will.
I doe but striue against the winde,
For more I seeke, the lesse I finde:
And where I seeke, most for to please
There finde I alwaies my desease.
And thus I loue, and doe reape still,
Nothyng but hate for my good will.
Nothyng but hate for my good will.
L. V.
FINIS.
XIV. THE ASSAULT OF CUPID VPON THE FORT WHERE THE LOUER'S HART LAY WOUNDED, AND HOW HE WAS TAKEN.
When Cupid scalèd first the fort,
Wherein my hart lay wonnded sore,
The battrie was of such a sort
That I must yeeld or die therefore.
Wherein my hart lay wonnded sore,
The battrie was of such a sort
That I must yeeld or die therefore.
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There saw I Loue upon the wall,
And he his banner did display;
Alarme, alarme, he 'gan to call,
And bad his souldiers keepe aray.
And he his banner did display;
Alarme, alarme, he 'gan to call,
And bad his souldiers keepe aray.
The armes the which that Cupid beare,
Were piercèd harts, with teares besprent;
In siluer and sable to declare
The stedfast loue he alwayes meant.
Were piercèd harts, with teares besprent;
In siluer and sable to declare
The stedfast loue he alwayes meant.
There might you see his band all drest,
In colours like to white and black,
With poulder and with pellets prest,
To bring them foorth to spoile and sacke.
In colours like to white and black,
With poulder and with pellets prest,
To bring them foorth to spoile and sacke.
Good will the maister of the shot,
Stoode in the Rampier, braue and proude;
Expence of poulder he spared not,
Assault, assault to crie aloude.
Stoode in the Rampier, braue and proude;
Expence of poulder he spared not,
Assault, assault to crie aloude.
There might you heare the Cannons rore,
Ech peece discharged a Louer's looke,
Which had the power to rent, and tore
In any place where as they tooke.
Ech peece discharged a Louer's looke,
Which had the power to rent, and tore
In any place where as they tooke.
And even with the trumpets sowne
The scaling ladders were up set,
And Beauty walken vp and downe,
With bow in hand and arrowes whet.
The scaling ladders were up set,
And Beauty walken vp and downe,
With bow in hand and arrowes whet.
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Then first Desire begun to skale
And shrouded him under his targe,
As one the worthiest of them all,
And aptest for to giue the charge.
And shrouded him under his targe,
As one the worthiest of them all,
And aptest for to giue the charge.
The pushèd souldiers with their pikes,
And Holberds, with handy strokes,
The Hargabush in flesh it lights,
And dimps the aire with mistie smokes.
And Holberds, with handy strokes,
The Hargabush in flesh it lights,
And dimps the aire with mistie smokes.
And as it is now souldiers vse,
When shot and pouder gins to want,
I hangèd vp my flag of truce,
And pleaded for my liue's graunt.
When shot and pouder gins to want,
I hangèd vp my flag of truce,
And pleaded for my liue's graunt.
When Fansie thus had made her breach,
And Beautie entred with her band,
With bag and baggage, siely wretch,
I yeeld into Beautie's hand.
And Beautie entred with her band,
With bag and baggage, siely wretch,
I yeeld into Beautie's hand.
Then Beautie had to blow retreite,
And euerie souldier to retire,
And Mercy mild, with speede to fet,
Me captiue, bound as prisoner.
And euerie souldier to retire,
And Mercy mild, with speede to fet,
Me captiue, bound as prisoner.
Madam (quoth I) sith that this day,
Had seruèd you at all assayes;
I yeeld to you without delay,
Here of the Fortresse all the keyes;
Had seruèd you at all assayes;
I yeeld to you without delay,
Here of the Fortresse all the keyes;
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And sith that I have bene the marke,
At whome you shot at with your eye,
Needes must you with your handy warke
Or salue my sore, or let me die.
At whome you shot at with your eye,
Needes must you with your handy warke
Or salue my sore, or let me die.
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XV. A DYTTYE OR SONET MADE BY THE LORDE VAUS IN TIME OF THE NOBLE QUEENE MARYE REP'SENTINGE THE IMAGE OF DEATHE.
I loathe that I dyd loue,
In youth that I thought sweete:
As tyme requyrth for my behove,
Mee thinkes theye are not meete:
In youth that I thought sweete:
As tyme requyrth for my behove,
Mee thinkes theye are not meete:
My lustes they dooe mee leave,
My fancyes all are fledde,
And tracte of tyme, begyns to weve
Graye heares wth in my heade.
My fancyes all are fledde,
And tracte of tyme, begyns to weve
Graye heares wth in my heade.
Ffor Age with stealinge steppes,
Hath claude mee with his cruch,
And lustye youth awaye hee leapes,
As there had byn none such.
Hath claude mee with his cruch,
And lustye youth awaye hee leapes,
As there had byn none such.
My Muse doth not delight
Mee, as shee dyde before;
My hande and penne are not in plyte,
As they haue bene of yore.
Mee, as shee dyde before;
My hande and penne are not in plyte,
As they haue bene of yore.
Ffor Reason me denyes,
All youthly ydle ryme,
d dayedaAyn yb e on me hee cryes,
Leaue off theise toyes betyme.
All youthly ydle ryme,
d dayedaAyn yb e on me hee cryes,
Leaue off theise toyes betyme.
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The wrinkles in my browe,
My furrowes in my face,
Sayth lympinge Age hath caught him nowe,
Where youth must geve him place.
My furrowes in my face,
Sayth lympinge Age hath caught him nowe,
Where youth must geve him place.
The herbenger of death,
To mee I see him ryde:
The cough, the coulde, the gaspinge breath
Doth bydde me to provyde.
To mee I see him ryde:
The cough, the coulde, the gaspinge breath
Doth bydde me to provyde.
A picke axe and a spade,
And eke a wyndinge sheet,
A house of claye for to be made,
For such a gest most meete.
And eke a wyndinge sheet,
A house of claye for to be made,
For such a gest most meete.
Methinkes I heare the clarke,
That knylles the carefull bell,
And byds mee leave my wearye warke,
Ere Nature me compell.
That knylles the carefull bell,
And byds mee leave my wearye warke,
Ere Nature me compell.
My keepers knitte the knott,
That youth doth laughe to scorne,
Of mee, that shalbee cleane forgote
As I had ne'er bene borne.
That youth doth laughe to scorne,
Of mee, that shalbee cleane forgote
As I had ne'er bene borne.
Thus must I lyfe geue uppe,
Whose badge I longe dyd weare:
To them I yealde the wanton cuppe
That better maye it beare.
Whose badge I longe dyd weare:
To them I yealde the wanton cuppe
That better maye it beare.
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Loe here the bare hedde scull,
By whose bald signes I knowe
That stoopinge Age away shall pull
That youthfull yeares did sowe.
By whose bald signes I knowe
That stoopinge Age away shall pull
That youthfull yeares did sowe.
Ffor Beawtye with her bande,
These crookèd cares hath wrought,
And shippèd me into the londe,
From whense I first was brought.
These crookèd cares hath wrought,
And shippèd me into the londe,
From whense I first was brought.
And you that byde behynde,
Haue ye none other truste?
As ye of claye weare made by kinde,
So shall ye wast to duste.
Haue ye none other truste?
As ye of claye weare made by kinde,
So shall ye wast to duste.
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End of Poems of Thomas, Lord Vaux.
| Poems of Thomas, Lord Vaux | |