Du Bartas His Divine Weekes And Workes with A Compleate Collectio[n] of all the other most delight-full Workes: Translated and written by yt famous Philomusus: Iosvah Sylvester |
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THE BATTAIL OF YVRY:
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1091
THE BATTAIL OF YVRY:
OR THE BREAK-NECK of The Hellish-Holy Leauge;
In That famous Victorie vvonne By HENRY the Great; Written By Du Bartas: Translated, & Dedicated To The Right Honorable, RICHARD, EARLE of DORSET, By Iosvah Sylvester.
1092
TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE Earle of Dorset.
As th' awefull Child, that long hath truanted,Dares not return vnto the Schoole, alone;
For Shame and Feare to be there discipled
With many Stripes for many Faults in One:
So fares (my Lord) My long Omission
Of th'humble Thanks I ought haue tendered
For kinde Endeuors You bestowd vpon
My Right, my Wrong to haue recouered.
And as (in fine) He brings his Mother forth
To beg Forgiueness, or his Fault to scuse:
So bring I heere My deer Du Bartas Worth,
To mediate for My too-faultie Muse;
Whom daign to pardon: and in gentle Part
Accept This last of His, not least in Art.
Your Lordships most Obliged, Iosvah Sylvester.
Ad eundem Comitem Illustrissimum (Nuper ex Gallijs reducem) EPIGRAMMA Ex Lat. I.O.
Aier's Change hath changed (which but rare doth chance)Your good, to best; in Science and in Sense.
Wiser and better, both; and Both, from France:
Welcom, Great Earle: few are so VVellcom Thence.
Euisdemi Clarissimi, ANAGRAMMATA: Clarus, Irvis Charus; Richardus Sacviles. Is Clarus, diu Charus.
Exoptat I. S.
1093
THE BATTAIL OF YURY.
O! What a Sun-shine gilds vs, round-about!
O! What a Hymne of Triumph troule they out,
In all our Temples! O! What cheerfull noyse!
What Bels! What Bonfires! O! What Publique-Ioys!
The Day is Ours: and on the Leaguers head,
The angry Heav'ns haue their iust Vengeance shed.
O! What a Hymne of Triumph troule they out,
In all our Temples! O! What cheerfull noyse!
What Bels! What Bonfires! O! What Publique-Ioys!
The Day is Ours: and on the Leaguers head,
The angry Heav'ns haue their iust Vengeance shed.
Be smooth, my Browes; and You, my throbbing thoughts
(Long, deeply sunk in Sorrowes sable Vaults)
Soar-vp to Heav'n: You Sisters Three-fold-Three,
Who of late Yeers have scarce vouchafed Mee
To wet my lips: Now sweetly steep my Tongue
In your best Syrups: poure, vpon This Song,
A deaw of Gold, a May of learned Flowers.
Let not mine Eyes, blubberd with private Showres,
Cross publique Glee: nor (silent) Me conceale,
While Others sing, These Tropheys of our Weale.
(Long, deeply sunk in Sorrowes sable Vaults)
Soar-vp to Heav'n: You Sisters Three-fold-Three,
Who of late Yeers have scarce vouchafed Mee
To wet my lips: Now sweetly steep my Tongue
In your best Syrups: poure, vpon This Song,
A deaw of Gold, a May of learned Flowers.
Let not mine Eyes, blubberd with private Showres,
Cross publique Glee: nor (silent) Me conceale,
While Others sing, These Tropheys of our Weale.
Ah! now begins my rapted Brain to boile
With brave Invention: Now's the fittest while
For my Career. Others may hold their tongue;
But, hardly can great Ioyes be hidden long.
With brave Invention: Now's the fittest while
For my Career. Others may hold their tongue;
But, hardly can great Ioyes be hidden long.
But now; How, Where, of What, shall I begin
This Gold-grownd Web to weave, to warp, to spin?
For, heer I list not, in these leaves, my Lord,
The famous Facts of thy first Arms record:
So many, and so numbery Armies scatterd,
So many Towns defençt, so many batterd
By Thy young Valour. Nither shall my Pen
Re-purple Lisle; nor with dead Grease agen
Re-soile the Soile at Courtras: neither (dread)
Heer reave again thy Ragefull Foes of Head.
Nor shall my Muse relate, how that yer-while
(Abusing King's and Churche's sacred stile)
All Evrope nigh (all sorts of Rights reneg'd)
Against the Truth and Thee, vn-holy leagu'd;
While Thou (a Prince, not having Men, nor Treasure,
But poor, in All; save rich in Hope past measure)
Resemblest right one of thy Hils in Foix,
Which stands all Storms, firm'd by it selfs sad poiz,
Boldly beholds the frowning Vpper-Stage,
Disdaining Winds, deriding Weathers rage:
And with his brows cleaving the proudest Thunder,
With knobbed knees still keeps it bravely vnder.
Nor may I now our Thoughts cleer Heav'n o'r-cast,
With Clowdy Theam of Miseries fore-past.
Nor cruelly begin again to launce
New-skinned wounds, to the new griefe of France.
This Gold-grownd Web to weave, to warp, to spin?
For, heer I list not, in these leaves, my Lord,
The famous Facts of thy first Arms record:
So many, and so numbery Armies scatterd,
So many Towns defençt, so many batterd
By Thy young Valour. Nither shall my Pen
Re-purple Lisle; nor with dead Grease agen
Re-soile the Soile at Courtras: neither (dread)
Heer reave again thy Ragefull Foes of Head.
Nor shall my Muse relate, how that yer-while
(Abusing King's and Churche's sacred stile)
1094
Against the Truth and Thee, vn-holy leagu'd;
While Thou (a Prince, not having Men, nor Treasure,
But poor, in All; save rich in Hope past measure)
Resemblest right one of thy Hils in Foix,
Which stands all Storms, firm'd by it selfs sad poiz,
Boldly beholds the frowning Vpper-Stage,
Disdaining Winds, deriding Weathers rage:
And with his brows cleaving the proudest Thunder,
With knobbed knees still keeps it bravely vnder.
Nor may I now our Thoughts cleer Heav'n o'r-cast,
With Clowdy Theam of Miseries fore-past.
Nor cruelly begin again to launce
New-skinned wounds, to the new griefe of France.
Sing Others Those: Me shall suffice to sing,
That in few Months, since Thou wert heer Our King,
Thy valiant hand hath more strong places won
Then Both the Sides in thirty yeers have don.
Though Swarms besieg'd, in number did surmount
Besieging Troops, in so vn-equall count,
That oft there seemd of Foes more Troops (almost)
Then single Souldiers in thy Royall Host.
Thou seem'st a Lightning, and thy nimble Bands
Follow thy will rather with wings, then hands;
And impt with plumes of Honor-thirsting minds,
Are bravely born with Thy Good-fortunes winds:
Thou cam'st, saw'st, overcam'st, as swift well-neer
As these swift Words I have digested heer.
That in few Months, since Thou wert heer Our King,
Thy valiant hand hath more strong places won
Then Both the Sides in thirty yeers have don.
Though Swarms besieg'd, in number did surmount
Besieging Troops, in so vn-equall count,
That oft there seemd of Foes more Troops (almost)
Then single Souldiers in thy Royall Host.
Thou seem'st a Lightning, and thy nimble Bands
Follow thy will rather with wings, then hands;
And impt with plumes of Honor-thirsting minds,
Are bravely born with Thy Good-fortunes winds:
Thou cam'st, saw'st, overcam'st, as swift well-neer
As these swift Words I have digested heer.
Only, neer Arques, for few dayes, the Foe
Thine Expeditions som-what doth fore-slowe:
But as a Torrent, whose proud stream for stop,
Hath the thick height of som new Causwaies top;
The Bottom vndermines, beats on the shore,
And still (in vain) adds Forces more and more,
Till, at the last, aided with Showres and Snowes,
Fell, foaming, lowd, his Prison over-throwes,
Tears Bridges down, bears away Mounds and Mills,
And having won the Valleys, threats the Hills;
Swels as a Sea, and in his furious Pother
Takes Land from som, and giveth more to other:
So thou re-Campst, runn'st, rushest, ruinest
Holds, Houses, Towns, and never doost thou rest,
Till rebell Paris, pale for guilty Feare,
Behold thy Face with too-iust Fury there,
In her vast Sub-urbs; Sub-urbs flanked strong;
Sub-urbs, whose streets with Souldiers thickly throng:
Thou tak'st Estamps: and losing scarce a man,
Thy martiall Troops ingratefull Vandosme wan.
Mans is assaild, and taen; Falaise, Eureux:
Mayne followes those; and after that Lizieux,
And Honfleur too, stoop to thy Sacred Flowers.
And now began thy Sulphury Thunder-stowers
To batter Dreux: when as the Leaguers Chief,
Puft with som new Supplies, and fresh Relief,
From fatall Philip (who right Foxy-Wise,
Wide yawning still after so rich a Prize;
Ambitious waits, nor wishes nothing more,
Then that our Great each other enter-gore,
In Civill Rage; that at the easier rate,
Himselfe may snatch the Price of Their debate)
Drawes neer thine Host. Then Thou, whose Fear was great
Least He too-feard thee, fainedst a Retreat,
Seemst loth to fight, seemst thy hault Heat to slack:
And, to leap further, stepst a little back.
Thou stopst, He flies; Thou follow'st, then He stands:
And now, both Sides for Battail range their Bands:
They seem two Forrests: every Chief, apart,
Darrains his Troops with order, speed, and art.
The Lightning-flash from swords, casks, courtilaces,
With quiv'ring beams begilds the neighbour grasses;
As th'Host of Stars, which shine above so bright,
Bespangles rich the Mantle of the Night.
The Souldier now looks sterner then of long;
Rage in his Eyes, fell outrage on his Tongue,
Iron on his back, Steel in his hand: and fell
Erynnis makes in Yvry Fields her Hell.
Thine Expeditions som-what doth fore-slowe:
But as a Torrent, whose proud stream for stop,
Hath the thick height of som new Causwaies top;
The Bottom vndermines, beats on the shore,
And still (in vain) adds Forces more and more,
Till, at the last, aided with Showres and Snowes,
Fell, foaming, lowd, his Prison over-throwes,
Tears Bridges down, bears away Mounds and Mills,
And having won the Valleys, threats the Hills;
Swels as a Sea, and in his furious Pother
Takes Land from som, and giveth more to other:
So thou re-Campst, runn'st, rushest, ruinest
Holds, Houses, Towns, and never doost thou rest,
Till rebell Paris, pale for guilty Feare,
Behold thy Face with too-iust Fury there,
In her vast Sub-urbs; Sub-urbs flanked strong;
Sub-urbs, whose streets with Souldiers thickly throng:
Thou tak'st Estamps: and losing scarce a man,
Thy martiall Troops ingratefull Vandosme wan.
1095
Mayne followes those; and after that Lizieux,
And Honfleur too, stoop to thy Sacred Flowers.
And now began thy Sulphury Thunder-stowers
To batter Dreux: when as the Leaguers Chief,
Puft with som new Supplies, and fresh Relief,
From fatall Philip (who right Foxy-Wise,
Wide yawning still after so rich a Prize;
Ambitious waits, nor wishes nothing more,
Then that our Great each other enter-gore,
In Civill Rage; that at the easier rate,
Himselfe may snatch the Price of Their debate)
Drawes neer thine Host. Then Thou, whose Fear was great
Least He too-feard thee, fainedst a Retreat,
Seemst loth to fight, seemst thy hault Heat to slack:
And, to leap further, stepst a little back.
Thou stopst, He flies; Thou follow'st, then He stands:
And now, both Sides for Battail range their Bands:
They seem two Forrests: every Chief, apart,
Darrains his Troops with order, speed, and art.
The Lightning-flash from swords, casks, courtilaces,
With quiv'ring beams begilds the neighbour grasses;
As th'Host of Stars, which shine above so bright,
Bespangles rich the Mantle of the Night.
The Souldier now looks sterner then of long;
Rage in his Eyes, fell outrage on his Tongue,
Iron on his back, Steel in his hand: and fell
Erynnis makes in Yvry Fields her Hell.
There's nothing heard but Drums, Fifes, Trumpets noise,
But sharp-shril neighs, but dreadfull Tempests voyce.
Terror and Horror over all are spred;
Horror's there lovely, and there sweet is Dread:
Already fight they with their voyce and gest:
Already Horsemen couch their staves in rest;
Much like a Lion, meeting hand to hand,
Som savage Bull, vpon the Desert sand;
Th'one, with wide nostrils, foming wrathfull heat,
With lowd proud bellowes, with a thundrous threat
Defies his Foe; tosses his head on high,
Wounds with his hooves the Earth, with horns the sky:
Th'other, as furious, from as fiery Throat
Roaring, replyes him with more hideous note;
Vnder his horrid Front, in ghastly-wise
He roules the Brands of his fierce-flashing Eyes;
Rearing his Crest, hee rears his courage stout,
And whets his Rage, whisking his train about.
The Canon's prim'd, discharg'd, hand-strokes begin:
Friends, fellows, neighbours, brothers, cosins, kin,
Lose all respects; save only where they may,
Deep, deadly Wounds, worthy their Rage, repay.
But sharp-shril neighs, but dreadfull Tempests voyce.
Terror and Horror over all are spred;
Horror's there lovely, and there sweet is Dread:
Already fight they with their voyce and gest:
Already Horsemen couch their staves in rest;
Much like a Lion, meeting hand to hand,
Som savage Bull, vpon the Desert sand;
Th'one, with wide nostrils, foming wrathfull heat,
With lowd proud bellowes, with a thundrous threat
Defies his Foe; tosses his head on high,
Wounds with his hooves the Earth, with horns the sky:
Th'other, as furious, from as fiery Throat
Roaring, replyes him with more hideous note;
Vnder his horrid Front, in ghastly-wise
He roules the Brands of his fierce-flashing Eyes;
Rearing his Crest, hee rears his courage stout,
And whets his Rage, whisking his train about.
The Canon's prim'd, discharg'd, hand-strokes begin:
Friends, fellows, neighbours, brothers, cosins, kin,
1096
Deep, deadly Wounds, worthy their Rage, repay.
But, North-west winde, vnder the weeping Kid,
Never so thick his volleys racqueted,
Of bounding Bals of Ice-pearl slippery shining,
On those high Hils my Gascony confining,
As heer rain Bodies, heer haile lumps of Lead,
Making a flood of Blood; a mount of Dead.
Torn Limbs, tost Truncheons, Shivers, Fire, and Smoak,
As with thick clowds, both Armies round be-cloak:
Th'Earth quakes for fear, the Aire recoyleth quick,
And Pluto's selfe seems to look pale and sick.
This Side advances now, and now retreats:
That, lost but now; and now the better gets.
Never so thick his volleys racqueted,
Of bounding Bals of Ice-pearl slippery shining,
On those high Hils my Gascony confining,
As heer rain Bodies, heer haile lumps of Lead,
Making a flood of Blood; a mount of Dead.
Torn Limbs, tost Truncheons, Shivers, Fire, and Smoak,
As with thick clowds, both Armies round be-cloak:
Th'Earth quakes for fear, the Aire recoyleth quick,
And Pluto's selfe seems to look pale and sick.
This Side advances now, and now retreats:
That, lost but now; and now the better gets.
For, yet (Ioves issue) Victory (begert
With Sword by-side, and Trump behind, athwart;
Her head with Crowns, her hands with Scepters fraught,
Her costly Robe with many Conquests wrought,
Flourisht with Palms, figur'd with Towns about,
Embost with Ensignes, with Assaults set-out)
Flyes to and fro, from Camp to Camp she plies,
And in her hand she leads triumphant-wise
Sweet-rapting Glory, full of cheerfull grace,
To either Side shewing her lovely Face.
With Sword by-side, and Trump behind, athwart;
Her head with Crowns, her hands with Scepters fraught,
Her costly Robe with many Conquests wrought,
Flourisht with Palms, figur'd with Towns about,
Embost with Ensignes, with Assaults set-out)
Flyes to and fro, from Camp to Camp she plies,
And in her hand she leads triumphant-wise
Sweet-rapting Glory, full of cheerfull grace,
To either Side shewing her lovely Face.
O Sons of Mars! which, which of you this day,
As worthy Spouse, shall beare for Bride, away
This Beautious Love? Who, by her side shall lie?
Who, of her Kiss the balmie Bliss shall try?
Thrice happy Hee: Him shall the Kings adore:
Him shall the Nobles humbly bow before:
Him shall the Vulgar (as a Sea it were)
Follow, and flock about: and every-where
His famous Face shall set-awork the chiefe
Of Pensils, Gravers, Chisels, Moulds: in briefe,
Hee shall be Summe of an admired Story;
And every Age shall celebrate his glory:
His high renowne shall onely bounded be
With the World's bounds, and with Eternitie.
As worthy Spouse, shall beare for Bride, away
This Beautious Love? Who, by her side shall lie?
Who, of her Kiss the balmie Bliss shall try?
Thrice happy Hee: Him shall the Kings adore:
Him shall the Nobles humbly bow before:
Him shall the Vulgar (as a Sea it were)
Follow, and flock about: and every-where
His famous Face shall set-awork the chiefe
Of Pensils, Gravers, Chisels, Moulds: in briefe,
Hee shall be Summe of an admired Story;
And every Age shall celebrate his glory:
His high renowne shall onely bounded be
With the World's bounds, and with Eternitie.
Thus having said, into their brests she blew
No common Heat, but Fits of Fury new:
Heer Number wins, there Courage, and there Art:
And yet Good fortune fals to Either part:
As when the spitefull sullen Earth hath meant
War with the Floods, war with the Firmament,
Sh'incites, inflames, sets-on, in new-found-Duel,
Ice-bearded Boreas, Storm-armd Auster cruell;
Floods float vncertain, and the Clowds do vary
Whither it pleases Either Blast to carry:
Till th'one at last, the other conquering,
Become Air's Tyrant, and the Water's King.
No common Heat, but Fits of Fury new:
Heer Number wins, there Courage, and there Art:
And yet Good fortune fals to Either part:
As when the spitefull sullen Earth hath meant
War with the Floods, war with the Firmament,
Sh'incites, inflames, sets-on, in new-found-Duel,
Ice-bearded Boreas, Storm-armd Auster cruell;
Floods float vncertain, and the Clowds do vary
Whither it pleases Either Blast to carry:
1097
Become Air's Tyrant, and the Water's King.
But, lo My Liege: O Courage! there Hee coms:
What Ray of Honour round about him looms!
O! what new Beams from his bright Eyes doo glance!
O Princely Port! Presagefull Countenance
Of Hap at hand! Hee doth not nicely prank
In clinquant Pomp (as som of meanest Rank)
But arm'd in Steel; that bright abilliment
Is his rich Valours sole rich Ornament.
Steel was his Cradle, vnder Steel hee dight
His Chin with Doun, in Steel begins it white:
And yet, by Steel Hee conquers, bravely-bold,
Towns, Cities, States, Crowns, Sceptres, Goods and Gold.
What Ray of Honour round about him looms!
O! what new Beams from his bright Eyes doo glance!
O Princely Port! Presagefull Countenance
Of Hap at hand! Hee doth not nicely prank
In clinquant Pomp (as som of meanest Rank)
But arm'd in Steel; that bright abilliment
Is his rich Valours sole rich Ornament.
Steel was his Cradle, vnder Steel hee dight
His Chin with Doun, in Steel begins it white:
And yet, by Steel Hee conquers, bravely-bold,
Towns, Cities, States, Crowns, Sceptres, Goods and Gold.
Yet, void of Mark, Hee doth not hide him quight
Amid the Throng: a Plume dread-dancing light
Beclowds his Cask, and like a Willow showes,
Which, prun'd belowe, close by a River growes;
And hath no sooner Heav'ns calm favour lost,
But instantly his Tops green Tuff is tost,
Now vp, now down, and waves (as please the Winde)
Now to, now fro; now forward, now behinde.
Amid the Throng: a Plume dread-dancing light
Beclowds his Cask, and like a Willow showes,
Which, prun'd belowe, close by a River growes;
And hath no sooner Heav'ns calm favour lost,
But instantly his Tops green Tuff is tost,
Now vp, now down, and waves (as please the Winde)
Now to, now fro; now forward, now behinde.
Thus (to bee known) Invincible by Force,
Hee, with six hundred, charg'd six thousand Horse.
The first that felt his Arm and Fauchin keen,
Was, blindely-bold, a Warriour that did ween
Himself as stout, as strong; as strong, as great;
And, daring so, vndanted Henry met;
Who offers prest his Pistoll in his Face,
Which would not off, although it fier'd a space.
Whence somwhat mov'd, with angry voice, quoth Hee,
Hence, guile-full Arms: the glittering Sword for Mee:
And draws withall; then nimbly tossing light
The flashing Horror of his Fauchin bright
(Like an Autumnall ruddy-streaming Star
Presaging Famine, Pestilence and War)
Copes with his Foe, th'Assailant hee assaults,
And resolute observes his Arms defaults:
At last, betwixt his Brest-plate and his Bases,
Seeks for his Soule, there findes, and thence it chases.
Hee, with six hundred, charg'd six thousand Horse.
The first that felt his Arm and Fauchin keen,
Was, blindely-bold, a Warriour that did ween
Himself as stout, as strong; as strong, as great;
And, daring so, vndanted Henry met;
Who offers prest his Pistoll in his Face,
Which would not off, although it fier'd a space.
Whence somwhat mov'd, with angry voice, quoth Hee,
Hence, guile-full Arms: the glittering Sword for Mee:
And draws withall; then nimbly tossing light
The flashing Horror of his Fauchin bright
(Like an Autumnall ruddy-streaming Star
Presaging Famine, Pestilence and War)
Copes with his Foe, th'Assailant hee assaults,
And resolute observes his Arms defaults:
At last, betwixt his Brest-plate and his Bases,
Seeks for his Soule, there findes, and thence it chases.
Go, happy Soule, go tell the newes beneath,
How thou wert honour'd, to have had thy death
By th'onely hand of th'Hercules of France,
Th'invincible (for, such a Death, perchance,
Shall more extoll thy famous Memory,
Then to have won som other Victory):
Say, heer revives a Martel, Foes to maul;
And that Orlando rules again in Gaul.
How thou wert honour'd, to have had thy death
By th'onely hand of th'Hercules of France,
Th'invincible (for, such a Death, perchance,
Shall more extoll thy famous Memory,
Then to have won som other Victory):
Say, heer revives a Martel, Foes to maul;
And that Orlando rules again in Gaul.
1098
But, Thou go'st not alone: this deadly Fray
Thou but beginn'st, as Prologue of his Play.
Hee deales about as many Deaths as Blowes:
Hee hacks, heaws, hurts all; all hee overthrowes,
Swifter then Wind, or Cannon-shot, or Thunder,
Trees, towns, and towers, turns vp, beats down, brings vnder.
One place, one push, one deed, one death, one wound,
Cannot suffice, nor his brave fury bound:
He layes on All; and fiery-fierce, and stout,
A hundred waies cross-carves the Field about;
All fall, in fine, but fall not all alike:
Som did he thrill, som thwart, som down-right strike.
Thou but beginn'st, as Prologue of his Play.
Hee deales about as many Deaths as Blowes:
Hee hacks, heaws, hurts all; all hee overthrowes,
Swifter then Wind, or Cannon-shot, or Thunder,
Trees, towns, and towers, turns vp, beats down, brings vnder.
One place, one push, one deed, one death, one wound,
Cannot suffice, nor his brave fury bound:
He layes on All; and fiery-fierce, and stout,
A hundred waies cross-carves the Field about;
All fall, in fine, but fall not all alike:
Som did he thrill, som thwart, som down-right strike.
But, as a Lion in Numidian Field,
Feeding awhile on trembling Heards that yeeld;
If so he heare a Bears noyse neer about,
Rearing his Eares and Crest, he roareth-out;
Leaves Lambs, Kids, Kine; glad he incountred hath
And Obiect worthier of his noble Wrath:
My match-less Prince, discrying Duke De Mayne,
Spares vulgar blood, and speeds to Him amain;
Through thickest troops of stoutest men at-arms,
Through horse and foot, through shot, pikes, Ensignes, Arms,
Incounters Him: on Him his load he layes;
And round about on every side assayes,
Vnder his arms, to seek in every part
The heart which only gaue the Leaguers hart.
Feeding awhile on trembling Heards that yeeld;
If so he heare a Bears noyse neer about,
Rearing his Eares and Crest, he roareth-out;
Leaves Lambs, Kids, Kine; glad he incountred hath
And Obiect worthier of his noble Wrath:
My match-less Prince, discrying Duke De Mayne,
Spares vulgar blood, and speeds to Him amain;
Through thickest troops of stoutest men at-arms,
Through horse and foot, through shot, pikes, Ensignes, Arms,
Incounters Him: on Him his load he layes;
And round about on every side assayes,
Vnder his arms, to seek in every part
The heart which only gaue the Leaguers hart.
But, dreading his disdain, De-Mayne with-drew:
And all his Hopes, so sudden dasht, did rew:
Blusht at his past Bliss, full of carefull toyle,
Loathing the Field, new witness of his Foile.
Now Yvry out of sight, he Mante approches:
His weary horse, his weary rowell broches,
Vntill, broak-winded, crest-faln, sweaty-swelted,
And all his grease in and without him melted,
Lolling his ears, hanging his head and neck,
For spur he stirs no more, then stock or stick.
And all his Hopes, so sudden dasht, did rew:
Blusht at his past Bliss, full of carefull toyle,
Loathing the Field, new witness of his Foile.
Now Yvry out of sight, he Mante approches:
His weary horse, his weary rowell broches,
Vntill, broak-winded, crest-faln, sweaty-swelted,
And all his grease in and without him melted,
Lolling his ears, hanging his head and neck,
For spur he stirs no more, then stock or stick.
O, noble Duke! O wherefore flyest Thou?
What Panik Terror daunts thy Valour now?
Thy constant Face what paints with pale Affright?
Alas! thou lack'st not Courage heer, but Right.
The Cause confounds thee: Charles, yet stay & stand
To Henry's mercy; humbly kiss his hand.
What Panik Terror daunts thy Valour now?
Thy constant Face what paints with pale Affright?
Alas! thou lack'st not Courage heer, but Right.
The Cause confounds thee: Charles, yet stay & stand
To Henry's mercy; humbly kiss his hand.
If red Revenge, for thy dead Brethrens chance,
Made thee take Arms: what's that (alas!) to France?
What, to This King? whose heart and hands are knowne
From both their Bloods as cleer as are thine Owne.
Made thee take Arms: what's that (alas!) to France?
What, to This King? whose heart and hands are knowne
From both their Bloods as cleer as are thine Owne.
If't were Ambition, mought'st thou not expect
From Him, that knowes how Vertue to respect,
And can, as King, magnifikly advance
His faithfull Servants, and the Friends of France,
More Honor and Reward, then from the rude
Poore, giddie, gross, ingratefull Multitude;
Of many Heads, of more then many Mindes,
Leaking in every Storm, led with all Windes;
Who pay with Death, or Exile (at the best)
Their Dions, Phocions, Camils, and the rest:
Whose Rule is Rage; Who (Ivie-like) in time
Decay the Tower whereby themselves did clime?
From Him, that knowes how Vertue to respect,
1099
His faithfull Servants, and the Friends of France,
More Honor and Reward, then from the rude
Poore, giddie, gross, ingratefull Multitude;
Of many Heads, of more then many Mindes,
Leaking in every Storm, led with all Windes;
Who pay with Death, or Exile (at the best)
Their Dions, Phocions, Camils, and the rest:
Whose Rule is Rage; Who (Ivie-like) in time
Decay the Tower whereby themselves did clime?
If it were Feare to finde His favours gate
Now barr'd too-fast for thee to enter at;
O! was there ever known more gracious King,
Forgetting Ill-turnes; Good remembering!
He rather would, by Benefits, then Blowes,
Reduce his Rebels. When his Fury glowes,
'Tis but as Straw-fire: while he strikes, he sighes;
And (for the most part) from his Enemies
Drawes not more blood, then tender Tears withall
From his owne Eyes: His Spirit's voyd of Gall
(Peculiar Gift, hereditary Grace,
The Heav'ns haue given vnto the Borbons Race):
And never did the all-discerning Sun,
Which daily once about the World doth run,
Behold a Prince religiously more loth
To shake, for ought, his Honor-binding Oath.
Offer my Liege the Germain Emperie,
Spaine's Diadem, the Turks Grand-Signorie,
Yea, make Him Monarch of the World, by wile;
Hee'll spurn all Sceptres, yer his faith he file.
Now barr'd too-fast for thee to enter at;
O! was there ever known more gracious King,
Forgetting Ill-turnes; Good remembering!
He rather would, by Benefits, then Blowes,
Reduce his Rebels. When his Fury glowes,
'Tis but as Straw-fire: while he strikes, he sighes;
And (for the most part) from his Enemies
Drawes not more blood, then tender Tears withall
From his owne Eyes: His Spirit's voyd of Gall
(Peculiar Gift, hereditary Grace,
The Heav'ns haue given vnto the Borbons Race):
And never did the all-discerning Sun,
Which daily once about the World doth run,
Behold a Prince religiously more loth
To shake, for ought, his Honor-binding Oath.
Offer my Liege the Germain Emperie,
Spaine's Diadem, the Turks Grand-Signorie,
Yea, make Him Monarch of the World, by wile;
Hee'll spurn all Sceptres, yer his faith he file.
But, 'tis (saist Thou) for the Faith Catholike.
Why? who Commands in matters Politike?
Who in his Camp? but such as more then Thou
With Tooth and Naile, Romes Vatican avow?
Serves not his Name for Refuge, every-where
Securing Priesthood from all Force and Fear?
No Athëism, Hee, nor Superstition sents:
Hee's a right Christian and religious Prince.
He firm beleeves, that God's reformed Aw,
He from his Cradle, with his milk did draw:
Yet, is not partiall, nor preiudicate.
Why? who Commands in matters Politike?
Who in his Camp? but such as more then Thou
With Tooth and Naile, Romes Vatican avow?
Serves not his Name for Refuge, every-where
Securing Priesthood from all Force and Fear?
No Athëism, Hee, nor Superstition sents:
Hee's a right Christian and religious Prince.
He firm beleeves, that God's reformed Aw,
He from his Cradle, with his milk did draw:
Yet, is not partiall, nor preiudicate.
And, if the Church, now neerly ruinate,
By our profane hands, our strife-stirring Quills,
May ever look for a Redress of Ills;
If it may ever hope to reprocure
A holy and a happy Peace, to dure;
It shall be, doubtless, vnder such a Prince,
So free from Passions blinded Vehemence.
By our profane hands, our strife-stirring Quills,
May ever look for a Redress of Ills;
If it may ever hope to reprocure
A holy and a happy Peace, to dure;
It shall be, doubtless, vnder such a Prince,
So free from Passions blinded Vehemence.
1100
Back to the Battell, Muse, now cast about:
Ah! there they flee; there all are in a Rout:
All's full of Horror, full of Ruth and Fear,
Full of Disorder, and Confusion, there:
There, none obey; there, none at all command;
There, every Souldier makes apart his Band.
The ample Plain is couerd all about
With casks, swords, muskets, pikes; and the most stout
To darkest Groves carry their Deaths conceived,
In deepest Holes bury their Deaths received.
Ah! there they flee; there all are in a Rout:
All's full of Horror, full of Ruth and Fear,
Full of Disorder, and Confusion, there:
There, none obey; there, none at all command;
There, every Souldier makes apart his Band.
The ample Plain is couerd all about
With casks, swords, muskets, pikes; and the most stout
To darkest Groves carry their Deaths conceived,
In deepest Holes bury their Deaths received.
The Victor follows, over-takes anon;
Fears not the way the Flyers fear'd t'have gone.
The most hee fears, is, left Som's shift-full fear,
Other's despair, finde out for safety there,
Som Flat, som Foord, som Bank, som Bridge, som Way,
To passe the Eure: but, pressed with Dismay,
All, breath-less, panting in a desperate haste,
Them heer and there into the River cast.
Fears not the way the Flyers fear'd t'have gone.
The most hee fears, is, left Som's shift-full fear,
Other's despair, finde out for safety there,
Som Flat, som Foord, som Bank, som Bridge, som Way,
To passe the Eure: but, pressed with Dismay,
All, breath-less, panting in a desperate haste,
Them heer and there into the River cast.
Th'immortall Nymph
Navonda, azure-ey'd,
Queen of that Crystall, and that Currents Guide;
Scar'd with their noise, above the water pushes
Her dropping Head, in Caul of weeping Rushes,
O! whence, quoth shee, whence coms this iron spawn?
These Metall-Men? From what mount Cibel drawn?
What Vulcan gave, what Myron lent (I pray)
Steel life, to stir; to Iron, breath, to neigh?
Hence, Monsters, hence (Wars dreadfull workmanship):
With bloody deaws your Mother-Earth be-dip;
And let vs gently, without stop or stain,
To meet our Tritons, roule into the Main.
Queen of that Crystall, and that Currents Guide;
Scar'd with their noise, above the water pushes
Her dropping Head, in Caul of weeping Rushes,
O! whence, quoth shee, whence coms this iron spawn?
These Metall-Men? From what mount Cibel drawn?
What Vulcan gave, what Myron lent (I pray)
Steel life, to stir; to Iron, breath, to neigh?
Hence, Monsters, hence (Wars dreadfull workmanship):
With bloody deaws your Mother-Earth be-dip;
And let vs gently, without stop or stain,
To meet our Tritons, roule into the Main.
Her voice doth vanish in so various noise:
This, with his Owne; that, with his Armors poiz,
Sinks instantly: Som have, in stead of Graves,
Nought but their Steeds; their Steeds, no Toombs but Waves:
Som, more dismaid, for Skiff their Targets take;
For Oars, their Arms; their Sail, their Plumes they make:
But, greedy Whirl-pools, ever-wheeling round,
Suck-in, at-once, Oars, Sails and Ships, to ground.
This, with his Owne; that, with his Armors poiz,
Sinks instantly: Som have, in stead of Graves,
Nought but their Steeds; their Steeds, no Toombs but Waves:
Som, more dismaid, for Skiff their Targets take;
For Oars, their Arms; their Sail, their Plumes they make:
But, greedy Whirl-pools, ever-wheeling round,
Suck-in, at-once, Oars, Sails and Ships, to ground.
Those that, by chance, scape to the other Shore,
Changing their place, change not their case the more.
Dikes, Bridges broken, Cities, Rampires cast,
Cannot secure their more then headlong Haste.
Did any Squadrons dare thy Conquest cross,
They but increast Thine Honour, and their Loss.
Witnes the Band of Spanish Belgian Foes,
Vnder three Ensignes marching strongly close;
Whom, Thou, the fifteenth, chargest; beatest down
That mighty Body, sudden overthrown;
Even as a Galley, in smooth Sea subdues
The tallest Ship that in The Straights doth vse:
Or as a Iennet in his nimble Speed
Oft over-turns the strongest German Steed.
Thou heaw'st, beat'st, breakest down: Thou conquerst ay,
Till dusky Night have robd thee quite of Day;
And Death, of Foes. Th'Helvetian Bands alone,
Loth to disgrace their ancient Valor known,
Against the Victor their steel Staves address,
As most Courageous in the most distress:
But, soon the Lightning of thy Martiall eyes
Their Diamantine hearts dissolves to Ice;
That Ice to Water, That to Vapour vain:
And Those whom Death rather then Fear could strain,
Those, those that never turnd their backs at all,
But to Wars-Phœnix, Conquerer of Gaul,
Those King-correcting, Tyrant-scourging Braves,
Cast at thy feet their Bodies and their Staves.
Changing their place, change not their case the more.
Dikes, Bridges broken, Cities, Rampires cast,
Cannot secure their more then headlong Haste.
Did any Squadrons dare thy Conquest cross,
They but increast Thine Honour, and their Loss.
Witnes the Band of Spanish Belgian Foes,
Vnder three Ensignes marching strongly close;
Whom, Thou, the fifteenth, chargest; beatest down
That mighty Body, sudden overthrown;
1101
The tallest Ship that in The Straights doth vse:
Or as a Iennet in his nimble Speed
Oft over-turns the strongest German Steed.
Thou heaw'st, beat'st, breakest down: Thou conquerst ay,
Till dusky Night have robd thee quite of Day;
And Death, of Foes. Th'Helvetian Bands alone,
Loth to disgrace their ancient Valor known,
Against the Victor their steel Staves address,
As most Courageous in the most distress:
But, soon the Lightning of thy Martiall eyes
Their Diamantine hearts dissolves to Ice;
That Ice to Water, That to Vapour vain:
And Those whom Death rather then Fear could strain,
Those, those that never turnd their backs at all,
But to Wars-Phœnix, Conquerer of Gaul,
Those King-correcting, Tyrant-scourging Braves,
Cast at thy feet their Bodies and their Staves.
Thou, then, as loth perpetually to brand
People so loyall to the Lillies Land,
Calming the rage of thy iust hearts disdain,
Their Colours to their Comets giv'st again.
People so loyall to the Lillies Land,
Calming the rage of thy iust hearts disdain,
Their Colours to their Comets giv'st again.
O! proudest Trophey, which all Tropheys passes!
O Browes, whom Bayes eternall tress imbraces!
Invincible! O more then Royall Brest,
Who, of Thy Selfe, and Triumph, triumphest!
Who pleasest All: with Victory thine Host,
Thy Foes with Grace: Both with thy Glory, most.
O Browes, whom Bayes eternall tress imbraces!
Invincible! O more then Royall Brest,
Who, of Thy Selfe, and Triumph, triumphest!
Who pleasest All: with Victory thine Host,
Thy Foes with Grace: Both with thy Glory, most.
Earth's Ornament, Thou Honor of our Times,
Ay on the wings of mine Heroïk Rimes,
So brave Exploit be bravely born about:
May all our Commons (commonly too-stout)
Who bred in braules, in Broils, and Insolence,
Stood, as at gaze, distracted in suspence,
Expecting th'Issue of This dreadfull Fight,
Make their due profit, and apply it right.
May now the Nobles freely grant, for true,
That the World's Empire to Thy Worth is due:
That, now they have Wise happy Prince for head:
That by This Battail Thou hast rendered
To Them their Rank, reveng'd the King deceast,
Restor'd the State, and captive France releast.
May now the Clergie ingenuously confess,
God on Thy Side, giving Thy Right Success;
Crowning Thy Vertues, and with sacred Oyle
Of his owne Spirit anoynting Thee the while.
May now (in briefe) All Frenchmen say and sing,
Thou art, Thou ought'st, Thou only canst be King.
Ay on the wings of mine Heroïk Rimes,
So brave Exploit be bravely born about:
May all our Commons (commonly too-stout)
Who bred in braules, in Broils, and Insolence,
Stood, as at gaze, distracted in suspence,
Expecting th'Issue of This dreadfull Fight,
Make their due profit, and apply it right.
May now the Nobles freely grant, for true,
That the World's Empire to Thy Worth is due:
That, now they have Wise happy Prince for head:
That by This Battail Thou hast rendered
To Them their Rank, reveng'd the King deceast,
Restor'd the State, and captive France releast.
May now the Clergie ingenuously confess,
God on Thy Side, giving Thy Right Success;
Crowning Thy Vertues, and with sacred Oyle
Of his owne Spirit anoynting Thee the while.
May now (in briefe) All Frenchmen say and sing,
Thou art, Thou ought'st, Thou only canst be King.
1102
But, O! som Gangrene, Plague, or Leprosie,
O're-spreads vs all: a Brand of Mutinie
Burnes France to Ashes. And but Thou (vnidle)
Bear'st-vp so hard this stumbling Kingdoms Bridle;
Our state (yerst honor'd where the Sun doth rise)
Would flie in Sparks, or die in Atomies.
O're-spreads vs all: a Brand of Mutinie
Burnes France to Ashes. And but Thou (vnidle)
Bear'st-vp so hard this stumbling Kingdoms Bridle;
Our state (yerst honor'd where the Sun doth rise)
Would flie in Sparks, or die in Atomies.
Priests strike the Fire, the Nobles blow the Coale
Of this Consumption: People (peevish whole)
Pleas'd with the Blaze, do, wretched-witched Elves,
For fuell (fooles) cast-in their willing Selves.
Of this Consumption: People (peevish whole)
Pleas'd with the Blaze, do, wretched-witched Elves,
For fuell (fooles) cast-in their willing Selves.
O Clergie (mindless of your Cure and Coat)
Becoms it You to cut your Princes throat?
To kill your King? Who, in the Wombe (of kin
To Thousand Kings) that Office did begin:
Who, for Your Law, Your Altars, and Your Honors,
Hath ventur'd oft his blood in many manners:
Who, as devout to Rome, as any Man,
Fear'd most your roaring Buls of Vatican:
And canonize amid the sacred Roule
Of glorious Saints a Parricidiall Soule,
Whose bloody hand had stabd with banefull knife
The Lords Anoynted, and Him rest of life?
Becoms it You to cut your Princes throat?
To kill your King? Who, in the Wombe (of kin
To Thousand Kings) that Office did begin:
Who, for Your Law, Your Altars, and Your Honors,
Hath ventur'd oft his blood in many manners:
Who, as devout to Rome, as any Man,
Fear'd most your roaring Buls of Vatican:
And canonize amid the sacred Roule
Of glorious Saints a Parricidiall Soule,
Whose bloody hand had stabd with banefull knife
The Lords Anoynted, and Him rest of life?
Ignoble Nobles see You not (alas!)
Your King supplanting, you your Selves abass?
And, while you raze this Royall Monarchie,
You madly raise a monstrous Anarchie,
A Chaos rude, still whetting, day and night,
Against your Selves, the Peoples proud Despite;
Who hate the the Vertuous, and have onely Hope
T'ensue the Switzers too-rebellios Scope?
Your King supplanting, you your Selves abass?
And, while you raze this Royall Monarchie,
You madly raise a monstrous Anarchie,
A Chaos rude, still whetting, day and night,
Against your Selves, the Peoples proud Despite;
Who hate the the Vertuous, and have onely Hope
T'ensue the Switzers too-rebellios Scope?
And Thou fond People, Who (before a Father,
A wise, iust King; a valiant Monarch) rather
Tak'st hundred Tyrants: who, with tushes fell,
Will suck thy marrow out, and crack thy shell:
To whom the Gold, from India's bowels brought,
Or mid the Sands of shining Tagus sought,
Seems not so good, as doth the Gold they fet
From out thy Womb, or what thy Tears shall wet.
A wise, iust King; a valiant Monarch) rather
Tak'st hundred Tyrants: who, with tushes fell,
Will suck thy marrow out, and crack thy shell:
To whom the Gold, from India's bowels brought,
Or mid the Sands of shining Tagus sought,
Seems not so good, as doth the Gold they fet
From out thy Womb, or what thy Tears shall wet.
No, no: the French, or Deafe, or Lethargik,
Feele not their danger, though thus deadly Sick:
Or, if they liue and feele; they, frantik, arm
Against their Leach that fain would cure their harm,
Applying many sound-sweet Medcines fit:
But They the more increase their furious Fit.
Feele not their danger, though thus deadly Sick:
Or, if they liue and feele; they, frantik, arm
Against their Leach that fain would cure their harm,
Applying many sound-sweet Medcines fit:
But They the more increase their furious Fit.
Yet, Courage Henry, fix thy Thoughts heeron,
Pursue (brave Prince) thy Cure so well begun:
And sith so little, gentle Plaisters thrive,
Let it be lanç't, lay-on the Corrosive:
Choke me This Hydra whence such Monsters sprout,
And with thy Fame fill me the World about.
Follow thy Fortune: Hills most lofty-browd,
Stoop to thy Steps; swift Rivers, swelling proud,
Dry-vp before thee: Armies, full of Boast,
Like Vapors vanish at Thy sight, almost.
Yea, at thy Name alone, the strongest Wall,
And massiest Towrs shake (as affraid) and fall.
Pursue (brave Prince) thy Cure so well begun:
And sith so little, gentle Plaisters thrive,
Let it be lanç't, lay-on the Corrosive:
1103
And with thy Fame fill me the World about.
Follow thy Fortune: Hills most lofty-browd,
Stoop to thy Steps; swift Rivers, swelling proud,
Dry-vp before thee: Armies, full of Boast,
Like Vapors vanish at Thy sight, almost.
Yea, at thy Name alone, the strongest Wall,
And massiest Towrs shake (as affraid) and fall.
But yet, My Liege, beware how Thou expose
Thy blood so oft among thy bloody Foes:
Be not too-lavish of thy Life; but waigh,
That Our Good-hap on Thine dependeth aye.
Thy blood so oft among thy bloody Foes:
Be not too-lavish of thy Life; but waigh,
That Our Good-hap on Thine dependeth aye.
But, if Thou light regard This lowe Request
Of Thy Fames Trumpet; lift how France (at least)
Presents her to thee: not as Once Shee was
(When Baltik Seas, within Her bounds did pass:
When Nile and Euphrate, as Her Vnder-Realms,
Through fruitfull Plaines roul'd tributary streams:
When to proud Spanyards Shee did Kings allow;
And to Her Lawes imperiall Rome did bow)
But, lean and lank, bleak, weak, and all too-torn,
And in a Gulf of Miseries forlorn.
Of Thy Fames Trumpet; lift how France (at least)
Presents her to thee: not as Once Shee was
(When Baltik Seas, within Her bounds did pass:
When Nile and Euphrate, as Her Vnder-Realms,
Through fruitfull Plaines roul'd tributary streams:
When to proud Spanyards Shee did Kings allow;
And to Her Lawes imperiall Rome did bow)
But, lean and lank, bleak, weak, and all too-torn,
And in a Gulf of Miseries forlorn.
Deer Son (saith Shee) nay, My Defender rather,
My Staff, my Stay, my second-founding Father;
For Grief, and Furie, I should desperate die,
I should Selfe stab-me, I should shamefully
Stop mine owne breath, to stint these Cares of mine,
Wert Thou not Mine (my Liege) were I not Thine.
Therefore, dear Spouse, be of thy Life less lavish;
Let not, My Lord, Fames greedy Thirst so ravish
Thy dantless Courage into Dangers need-less,
Nor, too-too-hardy hazard Thee so heed-less.
My Staff, my Stay, my second-founding Father;
For Grief, and Furie, I should desperate die,
I should Selfe stab-me, I should shamefully
Stop mine owne breath, to stint these Cares of mine,
Wert Thou not Mine (my Liege) were I not Thine.
Therefore, dear Spouse, be of thy Life less lavish;
Let not, My Lord, Fames greedy Thirst so ravish
Thy dantless Courage into Dangers need-less,
Nor, too-too-hardy hazard Thee so heed-less.
A brave, great Monarch in Youths heat behooves,
Once, twice, or thrice, to shew Courageous prooves:
For Prowess is bright Honors bravest Gate;
Yea, the first Step, whereby the Fortunate
Climbe Glorie's Mount: and nothing more (in briefe)
Fires Souldiers Valor, then a Valiant Chiefe.
But, afterward, hee must more warie war;
And, with his Wit, ofter then Weapon, far:
His spirits contenting with the pleasing-pain,
Not of a Souldier, but a Soverain.
Once, twice, or thrice, to shew Courageous prooves:
For Prowess is bright Honors bravest Gate;
Yea, the first Step, whereby the Fortunate
Climbe Glorie's Mount: and nothing more (in briefe)
Fires Souldiers Valor, then a Valiant Chiefe.
But, afterward, hee must more warie war;
And, with his Wit, ofter then Weapon, far:
His spirits contenting with the pleasing-pain,
Not of a Souldier, but a Soverain.
My Son, too-often hath thine owne hand dealt
Too-many Blowes, which thousands yerst have felt:
My Liege, too-often hast Thou toyled Thee
For Honors Prize: brave Prince, My Victory
Not in thine Arms strength, but thy Yeers length lies;
Thy Life, my Life; Thy Death, my Death implies.
If Thou, thy Selfe neglect, respect me though,
At least som Pitie to thy Countrey showe.
Weigh, weigh my sad plight, if vntimely Death
Should (O, vntimely!) reave My Henry's breath:
Even like a widow-Ship, her Pilot lost,
Her Rudder broke, in ragefull Tempest tost
Against the horned Rocks, or horrid Banks,
Hoaring the Shore with her dispersed Planks.
Too-many Blowes, which thousands yerst have felt:
My Liege, too-often hast Thou toyled Thee
For Honors Prize: brave Prince, My Victory
Not in thine Arms strength, but thy Yeers length lies;
Thy Life, my Life; Thy Death, my Death implies.
1104
At least som Pitie to thy Countrey showe.
Weigh, weigh my sad plight, if vntimely Death
Should (O, vntimely!) reave My Henry's breath:
Even like a widow-Ship, her Pilot lost,
Her Rudder broke, in ragefull Tempest tost
Against the horned Rocks, or horrid Banks,
Hoaring the Shore with her dispersed Planks.
But, if too-much-Heart, of thy life too-careless,
Too-soon expose thee not, to Sisters-spareless,
I hope to flourish more then e'r in Arts,
Wealth, Honors, Manners, Vertues, Valiant hearts,
Religion Lawes; and Thy iust Raign (at rest)
In Happiness shall match Avgvstvs Best.
Too-soon expose thee not, to Sisters-spareless,
I hope to flourish more then e'r in Arts,
Wealth, Honors, Manners, Vertues, Valiant hearts,
Religion Lawes; and Thy iust Raign (at rest)
In Happiness shall match Avgvstvs Best.
FINIS.
| Du Bartas | |