A poore Knight his Pallace of priuate pleasures Gallantly garnished, with goodly Galleries of strang inuentio[n]s and prudently polished, with sundry pleasant Posies, & other fine fancies of dainty deuices, and rare delightes. Written by a student in Ca[m]bridge. And published by I. C. Gent |
 |
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
To R. Baker. |
 | A poore Knight his Pallace of priuate pleasures |  |
To R. Baker.
Virtus post funera viuit.
To tell of them whose famous factes, haue won no small renowne,
Eyther with glittering blade in feelde, or els with Consuls gowne.
Aswell within our natiue lande, or els in forrain soyle,
My Muse doth lothe that labour great, it were to great a toyle.
But yet shee daines at your request, for to discride at large,
And as the season will permit, her duty to discharge.
In Vertues race guide well thy steps, in her put thy delight,
For Fame doth fauor Vertues house, frō whence shee takes her flight.
Whose sounding Tromp doth warne all those, which seeke renowned state,
To arme themselues in Vertues tent, & fight in Iustice gate.
Who often sayth, cheere on my harts, your manhood seeke to try,
I will preserue your deedes on liue, your fame shall neuer dy.
Alcides hee, whose heauy hand, the Centaures doo lament,
Whose direfull strokes the Stigian Knights, with pitteous plaints repent.
Was mooued to force, by flickering fame, his faithfull freend to fetch
Whose lingering liues, ye furies ferce, on whirling wheele did stretch
With pricke of praise, King Peleus deare, did saile frō gallant Greece
And conquered the golden Ram, and stole away the Fleece.
When praise did pricke the panting hart, of Pallamedes Prince,
Hee rygde his shippes, and hoysed sayle, the Troians to conuince.
If Pirhus father had not ceast, the handmaydes weede to weare,
Then Homers hand had stayd his quill, which doth his actes declare.
Come subtill Sinon tell the truth, what did thy hart inflame,
To hazard health with forrain foes, but hope of future fame.
Lycurgus leaue thy exilde life, come home, come home againe,
Nay, nay, I meane while life doth last, an exile to remaine.
That all the world shall pen my praise, while Æstas yeares indure.
So fancy fed the fainting mindes, of them which liued before,
That they in hope of perfit praise, Dame Vertue did adore.
For nothing was estemed so much, as for to leaue behinde,
To those which should succeede his roome, as was a vertuous minde.
For praise did tickle toward wits, and made them search the way,
To purchase fame, which should remaine, when they were shrind in clay.
This caused Alexander stout, to take the war in hand,
In hope to conquer all the world, as well by sea as land.
And Tully with his filed toung, did seeke to purchase fame,
And all the Roman Emperours, haue leaueld at the same.
What should I say? I faynt to tell, or to discourse of all,
And bare remembrance of the same, doo make my pen to fall.
And bid mee cease, for why? Dame Fame haue sworne and can not ly,
That shee will not permit the deedes of valiant wights to dy.
Then let vs seeke to hit that marke, wherto wee should assend,
I meane to win eternall life, which neuer shall haue end.
For Fame in tract of time will fleete, but that shall euer last,
Fame serues but for this present life, but that when life is past.
So let vs trust to Vertues waies, in hope the same to try,
That wee by proofe may plainly plead, that Vertue can not dy.
| A poore Knight his Pallace of priuate pleasures | |