 | The Conspiracie of Charles Duke of Byron, Marshall of France |  |
Prologus.
When the vnciuill, ciuill warres of France,Had pour'd vpon the countries beaten brest,
Her batterd Citties; prest her vnder hils
Of slaughterd carcases; set her in the mouthes
Of murtherous breaches, and made pale Despaire,
Leaue her to Ruine; through them all, Byron
Stept to her rescue; tooke her by the hand:
Pluckt her from vnder her vnnaturall presse,
And set her shining in the height of peace.
And now new clensd, from dust, from sweat, and bloud,
And dignified with title of a Duke;
As when in wealthy Autumne, his bright starre
(Washt in the lofty Ocean) thence ariseth;
Illustrates heauen, and all his other fires
Out-shines and darkens; so admird Byron,
All France, exempted from comparison.
He toucht heauen with his lance; nor yet was toucht
With hellish treacherie: his countries loue,
He yet thirsts: not the faire shades of himselfe:
Of which empoisoned Spring; when pollicie drinkes,
He bursts in growing great; and rising, sinckes:
Which now behold in our Conspirator,
And see in his reuolt, how honors flood
Ebbes into ayre, when men are Great, not Good.
| The Conspiracie of Charles Duke of Byron, Marshall of France | |