 | "Songes and Sonettes written by the ryght honorable
Lorde Henry Haward late Earle of Surrey, and other" |  |
Now, blythe Thaley
Vpon the deceas of w. Ch.
Now, blythe Thaley, thy feastfull layes lay by:And to resound these doolfull tunes apply.
Cause of great greef the tyrant death imports:
Whose vgsoom idoll to my brayns resorts.
A gracefull ymp, a flowr of youth, away
Hath she bereft (alas) before his daye.
Chambers, this lyfe to leaue, and thy dear mates,
So soon doo thee constrayn enuyous fates?
Oh, with that wit, those maners, that good hert,
Woorthy to lyue olde Nestors yeres thou wert.
You wanted outward yies: and yet aryght
In stories, Poets, oratours had sight.
Whatso you herd, by liuely voyce, exprest,
Was soon reposde within that mindefull brest.
To mee more pleasant Plautus neuer was,
Than those conceits, that from your mouth did passe.
O3v
Our studiemates great hope did hold alway,
You wold be our schooles ornament, one day.
Your parents then, that thus haue you forgone,
Your brethren eke must make theyr heauy mone:
Your louyng feres cannot theyr teares restrayn:
But I, before them all, haue cause to playn:
Who in pure loue was so conioynd with thee,
An other Grimald didst thou seem to bee.
Ha lord, how oft wisht you, with all your hart,
That vs no chaunce a sonder might depart?
Happy were I, if this your prayer tooke place:
Ay mee, that it dothe cruell death deface.
Ah lord, how oft your sweet woords I repeat,
And in my mynde your woonted lyfe retreat?
O Chambers, O thy Grimalds mate moste dere:
Why hath fell fate tane thee, and left him here?
But wherto these complaintes iu vain make wee?
Such woords in wyndes to waste, what mooueth mee?
Thou holdst the hauen of helth, with blisfull Ioue:
Through many waues, and seas, yet must I roue.
Not woorthy I, so soon with thee to go:
Mee styll my fates reteyn, bewrapt in wo.
Liue, our companion once, now lyue for aye:
Heauens ioyes enioy, whyle wee dye day by daye.
You, that of faith so sure signes here exprest,
Do triumph now, nodout, among the blest:
Haue changed sea for porte, darknesse for light,
An inn for home, exile for countrey right,
Trauail for rest, straunge way for citie glad,
Battail for peas, free raign for bondage bad.
These wretched erthly stounds who can compare
To heanenly seats, and those delites moste rare?
We frayl, you firm: we with great trouble tost,
You bathe in blisse, that neuer shall bee lost.
Wherfore, Thaley, reneew thy feastfull layes:
Her doolfull tunes my chered Muse now stayes.
| "Songes and Sonettes written by the ryght honorable
Lorde Henry Haward late Earle of Surrey, and other" | |