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" Most gentle spirite breathed from above, « But such as neither of themselves can sing, Out of the bosome of the Makers blis,

Nor yet are sung of others for reward, In whom all bountie and all vertuous love

Die in obscure oblivion, as the thing Appeared in their native propertis,

Which never was, ne ever with regard And did enrich that noble breast of his

Their names shall of the later age be heard, With treasure passing all this worldës worth, But shall in rustie darknes ever lie, Worthie of Heaven it selfe, which brought it forth. Unles they mentioned be with infamie. “ His blessed spirite, full of power divine

“ What booteth it to have beene rich alive? And influence of all celestiall grace,

What to be great? what to be gracious ? Loathing this sinfull Earth and earthlie slime, When after death no token doth survive Fled backe too soone unto his native place;

Of former beeing in this mortall hous, Too soone for all that did his love embrace, But sleepes in dust dead and inglorious, Too soone for all this wretched world, whom he Like beast, whose breath but in his nostrels is, Robd of all right and true nobilitie.

And hath no hope of happinesse or blis. " Yet, ere his happie soule to Heaven went “ How manie great ones may remembred be, Out of this feshlie gaole, he did devise

Which in their daies most famouslie did forish; Unto his heavenlie Maker to present

Of whome no word we heare, nor signe now see, His bodie, as a spotles sacrifise;

But as things wipt out with a sponge do perishe, And chose, that guiltie hands of enemies

Because they living cared not to cherishe Should powre forth th' offring of his guiltles blood : No gentle wits, through pride or covetize, So life exchanging for his countries good.

Which might their names for ever memorize! "O noble spirite, live there ever blessed, “ Provide therefore (ye princes) whilst ye live, The worlds late wonder, and the Heavens new ioy; That of the Muses ye may friended bee, Live ever there, and leave me here distressed Which unto men eternitie do give; With mortall cares and cumbrous worldes anoy! For they be daughters of dame Memorie But, where thou dost that happines enioy,

And love, the father of Eternitie, Bid me, O bid me quicklie come to thee,

And do those men in golden tbrones repose,
That happie there I maie thee alwaies see! Whose merits they to glorifie do chose.

Yet, wbilest the Pates affoord me vitall breath, “ The seven-fold yron gates of grisly Hell,
I will it spend in speaking of thy praise,

And horrid house of sad Proserpina,
And sing to thee, untill that timelie death They able are with power of mightie spell
By Heavens doome doo ende my earthlie daies: To breake, and thence the soules to bring awaie
Thereto doo thou my humble spirite raise,

Out of dread darkenesse to eternall day, And into me that sacred breath inspire,

And them immortall make which els would die Which thou there breathest perfect and entire. In foule forgetfulnesse, and nameles lie. “ Then will I sing; but who can better sing “ So whilome raised they the puissant brood Than thine owne sister, peerles lady bright, Of golden-girt Alcmena, for great merite, Which to thee sings with deep barts sorrowing, Out of the dust, to which the Detaan wood Sorrowing tempered with deare delight,

Had him consum’d, and spend bis vitall spirite, That her to beare I feele my feeble spright To highest Heaven, where now he doth inherite Robbed of sense, and ravished with ioy,

All happinesse in Hebes silver bowre, O sad ioy made of mourning and anoy!

Chosen to be her dearest paramoure. " Yet will I sing; but who can better sing “ So raisde they eke faire Ledaes warlike twinnes, Than thoa thy selfe, thine owne selfes valiance, And interchanged life unto them lent, That, whilst thou livedst, madest the forests ring, That, when th' one dies, the other then beginnes And fields resownd, and flockes to leap and daunce, To shew in Heaven his brightnes orient; And shepheards leave their lambs unto mischaunce, And they, for pittie of the sad wayment, To runne thy shrill Arcadian pipe to heare: Which Orpheus for Eurydice did make, O happie were those dayes, thrice happie were ! Her back againe to life sent for his sake. " But now more happie thou, and wretched wee, “ So happie are they, and so fortunate, Which want the wonted sweetnes of thy voice, Whom the Pierian sacred sisters love, Whiles thou now in Elysian fields so free,

That freed from bands of impacable fate, With Orphens, and with Linus, and the choice And power of death, they live for aye above, Of all that ever did in rimes reioyce,

Where mortall wreakes their blis may not remove : Conversest, and doost heare their heavenlie layes, But with the gods, for former vertues meede, And they heare thine, and thine doo better praise. On nectar and ambrosia do feede. “ So there thou livest, singing evermore,

“ For deeds doe die, how ever noblie donne, And here thou livest, being ever song

And thoughts of men do as themselves decay : Of us, which living loved thee afore,

But wise wordes taught in numbers for to runne, And now thee worship mongst that blessed tbrong Recorded by the Muses, live for ay; Of heavenlie poets and heroës strong.

Ne may with storming showers be washt away, So thoa both here and there immortall art, Ne bitter-breathing windes with harmfull blasty And everie where through excellent desart. Nor age, nor envie, shall them ever wast.

“ In vaine doo earthly princes then, in vaine, Thus having ended all her piteous plaint, Seeke with Pyramides, to Heaven aspired; With dolefull shrikes shee vanished away, Or huge Colosses, built with costlie paine ;

That I through inward sorrowe wexen faint, Or brasen pillours, never to be fired;

And all astonished with deepe dismay Or shrines, made of the mettall most desired; For her departure, had no word to say ; To make their memories for ever live:

But sate long time in sencelesse sad affright, For how can mortall immortalitie give?

Looking still, if I might of her have sight. “ Such one Mausolus made, the worlds great wonder, Which when I missed, having looked long, But now no remnant doth thereof remaine:

My thought returned greeved home againe, Such one Marcellus, but was torne with thunder: Renewing her complaint with passion strong, Such one Lisippus, but is worpe with raine: For ruth of that same womans piteous paine; Such one king Edmond, but was rent for gaine. Whose wordes recording in my troubled braine, All such vaine moniments of earthlie masse, I felt such anguish wound my feeble heart, Devourd of Time, in time to dought doo passe. That frosen horror ran through everie part. “ But Fame with golden wings aloft doth flie, So inlie greeving in my groning brest, Above the reach of ruinous decay,

And deepelie muzing at her doubtfull speach, And with brave plumes doth beate the azure skie, Whose meaning much I labored foorth to wreste, Adinir'd of base-borne men from farre away:

Being above my slender reasons reach; Then who so will with vertuous deeds assay At length, by demonstration me to teach, To mount to Heaven, on Pegasus must ride,

Before mine eies strange sights presented were, And with sweete poets verse be glorifide.

Like tragicke pageants seeming to appeare. “ For not to have been dipt in Lethe lake,

I.
Could save the sonne of Thetis from to die; I saw an image, all of massie gold,
But that blinde bard did him immortall make

Placed on high upon an altare faire,
With verses, dipt in deaw of Castalie:

That all, which did the same from farre beholde, Which made the easterne conquerour to crie, Might worship it, and fall on lowest staire. • () fortunate yong-man, whose vertue found Not that great idoli might with this compaire, So brave a trompe, thy noble acts to sound.' To which th' Assyriau tyrant would have made

The holie brethren falslie to have praid. “ Therefore in this halfe happie I doo read

But th' altare, on the which this image staid, Good Melibæ, that hath a poet got

Was (O great pitie !) built of brickle clay, To sing his living praises being dead,

That shortly the foundation decaid, Deserving never here to be forgot,

With showres of Heaven and tempests worne away; In spight of envie, that his deeds would spot :

Then downe it fell, and low in ashes lay, Since whose decease, learning lies unregarded,

Scorned of everie one, which by it went;
And men of armes doo wander unrewarded.

That I, it seeing, dearelie did lament,
« Those two be those two great calamities,
That long agoe did grieve the noble spright Next unto this a statelie towre appeared,
Of Salomon with great indignities;

Built all of richest stone that might bee found, Who whilome was alive the wisest wight.

And nigh unto the Heavens in height upreared, But now his wisedome is disprooved quite ; But placed on a plot of sandie ground: For he, that now welds all things at his will,

Not that great towre, which is so much renownd Scorns th' one and th' other in his deeper skill.

For tongues confusion in Holie Writ,

King Ninus worke, might be compard to it. “O griefe of griefes! O gall of all good heartes ! But ( vaine labours of terrestriall wit, To see that vertue should dispised bee

That buildes so stronglie on so frayle a soyle, Of him, that first was raisde for vertuous parts,

As with each storme does fall away, and Nit, And now, broad spreading like an aged tree,

And gives the fruit of all your travailes toyle, Lets none shoot up that nigh him planted bee:

To be the pray of Tyme, and Fortunes spoyle ! O let the man, of whom the Muse is scorned,

I saw this towre fall sodainelie to dust, Nor alive nor dead be of the Muse adorned !

That nigh with griefe thereof my heart was brust. « O vile worlds trust! that with such raine illusion

III, Hath so wise men bewitcht, and overkest,

Then did I see a pleasant paradize, That they see not the way of their confusion : Full of sweete Rowres and daintiest delights, O vainesse! to be added to the rest,

Such as on Earth man could not more devize, That do my soule with inward griefe infest: With pleasures choyce to feed his cheerefullsprigts: Let them behold the piteous fall of mee,

Not, that, which Merlin by his magicke slights And in my case their owne ensample see.

Made for the gentle squire, to entertaine

His fayre Belphæbe, could this gardine staine. " And who so els that sits in highest seate

But O short pleasure bought with lasting paine ! Of this worlds glorie, worshipped of all,

Why will hereafter anie flesh delight
Ne feareth change of time, nor fortunes threate, In earthlie blis, and joy in pleasures raine,
Let him behold the horror of my fall,

Since that I sawe this gardine wasted quite, And his owne end unto remembrance call; That where it was scarce seemed anie sight? That of like ruine he may warned bee,

That I, which once that beautie did bebolde, And in himselfe be moor'd to pittie mee."- Could not from teares my meiting eyes with-bolde.

II.

V.

IV.

There he most sweetly sung the prophecie Suone after this a giaunt came in place,

Of his owne death in dolefull elegie. Of wondrous powre, and of exceeding stature,

At last, when all his mourning melodie That none durst vewe the horror of his face,

He ended had, that both the shores resounded, Yet was he milde of spach, and meeke of nature:

Feeling the fit that him forewarnd to die, Not be, which in despight of his Creatour

With loftie flight above the Earth he bounded, With railing tearmes defied the lewish hoast,

And out of sight to highest Heaven mounted, Might with this mightie one in hugenes boast;

Where now he is become an heavenly signe; For from the one be could to th' other coast

There now the ioy is his, here sorrow mine. Stretch his strong thighes, and th'ocean overstride,

II.
And reatch his band into his enemies hoast.

Whilest thus I looked, loe! adowne the lee
But see the end of pompe and fleshlie pride!
One of his feete unwares from him did slide,

I saw an harpe stroong all with silver twyne, That downe hee fell into the deepe abisse,

And made of golde and costlie yvorie,
Where drownd with him is all his earthlie blisse.

Swimming, that whilome seemed to bave been
The harpe, on which Dan Orpheus was seene

Wylde beasts and forrests after him to lead,
Then did I see a bridge, made all of golde,

But was th' harpe of Philisides now dead.

At length out of the river it was reard Over the sea from one to other side,

And borne above the cloudes to be divin'd, Withouten prop or pillour it t' upholde,

Whilst all the way most heavenly noyse was heard But like the coulored rainbowe arched wide :

Of the strings, stirred with the warbling wind, Not that great arche, with Traian edifide, To be a wonder to all age ensuing,

That wrought both ioy and sorrow in my mind :

So now in Heaven a signe it doth appeare,
Was matchable to this in equall vewing.
But (ah!) what bootes it to see earthlie thing

The Harpe well knowne beside the Northern Beare. In glorie, or in greatnes to excell,

III.
Sith time doth greatest things to ruine bring? Soone after this I saw on th' other side,
This goodlie bridge, one foote not fastned well,

A curious coffer made of Heben wood,
Gan faile, and all the rest downe shortlie fell, That in it did most precious treasure hide,
Ne of so brave a building ought remained,

Exceeding all this baser worldës good :
That griefe thereof my spirite greatly pained. Yet through the overflowing of the flood

It almost drowned was, and done to nought,
VI.

That sight thereof much griev'd my pensive thought. I saw two beares, as white as anie milke,

At length, when most in perill it was brought, Lying together in a mightie cave.

Two angels, downe descending with swift flight, Of milde aspect, and haire as soft as silke, Out of the swelling streame it lightly caught, That salvage nature seemed not to have.

And twixt their blessed armes it carried quight Nor after greedie spoyle of bloud to crave : Above the reach of anie living sight: Two fairer beasts might not elswhere be found, So now it is transform'd into that starre, Although the compast world were sought around.

In which all heavenly treasures locked are.
But what can long abide above th's ground
lu state of blis, or stedfast happinesse?

IV.
The cave, in which these beares lay sleeping sound, Looking aside I saw a stately bed,
Was but of earth, and with her weightinesse Adorned all with costly cloth of gold,
L'pon them fell, and did unwares oppresse ; That might for anie princes couche be red,
That, for great sorrow of their sudden fate,

And deckt with daintie flowres, as if it shold
Henceforth all worlds felicitie I hate.

Be for some bride, her ioyous night to hold :

Therein a goodly virgine sleeping lay; Much was I troubled in my heavie spright, A fairer wight saw never summers day. At sight of these sad spectacles forepast,

I heard a voyce that called farre away, That all my senses were bereaved quight,

And her awaking bad her quickly dight, And I in minde remained sore agast,

For lo! her bridegrome was in readie ray
Distraught twixt feare and pitie; when at last To come to her, and seeke her loves delight:
I heard a voyce, which loudly to me called, With that she started up with cherefull sight,
That with the suddein shrill I was appalled. When suddeinly both bed and all was gone,
“ Behold” (said it)" and by ensample see, And I in languor left there all alone.
That all is vanitie and griefe of minde,

V.
Ne other comfort in this world can be,
But hope of Heaven, and heart to God inclinde;

Still as I gazed, I beheld where stood
For all the rest must needs be left behinde:” A knight all arm’d, upon a winged steed,
With that it bad me, to the other side

The same that was bred of Medusaes blood,
To cast mine eye, where other sights I spide.

On which Dan Perseus, borne of heavenly seed,

The faire Andromeda from perill freed :
I.

Full mortally this knight ywounded was,

That streames of blood foorth flowed on the gras: Upon that famous rivers further shore,

Yet was he deckt (small joy to him alas !)
There stood a snowie swan of heavenly hiew, With manie garlands for his victories,
And gentle kinde, as ever fowle afore;

And with rich spoyles, which late he did purchas A fairer one in all the goodlie criew

Through brave atcheivements from his enemies : Of white Strimonian brood might no man view: Fainting at last through long infirmities,

Hesmote his steed, that straight to Heaven him bore, honouring you they might know me, and by
And left me here his losse for to deplore.

kpowing me they might bonor you. Vouchsafe,
VI.

noble lady, to accept this simple remembrance, Lastly I saw an arke of purest golde

though not worthy of your self, yet sucb, as per.
Upon a brazen pillour standing hie, (hold, haps hy good acceptance thereof ye may here-
Which th' ashes seem'd of some great prince to after coll ont a more meet and memorable evi-
Enclosde therein for endles memorie
Of him, whom all the world did glorifie :

dence of your owne excellent deserts. So recomSeemed the Heavens with the Earth did disagree, mending the same to your ladiships good liking, Whether should of those ashes keeper bee.

I humbly take leave.
At last me seem'd wing-footed Mercurie,
From Heaven descending to appease their strife,

Your la: humbly ever.
The arke did beare with him above the skie,
And to those ashes gave a second life,

ED, SP.
To live in Heaven, where happines is rife:
At which the Earth did grieve exceedingly,
And I for dole was almost like to die.

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L'ENVOY.

TEARES OF THE MUSES.
Immortall spirite of Philisides,
Which now art made the Heavens ornament,

Rehearse to me, ye sacred sisters nine,
That whilome wast the worldës chiefst richés;

The golden brood of great Apolloes wit,
Give leave to him that lov'de thee to lament Those piteous plaints and sorowfull sad tine,
His losse, by lacke of thee-to Heaven hent, Which late ye powred forth as ye did sit
And with last duties of this broken verse,

Beside the silver springs of Helicone,
Broken with sighes, to decke thy sable herse! Making your musick of hart-breaking mone!
And ye, faire ladie! th' honour of your daies,
And glorie of the world, your high thoughts scorne; For since the time that Phæbus foolish sonne
Vouchsafe this moniment of his last praise Ythundered, through loves avengefull wrath,
With some few silver-dropping teares t'adorne ; For traversing the charret of the Sunne
And as ye be of heavenlie off-spring borne, Beyond the compasse of his pointed path,
So unto Heaven let your high minde aspire, Of you his mournfull sisters was lamented,
And loath this drosse of sinfull worlds desire ! Such mournfull tunes were never since invented.

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Nor since that faire Calliope did lose
Her loved twinnes, the dearlings of her ioy,
Her Palici, whom her unkindly foes,
The Fatall sisters, did for spight destroy,

Whom all the Muses did bewaile long space;
TEARES OF THE MUSES.

Was ever heard such wayling in this place.
1591.

For all their groves, which with the heavenly noyses
Of their sweete instruments were wont to sound,
And th' hollow hills, from which their silver voyces
Were wont redoubled echoes to rebound,

Did now rebound with nought but rufull cries,
RIGHT HONORABLE THE LADIE STRANGE.

And yelling shrieks throwne up into the skies. Most brave and noble ladie ; the things, that the trembling streames which wont in chanels make ye so much honored of the world as ye bee, To romble gently downe with murmur soft, (cleare are such, as (without my simple lines testimonie)

And were by them right tunefull taught to beare are throughlie knowen to all men ; namely, your Now, forst to overflowe with brackish teares,

A bases part amongst their consorts oft; excellent beautie, your vertuous behavior, and with troublous noyse did dull their daintie eares. your noble match with that most honourable lord,

The joyous nymphes and lightfoote Faëries the very paterne of right nobilitie: but the

Which thether came to heare their musick sweet, causes, for which ye have thus deserved of me to

And to the measure of their melodies be honoured, (if honour it be at all) are, both Did learne to move their nimble-shifting feete; your particnlar bounties, and also some private Now, hearing them so heavily lament, bands of affinitie, which it hath pleased your la

Like heavily lamenting from them went. diship to acknowledge. Of which whenas I found And all that els was wont to worke delight my selfe in no part woorthie, I devised this last Through the divine infusion of their skill

, slender meanes, both to intimate my humble af. And all that els seemd faire and fresh in sight,

So made by nature for to serve their will, fection to your ladiship, and also to make the Was turned now to dismall heavinesse, same universallie knowen to the world ; that by Was turned now to dreadfull uglinesse.

Ay me! what thing on Earth that all thing breeds, So shall succeeding ages have no light
Might be the cause of so impatient plight? Of things forepast, nor moniments of time;
What furie, or what feend, with felon deeds And all that in this world is worthie hight
Hath stirred up so mischievous despight?

Shall die in darknesse, and lie hid in slime! Can griefe then enter into heavenly harts, Therefore I mourne with deep harts sorrowing, And pierce immortal breasts with mortall smarts? Because I nothing noble have to sing.-Vouchsafe ye then, whom onely it concernes,

With that she raynd such store of streaming teares, To me those secret causes to display;

That could have made a stonie heart to weep i Por pone but you, or who of you it learnes, And all her sisters rent their golden heares, Can rightfully aread so dolefull lay.

And their faire faces with salt humour steep. Begin, thou eldest sister of the crew,

So ended shee: and then the next anew, And let the rest in order thee ensew.

Began her grievous plaint as doth ensew.

CLIO.

MELPOMENE. Heare, thou great father of the gods on hie, 0! who shall powre into my swollen eyes That most art dreaded for thy thunder darts ; A sea of teares that never may be dryde, And thou our sire, that raignst in Castalie A brasen voice that may with shrilling cryes And Mount Parnasse, the god of goodly arts: Pierce the dull Heavens and fill the ayër wide, Heare, and behold the miserable state

And yron sides that sighing may endure, Of us thy daughters, dolefull desolate.

To waile the wretchednes of world impure? Behold the fowle reproach and open shame,

Ah! wretched world, the den of wickednesse, The which is day by day unto us wrought

Deformd with filth and fowle iniquitie; By such as hate the honour of our name,

Ab! wretched world, the house of heavinesse, The foes of learning and each gentle thought; Fild with the wreaks of mortall miserie; They, not contented us themselves to scorne, Ah! wretched world, and all that is therein, Doo seeke to make us of the world forlorne. The vassals of Gods wrath, and slaves to sin. Ne onely they that dwell in lowly dust,

Most miserable creature under sky The sonnes of darknes and of ignoraunce ; Man without Understanding doth appeare ; But they, whom thou, great love, by doome unjust for all this worlds affliction be thereby, Didst to the type of honour earst advaunce; And Fortunes freakes, is wisely taught to beare: They now, puft up with sdeignfull insolence, Of wretched life the onely ioy shee is, Despise the brood of blessed sapience.

And th' only comfort in calamities. The sectaries of my celestiall skill,

She armes the brest with constant patience That wont to be the worlds chiefe ornament, Against the bitter throwes of dolours darts : And learned impes that wont to shoote up still, She solaceth with rules of sapience And grow to height of kingdomes government, The gentle minds, in midst of worldly smarts : They underkeep, and with their spreading armes When he is sad, shee seeks to make him merie, Do beat their buds, that perish through their harmes. And doth refresh bis sprights when they be werie. It most behoves the honorable race

But he that is of reasons skill bereft,
Of mightie peeres true wisedome to sustaine, And wants the staffe of wisedome him to stay,
And with their noble countenaunce to grace Is like a ship in midst of tempest left
The learned forheads, without gifts or gaine : Withouten helme or pilot her to sway:
Or rather leard themselves behoves to bee; Fall sad and dreadfull is that ships event;
That is the girlond of nobilitie.

So is the man that wants intendiment.
Bat (ah !) all otherwise they doo esteeme Why then doo foolish men so much despize
Of th' heavenly gift of wisdomes influence, The precious store of this celestiall riches?

sui
And to be learned it a base thing deeme; Why doo they banish us, that patronize
Base minded they that want intelligence: The name of learning? Most unhappie wretches !
For God bimselfe for wisedome most is praised, The which lie drowned in deepe wretchednes,
And men to God thereby are nighest raised. Yet doo not see their owne unhappiness.
But they doo onely strive themselves to raise My part it is and my professed skill
Through pompous pride, and foolish vanitie; The stage with tragick buskin to adorne,
In th' eyes of people they put all their praise, And fill the scene with plaint and outcries shrill
And onely boast of armes and auncestrie :

Of wretched persons, to misfortune borne : But vertuous deeds, which did those armes first give But none more tragick matter I can finde To their grandsy res, they care not to atchive. Then this, of men depriv'd of sense and minde. So I, that doo all noble feates professe

For all mans life me seemes a tragedy, To register, and sound in trump of gold;

Full of sad sights and sore catastrophees; Through their bad dooings, or base slothfulnesse, First comming to the world with weeping eye, Finde nothing worthie to be writ, or told :

Where all his dayes, like dolorous trophees, For better farre it were to hide their names, Are heapt with spoyles of fortune and of feare, Then telling them to blazon out their blames. And he at last laid forth on balefull beare.

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