Horrid as night
Increast by stormes did I delight?
Though my sad soule did often say
Twas death and madnesse so to stray.
On that false ground I joy'd to tread
Which seemed most faire,
Though every path had a new snare,
And every turning still did lead,
To the darke Region of the dead.
But with the surfet of delight
I am so tyred
That now I loath what I admired,
And my distasted appetite
So 'bhors the meate, it hates the sight.
For should we naked sinne discry
Not beautified
By th' ayde of wantonnesse and pride
Like some mishapen birth, 'twould lye
A torment to th' affrighted eye.
But cloath'd in beauty and respect.
Even ore the wise,
How powerfull doth it tyrannize!
Whose monstrous storme should they detract
They famine sooner would affect.
And since those shadowes which oppresse
My sight begin
To cleere, and show the shape of sinne,
A Scorpion sooner be my guest,
And warme his venome in my brest.
May I before I growe so vile
By sinne agen,
Be throwne off as a scorne to men!
May th' angry world decree, t' exile
Me to some yet unpeopled Isle.
Where while I struggle, and in vaine
Labor to finde
Some creature that shall have a minde,
What justice have I to complaine
If I thy inward grace retaine?
My God if thou shalt not exclude
Thy comfort thence:
What place can seeme to troubled sence
So melancholly darke and rude,
To be esteem'd a solitude.
Cast me upon some naked shore
Where I may tracke
Onely the print of some sad wracke;
If thou be there, though the seas rore,
I shall no gentler calme implore.
Should the _Cymmerians_, whom no ray
Doth ere enlight
But gaine thy grace, th' have lost their night:
Not sinners at high noone, but they
'Mong their blind cloudes have found the day.
_Et Exultavit Humiles._
How cheerefully th' unpartiall Sunne
Gilds with his beames
The narrow streames
Oth' Brooke which silently doth runne
Without a name?
And yet disdaines to lend his flame
To the wide channell of the Thames?
The largest mountaines barren lye
And lightning feare,
Though they appeare
To bid defiance to the skie;
Which in one houre
W' have seene the opening earth devoure
When in their height they proudest were.
But th' humble man heaves up his head
Like some rich vale
Whose fruites nere faile
With flowres, with corne, and vines ore-spread.
Nor doth complaine
Oreflowed by an ill season'd raine
Or batter'd by a storme of haile.
Like a tall Barke with treasure fraught
He the seas cleere
Doth quiet steere:
But when they are t' a tempest wrought;
More gallantly
He spreads his saile, and doth more high
By swelling of the waves, appeare.
For the Almighty joyes to force
The glorious tide
Of humane pride
To th' lowest ebbe; that ore his course
(Which rudely bore
Downe what oppos'd it heretofore)
His feeblest enemie may stride.
But from his ill-thatcht roofe he brings
The Cottager
And doth preferre
Him to th' adored state of Kings:
He bids that hand
Which labour hath made rough and tand
The all commanding Scepter beare.
Let then the mighty cease to boast
Their boundlesse sway:
Since in their Sea
Few sayle, but by some storme are lost.
Let them themselves
Beware, for they are their owne shelves.
Man still himselfe hath cast away.
_Dominus Dominantium._
Supreame Divinitie! Who yet
Coulde ever finde
By the bold scrutinie of wit,
The treasurie where thou lock'st up the wind?
What Majesty of Princes can
A tempest awe;
When the distracted Ocean
Swells to Sedition, and obeyes no Law?
How wretched doth the Tyrant stand
Without a boast?
When his rich fleete even touching land
He by some storme in his owne Port sees lost?
Vaine pompe of life! what narrow bound
Ambition
Is circled with? How false a ground
Hath humane pride to build its triumphs on.
And Nature how dost thou delude
Our search to know?
When the same windes which here intrude
On us with frosts and onely winter blow:
Breath temprate on th' adjoyning earth;
And gently bring
To the glad field a fruitfull birth
With all the treasures of a wanton Spring.
How diversly death doth assaile;
How sporting kill?
While one is scorcht up in the vale
The other is congeald oth' neighboring hill.
While he with heates doth dying glow
Above he sees
The other hedg'd in with his snow
And envies him his ice although he freeze.
Proud folly of pretending Art,
Be ever dumbe,
And humble thy aspiring heart,
When thou findest glorious Reason overcome.
And you Astrologers, whose eye
Survayes the starres!
And offer thence to prophesie
Successe in peace, and the event of warres.
Throw downe your eyes upon that dust
You proudly tread!
And know to that resolve you must!
That is the scheme where all their fate may read.
_Cogitabo pro peccato meo._
In what darke silent grove
Profan'd by no unholy love
Where witty melancholy nere
Did carve the trees or wound the ayre,
Shall I religious leasure winne
To weepe away my sinne?
How fondly have I spent
My youthes unvalued treasure, lent
To traffique for Cœlestiall joyes?
My unripe yeares pursuing toyes;
Judging things best that were most gay
Fled unobserv'd away.
Growne elder I admired
Our Poets as from heaven inspired
What Obeliskes decreed I fit
For _Spencers_ Art, and _Sydnyes_ wit?
But waxing sober soone I found
Fame but an Idle sound.
Then I my blood obey'd
And each bright face an Idoll made:
Verse in an humble Sacrifice,
I offer'd to my Mistresse eyes,
But I no sooner grace did win
But met the devill within.
But growne more polliticke
I tooke account of each state tricke:
Observ'd each motion, judg'd him wise,
Who had a conscience fit to rise.
Whome soone I found but forme and rule
And the more serious foole.
But now my soule prepare
To ponder what and where we are
How fraile is life, how vaine a breath
Opinion, how uncertaine death:
How onely a poore stone shall beare
Witnesse that once we were.
How a shrill Trumpet shall
Us to the barre as traytors call.
Then shall we see too late that pride
Hath hope with flattery bely'd
And that the mighty in command
Pale Cowards there must stand.
_Recogitabo tibi omnes annos meos._ ISAY.
Time! where didst thou those years inter
Which I have seene decease?
My soules at war and truth bids her
Finde out their hidden Sepulcher,
To give her troubles peace.
Pregnant with flowers doth not the Spring
Like a late bride appeare?
Whose fether'd Musicke onely bring
Caresses, and no Requiem sing
On the departed yeare?
The Earth, like some rich wanton heire,
Whose Parents coffin'd lye,
Forgets it once lookt pale and bare
And doth for vanities prepare,
As the Spring nere should dye.
The present houre, flattered by all
Reflects not on the last;
But I, like a sad factor shall
T' account my life each moment call,
And onely weepe the past.
My mem'ry trackes each severall way
Since Reason did begin
Over my actions her first sway:
And teacheth me that each new day
Did onely vary sin.
Poor banckrout Conscience! where are those
Rich houres but farm'd to thee?
How carelessely I some did lose,
And other to my lust dispose
As no rent day should be?
I have infected with impure
Disorders my past yeares.
But Ile to penitence inure
Those that succeed. There is no cure
Nor Antidote but teares.
_Cupio dissolvi._ PAULE.
The soule which doth with God unite,
Those gayities how doth she slight
Which ore opinion sway?
Like sacred Virgin wax, which shines
On Altars or on Martyrs shrines
How doth she burne away?
How violent are her throwes till she
From envious earth delivered be,
Which doth her flight restraine?
How doth she doate on whips and rackes,
On fires and the so dreaded Axe,
And every murd'ring paine?
How soone she leaves the pride of wealth,
The flatteries of youth and health
And fames more precious breath.
And every gaudy circumstance
That doth the pompe of life advance
At the approach of death?
The cunning of Astrologers
Observes each motion of the starres
Placing all knowledge there:
And Lovers in their Mistresse eyes
Contract those wonders of the skies,
And seeke no higher sphere.
The wandring Pilot sweates to find
The causes that produce the wind
Still gazing on the Pole.
The Politician scornes all Art
But what doth pride and power impart.
And swells the ambitious soule.
But he whom heavenly fire doth warme,
And 'gainst these powerful follies arme,
Doth soberly disdaine
All these fond humane misteries
As the deceitfull and unwise
Distempers of our braine.
He as a burden beares his clay,
Yet vainely throwes it not away
On every idle cause:
But with the same untroubled eye
Can resolve to live or dye,
Regardlesse of th' applause.
My God! If 'tis thy great decree
That this must the last moment be
Wherein I breath this ayre;
My heart obeyes joy'd to retreate
From the false favours of the great
And treachery of the faire.
When thou shalt please this soule t' enthrone,
Above impure corruption;
What shall I grieve or feare.
To thinke this breathlesse body must
Become a loathsome heape of dust
And nere againe appeare.
For in the fire when Ore is tryed,
And by that torment purified:
Doe we deplore the losse?
And when thou shalt my soule refine,
That it thereby may purer shine
Shall I grieve for the drosse?
_FINIS._
A List of WORKS
_Edited by Professor_ EDWARD ARBER
_F.S.A.; Fellow of King's College, London; Hon. Member of the
Virginia and Wisconsin Historical Societies; late English
Examiner at the London University; and also at the Victoria
University, Manchester; Emeritus Professor of English Language
and Literature, Mason College, Birmingham._
An English Garner
English Reprints
The War Library
The English Scholar's Library
The first Three English Books on America
The first English New Testament, 1526
The Paston Letters, 1422-1509. Edited by JAMES GAIRDNER. 3 vols.
A List of 837 London Publishers, 1553-1640
_All the Works in this Catalogue are published at net prices._
ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND CO.,
14, PARLIAMENT ST., WESTMINSTER.
Detailed Transcriber's Note
Archaic, dialectical and other spellings not in current usage have been
left as in the original book. Obvious misprints have been fixed. Text
that was originally printed in blackletter has been changed to all
capitals without further comment. Details of the text changes are below.
P. 003: our Poet's grand-father,
Originally: our Poet's grandfather,
P. 005: Formatting of the entries in the list of published works has
been standardized.
P. 005: the battle of Varna, 1444;
Originally: the battle of Varma, 1444;
P. 005: i. The Author. [A Prose Preface]
Originally: i. The Authour. [A Prose Preface]
P. 008: 137. ... Phil. i. 23. The soule which
Originally: 137. ... Phil. 1. 23. The soule which
P. 011: (I meane onely as she is externally faire)
Originally: (I meane onlye as she is externally faire)
P. 013: me, I am armed to endure.
Originally: me, I an armed to endure
P. 014: than good Poet, a good man.
Originally: than good Poët, a good man.
P. 017 inserted chapter title from TOC: _Fifty-seven Poems, chiefly
on Love and Courtship._
P. 017: their bright flames: which
Originally: their bright flâmes: which
P. 019: _To my honoured Friend_, Mr. E. P.
Originally: _To my honoured Friend_, M^r. E. P.
P. 023: Then th' Indians boast:
Originally: The th' Indians boast:
P. 023: When Poets weepe some Virgins death
Originally: When Poëts weepe some Virgins death
P. 034: My soule imparadis'd, for 'tis with her.
Originally: My soule impardis'd, for 'tis with her.
P. 039: _To the honourable my honoured kinsman_, Mr. G. T.
Originally: _To the honourable my honoured kinsman_, M^r. G. T.
P. 044: NIGHT _and_ ARAPHILL.
Originally: NIGHT _and_ ARAPHIL.
P. 047: _To the Honourable Mr._ Wm. E.
Originally: _To the Honourable M^r._ W^m. E.
P. 048: _To the Honourable my most honoured friend_, Wm. E.
Originally: _To the Honourable my most honoured friend_, W^m. E.
P. 050: _To my most honoured Friend and Kinsman_
Originally: _To my_ [_most_] _honoured Friend and Kinsman_
P. 051: dote without Philosophie
Originally: dote without Phisosophie
P. 051: in your dull propagation.
Originally: in your dull progagation.
P. 053: _To_ CASTARA,
Originally: TO CASTARA,
P. 059 changed chapter title to match TOC: _Fifty Poems, chiefly on
Wedded Happiness._
Originally: _The Second Part._
P. 059: Thou wept a Virgin,
Originally: Thou wepst a Virgin,
P. 060: Or hoist up saile;
Originally: Or hoish up saile;
P. 063: To-day will give you
Originally: To day will give you
P. 064: in some dead mans eare,
Originally: in some deads mans eare,
P. 072-73, footnotes 23 & 24: Unlike other footnotes showing wording
in previous versions, these do not contain the publication dates when
the other wording appeared.
P. 074: From the angry North-wind.
Originally: From the angry Northwind.
P. 078: Who liv'd a solitary Phœnix free
Originally: Who liv'd a solitary Phænix free
P. 078: _To my worthy Cousin_ Mr. E. C.
Originally: _To my worthy Cousin_ M^r. E. C.
P. 083: With the stolen pleasure of one night.
Originally: With the stolne pleasure of one night.
P. 088: Henry Cambell, _sonne to the Earle of_ Arg.
Originally: Henry Cambell, _sonne to the Earle of_ Ar[g].
P. 100: so little peremptory is his opinion
Originally: so little peremptory is his opiuion
P. 113: and when the prosperitie of the impious
Originally: and when the prosteritie of the impious
P. 114: antidote against sinne,
Originally: antidote aga[i]nst sinne,
P. 114: and the onley balsome powerfull
Originally: and the onely balsome powerfull
P. 115 Inserted chapter title from the TOC: _Twenty-two Poems, chiefly
Sacred, with Scripture Text._
P. 126: Universum stratum ejus
Originally: Universum st[r]atum ejus
P. 135: Of the most sober government in peace,
Originally: Of the most sober goverment in peace,
P. 137: And warme his venome in my brest.
Originally: And warme his enome in my brest.
P. 137: Where while I struggle,
Originally: Where while I straggle,
P. 144: And 'gainst these
Originally: Amd 'gainst these