Horror pursues the homicide’s sad soule,
Feare hunts his conscience with an hue and crie,
That drinkes the blood of men in murder’s bowle,
Suspitious thoughts do rest in life denie,
Hate seldome suffers him in peace to die,
By heau’n’s inuiolate doome it is decreed,
Whose hands shed blood, his heart in death should bleed.
2.
I was to noble _Yorke_ the yongest sonne
Of foure, which he begot in lawfull bed,
First _Edward_ was, the next place _Edmund_ wonne,
_Rutland’s_ yong earle by _Clifford’s_ hand strooke dead,
_Clarence_ the third, to death vntimely lead:
I was the last: of all the foure the worst,
By heau’n and nature in my birth accurst.
3.
When my sad mother in her fruitfull wombe
Bore me a painfull burthen to and fro,
Then the babe’s infant bed had been my tombe,
Had not keene rasors to her paine and woe
Cut me a way, vnto the world to goe:
Nature did grudge to think, that from her wombe
A man-like monster to the world should come.
4.
When first I came into this world’s huge vast,
My birth was not as others wont to bee:
First did my feet come forth, as if in hast
The child of discord had been then set free,
To cause the wretched world to disagree,
Heau’n at that time told b’inauspitious starres
Nations far off of England’s ciuil warres.
5.
As hunger-steru’d to flesh my iawes in blood
I readie toothed came, as who would say,
Nature by signes vnto the world hath show’d
How fiercely he shall bite another day,
That in his mother’s wombe well toothed lay,
And maruaile ’twas, seeing viper-like he came,
He was not borne by death of his owne damme.
6.
If like a cunning painter on a frame
My shape vnto the world I could descrie,
And with a curious pensell paint the same
In perfect colours, each spectatour’s eie
Would by my lookes into my manners prie:
The bodie’s ill-shapte limbes are oft defin’d,
For signes of euill manners in the mind.
7.
Little I was, and of a small compact,
My left side shoulder higher then the right,
Both crooked were, and therewithall contract
Into my backe, so that in all men’s sight
I did appeare a most mishapen wight:
And hard it was to iudge, if that my soule
Or limbes ill fashion’d feature were more foule.
8.
The deeds of noble _Yorke_ I not recite,
Done in those fatall daies of miserie,
Nor tell th’euents of euery speciall fight,
As at Saint Albones, Bloreheath, Banburie,
Northhampton, Barnet, Wakefield, Teukesburie,
Seeing they are often spoken of before,
By those, that heere their wofull falles deplore.
9.
Th’induction to my storie shall begin
Where the sixth _Henrie’s Edward_ timelesse fell:
Sonne to stout _Margaret_ that noble queene,
Of whom since heere no poet’s pen doth tell:
Though hee a peerelesse prince deserue it well,
In breefe we will describe the manner all
Of our sterne deede and his vnhappie fall.
10.
His mother queene, the manlike _Margaret_,
After so many a fall in fight cast downe,
With her young _Edward_ and stout _Somerset_
Did lastly hazard all for England’s crowne
In fight at Teukesburie: but heau’n did frowne,
_Wenlocke_ and _Somerset_ fled both away,
Left vs the field, and lost their queene the day.
11.
The forlorne prince was taken as he fled
By _Richard Crofts_, a knight of Glostershire,
Who hearing of the proclamation spread,
That, who could bring him forth, should, for his hire,
Duely receiue a hundred poundes by yeere:
The prince he brought to end our ancient strife,
With promise made, that we should saue his life.
12.
In presence brought, the king to him thus spake:
“Fond wretch,” said he, “what did thy thoughts excite
To come within my kingdome’s bounds, and take
Rebellious armes t’oppugne thy soueraigne’s right,
And traytor-like in field ’gainst me to fight?”
To which the prince, in whose bold breast did lie
An inbred courage, made this stout replie:
13.
“I came,” said he, “to set my father free,
Whom thou in hold vniustly dost retaine:
I came to reobtaine my dignitie,
And in the throne to seate my sire againe,
In which as king thou wrongfully dost raigne:
I am by might enforc’d to stoope to thee,
Who should by right be subiect vnto mee.”
14.
The king being mou’d with this his stout replie,
Thrust him away, in whose heroicke brest
My brother _Clarence_, _Hastings_, _Grey_, and I,
Did sheath our blades, which fact heau’n did detest,
Permitting vs not vnreueng’d to rest:
For none of vs in peacefull bed did lie,
When from this world our wretched soules did flie.
15.
He dead, his sire, that poore deposed king,
The aged _Henrie_, sixt of that same name,
Liu’d in the Tower, depriu’d of euery thing
Which to a king pertain’d: yet did he frame
His thoughts with patience to endure the same,
Liuing a paterne of a patient spirit,
Who for his fame a golden verse doth merit.
16.
I thought, that while this noble king had breath,
His friends my brother’s peace would still inuade:
Wherefore I did contriue his sudden death,
And in the Tower the butcher’s part I plaide,
For th’hatefull point of that same bloodie blade,
Scarce cold with luke-warm blood of his owne sonne,
Vnlooked for, I through his sides did runne.
17.
He dead, the battels fought in field before,
Were turn’d to meetings of sweet amitie,
The war-gods thundring cannons dreadfull rore,
And ratling drum-sounds warlike harmonie,
To sweet tun’d noise of pleasing minstralsie,
The haile-like shot, to tennis balles were turn’d,
And sweet perfumes in stead of smoakes were burn’d.
18.
God Mars laid by his launce and tooke his lute,
And turn’d his rugged frownes to smiling lookes,
In stead of crimson fields, warre’s fatall fruits,
He bath’d his limbes in Cypris’ warbling brookes,
And set his thoughts vpon her wanton lookes,
All noise of warre was husht vpon our coast,
Plentie each where in easefull pride did boast.
19.
The king, who swims in streames of court delights,
Plaies like the fish so long with pleasure’s bait,
That on her deadly bane he often bites,
Or like the mariner infortunate,
Sayling in seas where syrens lie in wait:
To please the sense he lends his eare so long,
Till he be charm’d with their inchanting song.
20.
Meane time not made to feast an amorous eie,
I fox-like lurking lay about the king,
Into the actions of the peeres I prie,
With cautie obseruation of each thing,
While with their wanton sou’raigne reuelling:
They vainly spend in Venus vassallage
The tedious houres of that peacefull age.
21.
But clouds do thicken in this peacefull cleere,
_Warwicke’s_ faire daughter forc’d by vnkind fate,
Forsakes lord _Clarence_ her beloued feere,
Who purposing to take for second mate,
The only heire of some hie towring state,
Did hope t’espouse with nuptials solemnely,
Duke _Charles_ his daughter, heire of Burgundie.
22.
Which when the queene and her allies doth heare,
At _Clarence_ fortunes daily they repine,
And to the king in hast this newes do beare,
Who to their words his will doth so incline,
That _Clarence_ match is broke by his designe:
King _Edward_ iealous of his children’s fate,
Gainst _Clarence_ in his heart beares secret hate.
23.
This opportunitie I straight do snatch,
Striking the steele while yet the fire is in,
In the king’s brest such hatred I do hatch
Against our brother, that his hand I win
To further me in my intended sinne:
For that blind riddle of the letter _G_,
_George_ lost his life, it tooke effect in me.
24.
Thus hauing halfe my purpose in my hand
By _Clarence_ death, I cast how to confound
The noble queene’s neere kinsmen, who would band
Themselues gainst me by law of nature bound,
When _Edward’s_ bodie should be laid in ground:
But while the king, my brother did suruiue,
To worke their woe, nought durst my thoughts contriue.
25.
Yet whom in court I did perceiue, that bore
A grudging heart against their vpstart state:
My brother’s death to him I did deplore,
Auouching them with their malignant hate,
T’haue been the authors of his wofull fate,
Which at such odds the peeres and them did set,
That neuer age such discord did beget.
26.
Fortune in midst of this their wicked strife,
With pleasing looke so smil’d on my intent,
That by the sudden losse of _Edward’s_ life,
My kingly brother, she did seeme t’assent
To grant me good successe in the euent:
The king late sick, leaues heere the peeres at oddes,
And flies the place of mortall men’s abodes.
27.
His corps scarce couered with a clod of clay,
His kingly ghost of heauie newes to tell:
Earle _Riuers_, _Vaughan_, and lord _Richard Grey_,
The kindred of the queene I did compell
To follow him, amongst the dead to dwell,
Vnhappie _Hastings_, _Buckingham_ and I
At Pomfret castle caused them to die.
28.
They dead, protector by consent of peeres
To hold the sterne in state I chosen am:
My nephew yet being in his yongest yeares,
Which once attain’d by helpe of _Buckingham_,
To higher things ambitiously I aime,
Who for my promise of promotion, gaue
His minde to mine, in each thing I could craue.
29.
_Hastings_, whose loyaltie stood in my way,
Vpon his fall to build my future power,
As he at counsell sate vpon a day
With other lordings in the fatall Tower,
By my deceit there met his liue’s last houre:
Where he, fond lord, did think himselfe most sure,
His best deem’d friends swift death did him procure.
30.
The way made plaine by plucking others downe,
That might withstand in such a generall ill,
With some pretence of title to the crowne,
To win the giddie people to our will,
A man whose tongue could honie drops distill,
One doctor _Shaw_, then deem’d a great diuine,
To vndertake this taske we did assigne.
31.
He in a sermon fitting mine intent,
Did seeke to proue my brother’s progenie
Vnlawfull issue: and with my consent
Chargeth my mother with adulterie,
Of _Edward’s_ and lord _Clarence_ bastardie,
Auouching me to be _Yorke’s_ true borne child,
On whom our house their hopes might only build.
32.
To this his sermon, as it was decreed,
Rushing amongst the people in I came,
Where he most impudent, in hope to breed
Affection in the audience did not shame,
On me with loud applauses to exclame:
For flying from his text when I came in,
In praise of me, thus did the wretch begin.
33.
“This is,” quoth he, “that very noble duke,
The speciall paterne of true chiualrie,
Who both in fauour and in princely looke,
As well as in the mind’s true qualitie,
Doth represent his father’s physnomie:”
Thus did he seeke the people’s hearts t’incline,
But purchas’d nought but his disgrace and mine.
34.
For after, when disloyall _Buckingham_
Vnto the commons that set speech did make,
Which with inuectiue scandall he did frame
Against the late dead king: when much he spake
To moue them, me for lawfull prince to take:
Strooke dumbe with shame, of so abhorr’d a thing,
Not one amongst them crie, “God saue the king.”
35.
After I had obtain’d by tyrannie,
The fancied blisse of empire and renowne:
I thought so long as _Edward’s_ progenie
Did breath on earth, fortune did seeme to frowne,
Threatning to cast my new got glorie downe:
Wherefore, betwixt the sheets with cruell paine,
Vnhappie I did cause them to be slaine.
36.
Thinking thenceforth to enioy all worldly blisse,
And with my crowne’s delight my soule to feast:
What I expect, I do not only misse,
But am depriued eu’n of that small rest,
Of which before that time I was possest:
Conscience my former deeds in question brings,
And frights my guiltie soule with fearefull things.
37.
Each night, when quiet sleepe should close mine eies,
Long waking on my pallat I do lie,
And if by chance sleepe doth my sense surprise,
Then doth illusion set before mine eie
My murthered nephewes, who aloud do crie,
Calling for vengeance for that bloodie sinne,
In strangling them the diadem to winne.
38.
Then starting vp from forth my naked bed,
With sword in hand I frantike-like would flie
About my chamber, and orecome with dread,
Vnto my guard I oftentimes would crie,
That treason in my chamber hid did lie:
Thus the remembrance of my wicked deed,
In me euen sleeping, did strange horror breed.
39.
In day time wheresoeuer I did go,
My watchfull eyes I whirled round about,
Fearing the onset of some sudden foe,
And to be out of dreadfull danger’s doubt,
My bodie priuily was fenc’d about:
Vpon my dagger still I kept my hand,
Readie to stab those that by me did stand.
40.
After the murther of my nephewes twaine,
Not long it was ere _Buckingham_ and I
Began to iarre, for which my lawlesse raigne
Not long did last, his last conspiracie
Did end his owne life and my royaltie:
Who gag’d his honor t’helpe me to the crowne,
With his owne death did help to bring me downe.
41.
Of Hereford the dukedome he did claime,
Which was the chiefest cause of our debate:
For his pretended title to the same
Did touch the kingly title of our state,
For which his sute I spurn’d in spitefull hate,
And rated him with speeches minatorie,
Which was the fall of my vsurped glorie.
42.
When thus the wrathfull duke did plainly see
His sute reiected, and himselfe despis’d,
He cast how to auenge himselfe on mee,
And in his thoughts my ruine he deuis’d:
In which a bold attempt he enterpris’d,
For he in battell bold himselfe did band,
Against me for to fight with force of hand.
43.
Many with him against me did accord,
For when the sudden fame abroad was spread,
How noble _Richmond_ that Lancastrian lord,
My brother’s heire, _Elizabeth_ should wed,
Many that were that often wisht me dead:
Vowing to spend their blood in _Richmond’s_ right,
And to assist the duke with all their might.
44.
Then were commotions raised euery day,
The duke in Shropshire hard by Shrewsburie,
The proud wilde Welchmen troopt in battell ray,
Who vainly vaunted on their chiualrie,
As in the sequell they did testifie:
Yet their example many did excite,
To moue rebellion to my heart’s despight.
45.
In Yorke-shire marquesse _Dorset_ with his crew,
Gainst me in field to fight were boldly bent,
In Deuonshire both the _Courtnies_ did pursue
Those that my cause did fauour, and in Kent
The _Guilfords_ were in armes for that intent:
Thus I in euery corner of this land,
Was round beset with force of foe-men’s hand.
46.
Yet from my youth in warre affaires being bred,
I knew that if in this conspiracie
I did without delay cut off the head,
The rest being stricken with timiditie,
Would soone be quell’d by force or pollicie:
Wherefore with all my power I did pursue
The duke of _Buckingham_ and his Welch crue.
47.
He towards Glocester his way did take,
There to haue ioyned with the westerne powre,
But as in safetie passage for to make,
He with his host by Seuerne’s coast did scowre,
Heau’ns cloudie mountaines brake, and many a showre
Through darksome aire, from heau’ns wide floud-gates fel,
Which made the wombe of raging Seuerne swel.
48.
The shores did shrinke, the lustie waues did grow,
Trees hid their heads, dumbe beasts on hilles were drown’d,
Infants in cradles wandred to and fro:
Yea those that of the floud stroue to win ground,
Both men and horse the waters did confound:
And to this day the Seuerne men by name,
Stout _Buckingham’s_ great water call the same.
49.
Thus the bold duke was of his purpose crost,
Who of my swift approch, when he did heare:
In good array did range his warlike host.
But they, before in field we did appeare,
Turning their backes put on the wings of feare,
Leading their duke the way, who thus distrest
Durst not abide, but fled amongst the rest.
50.
Who tooke himselfe in his vnhappie flight,
Vnto his seruant’s house vpon the way,
Hight _Humfrey Banester_, a wicked wight,
Who fosterd by this duke did yet betray
His lord and master, to his liue’s decay:
By him descri’d he in disguise was taken
In a darke wood, of all his friends forsaken.
51.
He dead, the rest of his conspiracie
Dispers’d their powers, and each one fled his way,
Some fled to _Richmond_, then in Britannie,
And others here in England lurking lay,
Expecting the approch of that wish’d day,
When _Richmond_ should on England’s coast arriue,
Mee of my crowne and kingdome to depriue.
52.
But I, not slacking opportunitie
In this beginning of my good successe,
Did studdie both by strength and policie,
_Richmond’s_ increasing powers to suppresse,
Although in vaine; for heauen, his cause did blesse:
The people’s loue did towards him incline,
Wishing in hart, that he might victor shine.
53.
To giue content vnto my carefull minde,
One _Peter Landois_, cheefe of Britannie
Vnder the duke, with gold I did so blinde,
That hee did promise mee by policie
To bring the earle into my custodie:
The Britaine duke his friend did only stand,
To whom my subiects dayly fled the land.
54.
This _Peter_ was th’earle’s onelie seeming frend,
And in pretence of loue, a warlike band
Of men at his owne cost he did commend
Vnto the earle, to be at his command,
When hee should purpose to inuade this land:
But when towards England hee was in his way,
His purpose was that they should him betray.
55.
The earle reseru’d vnto more happie fate,
Informed was of this false treacherie,
Wherefore t’escape their hands, that lay in wait,
To take away his life, he priuilie
Did into Aniou flie from Britannie,
To which as hee did flie in speedie hast
With greedie pursuit hee was follow’d fast.
56.
But in a thick wood standing by the way,
He in his seruant’s weedes himselfe did clad,
And caused him the master’s part to play,
While hee himselfe fast by his side full glad
On foote did runne like a young lustie lad,
Whereby at length hee past without mischance
The British confines to the realme of France.
57.
Thither stout _Oxford_, his old hate to show
Vnto our house of Yorke, repaire did make,
To ioyne with _Richmond_ my Lancastrian foe:
Then _Brandon_, _Blunt_ and _Cheynie_ did forsake
Me and my part, with _Richmond_ part to take,
Which newes my daylie dread doth so increase
That I no houre can liue in restfull peace.
58.
To whom I might giue trust, I did not know,
Since seeming friends from mee do daylie flie,
In court each one doth wish my ouerthrow,
In towne and citie euery one doth crie
Shame on my deedes of death and tyrannie:
Thus in my rule I liue belou’d of none,
Dreaded of many, hated of euerie one.
59.
To my distresse some comfort to applie,
And that I may remoue the onely thing,
On which earle _Richmond’s_ hopes doe most relie:
Now such strange mischiefe I doe set on wing,
That neuer age the like to light did bring:
Through blood to incest I intend to swim,
To breake the match betwixt my neece and him.
60.
For _Anne_ my queene, great _Warwicke’s_ daughter deere,
By poyson’s force I sent vnto the dead:
Which done, my troubled thoughts I vp did cheere,
In hope I might my brother’s daughter wed,
And bring her vnto mine incestuous bed:
Foule sinne I now do feare in no degree,
That I from feare of _Richmond_ may be free.
61.
Her mother queene (strange that it should bee so)
Wonne with faire words consents vnto the same:
Who forc’d by feare, or by distresse brought low,
In hope to raise her state againe (fond dame)
In vaine doth wooe her daughter in my name:
Which heau’n abhorring hastens on my end,
And by my death preuents what I pretend.
62.
The royall virgin doth so much detest
My damn’d intent that I no grace can finde,
And daily newes my thoughts doe so molest
With foes inuasion, that my troubled minde
Is altogether vnto care inclinde:
Gainst those abrode that doe intend t’inuade,
While I prepare, at home I am betrai’d.
63.
At Nottingham, where then in court I lay,
Inform’d I was, that th’hated enemie
Had taken land, at which in much dismaie,
Turning my feare to rage, at last I crie
For vengeance on my subiects treacherie,
And forc’d to trie my cause by bloodie blowes,
I mustred vp my men to meete my foes.
64.
When that I heard where _Richmond_ did ariue,
I did digest my bands in battel ray:
In ranke forth marcht my footemen fiue and fiue,
Who in that order kept the readie way,
That led directly where earle _Richmond_ lay:
Then wings of horsemen coasting euerie side,
Did vnto bloodie battell boldly ride.
65.
In midst of whom, vpon a tall white steede
Mounted I sat with cruell countenance,
Still crying out, march on, march on with speede:
And in this sort without incumberance,
To Lecester we forward did aduance:
Through which we past to Bosworthe’s ample plaine,
Where I did end my wreched life and reigne.
66.
And there vpon an hill, _Anne Beame_ by name,
I downe did pight my standerd, and fast by
My campe in martiall order I did frame:
_Richmond_ fast by vs on the plaine did lie,
Next morne the chance of battell for to trie:
For it was euening ere we could attaine
To meete each other vpon Bosworth plaine.
67.
The sad night’s cold forerunner Vesper faire,
Dispreades her golden lockes in easterne skie:
Then courts of guard are set with speciall care,
Lest that our foes aduantage to espie,
In ambuskado neere should lurking lie:
And euery one with hearts to heau’n did pray
To scape the horror of th’approching day.
68.
The heau’ns that in eternall booke do keepe
The register, for life or deathe’s decree,
By vision strange did shew to me in sleepe,
That next daie’s cheerefull light the last should be,
That in this world I euermore should see:
As in my tent, on bed I slumbring lie,
Horrid aspects appear’d vnto mine eye.
69.
I thought that all those murthered ghosts, whom I
By death had sent to their vntimely graue,
With balefull noise about my tent did crie,
And of the heau’ns with sad complaint did craue,
That they on guiltie wretch might vengeance haue:
To whom I thought the Iudge of heau’n gaue eare,
And gainst me gaue a iudgement full of feare.
70.
For loe, eftsoones, a thousand hellish hags
Leauing th’abode of their infernall cell,
Seasing on me, my hatefull bodie drags
From forth my bed into a place like hell,
Where feends did naught but bellow, howle and yell,
Who in sterne strife stood gainst each other bent,
Who should my hatefull bodie most torment.
71.
Tormented in such trance long did I lie,
Till extreame feare did rouze me where I lay,
And caus’d me from my naked bed to flie:
Alone within my tent I durst not stay,
This dreadfull dreame my soule did so affray:
When wakte I was from sleepe, I for a space
Thought I had been in some infernall place.
72.
About mine eares a buzzing feare still flew,
My fainting knees languish for want of might,
Vpon my bodie stands an icie dew:
My heart is dead within, and with affright
The haire vpon my head doth stand vpright:
Each limbe about me quaking, doth resemble
A riuer’s rush, that with the wind doth tremble.
73.
Thus with my guiltie soule’s sad torture torne,
The darke night’s dismall houres I past away,
But at cocke’s crow the message of the morne,
My feare I did conceale, lest men should say
Our foes approch my courage did dismay:
And as dire need did me thereto constraine,
My troopes of men I marshall’d on the plaine.
74.
Who with swift concurse fill’d the smothred ground,
And did enranke themselues in braue array,
The foreward with bold bowmen did abound,
Commixt with pikes to beare the violent sway,
When on our front the foe should giue th’assay,
And to their forme in fight good heed to take,
_Iohn_ duke of _Northfolke_ chieftaine I did make.
75.
After this vantguard I my selfe did goe,
And round about me chosen men of might
Did range themselues to shield me from the foe,
Our skirts were lin’d with horse, and fit for fight,
Each place was stuft with men in armes well dight:
In this array I troopt my armed traine,
To meete earle _Richmond_ on the equall plaine.
76.
Who wisely did his folke to fight instruct,
_Iohn_ earle of _Oxford_ did the vaward lead,
The right wing _Gilbert Talbot_ did conduct,
The left wing sir _Iohn Sauage_, one that fled
From me to _Richmond_ for to saue his head:
_Richmond_ himselfe with _Pembrooke_ that stout knight,
The middle ward did lead vnto the fight.
77.
As thus both hosts stood each in other’s sight,
Expecting when the trumpe, whose blast doth breed
Courage in men, would call them forth to fight,
Arm’d in bright steele vpon a stately steed,
From ranke to ranke I rode about with speed,
And fit for fight my souldiers hearts to make,
Hie, and with courage thus to them I spake.
78.
“Fellowes in armes, and my aduenturous friends,
Giue heedfull eare to that which I shall say:
Be valiant hearted, thinke vpon the ends
Of fight or flight, of triumph or decay,
Both which the battell doth propose this day,
Th’one of which doth bring eternall fame,
The other ignomie and dastard shame.
79.
O thinke vpon the matchlesse valiancie
Of our forefathers deeds in former daies,
And let vs counterchecke the memorie
Of their stout acts by that immortall praise,
To which our deeds our names this day may raise:
Yea, let vs thinke gainst whom we come to fight,
The thought of which might cowards harts excite.
80.
First with our foe-men’s captaine to begin,
A weake Welch milke-sop, one that I do know
Was nere before for fight in battle seene,
Not able of himselfe as guide to goe
In marshall discipline against his foe:
But backt by his consorts, a sort of slaues,
Against his will vs now in field he braues.
81.
And for his company, a sort they bee
Of rascall French and British runawaies,
People far more couragious for to flee,
Then stand in fight, whose faint hearts former daies
Could witnesse to our land and their dispraise:
Who doubtlesse now shall by your valours die,
Or else at least from battell wounded flie.
82.
That bearing wounds vnto their natiue home,
Their fellowes may be strucke with heartlesse dread,
Fearing in future times againe to come
Into our kingdome with bold banners spred,
Gainst souldiers that in England’s bounds are bred:
Then courage, friends, think on renowne and fame
For which we fight, let cowards flie with shame.
83.
And as for me, assure your selues this day
I will triumph by glorious victorie,
Or win a lasting name for liue’s decay:
Take then example by my valiancie,
And boldly fight against your enemie:
You for your wiues and goods, I for my crowne,
Both for our countrie’s good, all for renowne.
84.
Aduance them captaines, forward to the fight,
Draw forth your swords, each man addresse his sheeld,
Hence faint conceites, die thoughts of coward flight,
To heauen your hearts, to fight your valours yeeld:
Behold our foes do braue vs in the field,
Vpon them friends, the cause is yours and mine,
Saint _George_ and conquest on our helmes doth shine.”
85.
This said, the dreadfull trumpet loudlie blowes,
To bring them forward to the furious fight,
Then did the bowmen bend their stift string’d bowes;
The souldiers buckled on their helmets bright;
The bilmen shooke their bils, and euerie wight
Did proue his fatall weapon on the ground,
Ready prepar’d his foemen to confound.
86.
The archers drew, the fatall fight began,
Thick flew the shafts, many to death were done:
Which once being spent, close ioyn’d they man to man:
Then did sterne slaughter through the battell runne;
Not any one at first his foe did shunne:
But equallie their heads they vp did beare
In fight, not stooping vnto seruile feare.
87.
Stout _Norfolke_ in the forefront boldlie stood,
Imploying deeds of death against the foe;
Not fear’d, in midst of dust, of death and blood,
Th’extreamest of his vtmost strength to show,
To winne his soueraigne’s weale by his owne woe:
Where he, braue lord, by friends vnkindlie left,
In manlie fight was of his life bereft.
88.
For in my cheefest hope to winne the day,
Appointed by the heauen’s most iust decree,
My souldiers in the forefront shranke away,
Which heauie newes declared was to mee
By one that counsel’d mee away to flee:
But I his counsell rashly did forsake,
And vnto him in furie thus I spake:
89.
“Curst be thy coward thoughts that thinke on flight,
And curst those traytors that are fled away:
I am resolu’d in this daie’s dreadfull fight,
To lose my life, or win a glorious day:
Flie those that will, for I am bent to stay:”
This said, my plum’d deckt helme I downe did close,
And with my eager launce made toward my foes.
90.
Hie was the furie of my desperate fight,
And like a tempest in a stormie day,
When I did see vnto my heart’s despight,
Where _Richmond’s_ standard stood without delay:
Through th’armed men to it I made my way,
The which, with _William Brandon_ that bold knight,
To ground I downe did cast in _Richmond’s_ sight.
91.
Many beneath my conquering strokes did fall,
Each one did flie from me with coward shame,
But one whom sir _Iohn Cheynie_ men did call,
Who for huge swinge of strength did beare the name
Of all the captaines that with _Richmond_ came,
Who single did my charge at first repell,
Though in the end beneath my sword he fell.
92.
But as with him alone in fight I stood,
Behold with foes I was incircled round,
Who did imbrue their swords in my deare blood,
Where mastered with the smart of many a woond,
I bleeding fell vnto the dustie ground:
Where cursing _Richmond_ and his conquering crue,
Thence in disdainfull sort my sad soule flew.
93.
I being slaine, those that for me did fight,
Turning their backes, away forthwith did flie,
In field my slaughtered bodie in despight,
Drag’d from the place where it did bleeding lie,
Was naked made to euery vassals eye,
Despoil’d of all those kingly robes I wore:
Thus they to Leicester my bodie bore.
94.
Behind a slaue vpon a halting iade
All naked as I was, hog-like I lay:
And in that sort with blood and dust array’d,
To Leicester they bore me, whence that day
To field I came in pompe and rich aray:
Where to the graue my bodie they commend:
Thus had my bloodie life a bloodie end.
95.
Th’ambitious prince, whose hand vniustly gripes
Another’s right to make himselfe a king,
Suffers the smart of many furies stripes:
Th’internall worme his conscience still doth sting,
His soule t’a fearefull iudgement death doth bring:
Of which let my vsurped royaltie,
Remaine a Mirrour in this historie.
96.
My storie told, I may no longer stay,
My grieued ghost doth smell the morning’s aire:
The night on sable wings flies fast away,
The houres in east expecting daies repaire,
On cloudie hill sets vp her siluer chaire?
My guiltie ghost her light may not behold,
Adew, remember well what I haue told.
“Our night is at an end,” quoth Memorie,
“With which we heere will end our historie:
After this tyrant’s fall, that dismall night,
Which did obscure this kingdome’s faire day-light,
Did take an end: heere some auspitious star
Twixt _Yorke_ and _Lancaster_ did end the iar,
Appointing _Richmond_ that Lancastrian knight,
T’inoculate his _Red Rose_ with the _White_:
Heere therefore with this blissefull vnitie,
We will shut vp our tragicke historie,
And thou, whose pen we do appoint to write
Those Mirrours past, which thou hast heard this night;
Awake from sleepe, and let thy willing pen
Set forth this dreame vnto the view of men.”
This said, with fame she vanisht from my sight,
This was the vision of a winter’s night.
FINIS.
END OF PART IV.
[Illustration:
[THE
Mirrour for Magistrates,
AS]
ENGLANDS
ELIZA:
or
The Victoriovs and Trivmphant Reigne
_of that Virgin Empresse of_
sacred memorie,
_ELIZABETH_,
Queene of England, France and Ireland, &c.
PART V.
By RICHARD NICCOLS,
Oxon. Mag. Hall.
From the edition imprinted by Felix
Kyngston, 1610.
]
ENGLANDS
ELIZA:
OR
THE VICTORIOVS AND
TRIVMPHANT REIGNE OF THAT
VIRGIN EMPRESSE OF SACRED
memorie, ELIZABETH, Queene of
_England, France and Ireland,
&c._
[Illustration]
_AT LONDON_
Imprinted by FELIX KYNGSTON.
1610.
TO THE VERTVOVS _Ladie, the Ladie Elizabeth Clere_, Wife to the Right
Worshipfull Sir Francis Clere, Knight.
My muse, that whilome wail’d those Briton kings,
Who vnto her in vision did appeare,
Craues leaue to strengthen her night-weathered wings,
In the warm sun-shine of your golden _Clere_:
Where she (faire ladie) tuning her chast layes
Of England’s empresse to her hymnicke string,
For your affect, to heare that virgin’s praise,
Makes choice of your chast selfe to heare her sing:
Whose royall worth (true vertue’s paragon)
Heere made me dare t’ingraue your worthie name;
In hope, that vnto you the same alone
Will so excuse me of presumptuous blame,
That gracefull entertaine my muse may find,
And euer beare such grace in thankfull mind.
Your Ladiship’s euer humblie
at command,
RICHARD NICCOLS.
TO THE READER.
Gentle Reader, when I first writ this poem, I had thought for the
length therof to haue distinguished it by section into cantoes or
bookes; but since perswaded by the printer to publish it with this
worke: it being, though no fall, yet a worthie Mirrour answerable to
that of the empresse Helena in the first part of this volume: I present
it in one whole entire hymne, distinguishing it only by succession of
yeares, which I haue margented through the whole storie, and by an
analysis of euery chiefe exploit inserted in their proper places. For
my quotation of authors, I heere vse it not for singularitie, it being
a thing not customarie to writers in this kind, but to confirme the
truth of that which is written, as not being ignorant that I shall be
bitten by those mongrill English (I can terme them no other) that barke
at the maiestie of that most noble princesse, against whose railing,
an inseperable propertie to their profession, I only arme my selfe
with this confidence, that the fame of her royalties mounting aloft
like the sun verticall, shall in the height of all true borne English
estimation, abate the shadowes of their enuie. Farewell.
THE INDVCTION.
In that sad month, whose name at first begun
From Rome’s _Augustus_, great _Octauius_ son,
When heau’ns fierce dog, sterne Alhahor did rise
To bait the lion in th’Olympian skies;
Whose hot fier-breathing influence did cracke
Our thirstie grandame Terrae’s aged backe:
By wrathfull loue, thicke darted from the skie
The thunder shafts of pestilence did flie:
In top of heau’n he tooke his wreakfull stand
Ore that great towne vpon the northerne strand.
Of siluer Thamisis, vpon whose towres
Downe dropt his shafts, as thicke as winter’s showres,
Which daily did his indignation show
In euery place, dispersing worlds of woe:
Witnesse ye ghosts and spirits dolefull drerie,
Vntimely sent by troopes to Charon’s ferrie,
Leauing your limbes wrapt vp in sheets of clay,
As dustie reliques of your liues decay:
Yea, thou sweet genius of that ancient towne,
Thou ladie of great Albion’s chiefe renowne;
Of that sad time a witnesse maist thou bee,
When death did take so many sonnes from thee;
Whose funerall rites inconsolate alone,
When thou vnkindly left, didst kindly mone,
Who staid with thee, alas, to helpe thee mourne,
And fled not from thee, leauing thee forlorne?
Mongst whom, though I, strooke terror-sicke with dread
Of heau’n’s hot plague, was one that from thee fled:
Yet of thy sight I daily did partake,
Which of thy woes a partner did me make:
Not far from off that slimie southerne strand,
By which with Isis, Thames runnes hand in hand,
In that high mountaine countrie’s fruitfull soile,
That nere in fight of forren foes tooke foile,
Where those same famous stout men-mouing wood,
Against the Norman conqueror boldly stood,
Was my abode: when foule infection’s breath
In Troynouant imploy’d the workes of death.
There in this wofull time vpon a day,
So soone as Tython’s loue-lasse gan display
Her opall colours in her easterne throne;
It was my chance in walking all alone,
That ancient castle-crowned hill to scale,
Which proudly ouerlookes the lowly vale,
Where great _Elizae’s_ birth-blest palace stands,
Gainst which great Thames cast vp his golden sands.
There when I came, from thence I might descrie
The sweetest prospects, that the curious eie
Of any one did euer elsewhere see,
So pleasant at that time they seem’d to mee:
It is a choice selected plot of land,
In which this ayrie mount doth towring stand;
As if that nature’s cunning for the best,
Had choicely pickt it out from all the rest:
Beneath this loftie hill shot vp on high,
A pleasant parke impaled round doth lie,
In which the plaine so open lies to sight,
That on this hill oft times with great delight
That heau’nly queene, _Plantagenet’s_ great blood,
The faire _Elizae’s_ selfe hath often stood,
And seene the swift-foot dogs in eager chace
Pursue the gentle hinde from place to place.
From hence recalling my weake wandring eye,
I gan behold that kingly palace by,
Whose loftie towres built vp of ancient time
By worthie princes, to the stars do clime;
Proud, that so many a prince to do them grace,
Beneath their roofe had made their resting place.
Fast by this princely house, afront before
Thames gliding waues do wash the sandie shore,
Whose fruitfull streames with winding in and out,
Forcing their way through hollow lands about,
From th’occidentall with swift course do run,
Where Hesper bright brings vp the golden sun:
And on the siluer brest of this great lord
Of all the deepes, that Albion’s wombe doth hoard,
Downe from the easterne seas I might descrie
Many swift-winged barkes, that seem’d to flie,
Cutting their passage through the threatning waue,
That 'bout their sides in vaine did rore and raue;
With swelling sailes, not fearing sad mischance,
Each after other came in stately dance,
And nimblie capring on the purple waue,
With loftie foretops did the welkin braue,
Vntill they came vnto that stately place
Fam’d for the birth of great _Elizae’s_ grace:
To which they vail’d their towring tops before,
And from their sides the thundring cannons rore
Flew as a witnesse of their loyaltie
And loue vnto that house of maiestie;
From thence full fraught with many a precious prise
They sail’d along, whereas the passage lies
To Troynouant, whose pride of youthfull lust
The hand of death had smothered in the dust;
The smiling heau’ns, that with sweet sunshine howres
Did once vouchsafe t’adorne her hie topt towres,
Now with grim lookes, which did my heart appall,
Did seeme to threaten her approching fall:
Downe from their cloudie browes in threatning pride,
Death-darting pestilence did seeme to slide:
Grim-visag’d-like the grizly dreaded night,
In noysome fumes and mistie fogs bedight:
The aire once pure and thin, now wing’d with death
Grewe gloomie thick, being poyson’d by her breath,
In which, I thought, she took her horrid stand,
And with fierce look and stiff-bent bowe in hand,
She drew her shafts, impatient in her minde,
From forth her quiuer at her back behinde:
Then did I thinke vpon the shreekes and cries
Of dying soules, that did ascend the skies
By thousands sent vnto the gaping graue,
On whom no mercie pestilence would haue:
Yea then (thou glorie of great Albion)
Thy sad distresse I gan to thinke vpon,
Thy mournefull widowes groueling in sad swound
On their dead husbands, on the ashie ground,
Thy husbands striuing to preserue the breath
Of their deare spouse from vnrelenting death;
Thy orphans left poore, parentlesse, alone
The future time’s sad miserie to mone:
The thought of which, in that vnhappie season
With woefull passion did so maister reason,
That as I stood vpon that pleasant hill
To fancie sweet delight I had no will;
But seeking for some groue or gloomie wood,
Where I might feede my melancholie mood:
Vpon this hil’s south side at last I found
Fitting my thoughts a pleasing plot of ground;
It was to wit, that wel knowne happie shade,
Which for delight the royall Britaine maid
Did oft frequent, as former times can tell,
When her sweet soule in mortall mould did dwell:
It is a walke thicke set with manie a tree;
Whose arched bowes ore hed combined bee,
That nor the golden eye of heauen can peepe
Into that place, ne yet, when heauen doth weepe,
Can the thin drops of drizeling raine offend
Him, that for succour to that place doth wend.
Where, when alone I first did enter in,
And call to minde how that truth-shielding queene,
In former times the same did beautifie
With presence of her princelie maiestie;
O how the place did seeme to mourne to mee,
That she should thence for euer absent bee!
In this sad passion, which did still abound,
I sat me downe vpon the grassie ground,
Wishing that heau’n into my infant muse
That antique poet’s spirit would infuse,
Who, when in Thracian land hee did rehearse
Ianthee’s wofull end in tragick verse,
Did make men, birds, beasts, trees and rockes of stone
That virgin’s timelesse tragedie to mone:
For then I thought, that to that mournefull place,
I might haue sung my verse with lesse disgrace
To great _Elizae’s_ worth: for who doth bring
Her deeds to light, or who her worth doth singe?
O, did that Fairie Queene’s sweet singer liue,
That to the dead eternitie could giue,
Or if, that heauen by influence would infuse
His heauenlie spirit on mine earth-borne muse,
Her name ere this a mirror should haue been
Lim’d out in golden verse to th’eyes of men:
But my sad muse, though willing, yet too weak
In her rude rymes _Elizae’s_ worth to speak,
Must yeeld to those, whose muse can mount on high,
And with braue plumes can clime the loftie skie.
As thus I sat all sad vpon the greene
In contemplation of that royall queene,
And thinking, what a Mirrour she might be
Vnto all future time’s posteritie,
Inclining downe my hed, soft fingered sleepe
With pleasing touch throughout my limbes did creepe,
Who hauing seas’d vpon mee with strong hands,
Bound vp my thoughts in soporiferous bands,
And held mee captiue, while his seruant slie
A vision strange did vnto mee descrie:
For vp from Morpheus den a vision came,
Which were it sent in mightie Ioue’s own name,
Or by some other power, I wot not well:
But as I slept, I say, thus it befell:
As at that time in walking to and fro,
I 'bout this pleasant place alone did goe,
Each obiect of the same all suddenlie
Seemd strangelie metamorphiz’d to myne eye;
The Helliconian spring, that did proceed
From th’hoofe of Pegasus that heauenlie steed,
And those pure streames of virgin Castalie,
The place of Ioue’s nine daughters nurserie,
Did seeme to haue resign’d their proper place,
Transported thither to that land’s disgrace:
Where, as I thought, I heard an heauenlie sound,
Of which the place did euerie where redound:
Vnto the which as I attentiue stood,
Descending downe from out a neighbouring wood,
I might behold the sacred sisters nine,
Whether from heauen or other place diuine,
I am vncertaine; but their way they made
Where as I stood beneath the leauie shade:
Before them all a goodlie ladie came
In stately portance like Ioue’s braine-borne dame,
To wit, that virgin queene, the faire _Elize_,
That whilom was our England’s richest prize;
In princelie station with great Iunoe’s grace
(Me seem’d) she came in her maiesticke pace,
Grac’d with the lookes of daunting maiestie,
Mixt with the meekenesse of milde clemencie;
Such haue I seene her, when in princely state
She goddesse-like in chariot high hath sate,
When troopes of people with loud shouts and cries,
Haue sounded out their auies in the skies:
And rid each other in the present place
With great desire to see her heau’nly face:
Mongst whom she came, as if Aurora faire
Out of the east had newly made repaire,
Making a sun-like light with golden shine
Of her bright beauty in the gazer’s eine.
Approching neere the place where I did stand,
With gratious beckning of her princely hand,
She seem’d to call to me; but sillie I,
Daunted with presence of such maiestie,
Fell prostrate downe, debasht with reuerent shame
At sudden sight of so diuine a dame;
Till she with gentle speech thus mildely said:
“Stand vp,” quoth she, “and be no whit dismaid;
Let loyall loue and zeale to me inflame
Thy muse to sing the praises of my name;
And let not thoughts of want, of worth, and skill,
Impeach the purpose of thy forward quill;
For though thy homely stile and slender verse
Too humble seeme my praises to rehearse:
Yet to the world, that I a Mirrour bee
Amongst those many Mirrours writ by thee;
Feare neither bite of dogged _Theon’s_ tooth,
Nor soone-shot bolts of giddie headed youth;
For th’awfull power of my sole dreaded name,
Shall from thy verse auert all foule defame:
And lest in any point thou chance to faile,
Which may my name’s great glorie ought auaile;
Loe here the cheefest of the daughters nine
Of sacred Memorie and Ioue diuine,
Great Clioe’s selfe, in order shall rehearse
My storie to thee in her stately verse.”
This said, more swift then lightening from the skie,
She on the suddaine vanisht from mine eye
With all her nymphes, for none of all her traine
Excepting Clio did with mee remaine,
Who being the first borne childe of Memorie,
The ladie was of noble historie,
A peerelesse dame past al compare to sing
The deeds, that vertue vnto light doth bring:
In comelie garments, like some virgin maid
Of Dian’s troope, shee trimlie was arraid,
Saue goddesse-like her globe-like head around
With verdant wreath of sacred bay was crownd;
From which downe either side her comelie face,
Her golden lockes did flow with goodlie grace,
And in her hand a lute diuinelie strung
She held, to which oft times she sweetlie sung;
With this she sat her downe vpon the ground,
And with her fingers made the strings to sound,
Vnto the which her sweet voice she did frame
To sing the praises of _Elizae’s_ name.
Which hauing done, shee thus did silence break;
“Would God,” quoth shee, “her prayses I could speak,
Who claimes a greater power her praise to sound,
Then Phœbus self, if greater could be found:
Yet will I triall make with all my might,
With her great fame the golden starres to smite:
Which while I sing, heark thou with heedful eare,
And in thy mind the same hereafter beare:”
This said, she lightlie toucht each trembling string,
And with sweet voice did thus diuinelie sing.
ENGLAND’S ELIZA.
1.
When England’s Phœbus _Henrie’s_ hopefull sonne
The world’s rare Phœnix, princely _Edward_ hight,
To death did yeeld, his glasee of life outrun,
And Phœbus-like no more could lend his light:
Then men did walke in shades of darkesome night,
Whose feeble sight with errors blacke strooke blind,
Could in no place time’s faire _Fidessa_ find.
2.
That blind borne monster, truthe’s sterne opposite,
Begotten first in Demogorgon’s hall,
Twixt vglie Erebus and grizlie night,
The sonnes of truth did horriblie appall
With her approch, much dreaded of them all:
Who euer came in reach of her foule pawes,
She in their blood imbru’d her thirstie iawes.
3.
Witnesse may bee the manie a burning flame,
Made with the limbes of saints to mount on high,
Whose constant soules without the least exclaime,
In midst of death downe patientlie did lie,
And in bright flames did clime the clow’d-brow’d skie:
Yea, let _Elizae’s_ woes in that blind age,
A witnesse bee of bloodie error’s rage.
4.
Whose deepe distresse and dolefull miserie,
I not assay to sing, but leaue the same
To our deare sister sad Melpomene,
That she her sweet patheticke voice may frame
In dolefull dittie to condole the same:
I onely here in high heroick streine,
Do striue to sing of her triumphant reigne.
5.
Ioue looking downe, from his celestiall throne
With eies of pitie on poore England’s woes,
Did lend her helpe, when hope of helpe was none,
And in his mercy did his power oppose
Gainst error’s night-borne children, her cheife foes,
Who sought t’obscure with cloudes of enuious night,
Her Cynthia’s shine, the lampe of all her light.
6.
But he disperst those cloudes, and droue away
The lowring stormes, that ouercast our skie,
And made our glorious Cynthia to display
Her heauenlie shine, to giue them light thereby,
Who long before in darknesse bound did lie:
For she it was, who with her sweet repaire
From th’hearts of men did banish black despaire.
7.
Euen as that morning starre that doth display
Her golden tresses in th’orientall skie,
Brings happie tidings of approching day
To them, that long in bed do restlesse lie,
Expecting comfort from the sun’s bright eye:
So our _Eliza_ did blest tidings bring
Of ioy to those, whom sad distresse did sting.
8.
No sooner did this empire’s royall crowne
Begirt the temples of her princelie hed;
But that Ioue-borne Astrea straight came downe
From highest heauen againe, to which in dread
Of earth’s impietie before shee fled:
Well did shee know, _Elizae’s_ happie reigne
Would then renew the golden age againe.
9.
The heau’ns did smile on her with sweet delight,
And thundering Ioue did laugh her foes to scorne,
The god of warre did cease from bloodie fight,
And fruitfull plentie did her land adorne
With richest gifts, powr’d from her plenteous horne,
The happie seedes, which th’hands of peace did sow
In euerie place with goodlie fruit did grow.
10.
Deuouring Mulciber, whose flames before
With blood of holy men were heard to hisse,
Of England’s happie sonnes were seene no more:
But truth and mercie did each other kisse,
And brought sweet tidings of their heauenly blisse:
All which by powerfull loue haue granted been
For loue t’_Eliza_, Albion’s matchlesse queene.
11.
Matchlesse for all the gifts of heauenly grace,
For nature’s good and happie destinie,
All which, in one sole subiect hauing place,
If they a mortall wight may beautifie,
And giue a prince earth’s true felicitie,
She truly did enioy, while she did liue,
That _summum bonum_, which this life could giue.
12.
In th’happie horoscope of her sweet birth,
Both heauen and nature seemed to consent
With fortune’s selfe t’augment their fame on earth,
Each one in hope to perfect their intent,
By this queene virgin and her gouernment,
And 'mongst themselues, they seemed to contend,
Who should to her the greatest gifts extend.
13.
For when from _Annae’s_ wombe, she came to light,
Th’whole aggregate of heau’n from Ioue’s high throne,
Vnto the lowest orbe lookt blithe and bright,
And in the same, each constellation
Vnited was in sweet coniunction,
Powring their influence of felicitie
Vpon the virgin’s blest natiuitie.
14.
Nor can I tell the gifts of grace exact,
With which heau’n did enrich her royall mind,
Had I a brazen throat or voice infract,
A thousand tongues, and rarest words refin’d,
With vtterance swifter, then the swiftest winde;
Yet were they all too weake at large to tell
The gifts of grace, that in her soule did dwell.
15.
Her setled faith, fixt in the highest heau’n,
Remained firme vnto her liue’s last date,
Nor her vndanted spirit could be driuen
At any time one iot thereof t’abate
By Spaine’s sterne threats, and Rome’s pernitious hate,
The ankor of the same, her hope, aboue
Stood fixt vpon the promise of great Ioue.
16.
Her deeds of mercie, not in hope to merit,
Were true ostents of her fidelitie,
For which a name on earth she shall inherit
Which shall outliue the vading memorie
Of spiteful! Rome’s defaming forgerie;
For not alone did we her bountie know,
But forren shores the same likewise can show.
17.
Heau’n hauing dignifi’d her soule diuine,
With rarest gifts of goodly qualitie,
Dame nature’s selfe, as seeming to refine
The common mixture of mortalitie,
Into a matter of more puritie,
Made for her soule a mansion house so faire,
That few with it for beautie might compare.
18.
And though her beautie were exceeding rare,
Yet Rome’s Lucretia for a sober eie
So far renown’d, with her might not compare,
Nor the Greekes constant queene Penelope,
Might match this maiden queene for modestie:
For Phœbe’s selfe did want her gouernance
In modest gesture and chaste countenance.
19.
Thus heau’n and nature hauing shew’d their skill
In perfecting a creature so diuine,
Fortune, as loth so rare a worke to spill,
At our Great Britaine maid did not repine,
But did to her all happinesse assigne,
Whereby no prince on earth yet euer was,
That for rare gifts _Eliza_ did surpasse.
20.
Cease then, yee black-mouth’d brood of enuie’s race,
Men monsters like, or monsters like to men,
Whose tongues with scandall tipt, seeke to disgrace
Our royall soueraigne, Ioue’s anoynted queene,
Whose like in any age hath seldome been:
Cease vipers, cease I say, from your offence,
In spitting poyson at such excellence.
21.
Yet, if your English Romanized hearts,
Gainst nature’s custome swell with foule defame,
Brandish your stings, and cast your vtmost darts
Against the greatnesse of her glorious name,
Yet shall it liue to your eternall shame;
Yea, though Rome, Spaine, and hell it selfe repine,
Her fame on earth with sun-bright light shal shine.
22.
And while that we, the brood of Phœbus wit
In golden verse her deeds to light can bring,
On mount Parnassus, as we safely sit,
In such high straine her worth we all will sing,
That earth’s whole round of her great fame shall ring:
For endlesse praise to her well may we giue,
That did protect our cause, while she did liue.
23.
O, how the wreath of Phœbus flowring bay,
The victor’s due desert, and learning’s meed,
Did flourish in her time without decay!
Which to obtaine, each one did striue t’exceed
In high atchieuement of some glorious deed:
Though now, alas, such custome is forgot,
And loue of ease great Albion’s sonnes doth blot.
24.
Lull’d in the bosome of securitie,
Vpon th’ignoble bed of idle ease,
Foully defacing true nobilitie,
Few now do care, but how they best may please
The hungrie fancie of sweet loue’s disease,
That pitie ’tis so many a worthie wight,
Let’s honor flie for fancie’s fond delight.
25.
But wake, yee honor’d impes of noble race;
Rouze vp the dying sparkes of courage bold,
’Tis Clyo speakes to you, that she may place
Your lasting praises writ with lines of gold,
In flying fame’s great booke to be inrol’d,
Yea let your father’s late done deeds inflame
Your sleeping thoughts to gaine a glorious name:
26.
Who thought it not true honor’s glorious prize
By nimblie capring in a daintie dance,
To win th’affects of women’s wanton eies,
Ne yet did seeke their glorie to aduance
By only tilting with a rush-like lance,
But did in dreadfull death themselues oppose,
To winne renowne against _Elizae’s_ foes.
27.
How stoutly did they march in honor’s field,
In stately station like the sonnes of fame,
Led by renowne, who nere did let them yeeld,
Though drown’d in death in midst of martiall game,
Till by their deeds they gain’d a glorious name,
Whose valour still _Eliza_ did direct
Each where to beat downe wrong and right erect.
28.
[Sidenote: _An. Reg. 2._]
When England’s Scotland in distresse did stand,
Ambitious _Guise_ intending her decay,
England’s faire virgin lent her helping hand,
And soone did chace th’insulting French away,
That proudly did their ensignes there display:
For that braue lord great _Grey_ of Wilton hight,
Did force them thence by warre’s impulsiue might.
29.
[Sidenote: _An. Reg. 4._]
When France within it selfe diuided stood,
Th’aspiring _Guise_ in hostile furie bent
Against braue _Condie_, prince of royall blood,
Then our faire queene all danger to preuent,
Great _Warwicke_ ore the seas broad bosome sent,
Whose dreaded powers our Calice losse had quited,
Had heau’n not sicknesse through his host excited.
30.
[Sidenote: _Anno Reg. 9._]
When Ireland’s great _Oneale_, first that did moue
The Kernes and Gallowglasses, men of might,
Vnto their soueraigne to renounce their loue,
Hight _Henrie Sidnie_ that heroick knight,
Did oft times turne him to inglorious flight,
Till traytor-like mongst friends he found his fall,
Who hew’d his bodie into pieces small.
31.
[Sidenote: _An. Reg. 8._]
Nor heere renowned _Randol_ braue esquire
Can I forget to giue to thee thy right,
When with thine owne few troopes, whose hearts on fire
Thy valour set, thou put’st to shamefull flight
This _Shane Oneale_, and all his host in fight:
Where though thou fell in venturing past the rest,
Thy name shall liue in fame’s great booke exprest.
32.
[Sidenote: _An. Reg. 12._]
And heere at home, when in the north did rise
The louring stormes stirr’d vp by discontent
Of peace-disturbers, who did enterprize
By force of hand their soueraigne’s right to rent,
And take from her this kingdome’s gouernment,
Then stood vp many a loyall hearted peere,
To shield her safe from threatning foe-men’s feare.
33.
For well they knew, with right it could not stand,
That any one their soueraigne might displace,
And take the scepter from the prince’s hand:
The rule of many is absurd and base,
One prince must sit inthron’d in iustice place;
For many heads, what bodie euer bare,
That was not monster like and out of square?
34.
Which little did those iarring members know,
When with their banner of the fiue wounds spread,
And holy-seeming crosse, a fained show
Of their vngodly zeale, they first made head
At Durham’s towne against their soueraigne dread,
Where their first outrage men did vnderstand,
In tearing th’holy writs of God’s owne hand.
35.
Gainst whom, these great _Heroes_ vp did stand,
Renowned _Sussex_, th’eldest sonne of fame,
Great _Warwicke_, _Rutland_, and stout _Cumberland_,
Bold _Deuorax_, _Howard_ lord of Effingham,
Braue lord of Perham _Willowby_ by name,
_Scroope_, _Euers_, _Knoles_, all men of famous might,
From whom their foes to Scotland tooke their fight.
36.
[Sidenote: _L._[eonard] _D._[acre]]
And thou braue _Hunsdon_ borne of prince’s blood,
Though last in place yet not the least in name,
When a disloyall lord vndaunted stood,
To bid thee battell, to thy endlesse fame,
Thou mad’st him flie the bounded field with shame:
’Gainst whom with thy few troopes, thou didst aduance
And authoriz’d high seruice with thy lance.
37.
Vpon the bankes, where siluer Chelt doth glide,
With his three thousand men in armes well dight,
He stoutly stood and did thy charge abide,
Gainst whom with fifteene hundred thou didst fight,
And forc’d him yeeld vnto thy powerfull might:
For heartlesse from the field away he fled
To Scotland by, to hide his shamefull hed.
38.
And as the lordly lion, king of beasts,
When he by chance hath lost his wished prey,
Runs roring through the wood, and neuer rests
Till he haue truly tract the readie way,
Where he may follow his escaped prey:
So noble _Hunsdon_ with his conquering crew,
His flying foe to Scotland did pursue.
39.
[Sidenote: _Anno eodem_ 12.]
With that stout sonne of Mars, great _Sussex_ bent,
T’inferre reuenge vpon the borderers by
For misdemeanor done, much time he spent
In making hostile spoile on th’enemie,
That sought to succour rebels treacherie:
Which done, loden with honor and rich spoile,
They made returne vnto their natiue soile.
40.
Thus did these lords to their faire virgin queene,
Returne with glorie got from euery place,
Though at her greatnesse with malignant spleene,
Many leaud sonnes of enuie’s hellish race,
Did much repine, and sought her name’s disgrace:
For spitefull enuie neuer doth repine,
But where true vertue’s glorie most doth shine.
41.
Downe in the deepes of earth’s profunditie
Her dwelling is in dungeons darksome blind,
Where she nere sees the bright sunne’s cheerefull eie,
Ne comfort of the wholesome aire doth finde,
Tost to and fro by gentle breathing winde;
But with the furies of the Stygian flood,
Sits low in hell in hate of humane good.
42.
The restlesse griefe, which carking care doth breed,
Her thoughts with endlesse torment doth oppresse,
Her woes of other’s welfare do proceed,
Ne euer is she seene to laugh, vnlesse
At lucklesse hap of other’s ill successe;
For other’s happinesse her woe doth bring,
And all her ill from other’s good doth spring.
43.
To this foule helhound from that blood built towne,
Which Tybur’s siluer armes doe round imbrace,
Blind error came, where truth was troden downe,
Since bloodie _Phocas_ to the world’s disgrace,
Did seat the first false priest in _Cæsar’s_ place;
And thence did error take her speedie flight
To enuie’s caue to worke the world despight.
44.
Where when she came before the hags foule sight,
_Elizae’s_ glorie she did oft propose,
And more to whet her forward to despight,
She shew’d how truth and loue their two chiefe foes,
On that faire virgin only did repose,
Which enuie’s malice did so much augment,
That she throughout the world with error went.
45.
Blinde error bore foule enuie on her backe,
And ouer many kingdoms tooke their flight,
Where enuie’s poison mixt with errors blacke,
In scalding drops, as they did flie, did light
Vpon the limbes of many a wretched wight,
Which through their veins diffus’d did swiftly run,
Choaking that loue, that in their hearts did won.
46.
At length to Rome with error, enuie came,
Where gorg’d with fulnesse of excessiue feast,
Finding proud _Pius_, fift of that false name,
Laid on soft couch his heauie head to rest,
She laid her scuruie fist vpon his brest,
And from his feet, euen to his sleepie head,
She made her poison canker-like to spread.
47.
And with more malice to augment his hate,
She did propose vnto his enuious eye,
Th’admired glorie of _Elizae’s_ state,
And his lost priuiledge and dignitie
In this her kingdome of great Britanie;
Which did so vex great _Pius_, that on nought,
But mischiefe gainst our queene thenceforth he thought.
48.
His threatning bull, whose rore in ages past,
The superstitious world did terrifie,
Amongst _Elizae’s_ subiects he did cast,
Thereby to alienate their loyaltie,
And dutie vow’d to her soueraigntie;
Yea pardon in it he did denounce to all,
That from our queene their dutie would recall.
49.
[Sidenote: _An. Reg. 12._]
Which bull, fond _Felton_, thy vnhappie hand
Did fixe vpon that prelate’s palace gate,
Which doth by Paule’s high towering temple stand;
Where thou didst iustly meete thy wretched fate,
The meed that traytors steps doth still await;
Nor could that priest remit thy foule offence,
Though with large sinne his bull did then dispence.
50.
And though he did denounce both pardon and curse,
Yet by the one small comfort didst thou find,
Ne yet was England’s happie state the worse;
But as in gloomie caues and corners blinde,
The sun’s bright blazing beames most cleare we finde;
So did the virgin’s glorie shine most brim,
When her proud foes did seeke the same to dim.
51.
[Sidenote: _An. Reg. 15._]
[Sidenote: _Walter Deu_, Earle of Essex.]
For hereupon, when with rebellious sword,
Those stout strength-breathing Irish vp did stand,
Renowned _Deuorax_ vicount Hereford,
That most illustrate lord of high command,
No sooner did approch with powerfull hand,
But that the rebels daunted with his name,
Armes laid aside, in humble manner came.
52.
_Brian Mac-Phelin_, that much scath had done,
With _Ferdorough Macgillastick_, that bold knight,
By some surnam’d the blind Scot’s valiant sonne,
With _Odonel_, _Roze_, _Oge_ and _Macknel_ hight,
Did yeeld themselues to famous _Deuorax_ might,
Which shewes, that he of heau’n beloued was,
That without blood could bring such things to passe.
53.
[Sidenote: _Anno Reg. 18, 19, 20._]
And heau’n, the more to blesse our happie queene,
After this Romish buls loud bellowing rore,
Three times the famous _Frobisher_ was seene,
In winged barkes full fraught with golden ore,
Dancing ore Neptune’s backe to England’s shore:
For _Iason_-like to his eternall fame,
Thrice from Catay with golden fleece he came.
54.
[Sidenote: _An. Reg. 21._]
To adde more fame to this for future time,
Great _Drake_ to quell their pride that had set downe,
Their _ne plus vltra_ in the farthest clime
By seas, sands, rocks and many a sea-sieg’d towne,
Did compasse earth in spight of Neptune’s frowne:
For which his name with fame for aye is crown’d,
Whose barke still sailes about the world’s whole round.
55.
[Sidenote: _Anne Reg. 11, 15, 21._]
And thee braue _Holstock_ may I not forget,
Whose conquering sword on Neptune’s high command
_Elizae’s_ haplesse foes hath often met,
And brought them captiue with victorious hand,
Rich fraught with spoile to _Albion’s_ rockie strand,
Whereby the greatnesse of _Elizae’s_ name
A terror both by land and seas became.
56.
O what a princely charge did she maintaine
Of men, munition and artillirie
In flying castles on the purple maine,
Which on the clowds of Thetis liquid skie,
Seeming to frisk about for iollitie,
Stood like safe centinels 'bout England’s shore
Making seas tremble at their cannons rore.
57.
Thus did the heau’ns showre downe felicitie
In ample manner on _Elizae’s_ state,
At which Rome’s holie sire did still enuie,
Who failing in our English home-bred bate,
In foraine shoares shew’d his malignant hate:
For by false _Desmond’s_ meanes he made great show
Gainst our _Elizae’s_ weale to worke much woe.
58.
[Sidenote: _Anno Reg. 22._]
But heau’n did soone oppose against his might
Th’heroick spirit, that burned in the hart
Of noble _Grey_ of _Wilton_, that bold knight,
Who vnto wounds did challenge th’aduerse part
In manie a field, who hauing felt the smart
Of his keene sword, the stoutest hid his hed,
And from his furie to the wilde woods fled.
59.
And when th’Iberian troopes did there display
Rome’s ensigne, in that castle hight Del Ore,
In _Desmond’s_ cause against our queene, great _Grey_
Did thunder gainst their walls with cannons rore,
Ne would from fierce assault desist before
Vnto his furie passage he had made
In Spanish blood to bathe his conquering blade.
60.
Thus all his plots still failing in th’euent,
Preuented by heau’n’s all foreseeing eye,
A thousand mischiefes now he gan inuent,
Inuasion, outrage, murder, treacherie,
Sounding the depths of all iniquitie;
For all blacke deedes his vice-blackt thoughts could find,
He turn’d and return’d in his vengefull minde.
61.
Vpon his furrowed front, the signes of ire,
Furie and rage, did sit like lowring night,
And both his burning eyes like glowing fire
Beneath his bended browes did sparkle bright,
As irefull lightnings of his heart’s despight,
Yea nought could mollifie his raging teene,
But blood and vengeance gainst our royall queene.
62.
Amongst his holie sonnes he cald a quest,
Whose counsell to his mischiefe might giue way,
And to his raging thoughts at length giue rest,
Setting his wrath on wing against that day,
Wherein he purpos’d England’s swift decay;
For by them all in counsell ’twas decreed,
England should fall, _Elizae’s_ hart should bleed.
63.
The time was set by stratagems deuise,
And force of hands to worke their wicked hate,
The persons chosen for that enterprise,
All bent to tread downe England’s happie state
Beneath the feete of some disaster sate,
Bosting abroad before the deed was done,
By their firme valor, what rich prize was wone.
64.
The conquerd nations of the Indian soyle,
At whose huge wealth the world is made to wonder,
Their mother’s wombe were forced to dispoyle,
And rudely rend her golden ribs in sunder,
Thereby to set on wing warre’s roring thunder:
For souldiers thoughts on golden wings flie far,
And earth’s rich spoiles are sinewes of the war.
65.
Manie tall pines were leueld with the plaine
By the confederates of the Latin shore,
Being taught to flie vpon the purple maine
By force of winde and strength of sable oare,
That on the solid ground stood firme before,
Whose hugenesse mightie mountaines did resemble,
Making the monsters of the deepe to tremble.
66.
The famous artizans, that by their art
Do imitate the thunder of the skie,
And digging downe into the earth’s black hart,
With that salt humor, that doth hidden lie,
Into the ayre make fierie lightnings flie,
Were all imploy’d by Spaine’s supreme command
To hurle their thunder gainst our sea-sieg’d land.
67.
All warre habiliments they did prepare
To set sterne Mars vpon his conquering feete,
Their farre-fetcht Indian gold they did not spare,
That nothing might be wanting, that was meet
To furnish out their most vnconquered fleet;
Before all which was consummate and done,
Bright Phœbus oft his yearely race had runne.
68.
Meane time Rome’s dragon rousde his bloodie crest,
And wau’d his wings, from whence that rabble rout,
That hell-hatch’d brood, who, fed on error’s brest
And suck’d her poysonous dugs, came crawling out
As was their woont, to flie the world about:
For those he hatch’d beneath his shadie wings,
T’imploy ’gainst potentates and mightiest kings.
69.
[Sidenote: _Anno Reg. 23._]
Manie of these to England’s shores he sent,
All diuerslie attir’d in strange array,
Closely thereby to worke his foule intent,
And by their presence to prepare a way
Against the enterprize of that great day;
In which Spaine’s potent fleete the world’s great wonder,
With hidious horror should gainst vs enthunder.
70.
Most of the which (O that time’s swan-white wings
Could sweepe away record of such foule shame)
Where home-borne impes, vntimely shot vp, springs
Of Britaine brood, Britaine’s alone by name,
By nature monsters borne of foule defame,
That sought the ruine, shame, decay and death
Of their deare dam, from whom they took their breath.
71.
Vnkindly impes, euen from your birth accurst,
Detested stock of viper’s bloodie brood,
That sought to satisfie your burning thirst
By drinking vp your dying mother’s blood,
Making her death your life, her hurt your good;
Your deeds are sunke to Plutoe’s darksome den,
Shame is your portion mongst the sonnes of men.
72.
Mee seemes, I see them walk about the brim
Of black Styx dangerous flood, where Dis doth wonne,
Prince of dead night and darknesse gloomie grim,
Howling for passage, where deep Styx doth run,
Although in vaine, their funerall rites not done:
For hatefull fowles of heau’n being their best graue,
No passage to Elyzium can they haue.
73.
Alas, how error, enuie and despaire
Did troope them vp to leade them on the way,
Error orecast their skie, darkened their ayre,
Obscur’d their sight, then enuie did assay
To make them seeke truth’s ruine and decay;
Which hauing faild, despaire to them did bring
Confusion, shame, and conscience griping sting.
74.
In fatall barkes fast flying ore the maine,
They daylie came with doctrine seeming sound,
In which as meritorious they maintaine
The bloodie hand that should his prince confound,
If good thereby to holy church redoun’d,
Aboue all whom the self-conceited _Campian_
Past all compare, was reckn’d Rome’s arch champian.
75.
This English Romane wretch with manie more
Did spred themselues disguis’d about the land,
Seducing daylie both the rich and poore
Against their prince to lift rebellious hand,
Renouncing as vniust her dread command,
And ’gainst the time appointed to prouide
With forren force to set vp Romane pride.
76.
And then with dread and horror to dismay
Their wauering thoughts, they set before their eyes
The generall slaughter of that dismall day,
When Spaine’s black fleet on Neptune’s liquid skies
Should woefull England suddenlie surprise;
Wishing them craue the pope’s protection
T’escape such horror and confusion.
77.
But as the wolfe disguis’d with fleecie skin
Of sillie sheep, the shepheard long did blinde,
And 'mongst the flock thereby did credit win,
Till he at length, did by his bloodie minde
Bewray himselfe to be a wolfe by kinde:
So they, though making manie saint-like showes
Did by their deeds themselues at length disclose.
78.
With shamefull death, their shamefull liues took end,
Leaning on earth for signes of infamie
Their totter’d carcases, to which no friend
At anie time, could giue due obsequie,
Or scarse bewaile their woefull destinie;
But left they were for prey, both daies and nights
To black night rauens and to hungrie kites.
79.
[Sidenote: _Anno Reg. 24._]
Which might haue been a terror vnto those,
That after sought the faire _Elizae’s_ fall,
And in their harts did wickedlie suppose
To England’s bounds againe back to recall
The popish pride and Romane slauish thrall:
But after this did manie vndergoe
Dire death and shame, to worke _Elizae’s_ woe.
80.
[Sidenote: _Anno Reg. 26._]
First furious _Sommeruile_, that posting came
With his owne hands to act his soueraigne’s death,
Preuented in the way, to shun such shame
As might ensue, did stop his owne deare breath,
Thinking the same a far more glorious death;
But simple man with far more shame thereby,
Thy trembling ghost vnto the dead did flie.
81.
[Sidenote: _An. eodem._ _F._[rancis] _T_[hrogmorton]]
The next, whose shame no time away shall sweepe,
Was he, who by the helpe of traytor’s hand,
Searching the mighty Neptune’s waterie deepe,
Vs’d all his art and skill to vnderstand
The depth of euery hauen in this land;
Thereby to giue safe conduct to the foe,
And bring them in to worke his countrie’s woe.
82.
He went to that great God’s dread kingdome’s bounds,
Who often chargeth on the clouds in skie,
Who cuffes the seas, who by his power confounds
High hils and mountaines, who doth terrifie
Euen the sad ghosts of Plutoe’s emperie;
He went to know what winde the fleet should wing,
That should confusion vnto England bring.
83.
O, vnremorsefull man! O, wretched wight!
Shame to thy selfe and thy posteritie,
Nor friends nor countrie’s good, to whom of right
Thy care was due, nor loue of loyaltie
To thy dread queene thy heart might mollifie,
But wing’d with mischiefe, hauing once begun,
Thou to vntimely death didst head-long run.
84.
[Sidenote: _An. eodem._]
Whose wretched steps, in that same fatall way
That leads to house of death, loe many more
Had follow’d fast in giuing like assay,
Had not our queene, whose virgin bosome bore
A melting heart admir’d for mercie store,
In pitie far excell’d th’impietie
Of their false treason ’gainst her maiestie.
85.
[Sidenote: Read the certificat of the prince’s mercie written by their
owne hands. _Ralph Hol._ p. 1413.]
Out of her bountious grace and princely mind,
She gaue them passage at her owne expence,
Seidome on earth such mercie shall we find,
For which strooke blind with shame of their offence,
Against a person of such excellence,
They sent their owne hand writs to testifie
This worthie deed to all posteritie.
86.
[Sidenote: _An. Reg. 27._]
Yet that vngratefull man, to whom before
Iustly conuicted for foule felonie,
Renown’d _Eliza_ did lost life restore,
Sought to enact a bloodie tragedie
Vpon the person of her maiestie,
To wit that boaster who did beare the name
Of doctor _Parrie_ to increase his fame.
87.
The Babylonian bawd, whose strumpet-breath
Giues life to treason, did with him conspire
To end their vengeance in the virgin’s death;
And lest his heart should faile and he retire
From his intent, to wing him with desire,
His soule from sin, from death, and hell was freed,
With impious hands to act this tragicke deed.
88.
The foolish man with resolution came,
As sent from heau’n, yet did it nought auaile:
For getting licence to this royall dame
With her to talke alone, his heart did faile,
Her lookes alone his height of sprite did quaile;
For daunted with her sight, he did repent,
And closely sought to colour his intent.
89.
He did declare to her, how he had taken
A solemne oath to take her life away,
And how her soueraigntie he had forsaken,
The Romish beast as supreame head t’obay,
Who by his hands expected her decay,
To which, he said, he did but seeme t’agree,
That so it might by him detected bee.
90.
The royall virgin, when as she did heare
The wicked purpose of her treacherous foe,
To shew how little she the same did feare,
Pardon’d him in secret, that no peere might know
His leaud intent, and so might worke him woe:
O height of princely spirit, past humane sence!
O mercie past compare, for such offence!
91.
Yet this false wretch, in whose obdurate heart
No loyall loue did dwell, persisted still
In his blacke treason, and did vse all art
Oft times with dagger, dag or any ill,
T’effect the purpose of his bloodie will:
Which once being brought to light for such offence,
His grudging ghost with shame was posted hence.
92.
Thus Rome’s blood-thirsting wolues with cruell pawes,
Sought daily to deuoure our virgin lambe,
And plunge poore England in death’s yawning iawes,
Hiding for aye the glorie of her name,
Rakte vp in cinders of a ruthlesse flame:
Thereby t’extinguish that celestiall light,
Which Rome’s red dragon did so sore affright.
93.
They knew for certaine, while our glorious lampe,
Our maiden queene did liue to lend vs light,
She would disperse foule errors dismall dampe,
Which suffocates the soule, and choakes the sight
With fearefull shadowes of eternall night;
Yea much they fear’d pure truth’s true light diuine,
Which then in forren shores began to shine.
94.
The sea-diuided seuenteene lands great nation,
The Belgick borderers by the bankes of Rheine,
Cast off Rome’s yoke, and left their blind deuotion,
With one consent beginning to incline
Vnto a truth more perfect, more diuine;
Which they with martyr’d blood did long maintaine,
Gainst th’inquisition of Rome-wronged Spaine.
95.
But at the last, when with warre’s dreadfull thunder,
_Don Iohn_ of Austria and his warlike band,
Began to shake the Belgicke state in sunder,
To tyrannize and bring them with strong hand
Beneath the yoke of _Philip’s_ sterne command,
The great _Eliza_ they did humblie craue,
Their Belgick state from hostile spoile to saue.
96.
The Briton maid, remorsefull of their woes,
In their defence did lift her royall hand,
Against the threats of their inuading foes,
And sent in safe conduct a warlike band,
With fame-grac’d _Norrice_ to the Belgicke strand;
Which with his valiant crew he did maintaine,
Against the incursions of the power of Spaine.
97.
[Sidenote: _An. eodem._ _Drake’s_ voyage to Carthagena and Domingo.]
Meane time th’ vndaunted _Drake_ no time did sleepe,
Vpon the maine king _Philip’s_ powers to sease,
Who thought himselfe the Neptune of the deepe;
But of such yoke, the sea-gods sonnes to ease,
_Drake_ tooke from him the scepter of the seas,
And put the same in his faire soueraigne’s hand,
Teaching the deepe to know her milde command.
98.
Her winged barkes, like sea-nymphes in their flight,
The aged sea-god’s daughter safely bore,
Whose nimble dance the deepe did so delight,
That 'bout their bosomes sweeping by the shore
The siluer waues did play with wanton rore,
Thinking themselues releas’d from yoke of Spaine,
Whose gold-heap’d mountaines did oppresse the maine.
99.
With these vpon the seas, the noble _Drake_
Did saile as lord of th’ocean emperie,
At whose dread name th’Iberians hearts did quake,
Who left the rule of Neptune’s moistned skie
To _Drake’s_ command, and to the shores did flie,
Whom now for ancient wrongs done long before,
He with swift vengeance follow’d to the shore.
100.
Braue _Carlile_, _Winter_, _Frobisher_ and _Knoles_,
With many more of Neptune’s noble race,
Made peopled cities place for beasts and fowles,
Burnt bowers, sackt towers, raz’d townes before the face
Of their base foes, who fled with foule disgrace,
Leauing wife, children, gold and goods for pray,
By stranger people to be borne away.
101.
Foure townes in this their voyage they did foile,
First did Saint Iago by their power decline,
That done, then Saint Domingo did they spoile,
Next towring Carthagena, and in fine
In Terra Florida, Saint Augustine:
Thus fortune with rich spoile their deeds did crowne,
And home they came with glorie and renowne.
102.
And while these valiant men, true sonnes of fame,
In forren shores our foe-mens force did quell,
And by their deeds made knowne _Elizae’s_ name,
The stif-neckt Irish proudly did rebell,
Whose hearts with stubborne pride did euer swell:
But noble _Bingham_, that illustrate knight,
Did bring them downe and tame their towring might.
103.
[Sidenote: _An. Reg. 28._ Taken from a note confirmed vnder the hands
of diuers gentlemen imployed in this action.]
When that false traytor, _Mahowne Obrian_
To Rome’s proud strumpet bound his loue to show,
In Thomond with rebellious hand began,
To stirre vp strife, and worke his countrie’s woe,
In hope to haue been backt by forren foe,
In warre affaires this _Bingham_ far renown’d,
In castle Clanowen did him confound.
104.
And when the _Burkes_, who did false rumours noise
Of wrong intended gainst their countries good,
With _Clangibbons_, with _Clandonnels_ and _Ioyes_,
Themselues in armes did bound and proudly stood
On daring tearmes in field to spend their blood,
Renowned _Bingham_ with his valiant crew,
Did them through woods from caue to caue pursue.
105.
And when the Redshankes on the borders by
Incursions made, and rang’d in battell stood
To beare his charge, from field he made them flie,
Where fishie Moine did blush with crimson blood
Of thousand foes, that perisht in the flood,
For which braue _Bingham_ crown’d with endlesse fame,
Enioyes on earth a neuer dying name.
106.
[Sidenote: _Sixtus Quintus_ Pope.]
[Sidenote: Earle of Leic.]
Although these ciuill warres of home-bred hate,
First hatcht at Rome by England’ ancient foe,
Did much disturbe _Elizae’s_ blessed state,
Yet did the royall virgin not forgoe
Th’afflicted Belgians drencht in depth of woe:
But to support them gainst all foes annoy,
For that designe, she _Dudley_ did employ.
107.
[Sidenote: _Anno eodem 28._]
Who, Iason-like to Colchos iland bound
To fetch the golden fleece by force of hand,
With many great Heroes far renown’d,
Past with triumphant sailes ore seas and sand,
From England’s shores vnto the Belgicke strand,
Where after all their high atchieuements done,
Their fleece was fame, their gold was glorie won.
108.
O, noble virgin! O, victorious dame,
England’s Bellona, nurse of chiualrie!
What age brought forth so many sonnes of fame,
In all the world’s thrice-changed monarchie,
As in the time of thy great emperie?
Whose deeds from England’s bounds did beare thy name,
As far as Phœbus spreads his golden flame.
109.
Who now arriuing on the Belgian coast
With fatall steele did deepe ingraue thy name,
Vpon the proudest crests in that great host
That with the valiant prince of Parma came,
Enacting wonders for immortall fame;
Witnesse those famous deeds by Zutphen done,
Where many high exploits were vndergone.
110.
[Sidenote: Recorded at large by _I. Stow_, in his Ann. pag. 1233, taken
out of _H. Archer_.]
When both the aduerse powres afront did meet,
Although the foe farre more in number were;
Yet did our men with Mars swift-winged feet,
Charge on their troopes, whose hearts strooke dead with feare,
Vnable to resist, they backe did beare,
T’whom valiant _Audlie_ in their faint recoyle,
With his foot-bands alone did giue the foyle.
111.
Then th’Albanois vnto the rescue came
With their horse troopes, amongst whom stout _Norris_ went,
And boldly singl’d out a man of fame,
Gainst whom his pistoll with full charge he bent
To act his fall; but failing in th’euent,
His foe-man’s head he with the same did greet,
And made him fall at his victorious feet.
112.
[Sidenote: Lo. _Will._ of Eresbeie.]
Next noble _Willoughby_ with lance in rest,
Arm’d like the god of warre on winged horse,
Met captaine _George_, opposing brest to brest,
Whom from his steed halfe dead with furious force,
He downe did beare in his winde-winged course,
Who falling said: “I yeeld me to thy might, [Sidenote: This he
In that I see thou art a seemely knight.” spake in French.]
113.
[Sidenote: _Rob._ Earle of Essex.]
Then noble _Deuorax_, Mars his yongest sonne,
Chear’d vp his troope, “Fellowes in armes,” quoth he,
“The honorable prease let vs not shunne,
Ne with the dread of death dismaied be,
But for your countrie’s glorie follow me:”
Which said, he fiercely charg’d on th’enemie,
And shew’d high proofe of his stout valiancie.
114.
[Sidenote: Sir _William Russell_.]
To second him, _Russell_ that martiall knight,
Like feathered shaft sent from a stiffe-bent bow,
Or boysterous Boreas in his nimble flight,
With weightie lance did charge vpon the foe,
And horse and man to ground did ouerthrow,
Who with affright did from his furie runne,
As braying goats the king of beasts doth shunne.
115.
Amongst them all, that impe of honor’s bed,
That worthie of the world, that hardie knight,
The noble _Sidnie_ to aduentures led
With glory-thirsting zeale in death’s despight
Vpon his foes himselfe did noblie quight:
For in one skirmish with high valiancie,
Thrice did he charge vpon the enemie.
116.
But cursed fortune, foe to famous men,
Beholding _Sidnie’s_ deeds with enuious eie,
Turning her malice into raging teene,
With deadly shot did wound him on the thigh,
Which from a foe-man’s fatall peece did flie:
Whose timelesse end, if time did serue thereto,
I should bewaile in lines of lasting woe.
117.
Many more sonnes of Mars his noble race,
In this daie’s fight great fame with perill wonne,
Yea many high exploits each breathing space,
By many a worthie wight were vndergone;
Mongst whom that deed with resolution done,
By valiant _Williams_, and the Belgian _Skinke_,
Downe to obliuion’s den shall neuer sinke.
118.
[Sidenote: _Anno eodem 28._]
[Sidenote: _H. Archer_, Author.]
For when that well wall’d towne, which Venlo hight,
Was round about begirted by the foe,
Huge spirit and high conceit did so excite
Stout _Williams’_ mightie mind, to vndergoe
Some great attempt, that he full bent to show
Proofe of his valour by some famous act,
With hardie _Skinke_ this wonder did enact:
119.
When grizly night her iron carre had driuen
From her darke mansion house, that hidden lies
In Plutoe’s kingdome, to the top of heau’n,
And with black cloake of clouds muffling the skies,
With sable wings shut vp all wakefull eies,
Obscur’d with darknesse grim they both did go,
To act this stratagem vpon the foe:
120.
Husht were the winds, the aire all silent was,
Sad was the night, in skies appear’d no starre;
Yet through darke horror dreadlesse did they passe,
And listning vnto euery breach of aire,
With stealing steps this dangerous worke did dare,
Whom at the length the dark night’s shadie wing,
Into the foe-men’s campe did closely bring.
121.
Where, when they came, the vtmost watch they found
Vpon the ground all carelessely dispread,
Who tir’d with toile, lay in deepe sleepe fast drown’d,
And as they slept, each one secure of dread,
His weapon had fast fixed at his head,
Mongst whom, like hungrie wolues on flockes vnkept,
Stout _Skinke_ and worthie _Williams_ boldly stept.
122.
Then death triumpht in slaughter of the slaine,
Soules strugling in the pangs of many a wound,
Departs in griefe and makes aire sigh againe,
Swords blusht with blood, grim horror did abound,
A crimson dew stood on the grassie ground;
Disorder, dread, death, noise and darknesse grim,
In blood and gore of slaughtred foes did swim.
123.
[Sidenote: The Prince of Parma.]
By the still watch and two strong courts of gard,
Through death, through blood and armes they boldly went,
Vntill they came, where horriblie they scar’d
The prince himselfe sweet sleeping in his tent,
Whom in their power they long’d to circumuent,
Where many a noble wight fast snoring drown’d,
In deepest sleepe with death they did confound.
124.
But as their swords they in their foes did sheath,
At last, through massacres, through shrikes and cries
Of sad soules groning in the pangs of death,
On euery side the startled foes did rise,
And shrikt out thicke alarmes to shun surprise,
Crying arme, arme, whereby appall’d with feare,
Th’whole host in sudden throngs all gathered were.
125.
Then fled the valiant _Skinke_, blacke death to shun,
But hardie _Williams_ in contention stood
With his great mind, if he more fame t’haue won,
Should stoutly stay, and hazard his owne good,
With slaughtering sword to shed more foe-men’s blood:
Whereby at length in depth of danger drown’d,
By armed foes, he was incircled round.
126.
But by aduantage of the gloomie night
Amongst the foe-men’s troopes, vnknowne he goes,
And cri’d: “Where’s _Williams_? where is _Williams_ hight?”
To whom againe one answer’d amongst the foes,
“Pursue, pursue with speed, before he goes:”
Thus cloudie night this worthie wight did saue,
Who shun’d his foes, and fled his darksome graue.
127.
These were the foster children of that nurse,
England’s Minerua, queene of glorie bright,
Who through the paths of warre their way did force,
In armes to get true honor’s meed by might,
And grace their name with title of true knight:
Which honor’d order only vertue’s meed,
Each one then purchas’d by some glorious deed.
128.
But while these captaines wedded to renowne,
True loyall subiects of a royall queene,
On Belgian shores their soueraigne’s head did crowne,
With conquering wreath of neuer vading greene,
In spight of spight for aye fresh to be seene,
Rome’s raging Python full of furious wrath,
Did once againe belch vp his poisoned froth.
129.
[Sidenote: _Anno eodem 28._]
Foureteene false traytors from darke treason’s den
He vp did call, foule elues of enuious night,
Rebels accurst, monsters abhorr’d of men,
Who for the black fleet now alreadie dight,
To passe th’vnfruitfull deepe with all her might,
Should make fit passage gainst that dreadfull day,
By their sweet prince and countrie’s swift decay.
130.
_Ballard_, first author in this villanie,
Sent from the triple-crowned sonne of night,
To put in practise this their treacherie,
Proud _Babington_ and _Sauage_ did excite,
With vnremorsefull hands of violent might,
To spoile and ruinate their countrie’s good,
And bathe their swords in their deare soueraigne’s blood.
131.
[Sidenote: _Babington_ made choice of the six.]
Six resolute and bloodie minded mates,
Should haue been actors in her tragedie,
Then the graue peeres and honorable states,
Had been the slaughter of their butcherie,
And thou, O, glorie of this emperie!
Thy loftie towers been leuell’d with the plaine,
Thy nauie burnt, and many a thousand slaine.
132.
Such dismall deeds and blacke confusion,
By proud Rome’s twice-seuen sonnes intended were
Against the time of that inuasion,
Report whereof with terror and with feare,
Swift-winged fame about the world did beare;
But high heau’n’s King, who for his seruant chose
Our virgin queene, their drifts did soone disclose.
133.
Their plot bewray’d, each one did seeke t’escape,
Vengeance pursuing them from place to place,
Hight _Babington_ attir’d in rusticke shape,
With walnut-leaues discolouring his face,
Did seeke t’escape sad death and foule disgrace:
And all the rest being clad in strange disguise,
With trembling feare did seeke to shun surprise.
134.
As guiltie homicides, that in dead night
Pursu’d for tragick deeds of dismall death,
To woods and groues disperst, do take their flight,
Whose gloomie shade they trembling stand beneath,
With fainting knees, cold spirit and panting breath,
With feare, expecting at their backes behinde,
The pursuit made at euery puffe of winde:
135.
Euen so these wretched men, whose selfe-doom’d soules,
Now prickt with deepe remorse, did daily looke
To be the spoile and prey of hungrie fowles,
From place to place their couert passage tooke,
Whose hearts the thought of death with horror shooke,
Vntill surpriz’d at length, vntimely death
To end this feare expir’d their fainting breath.
136.
Of whose surprise, when as the trumpe of fame
Had blowen the blast, the subiect euer giuen
To blesse the fate of so diuine a dame,
For this so strange escape did morne and euen,
With praises magnifie the King of heau’n,
Imploring still his gratious hands for helpes,
Against the danger of that dragon’s whelpes.
137.
That day was held diuine, and all the night
Consum’d in pæans to th’Olympian king,
Then crown’d they cups of wine, and with delight
At sumptuous feasts did sit, while belles did ring,
And sweet voic’d minstrels round about did sing,
Whose suppers sauour wrapt in clouds on high,
The friendly winds blew vp into the skie.
138.
And as the siluer moone in calmest night,
When she in shining coach the skies doth scale,
As golden starres, that in the heau’ns shine bright,
When gentle Auster blowes a pleasing gale,
Do glad the shepheards in the lowly vaile:
So many thousand flames, that glaz’d the skies,
Did at that time glad all true English eies.
139.
But most of all, that plentious peopled towne,
_Elizae’s_ best belou’d, faire London hight,
Her mistresse rare escape with ioy did crowne,
Whose loftie towers thrust vp themselues in sight,
And ioy’d to glitter in the golden light,
Affrighting sore sad night’s black drowzie dame,
With splendor of huge fires refulgent flame.
140.
[Sidenote: _An. Reg. 29._ _Drake’s_ voyage to East Cales. Out of the
second part of the second volume of Nauigations, p. 121. _Hakluit._]
This ioy once past t’auenge that villanie,
Which Rome did by this bloodie plot pretend,
Against _Elizae’s_ sacred maiestie,
The aged sea-god’s backe, _Drake_ did ascend,
And towards the foes wing’d with reuenge did wend,
Mongst whom his name had been the gastly bug,
T’affright yong infants at the mother’s dug.
141.
His fleet transferr’d, with prosperous gale did sweepe
Through parted wanes of Thetis waterie skie,
Vnto the shores of the Castilian deepe,
In whose proud billowes he did wafting lie,
Vntill for truth he heard by his espie,
Of that prepare, that in Cales harbor lay,
For Spaine’s Armada gainst th’appointed day.
142.
Then gaue he order for the nauall fight,
And in the euening tide, when setting sun
Leaues steepe Olympus to the darkesome night,
The pine-plough’d seas with black clouds ouerrun,
To giue the onset valiant _Drake_ begun:
Hurling forth burning flames with hidious rore,
Of brazen cannon on th’Iberian shore.
143.
And as, when Boreas in a tempest raues,
Leaping with wings of lightning from the skie,
Makes clouds to crack and cuffes the swelling waues,
Who from the storme of his fierce furie flie,
In roling billowes on the bankes fast by;
So wrapt in clouds of smoake and lightning pale,
With dreadfull fight, _Drake_ did his foes assaile.
144.
Six gallies thwart the towne at first did stand
The violent onset, which the English gaue;
But had they with strong oares and readie hand,
Not made swift speed themselues and fleet to saue,
They with the same had perisht in the waue;
For _Drake_ with fire in hand without delay,
Had burnt their ships and sunke them in the sea.
145.
But loe a richer prize, he soone had wonne,
Which did repay that losse with trebble gaine,
Three barkes, of which each bore a thousand tunne,
And in the deepe such compasse did containe,
Seeming like floting mountaines on the maine,
With cannons wounding shot he did intombe,
With all their men in Thetis watrie wombe.
146.
Nor yet could this his noble heart suffice,
But with more conquest to renowne his name,
Thirtie eight ships his valour did surprise,
Of which most part with fire he did enflame,
The rest he kept for trophies of his fame,
Which in the sight of Cales that loftie towne,
He brought away in triumph and renowne.
147.
And as a bellowing bull, that doth disdaine,
Amongst an heard of cattell grazing by,
That any other bull in all the plaine,
Should proudly beare his curled head on high,
But makes him basely yeeld, or fainting flie:
So did great _Drake_, as lord of all the deepe,
His foes on th’ocean in subiection keepe.
148.
And when of all great _Philip’s_ nauall might,
On the seas wildernesse none durst appeare,
_Drake_ to prouoke his heartlesse foes to fight,
With his whole fleet vnto the shore did beare,
Where three strong holds by him assaulted were,
With that faire castle of Cape Sacre hight,
All which did fall beneath his nauall might.
149.
From thence to seas with his triumphant sailes
He did returne, wafting vpon the waues
Before hight Lisbone, neere to easterne Cales,
Where of th’Iberians he the combate craues,
Though none amongst them durst interrupt his braues,
But fled into the ports and harbours by,
Where out of danger they might hidden lie.
150.
Yet thence he rouz’d them, while that heartlesse knight,
The marques of Saint Cruz lay wafting by
In his swift sayling gallies, in whose sight
_Drake_ burnt and spoil’d his ships and made them flie,
Who to his care for helpe did seeme to crie:
Yet durst he not come forth in their defence,
But suffred _Drake_ to lead them captiue thence.
151.
A hundred ships with furniture full fraught
For Spaine’s Armada, that world-wondred fleet,
He did dispoile, and some away he brought
As signes of victorie, which as most meet
He did subiect at faire _Elizae’s_ feet;
The praise of which with humble zeale and loue,
She offred vp to heau’n as due to Ioue.
152.
Such humble thoughts in such a noble mind,
Do beat downe pride in chiefe felicitie:
And such a noble mind in kingly kind,
With best aduice, doth teach true maiestie,
To shew it selfe in milde humilitie,
Such humble thoughts, such noble minde had she,
Which in her heart, heart-searching Ioue did see.
153.
For which in spight of her death-threatning foes,
As high as heau’n, he did exalt her name,
And did his blacke death-darting hand oppose
Against her brauing foes, that proudly came
With all their power gainst such a royall dame,
Whose mightie fleete, fifteene yeares worke of wonder,
Now launcht into the seas began to thunder.
154.
[Sidenote: _An. Reg. 30. 1588._]
For now loue’s helm’d-deckt sonne, the god of warre,
Rouz’d from his rest with cannons dreadfull rore,
Leapt on the earth from out his iron carre,
Shooke his strong lance, steept in black blood and gore,
Whose brazen feet did thunder on the shore,
The noise of which that from the earth did bound,
Made all the world to tremble at the sound.
155.
And vp from darkesome lymboe’s dismall stage,
Ore Stygian bridge from Plutoe’s emperie,
Came night’s blacke brood, Disorder, Ruine, Rage,
Rape, Discord, Dread, Despaire, Impietie,
Horror, swift Vengeance, Murder, Crueltie,
All which together on th’Iberian strand,
With Spaine’s great host troopt vp did ready stand.
156.
Fame downe descending from her siluer bower,
On duke _Medinae’s_ huge black barke did stand,
The generall of all the Spanish power,
Whence looking round ore seas, and sea-sieg’d land,
Holding her siluer trumpet in her hand,
The same she sounded loud, whose echo shrill,
With sound thereof the wide world’s round did fill.
157.
Then all th’Iberian kings stout men of warre,
Renown’d for those replendent armes they bore,
Marching beneath his ensignes heard from farre,
Who vowing England spoil’d of all her store,
Should stoope her pride, and them outface no more;
Made swift repaire in concourse and thick crow’d,
To Spaine’s black fleet t’effect what they had vow’d.
158.
[Sidenote: _Ferdinando Cortez._]
The sun-burnt Spaniards from that Indian shore,
Subdu’d by _Ferdinandoe’s_ bloodie hand,
Where Perue’s streames casts vp her golden ore,
And Zenewe’s waues bring to the slimie strand,
Pure graines of gold amongst the ruddie sand,
Like Cadmus bone-bred brood came thicke in swarmes,
As newly borne from top to toe in armes.
159.
The captiu’d nations of the Castile king,
Luxurious Naples and proud Lombardie,
Their troopes in faire refulgent armes did bring,
And those of Portugale and Scicilie,
With slick-hair’d youth of wanton Italie,
T’auenge faire England’s foule supposed wrong,
To Spaine’s Armada in thicke troopes did throng.
160.
Readie t’imbarke vpon the shores they stood,
Like flowers in spring, that beautifie the plaine,
Or like May flies orewhelmed by the flood,
As infinite, as leaues or drops of raine,
Powr’d from the heau’ns vpon the liquid maine,
That with their weight, dame Terrae’s aged backe
Beneath the sway of horse and foot did cracke.
161.
And as blacke swarmes of ants with loaden thies,
Hauing vpon the flowrie spring made pray,
In number numberlesse with fresh supplies,
Climbes some steepe hillock, and through all the day
By thousands in thick flockes do fill the way;
So Spaine’s great host from trampled shores did wend,
In thronging troopes, their mountaine ships t’ascend.
162.
And such a blustring as against the shore,
When as the swelling seas the welkin braues,
Or storme-driuen billowes on the bankes do rore,
Or such a noise as in earth’s hollow caues
We often heare, when stormie Boreas raues:
Such clamorous noise out of the tumult sprong,
When they from shores vnto their ships did throng.
163.
Hous’d in their fleet, their ankors vp they weigh’d,
Hoisted their top-masts with their sailes on high,
The misens then with winged winds displaid
Before their hollow keeles, that low did lie
Within the deepe, made parted billowes flie;
Their huge big bulks made Neptune’s back to bow,
And waues to swell vpon his waterie brow.
164.
Their towring heads, the heau’ns blacke clouds did kisse,
Borne by the winde-driuen stormie waues on high,
Their hollow bosomes in the deepe abysse
Amongst the surges of the fish-full skie,
Like mightie rockes from sight did hidden lie,
Whose brasse-arm’d sides such compasse did containe,
They seem’d to couer acres on the maine.
165.
Whoso had seene them on the gulphie flood,
He would haue thought some Delos now againe,
Some towne, some citie, or some desert wood,
Or some new vnkowne world from shores of Spaine
Launcht off to seas, had wandred on the maine,
Peopled with those, that like quicke sprites in skie,
By little hold-fast all about could flie.
166.
[Sidenote: Musket shot could not pierce them. _Emanuel Van-Metran_, in
his 15 booke of his historie.]
Each barke, whose bulke was proofe against the wound
Of common shot, besides those buls of brasse,
Whose bellowing rore did equall thunders sound,
Of such great thicknesse and high building was,
That like large towers they on the deepe did passe;
For scarce could brazen cannons banefull thunder,
With battering bullet beat their sides asunder.
167.