Pent in th' inclosure of the walled townes,
Welcoms the Spring, Vsher to Somer flames,
Making their Pastimes in the flowrie downes,
Whose beauteous Arras[2] wrought in natures frames,
Through eyes admire, the hart with wonder crownes,
So the wood-walled citizens at sea,
Welcome both Spring and Sommer in a day.
The warring byllowes, seas artillerie,
With long held siege, had bruz'd their beaten keele,
Which to repaire the most, most busied be,
Lab'ring to cure, what want in labours feele;
All pleas'd with toyle, clothing extremitie
In Hopes best robes, that hang on Fortunes wheele
But men are men, in ignorance of Fate,
To alter chaunce, exceedeth humaine state.
For when the Sun, towred in heauens head,
Downe from the siluer mountaine of the skye,
Bent his bright Chariot on the glassie bed,
Faire christall, guilded with his glorious eye,
Fearing some usurpation in his stead,
Or least his Loue should too-long daliance spy
Tweene him and _Virgo_, whose attractiue face,
Had newly made him leaue the _Lyons_ chase.
In that same myd-daies hower came sayling in,
A thought-swift-flying Pynnase, taught by winde,
T' outstrip in flight Times euer flying wing;
And being come where vertue was inshrinde,
First vaild his plumes, and wheeling in a ring,
With Goat-like dauncing, stays where _Grinuile_ shynd,
The whyle his great Commaunder calls the name,
Which is ador'd of all that speakes the same.
The great Commaunder of this little Barke,
Which like an Eglet armes the Eagles side,
Was _Midleton_, the ayme of Honors marke,
That more had prou'd then danger durst haue tride,
Now seeing all good fortunes sun-shine darke,
Thrise calls Sir _Richard_, who as oft replyde,
Bidding him speake, and ring his newes aloude,
Ill, not apald, nor good could make him proude.
O then (quoth Midleton) thou soule of all
What euer boasts in magnanimitie,
Thou, whom pure Vertue her best part doth call,
Better then valure, stronger then dietie,
Whom men adore, and all the gods exhall
Into the bookes of endlesse memorie,
I bring thee tidings of a deadly fray,
Begun in Heauen, to end vpon the Sea.
The glorious Senate of the Skyes was set,
And all the gods were royaliz'd in state,
When _Happy-fortune_ and _Ill-fortune_ met,
Striuing who first should enter Heauen's gate,
The one made mad the others fame to let,
Neither but stirr'd with rage to wonder at,
Confusedly, as water floods doe passe
Their common bounds, such their rude entrance was.
The gods disturb'd, admire their strange aproch,
Censuring their angers by their gloing eyes,
_Ill-fortune_ was attended by _Reproch_,
_Good-fortune, Fame_, and _Vertue_ stellesies;[3]
One sweares the other doth her right incroch,
Which is the elder house, none can deuise:
The gods diuide, yet in the end agree
The Fates shall iudge each others pedigree.
_Good-Fortune_, drawes from heauen her hye descent,
Making hie _Ioue_ the roote of her large tree;
She showes from him how many god-heads went,
_Archangells, Angells_, heauen's posteritie:
From thence, she shows the glorious thrid she lent,
To _Monarks, Emperours_, and _Kyngs_ in fee,
Annexing as Colatteralls to her line,
_Honour, Vertue, Valure_, and _Endles-time_.
Naithlesse, _Ill-fortune_ will be elder borne,
She saith, she springs from _Saturne, Ioues_ wronged Sier,
And heauen, and earth, and hell her coate haue borne,
Fresh bleeding harts, within a field of fier;
All that the world admires, she makes her scorne,
Who farthest seemes, is to _Ill-fortune_ nier,
And that iust proofe may her great praise commend,
All that _Best-chaunce_ begins, _Ill-chaunce_ doth ende.
Thus they, dispute, guilding their tongues report
With instances, and argumental sawes,
_Ill-fortune_, bids let all the worlde resort,
And show within their Chronicles and lawes,
The man whose liue-line neuer did consort,
With sharpe affliction, deaths first grounded cause,
Then will she yeeld, else, is shee victor still.
Worlds good is rare, perpetuall is their ill.
Euen as the racket takes the balls rebound;
So doth _Good-fortune_ catch _Ill-fortunes_ proofe,
Saying, she wil her in herselfe confound,
Making her darts, Agents for her behoofe;
Bow but thine eies (quoth she) whence ha'ts abound,
And I will show thee vnder heauens roofe
Th' vnconquered man whom no mischance importunes.
Crown of my kingdom, deaths man to misfortune.
At this, the casments of the skye broke ope,
Discouering all what's girdled in her frame,
Whilst _Happy-fortune_ through her eyes large scope
Like a Cosmographer comments on the same;
Three parts with praise she past and future hope,
Then to the fourth, the Westerne world she came,
And there, with her eyes festrawe paints a storie,
Stranger than strange, more glorified than glorie.
See (sayd _Faire-fortune_, to her soule shapt _Foe_)
How on the scourge that beates against the Ile
Of _Flores_, whence they curst oblations growe,
A winde-taught capring ship which ayre beguiles,
(Making poore _Cephalus_ for-lorne with woe,
Curse arte, which made arte framed saile such smiles)
Richlie imbrodred with the Iems of warre,
In thy dispight commaunds a lucky starrye.
In that faire vessel liues my garlands flower.
_Grinuile_, my harts immortall arterie;
Of him thy deitie had neuer power,
Nor hath hee had of griefe one simpathie;
Successe attends him, all good hap doth shower
A golden raine of perpetuitie
Into his bossome, whete mine Empire stands,
Murdring the Agents of thy blacke commands.
Say, and say true, (for what but thou wilt say,)
That euer _Grinuils_ fortunes came before thee,
Of euer prostrate at thine Altars lay,
Or with one wreath of Cipresse did adore thee?
Proue one blacke storme in all his Sommers day,
Whose threatening clouds compeld him to implore thee.
Then wil I staine my milkwhite vaile with weeping,
And as thine handmaide dye in sorrowes keeping.
As wounds the lightning, yet preserues the skinne,
So did these words split _Lucklesse-fortunes_ hart,
Her smiling _Superficies_, lockt within
A deepe exulcerated festring smart;
Heere shee perceiu'd her first disgrace begin,
And wordlesse from the heauens takes her depart.
Yet as she flewe her wings in flying cri'd
On _Grinuile_ shall my fame and power be tride.
At her departure all the heauens were glad.
Triumphing in _Ill-fortunes_ banishment,
_Apollo_ set new _Anthems_ as _Ioue_ bad,
Which spheare tunes made more then most excellent;
No light in heauen but with new fier was clad,
Making next _Ioue, Good-fortune_ president,
Enrowling in the Bookes of destenie,
This memorable famous victorie.
Only the _Fat's_ su'd for her backe repeale,
(For they _Ill-fortune_ lou'd exceeding well)
Many her deedes and Tropheis they reueale,
And all her liues blacke legend, weeping tell;
Yet all they speake, cannot in heauen preuaile,
Which seene, in spight they follow her to hell,
And there inhoused with their mother _Night_,
All foure deuise, how heauen and earth to spight.
Hence sprang the loues of _Ioue_, the _Sonnes_ exile,
The shame of _Mars_ and _Venus_ in a net;
_Iunos_ forsaken bed; Saturns compile
Of frantike discontentment, which beset
All heauen with armes; _Diana_ hence had while
To court her sleeping boy; whilst _Thetis_ let
_Phoebus_ imbrace her in her _Neptunes_ stead,
Who made complaints, breach of his bridall bed:
Yet not content with these disparagments,
Much greater mischiefes issues from their minds,
_Grinuile_, thy mountaine honour it augments
Within their breasts, a Meteor like the winds,
Which thrall'd in earth, a reeling issue rents
With violent motion; and their wills combinds
To belch their hat's, vow'd murdrers of thy fame,
Which to effect, thus they begin the same.
Fast to _Iberia_ flies vntoward chaunce,
_Iberia_, which we vulgar Christen _Spaine_,
Vpon whose Sunne-burnt continent doth daunce
Westerne _Ducallidon_, the greatest maine,
Thither shee packs, _Error_ doth their aduance
Her coale-blacke standerd in the hands of paine;
And as escapt from rauishment or bale,
With false teares, thus shee tunes a falser tale.
Great Empire (said shee) blessed in thy birth,
Beautious created for-head of this round,
That with thy smiles first lent to heauen mirth,
And bout thy temples all perfections woond,
Lodgd in th' immagin'd corners of the earth;
Thou whom our centers Monarchesse art crownd,
Attend my suite, baptisd in mournefull teares,
Who but ere while triumphed on the spheares.
Nor for my selfe more then thine owne decay
Which blindfold pleasure clouds as they arise,
Be gracious, and retort the domefull daye
Which thee and me to shame would sacrifice.
Loe, on the great west-walling boisterous sea,
Which doth imbrace thy gold-enclosing eyes,
Of many sailes one man, of one poor Ile,
That will my fame, and all thy faire defile.
His numberlesse great infinits of fame,
Haue shut against me heauens great christall dore,
The clouds, which once my feets dust had to name,
Hang ore my forhead, threatning euermore
Death to my praise; life to my infant shame,
Whilst I with sighes mediate a new restore.
And in my selfe behold my pleasures past,
Swimming amongst the ioyes I cannot tast.
Th' ambrosian Nectar-filled banqueting,
No more shall I communicate, or see,
Triumphes in heauen, _Ioues_ masks, and reuelling,
Are cleene exempt, both from my ioyes and me.
The reason, for my loue to thee I bring,
Trimming the locks with Iems of dietie,
Making the gods a dread a fatall day,
Worse then the Giants warre or Centaurs fray.
Poore goddesse, rob'd of all eternall power,
Whose broken Statues, and down razed Fan's,
Neuer warm'd altars, euer forgotten hower
Where any memorie of praise is tane,
Witnes my fall from great _Olympus_ tower;
Prostrate, implore blame for receiued bane,
And dyre reuenge gainst heauens impietie,
Which els in shame will make thee follow mee.
Behold these robes, maps of my fortunes world,
Torne, and distaind with eye-scornd beggerie;
These rags deuide the Zones, wherein is hurld
My liues distemprate, hote cold miserie;
These teares are points, the scale these hairs vncurld,
My hands the compasse, woe the emperie:
And these my plaints, true and auriculer,
Are to my Globe the perpendiculer.
Looke how I am, such art thou like to be
If armes preuent not heauens intendiment,
_Grinuile_, which now surfeits with dignitie,
Burd'ning the Sea with my disparagement;
Chiding the wanton winds if greedelie
They kisse his sailes; or els too slowlie vent,
Like _Ioue_, which bad the day be and it was,
So bids he Conquest warre; she brings to passe.
The sole incouragement he giues his power,
Is Prophet-like presaging of thy death,
Courage he cries, euen in the dying hower,
And with his words, recalls departing breath;
O (sayes he to his Mat's) you are my glories tower,
Impregnable, wall'd with vnuanquisht faith,
You are the hands and agents of my trust,
I but the hart reuoluing what we must.
Liue Saints, til we haue ript the wombe of _Spayne_,
And wounded _Error_ in the armes of hell,
Crushing the triple Myter in disdaine,
Which on the seauenfold mounted Witch doth dwel,
Angells rewards for such dissignes remaine,
And on heauens face men shall your stories tell;
At this they shoute; as eager of the pray,
As Ants in winter of a sunne-shine day.
Thus like triumphant _Cæsar_ drawne in Rome,
By winged _Valure_, and vnconquered _Chaunce_,
He plowes the Sea (ô were it made his tombe)
Whilst _Happy-fortune_ pypes unto his daunce.
Yet may thy power alternat heauens doome,
So pleaseth thee thy forward will t'aduance,
And cheare the sinews of thy mighty arme,
Whose out-strecht force shall quell his proud alarme.
Then giue newe fuell to his honours fier,
Least slight regard wealth-winning _Error_ slay,
And so old _Saturns_ happie world retyer,
Making _Trueths_ dungion brighter than the day;
Was neuer woe could wound thy kingdom nyer,
Or of thy borrowed beautie make display,
Because this vow in heauens booke doth remaine,
That _Errors_ death shall consumate thy raigne.
Now, for my god-heads remnant liues in thee,
Whose lost successe breeds mine eternall end,
Take for thine ayde, afflicting _Miserie_,
_Woe_, mine attendant, and _Dispayre_ my freend,
All three my greatest great _Triumuerie_,
Blood bath'd _Carnifici_, which will protend
A murdring desolation to that will,
Which me in thee, and thee in mee would kill.
Here, with her fixed Comet-blazing eyes,
The damned _Augurs_ of vntimely death,
Shee ends her tale, whilst from her harts caue flyes
A storme of winds, no gentle sighing breath,
All which, like euill spirits in disguise,
Enter _Iberias_ eares, and to her sayth,
That all the substance of this damned storie,
Was zealous true, coyned for her _Spanish_ glorie.
Sworne to beleeue, for ill, in ill assies,
_Spayne_ then enamour'd with the _Romane_ trull,
Calls all her forces, more then Atomies,
And tells _Ill-fortunes_ storie to the full;
Many Parenthises shee doth deuise,
And frost-relenting words doth choycely cull,
Bewitching those whom oft shee had deceiued,
With such like Hemlock as her selfe receiued.
The first and greatest one, commaunding all,
The soule of mischiefes old created mother,
Was _Don Alphonso Bassan_, proud in brall,
The Marques _Sancta Cruces_ onely brother;
Him shee coniures by typ's emperiall,
And all that falshoods seeming trueth could couer,
To vndertake this hie (she termed it) act,
Which craues a curse of all that reads the fact.
Her selfe (shee said) and all the flowers of _Spayne_,
Should vnder his, as heauens Ensigne warre:
Thus from her harts foule dunghill flyes amaine
Grosse vapours, metamorphosd to a starre;
Her words in fumes like prodogies retaine
His hart, by her tongues witchcraft bound so farre,
And what shee will, that will hee vnder-take,
Be it to warre with heauen for her sake.
The seeming Nectar of her poysoning speech,
So well shee saw surprise his licoras sence,
That for to reare her ill beyonds ills reach,
With selfe-like tropes, decks self-like eloquence,
Making in _Britain Dona_ such a breach,
That her arm'd wits, conqu'ring his best wits sence,
He vowes with _Bassan_ to defende the broile,
Which men of praise, and earth of fame shal spoile.
To him shee giues the _Biscaynnoys_ for guard,
Mechanicall Artificers for death,
And those which of affliction neuer hard,
She tempers with the hammer of her breath:
To euery act shee giues huge lyp-reward,
Lauish of oathes, as falshood of her faith;
And for the ground of her pretended right,
T'is hate, which enuies vertue in a Knight.
These two to her fast bound in vassailage,
Vnto the Marques _Arumburch_ shee flyes,
Him shee prouokes, him shee finds apt to rage,
Imprisoning Pitties teares in flintie eyes;
To him the power of _Siuill_ for a gage
Shee doth bequeath; bidding his prowesse ryse,
And clense his Countries face from widowes tears,
To which he posts, like lightning from the sphears.
Lastly, to make vp mischiefes perfect square,
To _Luis Cutino_ shee takes her flight,
Him shee commaunds, he to her homage sware
To guide a Nauie to this damned fight,
Of Hulks and Fly-boats such as durst to dare.
Shee giues him soueraine rule, and publique right,
And then vniting all foure powers in one,
Sends them to sea, to calme _Misfortunes_ mone.
And now behold (diuine for valiancie)
Like flying Castells sayle they to this strand,
Fiftie three saile, strong in artillarie;
Best men of warre knowne in the _Spanish_ land;
Fifteene Armados, Kings of soueraigntie,
Which led the lesser with a mightie hand:
And these in foure battalions hither flie,
With whom three dayes I sailed in companie.
Then gentle _Grinuile, Thetis_ parramoure,
Dearer than _Venus_, Daughter of the flood,
Set sailes to wind, let not neglect deuoure
Thy gracious fortunes and thine Angell goode,
Cut through the maine, compell thy keele to scoure,
No man his ill too timelie hath with-stoode
And when _Best-chaunce_ shal haue repaird thy fortune,
Time for this flight may iust reuenge importune.
Here _Midelton_ did end the passing peale
Which gaue the warning to a dismall end,
And as his words last knell began to faile,
This damned Nauie did a glimmering send,
By which _Sir Richard_ might their power reueale,
Which seeming conquerlesse did conquests lend;
At whose appearance _Midelton_ did cry,
See where they come, for fame and pitty flie.
This certaine story, of too certaine ill,
Did not extinguish, but gaue honour fier,
Th'amazing prodigie, (bane of my quill,)
Bred not astonishment, but a strong desier,
By which this heauen-adopted Knights strong will,
Then hiest height of Fame, flew much more hier:
And from the boundlesse greatnes of his minde,
Sends back this answer through his lyps refin'd.
Thanks hardie _Midelton_ for thy dilate,
Perswasiue presage to auoyde my death,
But if thou wed my fortunes with my state,
This sauing health shall suffocate my breath,
To flye from them that holds my God in hate,
My Mistres, Countrey, me, and my sworne fayth,
Were to pull of the load from _Typhons_ back,
And crush my selfe, with shame and seruille wrack.
Nor if my hart degenerate should yeeld,
To entertaine an amorus thought of life,
And so transport mine honour to the field,
Where seeming valure dies by cowards knife,
Yet zeale and conscience shall new forces build,
And others soules, with my soule holdeth strife;
For halfe my men, and all that draw sound breath,
Are gone on shore, for foode to conquer death.
If I forsake them, certaine is their end,
If I obtaine them, doubtfull is our fall,
Vpon my flight, shame and their sacks depend,
Vpon my stay, hope of good hap doth call,
Equall to me, the meanest I commend;
Nor will I loose, but by the losse of all:
They are the sinewes of my life and fame,
Dismembred bodies perish cripple-lame.
This sayd, he sends a cock-boate to the shore,
To summon backe his men vnto their ship,
Who com'd a board, began with some vprore
To way their Anchors, and with care to dip
Their hie reuolues in doubt, and euermore,
To paint deaths visage with a trembling lip,
Till he that was all fearelesse, and feare slew,
With Nectard words from them all dangers drew.
When _Midelton_ saw _Grinuills_ hie reuolue,
Past hope, past thought, past reach of all aspire,
Once more to moue him flie he doth resolue,
And to that purpose tips his tongue with fier;
Fier of sweete words, that easelie might dissolue
And moisten flint, though steeld in stiffe attire,
Had not desier of wonder praise, and fame,
Extinkt the sparks, and still keepe dead the flame.
Greater, and better then inarked he,
Which in the worlds huge deluge did suruiue,
O let thy wings of magnanimitie,
Not vainlie flatter, _Honour_ to acchiue,
Gainst all conceit impossibilitie,
By which thou murderst _Vertue_, keepe aliue,
Nor in thy seeking of diuinitie,
Kill not heauens fame by base mortalitie.
O _Grinuile_ thou hast red Philosophy
Nature and Arte hath made thee excellent,
And what thou read'st, hath grafted this in thee,
That to attempt hie dangers euident
Without constraint or neede, is infamie,
And honor turnes to rashhes in th'euent:
And who so darrs, not caring how he darrs,
Sells vertues name, to purchase foolish starrs.
Deere Knight, thou art not forst to hazard fame,
Heauens haue lent thee meanes to scape thine ill,
If thou abide, as true as is thy name,
So truly shall thy fault, thy death fulfill:
And as to loue the life for vertues flame,
Is the iust act of a true noble will,
So to contemne it, and her helps exclude,
Is baseness, rashness, and no _Fortitude_.
He that compard mans bodie to an hoast,
Sayd that the hands were scouts, discouering harmes,
The feete were horsemen, thundring on the coast,
The brest, and stomacke, footmen, huge in swarmes.
But for the head, in soueraigntie did boast,
It Captayne was, director of alarms,
Whose rashness, if it hazarded an ill,
Not hee alone but all the hoast did spill.
Rash _Isadas_, the _Lacedemon_ Lord,
That naked fought against the _Theban_ power,
Although they crown'd his valure by accord,
Yet was hee find for rashness in that hower:
And those which most his carelesse praise affoard,
Did most condemne what follie did deuoure;
For in attempting, prowesse is not ment,
But wiselie doing what we doe attempt.
Then sith t'is valure to abandon fight,
And base to darre, where no hope is to winne,
(Renowned man, of all renowne the light)
Hoyst vp thy sailes, delay attrackts thy sinne,
Flie from ill-boding starres with all thy might,
Vnto thy hart let praise and pittie in.
This sayd, and more desirous much to crie,
Sir _Richard_ stayd him, with this rich replie.
Captayne, I praise thy warlike eloquence,
And sober Axioms of Philosophie,
But now's no time for schoole points difference,
When Deaths blacke Ensigne threatens miserie;
Yet for thy words sound of such consequence.
Making flight praise, and fight pale obloquie,
Once ere I die, Ile clense my wits from rust,
And proue my flying base, my stay most iust.
Whence shall I flie? from refuge of my fame,
From whom? euen from my Countreis mortall foe,
Whither? but to the dungeon of my shame,
Why shall I flie? for feare of happie woe,
What end of flight? to saue vile life by blame,
Who ist that flies? _Grinuile_? Captayne no,
T'is _England_ flies, faire Ile of happines,
And true diuine _Elizas_ holynes.
Shall then my life regard taynt that choice faire?
First will I perrish in this liquid round,
Neuer shall Sunne-burnt _Spanyards_ tongue endeare
_Iberian_ eares with what shall me confound,
The life I haue, I for my Mistris beare,
Curst were that life, should it her scepter wound,
And trebble cursed be that damned thought,
Which in my minde hath any fayntnes wrought.
Now, for Philosophie defends thy theame,
Euen selfe Philosophie shall arme my stile,
Rich buskin'd _Seneca_, that did declaime,
And first in _Rome_ our tragicke pompe compile,
Saith, _Fortitude_ is that which in extreme
And certaine hazard all base feares exile:
It guides, saith he, the noble minde from farre,
Through frost, and fier, to conquer honors warre.
Honie-tongd _Tullie_, Mermaid of our eares,
Affirmes no force, can force true _Fortitude_,
It with our bodies, no communion beares,
The soule and spyrit, sole doth it include;
It is that part of honestie which reares
The hart to heauen, and euer doth obtrude
Faint feare, and doubt, still taking his delight
In perrills, which exceed all perrills might.
_Patience, Perseuerance, Greatnes_, and _Strong Trust_,
These pages are to _Fortitude_ their King,
_Patience_ that suffers, and esteemeth iust,
What euer woe, for vertue fortunes bring;
_Perseuerance_, holds constant what we must,
_Greatnes_, that still effects the greatest thing.
And armed _Trust_, which neuer can dispaire,
But hopes good hap; how euer fatall deare.
The Roman _Sergius_, hauing lost his hand,
Slew with one hand foure in a single fight,
A thing all reason euer did with-stand.
But that bright _Fortitude_ spred forth her light
_Pompey_, by storme held from _th' Italyan_ land,
And all his sailors quaking in his sight,
First hoisted saile, and cry'd amidst the strife,
There's neede I goe, no neede to saue my life.
_Agis_ that guilt the _Lacedemon_ streete,
Intending one day battaile with his foes,
By counsaile was repeld, as thing vnmeete,
The enemie beeing ten to one in shoes;
But he reply'd, Tis needful that his feete
Which many leads, should leade to many bloes:
And one being good, an Armie is for ten
Foes to religion, and known naughty men.
To him that told _Dienecus_, his foes
Couer'd the Sun with darts and armed speares,
Hee made reply, Thy newes is ioy in woes,
Wee'le in the shadow fight, and conquer feares.
And from the _Polands_ words my humor floes,
I care for naught but falling of the Spheares.
Thunder affrights the Infants in the schooles,
And threatnings are the conquerors of fooles.
As these, my case is not so desperate,
And yet, then these, my darre shall be no lesse:
If this in them, for fame was wondred at,
Then this in mee, shall my desiers expresse;
Neuer shall _Greece_, nor _Rome_, nor Heathen state,
With shining honor, _Albions_ shine depresse,
Though their great circuits yeelds their acts large bounds,
Yet shall they neuer darr for deeper wounds.