Seeke for thy safetie in some better soyle,
Thy stay will be no succour in my smart,
Thy losse will make them boast of better spoyle.
And be assur'd before my last breath part,
Ile make the Sunne, for pittie backe recoyle.
And clothe the sea within a scarlet pale,
Iudge of their death which shall my life exhale.
This ship which now intombs my iealous soule,
Honestlie enuious of aspiring laude,
Is cald _Reuenge_, the scourge which doth controule,
The recreants that _Errors_ right applaud,
Shall like her selfe, by name and fame enroule
My spyrits acts, by no _Misfortune_ aw'd,
Within eternall Bookes of happie deeds,
Vpon whose notes, immortall Vertue reeds,
Say, if I perish, t'was mine honours will,
My Countries loue, religion, and my Queene,
And if that enuie glorie in mine ill,
Say that I dyed, conqu'ring, vnconquered seene.
Say fiftie three strong shyps could not fulfill,
Gainst one poore mayden vessell their foule teene,
But that in spight of death, or miserie,
She fought, and foyled, and scapt captiuitie.
Replie not _Midelton_, mine eares are clos'd,
Hie in heauen's for-head are my vowes ingrau'd,
I see the banefull Nauie nowt disclosed,
Begon betime, Fate hath thy fortune sau'd;
To me good starres were neuer yet opposed,
Glorie hath crownd me when I glorie crau'd,
Farwel, and say how euer be my chaunce,
My death at honours wedding learnt to daunce.
This sayd, away sailes Midelton with speede,
Sad, heauie, dull, and most disconsolate,
Shedding stout manlie teares at valures deed,
Greeuing the ruine of so great estate;
But _Grinuile_, whose hope euer did exceede,
Making all death in daungers fortunate,
Gan to prouide to quell this great vprore,
Then which the like was neuer heard before.
His fights set vp; and all things fit prepard,
Low on the ballast did he couch his sick,
Being fourscoore ten, in Deaths pale mantle snar'd,[4]
Whose want to war did most their strong harts prick.
The hundred, whose more sounder breaths declard,
Their soules to enter Deaths gates should not stick,
Hee with diuine words of immortall glorie,
Makes them the wondred actors of this storie.
Nothing he left vnsaid that tongue could say,
To breede contempt of death, or hate of thrall,
Honours reward, fame for a famous day,
Wonder of eares, that men halfe gods shall call:
And contrarie, a hopelesse certaine way,
Into a Tyrants damned fists to fall,
Where all defame, base thoughts, and infamie,
Shall crowne with shame their heads eternally.
In this great thunder of his valiant speech,
From whence the eares-eyes honors lightning felt,
The _Spanish_ Nauie came within the reach
Of Cannon shot, which equallie was delt
On eyther side, each other to impeach;
Whose volleys made the pittying skyes to melt,
Yet with their noyse, in _Grinuiles_ heart did frame,
Greater desier, to conquer greater fame.
And now the sunne was past his middle way,
Leaning more louely to his Lemans bed,
And the noones third hower had attacht the day,
When fiftie three gainst one were basely led;
All harts were fierd; and now the deadlie fray,
Began tumultuouslie to ouer-spread.
The sea with fier, the Element with smoake
Which gods, and monsters from their sleep awoake.
In foure great battailes marcht the _Spanish_ hoast,
The first of _Siuill_, led in two great squares,
Both which with courage, more then can be most,
Sir _Richard_ forst to giue him way with cares;
And as the Sea-men terme it in our coast,
They sprang their luffe, and vnder lee declares,
Their manie forces feebled by this one,
Whose thoughts, saue him, are rightly due to none.
And now he stands amidst the thickest throngs,
Walld round with wooden Castels on the waue,
Fiftie three Tygers greedie in their wrongs,
Besiedge the princelie Lion in his caue:
Nothing sees _Grinuile_ which to hope belongs,
All things are fled that any hap could saue;
Bright day is darkned by incurtaind night,
And nothing visits them but Canons light.
Then vp to heauen he lifts his loftie hart,
And cryes, old _Salon_, I am happy made.
All earthlie thoughts cleane from his spirits part,
_Vertue_ and _Valure_ all his sences lade,
His foes too fewe, too strong he holds his part,
Now doth he wish for millions to inuade,
For beeing conqueror he would conquer all,
Or conquered, with immortall honour fall.
Neuer fell hayle thicker then bullets flew,
Neuer show'rd drops faster than showring blowes,
Liu'd all the _Woorthees_, all yet neuer knew
So great resolue in so great certaine woes;
Had _Fame_ told _Cæsar_ what of this was true,
His Senate-murdred spirite would haue rose,
And with faire honors enuie wondred then,
Cursing mortalitie in mightie men.
Whilst thus affliction turmoyld in this brall,
And _Grinuile_ still imployed his Actor death,
The great _San-philip_, which all _Spayne_ did call
Th' vnuanquisht ship, _Iberias_ soule and faith,
Whose mountaine hugenes more was tearmed then tall,
Being twice a thousand tuns as rumour saith,
Came rushing in, becalming _Grinuiles_ sailes,
Whose courage grew, the more his fortunes failes.
Hotlie on eyther side was lightning sent,
And steeled thunder bolts dinge men to hell,
Vnweldie _Phillip_, backt with millions lent,
Worse cracks of thunder then on _Phaeton_ fell,
That with the dayes fier fiered the Element;
And why? because within her ribs did dwell,
More store of shot and great artillarie,
Then might haue seru'd the worlds great victorie.
Three tire of Cannon lodg'd on eyther side,
And in each tire, eleuen stronglie lay,
Eyght in her chase, that shot forth right did bide,
And in her sterne, twice eight that howerlie play;
Shee lesse great shot, in infinets did hide,
All which were Agents for a dismall day.
But poore _Reuenge_, lesse rich, and not so great,
Aunswered her cuffe for cuffe, and threat for threat.
Anon they graple eyther to the other,
And doth the ban-dogge with the Martins skinne;
And then the wombe of _Phillip_ did vncouer,
Eight hundred Souldiers, which the fight beginne:
These board Sir _Richard_, and with thronging smother
The daye, the ayre, the time, and neuer linne,
But by their entrance did instruct eight more,
To doe the like, on each side foure and foure.
Thus in one moment was our Knight assaild,
With one huge _Argosie_, and eight great ships,
But all in vaine, their powers naught prevaild,
For the _Reuenge_, her Canon loud-dogs slips,
Whose bruzing teeth, so much the _Phillip_ quaild,
That foundring in the greedie maine, he dips
His damned bodie in his watrie tombe,
Wrapt with dishonour in the Oceans wombe.
The other eight, fighting, were likewise foild,
And driuen perforce vnto a vile retraite,
None durst abide, but all with shame recoild,
Whilst _Valures_ selfe, set _Grinuile_ in her seate;
Onely _Don Luis Saint Iohn_, seeing spoild,
His Countries honour by this strange defaite,
Single encountred _Grinuile_ in the fight,
Who quicklie sent his soule to endlesse night.
_George de Prunaria_, a Spanish Knight,
Euer held valiant in dispight of fate,
Seconded _Luis_, and with mortall might,
Writ on Sir _Richards_ target souldiers hate,
Till _Grinuile_ wakned with his loud rung fight,
Dispatcht his soules course vnto _Plutos_ gate:
And after these two, sent in post all those
Which came within his mercie or his blowes.
By this, the sunne had spread his golden locks,
Vpon the pale green carpet of the sea,
And opned wide the scarlet dore which locks
The easefull euening from the labouring day;
Now Night began to leape from iron Rocks,
And whip her rustie wagon through the way,
Whilst all the _Spanish_ host stoode maz'd in sight,
None darring to assayle a second fight.
When _Don Alfonso_, Generall of the warre,
Saw all his Nauie with one ship controld,
He toare his hayre, and loudlie cryd from farre,
For honour _Spanyards_, and for shame be bold;
Awaken Vertue, say her slumbers marre
_Iberias_ auncient valure, and infold
Her wondred puissance, and her glorious deeds,
In cowards habit, and ignoble weeds.
Fie, that the spyrit of a single man,
Should contradict innumerable wills,
Fie, that infinitiues of forces can,
Nor may effect what one conceit fulfills;
Woe to the wombe, ceaselesse the teats I ban,
That cherrisht life, which all our liues ioyes kills;
Woe to our selues, our fortunes, and our minds,
Agast and scarrd, with whistling of the winds.
See how he triumphes in dispight of death,
_Promethean_ like, laden with liuing fier,
And in his glorie spits disdainfull breath,
Loathing the baseness of our backe retire;
Euen now me thinke in our disgrace he saith,
Foes to your fames, why make you Fate a lyer,
When heauen and she haue giuen into your hand,
What all the world can neuer back demand?
Say that the God of _Warre_; Father of Chiualrie,
The _Worthies_, _Heroes_, all fam'd Conquerours,
_Centaurs_, _Gyants_, victorious _Victorie_,
Were all this _Grinuils_ hart-sworne paramours.
Yet should we fightlesse let our shyps force flie:
Well might we crush his keele with rocklike powers,
And him with them ore-whelme into the maine,
Courage then harts, fetch honour backe againe.
Heere shame, the fretting canker of the mind,
That fiers the face with fuell from the hart,
Fearing his weapons weakenes, eft assigned
To desperate hardines his confounding dart,
And now the _Spanyards_ made through words stone blind,
Desperate by shame, ashamd dispaire should part,
Like damned scritchowles, chimes to dead mens hours,
Make vowes to fight, till fight all liues deuours.
And now the tragicke sceane of death begins,
Acts of the night, deeds of the ouglie darke,
When Furies brands gaue light to furious sins,
And gastlie silence gaping wounds did marke;
Sing sadlie then my Muse (teares pittie wins)
Yet mount thy wings beyond the mornings Larke,
And wanting thunder, with thy lightnings might,
Split cares that heares the dole of this sad night.
The fier of _Spaynes_ pride, quencht by _Grinuils_ sword,
_Alfonso_ rekindles with his tong,
And sets a batelesse edge, ground by his word
Vpon their blunt harts feebled by the strong,
Loe animated now, they all accord,
To die, or ende deaths conflict held so long;
And thus resolud, too greedelie assay
His death, like hounds that hold the Hart at bay.
Blacker then night, more terrible then hell,
Louder then thunder, sharper then _Phoebus_ steele,
Vnder whose wounds the ouglie _Python_ fell,
Were bullets mantles, clowding the haplesse keele,
The slaughtered cryes, the words the cannons tell,
And those which make euen rocky Mountaines reele,
And thicker then in sunne are Atomies,
Flew bullets, fier, and slaughtered dead mens cries.
At this remorsles Dirgie for the dead,
The siluer Moone, dread Soueraigne of the Deepe,
That with the floods fills vp her horned head
And by her waine the wayning ebbs doth keepe:
Taught by the Fat's how destenie was led,
Bidds all the starres pull in their beames and weepe:
For twas vnfit, chast hallowed eyes should see
Honour confounded by impietie.
Then to the night she giues all soueraigne power,
Th'eternall mourner for the dayes diuorce,
Who drowned in her owne harts killing shower,
Viewes others torments with a sad remorse.
This flintie Princesse, ayme cryes to the hower,
On which to looke, kinde eies no force could force.
And yet the sight her dull hart so offended,
That from her sight a fogge dewe descended.
Now on our Knight, raines yron, sword, and fiers,
Iron wrapt in smoke, sword bath'd in smoking blood,
Fiers, furies king, in blood and smoke aspires
The consumation of all liuing good,
Yet _Grinuile_, with like Agents like expires
His foemen's darts, and euermore withstood
Th'assaults of death, and ruins of the warre,
Hoping the splendour of some luckie starre.
On eyther side him, still two _Gallions_ lay,
Which with continuall boardings nurst the fight,
Two great _Armados_, howrelie ploy'd their way,
And by assaulte, made knowne repellesse might.
Those which could not come neere vnto the fray,
Aloose dicharg'd their volleys gainst our Knight.
And when that one shrunk back, beat with disgrace,
An other instantly supply'd the place.
So that their resting, restlesse him containd,
And theyr supplies, deny'd him to supply:
The _Hydra_ of their mightines ordaind
New spoile for death, when old did wounded lie:
But hee, _Herculian_-like one state retaind,
One to triumph, or one for all to die.
Heauen had onelie lent him but one hart,
That hart one thought, that thought no feare of smart.
And now the night grew neere her middle line,
Youthfully lustie in her strongest age,
When one of _Spaynes_ great _Gallions_ did repine,
That one should many vnto death ingage,
And therefore with her force, halfe held diuine,
At once euaporates her mortall rage,
Till powerfull _Grinuille_, yeelding power a toombe
Splyt her, & sunck her in the salt waves wombe.
When _Cutino_, the Hulks great Admirall,
Saw that huge Vessel drencht within the surge,
Enuie and shame tyered vpon his gall,
And for reuenge a thousand meanes doth vrge;
But _Grinuile_, perfect in destructions fall,
His mischiefes with like miseries doth scourge,
And renting with a shot his wooden tower,
Made _Neptunes_ liquid armes his all deuouer.
These two ore-whelm'd, _Siuills Ascension_ came,
A famous ship, well man'd and strongly drest,
_Vindicta_ from her Cannons mouthes doth flame,
And more then any, our dread Knight oppresst:
Much hurt shee did, many shee wounded lame,
And _Valurs_ selfe, her valiant acts confest.
Yet in the end, (for warre of none takes keepe)
_Grinuile_ sunck her within the watry deepe.
An other great _Armado_, brusd and beat,
Sunck neere _S. Michaels_ road, with thought to scape,
And one that by her men more choicely set,
Beeing craz'd and widow'd of her comly shape,
Ran gainst the shore, to pay _Ill-chaunce_ her debt,
Who desolate for desolations gape:
Yet these confounded, were not mist at all.
For new supplies made new the aged brall.
This while on _Grinuile_ ceazed no amaze.
No wonder, dread, nor base astonishment,
But true resolue, and valurs sacred blaze,
The crowne of heauen, and starrie ornament
Deck't his diuine part, and from thence did raze
Affects of earth, or earth's intendiment.
And in this broyle, as cheerefull was his fight,
As _Ioues_, embracing _Danae_ by night.
Looke how a wanton Bridegroome in the morne,
Busilie labours to make glad the day,
And at the noone, with wings of courage borne,
Recourts his bride with dauncing and with play,
Vntil the night which holds meane bliss in scorne,
By action kills imaginations sway,
And then, euen then, gluts and confounds his thought,
With all the sweets, conceit or Nature wrought,
Euen so our Knight the bridegroome vnto _Fame_,
Toild in his battailes morning with vnrest,
At noone triumph'd and daunst, and made his game,
That vertue by no death could be deprest;
But when the night of his loues longings came,
Euen then his intellectuall soule confest
All other ioyes imaginarie were
Honour vnconquerd, heauen and earth held deare.
The bellowing shotte which wakened dead mens swounds,
As _Dorian_ musick, sweetned his cares,
Ryuers of blood, issuing from fountaine wounds,
Hee pytties, but augments not with his teares,
The flaming fier which mercilesse abounds,
Hee not so much as masking torches feares,
The dolefull Eccho of the soules halfe dying,
Quicken his courage in their banefull crying.
When foule _Misfortune_ houering on a Rock,
(The stonie girdle of the _Florean_ Ile,)
Had seene this conflict, and the fearfull shock,
Which all the _Spanish_ mischiefes did compile,
And saw how conquest licklie was to mock
The hope of _Spayne_, and fauster her exile,
Immortall shee, came downe herselfe to fight,
And doe what else no mortall creature might.
And as she flew the midnights waking starre,
Sad _Cassiopea_ with a heauie cheare,
Pusht forth her forehead, to make known from farre,
What time the dryrie dole of earth drew neare,
But when shee saw _Misfortune_ arm'd in warre,
With teares she blinds her eyes, and clouds the ayre,
And asks the Gods, why _Fortune_ fights with man?
They say, to doe, what else no creature can.
O why should such immortall enuie dwell,
In the enclosures of eternall mould?
Let Gods with Gods, and men with men retell,
Vnequall warres t'vnequall shame is sould;
But for this damned deede came shee from hell,
And _Ioue_ is sworne, to doe what dest'nie would,
Weepe then my pen, the tell-tale of our woe,
And curse the fount from whence our sorrows flow.
Now, now, _Misfortune_ fronts our Knight in armes,
And casts her venome through the _Spanysh_ hoast,
Shee salues the dead, and all the lyuing warmes
With vitall enuie, brought from _Plutos_ coast;
Yet all in vaine, all works not _Grinuils_ harmes;
Which seene, shee smiles, and yet with rage imbost[5]
Saith to her selfe, since men are all too weake,
Behold a goddesse shall thy lifes twine breake.
With that shee takes a Musket in her hand,
Raft from a dying Souldiour newlie slaine,
And ayming where th' vnconquered Knight did stand,
Dischargd it through his bodie, and in twaine
Deuids the euer holie nuptiall band,
Which twixt his soule, and worlds part shold remaine,
Had not his hart, stronger then _Fortunes_ will,
Held life perforce to scorne _Misfortunes_ ill.
The bubling wound from whence his blood distild,
Mourn'd to let fall the hallowed drops to ground,
And like a iealous loue by riuall illd,
Sucks in the sacred moisture through the wound;
But he, which felt deaths fatall doome fulfilld,
Grew fiercer valiant, and did all confound,
Was not a _Spanyard_ durst abord him rest,
After he felt his deaths wound in his brest.
Hundreds on hundreds, dead on the maymed fall,
Maymed on sounde, sound in them selues lye slaine,
Blest was the first that to his ship could crall,
For wounded, he wounds multituds againe;
No sacrifice, but sacrifice of all,
Could stay his swords oblations vnto paine,
Nor in _Phillipie_, fell for _Cæsars_ death,
Soules thicker then for _Grinuils_ wasting breath.
The _Nemian_ Lyon, _Aramanthian_ Bore,
The _Hircanian_ Tyger, nor the _Cholcean_ Bulls,
Neuer extended rage with such vprore,
Nor in their brests mad monstrous furie lulls;
Now might they learne, that euer learnt before,
Wrath at our Knight, which all wrath disanulls,
For slauish death, his hands commaunded more,
Then Lyon, Tyger, Bull, or angrie Bore.
Had _Pompey_ in _Pharsalia_ held his thought,
_Cæsar_ had neuer wept vpon his head,
Had _Anthonie_ at _Actiome_ like him fought,
_Augustus_ teares had neuer drowned him dead,
Had braue _Renaldo_, _Grinuiles_ puissance bought,
_Angelica_ from France had neuer fled,
Nor madded _Rowland_ with inconstancie,
But rather slayne him wanting victorie.
Before a storme flewe neuer Doues so fast,
As _Spanyards_ from the furie of his fist,
The stout _Reuenge_, about whose forlorne wast,
Whilome so many in their moods persist,
Now all alone, none but the scourge imbrast,
Her foes from handie combats cleane desist;
Yet still incirkling her within their powers,
From farre sent shot, as thick as winters showers.
_Anger_, _and Enuie_, enemies to _Life_,
Strong smouldering _Heate_ and noisom stink of _Smoke_,
With over-labouring _Toyle_, _Deaths_ ouglie wife,
These all accord with _Grinuiles_ wounded stroke,
To end his liues date by their ciuell strife,
And him vnto a blessed state inyoke,
But he repelld them whilst repell he might,
Till feinting power, was tane from power to fight
Then downe he sat, and beat his manlie brest,
Not mourning death, but want of meanes to die;
Those which suruiu'd coragiouslie be blest,
Making them gods for god-like victorie;
Not full twice twentie soules aliue did rest,
Of which the most were mangled cruellie,
Yet still, whilst words could speake, or signes could show,
From death he maks eternall life to grow.
The Maister-gunner, which beheld his eyes
Dart fier gainst death triumphant in his face,
Came to sustaine him, and with courage cryes,
How fares my Knight? worlds glory, martiall grace?
Thine honour, former honours ouer-flyes,
And vnto _Heauen_ and _Vertue_ bids the bace;
Cheere then thy soule, and if deaths wounding pain it,
_Abram's_ faire bosome lyes to entertaine it.
Maister, he sayes, euen heers the opned dore,
Through which my spirit bridgroome like must ride,
(And then he bar'd his wounded brest all gore)
To court the blessed virgine Lambe his bride,
Whose innocence the worlds afflictions bore,
Streaming diuine blood from his sliced side,
And to that heauen my soule with courage flyes,
Because vnconquered, conquering it dyes.
But yet, replyed the Maister once againe,
Great vertue of our vertues, strive with fate,
Yeeld not a minute vnto death, retaine
Life like thy glory, made to wonder at.
This wounds recouerie well may entertaine
A double triumph to thy conquering state,
And make thee liue immortall Angell blest,
Pleaseth thee suffer it be searcht and drest.
Descend then gentle _Grinvile_ downe below,
Into my Cabin for a breathing space,
In thee there let thy Surgion stanch our woe,
Giuing recuer to thee, our wounded case,
Our breaths, from thy breaths fountaine gently flow,
If it be dried, our currents loose their grace:
Then both for vs, and thee, and for the best,
Descend, to haue thy wound bound vp and drest.
Maister, reply'd the Knight, since last the sunne
Lookt from the hiest period of the sky,
Giuing a signall of the dayes mid noone,
Vnto this hower of midnight, valiantly,
From off this vpper deck I haue not runne,
But fought, and freed, and welcomd victorie,
Then now to giue new couert to mine head,
Were to reuiue our foes halfe conquered.
Thus with contrarie arguments they warre,
Diuers in their opinions and their speech,
One seeking means, th' other a will to darre;
Yet both one end, and one desire reach:
Both to keepe honour liuing, plyant are,
Hee by his fame, and he by skilfull leach,
At length, the Maister winnes, and hath procurd
The Knight discend, to have his woundings curd.
Downe when he was, and had display'd the port
Through which his life was martching vp to heauen,
Albe the mortall taint all cuers retort,
Yet was his Surgion not of hope bereuen,
But giues him valiant speech of lifes resort,
Saves, longer dayes his longer fame shall euen,
And for the meanes of his recouerie,
He finds both arte and possibilitie.
_Misfortune_ hearing this presage of life,
(For what but chimes within immortall eares)
Within her selfe kindles a home-bred strife,
And for those words the Surgions doomes day swears.
With that, her charg'd peece (_Atropos_ keene knife,)
Againe she takes, and leueld with dispairs,
Sent a shrill bullet through the Surgions head,
Which thence, through _Grinuils_ temples like was led.
Downe fell the Surgion, hope and helpe was reft,
His death gaue manumition to his soule,
_Misfortune_ smyld, and euen then shee left
The mournfull Ocean, mourner for this dole;
Away shee flyes, for all was now bereft,
Both hopes and helpe, for life to win deaths gole;
Yet _Grinuile_ vnamaz'd with constant faith,
Laughing dispisd the second stroke of death.
What foole (saith he) ads to the Sea a drop,
Lends _Etna_ sparks, or angry stormes his wind?
Who burnes the root when lightning fiers the top?
Who vnto hell, can worse then hell combind?
Pale hungry Death, thy greedy longings stop,
Hope of long life is banefull to my mind:
Yet hate not life, but loath captiuitie,
Where rests no trust to purchase victorie.
Then vp he came with feeble pace againe,
Strength from his blood, blood from his wounds descending,
Saies, here I liu'd, and here wil I sustaine,
The worst of Deaths worst, by my fame defending,
And then he fell to warre with might and maine,
Valure on death most valiantly depending,
And thus continued aye coragiously,
Vntil the day chast shadowes from the sky.
But when the mornings dewie locks drunk vp
A mistie moysture from the Oceans face,
Then might he see the source of sorrowes cup,
Plainly prefigured in that hatefull place;
And all the miseries that mortals sup
From their great Grandsire _Adams_ band, disgrace;
For all that did incircle him, was his foe,
And that incircled, modell of true woe.