"But it is lamentable
To heare a Captayne so good and honorable,
_So soone_ withdrawen by deathes crueltie,
Before his vertue was at moste hye degree.
If death for a season had shewed him fauour,
To all his nation he should haue bene honour."
"'The Towre of Vertue and Honor,' introduced as a song of one of the
shepherds into these pastorals, exhibits no very masterly strokes of a
sublime and inventive fancy. It has much of the trite imagery usually
applied in the fabrication of these ideal edifices. It, however, shows our
author in a new walk of poetry. This magnificent tower, or castle is built
on inaccessible cliffs of flint: the walls are of gold, bright as the sun,
and decorated with 'olde historyes and pictures manyfolde:' the turrets are
beautifully shaped. Among its heroic inhabitants are Henry VIII., ['in his
maiestie moste hye enhaunsed as ought a conquerour,' no doubt an allusion
to the battle of the Spurs and his other exploits in France in 1513],
Howard Duke of Norfolk, ['the floure of chiualry'], and the Earl of
Shrewsbury, ['manfull and hardy, with other princes and men of dignitie'].
Labour is the porter at the gate, and Virtue governs the house. Labour is
thus pictured, with some degree of spirit:--
'Fearefull is labour without fauour at all,
Dreadfull of visage, a monster intreatable,
Like Cerberus lying at gates infernall;
To some men his looke is halfe intollerable,
His shoulders large, for burthen strong and able,
His body bristled, his necke mightie and stiffe;
By sturdy senewes, his ioyntes stronge and stable,
Like marble stones his handes be as stiffe.
Here must man vanquishe the dragon of Cadmus,
Against the Chimer here stoutly must he fight,
Here must he vanquish the fearefull Pegasus,
For the golden flece here must he shewe his might:
If labour gaynsay, he can nothing be right,
This monster labour oft chaungeth his figure,
Sometime an oxe, a bore, or lion wight,
Playnely he seemeth, thus chaungeth his nature,
Like as Protheus ofte chaunged his stature.
. . . . . . .
Under his browes he dreadfully doth loure,
With glistering eyen, and side dependaunt beard,
For thirst and hunger alway his chere is soure.
His horned forehead doth make faynt heartes feard.
Alway he drinketh, and yet alway is drye,
The sweat distilling with droppes aboundaunt,'
. . . . . . .
"The poet adds, 'that when the noble Howard had long boldly contended with
this hideous monster, had broken the bars and doors of the castle, had
bound the porter, and was now preparing to ascend the tower of Virtue and
Honour, Fortune and Death appeared, and interrupted his progress.'"
(Warton, Eng. Poetry, III.)