I many a time haue greatly marueil'd, why
Men say, their friends depart when as they die,
How well that word, a dying, doth expresse,
I did not know (I freely must confesse,)
Till her departure: for whose missed sight,
I am enforc'd this Elegy to write:
But since resistlesse fate will haue it so,
That she from hence must to _Iberia_ goe,
And my weak wishes can her not detaine,
I will of heauen in policy complaine, 10
That it so long her trauell should adiourne,
Hoping thereby to hasten her returne.
The witches Can those of _Norway_ for their wage procure,
of the By their blacke spells a winde that shall endure
Northerly Till from aboard the wished land men see,
legions sell And fetch the harbour, where they long to be,
windes to Can they by charmes doe this and cannot I
passengers. Who am the Priest of _Phoebus_, and so hie,
Sit in his fauour, winne the Poets god,
To send swift _Hermes_ with his snaky rod, 20
To _AEolus_ Caue, commanding him with care,
His prosperous winds, that he for her prepare,
And from that howre, wherein shee takes the seas,
Nature bring on the quiet _Halcion_ dayes,
And in that hower that bird begin her nest,
Nay at that very instant, that long rest
May seize on _Neptune_, who may still repose,
And let that bird nere till that hower disclose,
Wherein she landeth, and for all that space
Be not a wrinkle seene on _Thetis_ face, 30
Onely so much breath with a gentle gale,
As by the easy swelling of her saile,
The nearest May at *_Sebastians_ safely set her downe
Harbour of Where, with her goodnes she may blesse the towne.
_Spaine_. If heauen in iustice would haue plagu'd by thee
Some Pirate, and grimme _Neptune_ thou should'st be
His Executioner, or what is his worse,
The gripple Merchant, borne to be the curse
Of this braue Iland; let them for her sake,
Who to thy safeguard doth her selfe betake, 40
Escape vndrown'd, vnwrackt, nay rather let
Them be at ease in some safe harbour set,
Where with much profit they may vent their wealth
That they haue got by villany and stealth,
Rather great _Neptune_, then when thou dost raue,
Thou once shouldst wet her saile but with a waue.
Or if some proling Rouer shall but dare,
To seize the ship wherein she is to fare,
Let the fell fishes of the Maine appeare,
And tell those Sea-thiefes, that once such they were 50
As they are now, till they assaid to rape
An Ile for Grape-crowned _Bacchus_ in a striplings shape,
the abundance That came aboard them, and would faine haue saild,
of wine To vine-spread *_Naxus_ but that him they faild,
supposed to Which he perceiuing, them so monstrous made,
be the And warnd them how they passengers inuade.
habitation Ye South and Westerne winds now cease to blow
of _Bachus_. Autumne is come, there be no flowers to grow,
Yea from that place respire, to which she goes,
And to her sailes should show your selfe but foes, 60
But _Boreas_ and yee Esterne windes arise,
To send her soon to _Spaine_, but be precise,
That in your aide you seeme not still so sterne,
As we a summer should no more discerne,
For till that here againe, I may her see,
It will be winter all the yeare with mee.
_Castor_ and Ye swanne-begotten lonely brother-stars,
_Polox_ begot So oft auspicious to poore Mariners,
by _Ioue_ on Ye twin-bred lights of louely _Leda's_ brood,
_Leda_ in the _Ioues_ egge-borne issue smile vpon the flood, 70
forme of a And in your mild'st aspect doe ye appeare
Swanne. A To be her warrant from all future feare.
constellation And if thou ship that bear'st her, doe proue good,
ominous to May neuer time by wormes, consume thy wood
Mariners. Nor rust thy iron, may thy tacklings last,
Till they for reliques be in temples plac't;
Maist thou be ranged with that mighty Arke,
Wherein iust _Noah_ did all the world imbarque,
With that which after _Troyes_ so famous wracke,
From ten yeares trauell brought _Vlisses_ backe, 80
That Argo which to _Colchos_ went from _Greece_,
And in her botome brought the goulden fleece
Vnder braue _Iason_; or that same of _Drake_,
Wherein he did his famous voyage make
About the world; or _Candishes_ that went
As far as his, about the Continent.
And yee milde winds that now I doe implore,
Not once to raise the least sand on the shore,
Nor once on forfait of your selues respire:
When once the time is come of her retire, 90
If then it please you, but to doe your due,
What for these windes I did, Ile doe for you;
Ile wooe you then, and if that not suffice,
My pen shall prooue you to haue dietyes,
Ile sing your loues in verses that shall flow,
And tell the storyes of your weale and woe,
Ile prooue what profit to the earth you bring,
And how t'is you that welcome in the spring;
Ile raise vp altars to you, as to show,
The time shall be kept holy, when you blow. 100
O blessed winds! your will that it may be,
To send health to her, and her home to me.
To my most dearely-loued friend HENERY REYNOLDS Esquire, of
_Poets & Poesie_
My dearely loued friend how oft haue we,
In winter evenings (meaning to be free,)
To some well-chosen place vs'd to retire;
And there with moderate meate, and wine, and fire,
Haue past the howres contentedly with chat,
Now talk of this, and then discours'd of that,
Spoke our owne verses 'twixt our selves, if not
Other mens lines, which we by chance had got,
Or some Stage pieces famous long before,
Of which your happy memory had store; 10
And I remember you much pleased were,
Of those who liued long agoe to heare,
As well as of those, of these latter times,
Who have inricht our language with their rimes,
And in succession, how still vp they grew,
Which is the subiect, that I now pursue;
For from my cradle, (you must know that) I,
Was still inclin'd to noble Poesie,
And when that once _Pueriles_ I had read,
And newly had my _Cato_ construed, 20
In my small selfe I greatly marueil'd then,
Amonst all other, what strange kinde of men
These Poets were; And pleased with the name,
To my milde Tutor merrily I came,
(For I was then a proper goodly page,
Much like a Pigmy, scarse ten yeares of age)
Clasping my slender armes about his thigh.
O my deare master! cannot you (quoth I)
Make me a Poet, doe it if you can,
And you shall see, Ile quickly bee a man, 30
Who me thus answered smiling, boy quoth he,
If you'le not play the wag, but I may see
You ply your learning, I will shortly read
Some Poets to you; _Phoebus_ be my speed,
Too't hard went I, when shortly he began,
And first read to me honest _Mantuan_,
Then _Virgils Eglogues_, being entred thus,
Me thought I straight had mounted _Pegasus_,
And in his full Careere could make him stop,
And bound vpon _Parnassus'_ by-clift top. 40
I scornd your ballet then though it were done
And had for Finis, _William Elderton_.
But soft, in sporting with this childish iest,
I from my subiect haue too long digrest,
Then to the matter that we tooke in hand,
_Ioue_ and _Apollo_ for the _Muses_ stand.
Then noble _Chaucer_, in those former times,
The first inrich'd our _English_ with his rimes,
And was the first of ours, that euer brake,
Into the _Muses_ treasure, and first spake 50
In weighty numbers, deluing in the Mine
Of perfect knowledge, which he could refine,
And coyne for currant, and as much as then
The _English_ language could expresse to men,
He made it doe; and by his wondrous skill,
Gaue vs much light from his abundant quill.
And honest _Gower_, who in respect of him,
Had only sipt at _Aganippas_ brimme,
And though in yeares this last was him before,
Yet fell he far short of the others store. 60
When after those, foure ages very neare,
They with the _Muses_ which conuersed, were
That Princely _Surrey_, early in the time
Of the Eight _Henry_, who was then the prime
Of _Englands_ noble youth; with him there came
_Wyat_; with reuerence whom we still doe name
Amongst our Poets, _Brian_ had a share
With the two former, which accompted are
That times best makers, and the authors were
Of those small poems, which the title beare, 70
Of songs and sonnets, wherein oft they hit
On many dainty passages of wit.
_Gascoine_ and _Churchyard_ after them againe
In the beginning of _Eliza's_ raine,
Accoumpted were great Meterers many a day,
But not inspired with braue fier, had they
Liu'd but a little longer, they had seene,
Their works before them to have buried beene.
Graue morrall _Spencer_ after these came on
Then whom I am perswaded there was none 80
Since the blind _Bard_ his _Iliads_ vp did make,
Fitter a taske like that to vndertake,
To set downe boldly, brauely to inuent,
In all high knowledge, surely excellent.
The noble _Sidney_ with this last arose,
That _Heroe_ for numbers, and for Prose.
That throughly pac'd our language as to show,
The plenteous _English_ hand in hand might goe
With _Greek_ or _Latine_, and did first reduce
Our tongue from _Lillies_ writing then in vse; 90
Talking of Stones, Stars, Plants, of fishes, Flyes,
Playing with words, and idle Similies,
As th' _English_, Apes and very Zanies be,
Of euery thing, that they doe heare and see,
So imitating his ridiculous tricks,
They spake and writ, all like meere lunatiques.
Then _Warner_ though his lines were not so trim'd,
Nor yet his Poem so exactly lim'd
And neatly ioynted, but the Criticke may
Easily reprooue him, yet thus let me say; 100
For my old friend, some passages there be
In him, which I protest haue taken me,
With almost wonder, so fine, cleere, and new
As yet they haue bin equalled by few.
Neat _Marlow_ bathed in the _Thespian_ springs
Had in him those braue translunary things,
That the first Poets had, his raptures were,
All ayre, and fire, which made his verses cleere,
For that fine madnes still he did retaine,
Which rightly should possesse a Poets braine. 110
And surely _Nashe_, though he a Proser were
A branch of Lawrell yet deserues to beare,
Sharply _Satirick_ was he, and that way
He went, since that his being, to this day
Few haue attempted, and I surely thinke
Those wordes shall hardly be set downe with inke;
Shall scorch and blast, so as his could, where he,
Would inflict vengeance, and be it said of thee,
_Shakespeare_, thou hadst as smooth a Comicke vaine,
Fitting the socke, and in thy naturall braine, 120
As strong conception, and as Cleere a rage,
As any one that trafiqu'd with the stage.
Amongst these _Samuel Daniel_, whom if I
May spake of, but to sensure doe denie,
Onely haue heard some wisemen him rehearse,
To be too much _Historian_ in verse;
His rimes were smooth, his meeters well did close
But yet his maner better fitted prose:
Next these, learn'd _Johnson_, in this List I bring,
Who had drunke deepe of the _Pierian_ spring, 130
Whose knowledge did him worthily prefer,
And long was Lord here of the Theater,
Who in opinion made our learn'st to sticke,
Whether in Poems rightly dramatique,
Strong _Seneca_ or _Plautus_, he or they,
Should beare the Buskin, or the Socke away.
Others againe here liued in my dayes,
That haue of vs deserued no lesse praise
For their translations, then the daintiest wit
That on _Parnassus_ thinks, he highst doth sit, 140
And for a chaire may mongst the Muses call,
As the most curious maker of them all;
As reuerent _Chapman_, who hath brought to vs,
_Musaeus_, _Homer_ and _Hesiodus_
Out of the Greeke; and by his skill hath reard
Them to that height, and to our tongue endear'd,
That were those Poets at this day aliue,
To see their bookes thus with vs to suruiue,
They would think, hauing neglected them so long,
They had bin written in the _English_ tongue. 150
And _Siluester_ who from the _French_ more weake,
Made _Bartas_ of his sixe dayes labour speake
In naturall _English_, who, had he there stayd,
He had done well, and neuer had bewraid
His owne inuention, to haue bin so poore
Who still wrote lesse, in striuing to write more.
Then dainty _Sands_ that hath to _English_ done,
Smooth sliding _Ouid_, and hath made him run
With so much sweetnesse and vnusuall grace,
As though the neatnesse of the _English_ pace, 160
Should tell the Ietting _Lattine_ that it came
But slowly after, as though stiff and lame.
So _Scotland_ sent vs hither, for our owne
That man, whose name I euer would haue knowne,
To stand by mine, that most ingenious knight,
My _Alexander_, to whom in his right,
I want extreamely, yet in speaking thus
I doe but shew the loue, that was twixt vs,
And not his numbers which were braue and hie,
So like his mind, was his clear Poesie, 170
And my deare _Drummond_ to whom much I owe
For his much loue, and proud I was to know,
His poesie, for which two worthy men,
I _Menstry_ still shall loue, and _Hauthorne-den_.
Then the two _Beamounts_ and my _Browne_ arose,
My deare companions whom I freely chose
My bosome friends; and in their seuerall wayes,
Rightly borne Poets, and in these last dayes,
Men of much note, and no lesse nobler parts,
Such as haue freely tould to me their hearts, 180
As I have mine to them; but if you shall
Say in your knowledge, that these be not all
Haue writ in numbers, be inform'd that I
Only my selfe, to these few men doe tye,
Whose works oft printed, set on euery post,
To publique censure subiect haue bin most;
For such whose poems, be they nere so rare,
In priuate chambers, that incloistered are,
And by transcription daintyly must goe;
As though the world vnworthy were to know, 190
Their rich composures, let those men that keepe
These wonderous reliques in their iudgement deepe;
And cry them vp so, let such Peeces bee
Spoke of by those that shall come after me,
I passe not for them: nor doe meane to run,
In quest of these, that them applause haue wonne,
Vpon our Stages in these latter dayes,
That are so many, let them haue their bayes
That doe deserue it; let those wits that haunt
Those publique circuits, let them freely chaunt 200
Their fine Composures, and their praise pursue
And so my deare friend, for this time adue.
Vpon the death of his incomparable _friend Sir_ HENRY RAYNSFORD
_of_ CLIFFORD
Could there be words found to expresse my losse,
There were some hope, that this my heauy crosse
Might be sustained, and that wretched I
Might once finde comfort: but to haue him die
Past all degrees that was so deare to me;
As but comparing him with others, hee
Was such a thing, as if some Power should say
I'le take Man on me, to shew men the way
What a friend should be. But words come so short
Of him, that when I thus would him report, 10
I am vndone, and hauing nought to say,
Mad at my selfe, I throwe my penne away,
And beate my breast, that there should be a woe
So high, that words cannot attaine thereto.
T'is strange that I from my abundant breast,
Who others sorrowes haue so well exprest:
Yet I by this in little time am growne
So poore, that I want to expresse mine owne.
I thinke the Fates perceiuing me to beare
My worldly crosses without wit or feare: 20
Nay, with what scorne I euer haue derided,
Those plagues that for me they haue oft prouided,
Drew them to counsaile; nay, conspired rather,
And in this businesse laid their heads together
To finde some one plague, that might me subuert,
And at an instant breake my stubborne heart;
They did indeede, and onely to this end
They tooke from me this more then man, or friend.
Hard-hearted Fates, your worst thus haue you done,
Then let vs see what lastly you haue wonne 30
By this your rigour, in a course so strict,
Why see, I beare all that you can inflict:
And hee from heauen your poore reuenge to view;
Laments my losse of him, but laughes at you,
Whilst I against you execrations breath;
Thus are you scorn'd aboue, and curst beneath.
Me thinks that man (vnhappy though he be)
Is now thrice happy in respect of me,
Who hath no friend; for that in hauing none
He is not stirr'd as I am, to bemone 40
My miserable losse, who but in vaine,
May euer looke to find the like againe.
This more then mine own selfe; that who had seene
His care of me where euer I had beene,
And had not knowne his actiue spirit before,
Vpon some braue thing working euermore:
He would haue sworne that to no other end
He had been borne: but onely for my friend.
I had been happy if nice Nature had
(Since now my lucke falls out to be so bad) 50
Made me vnperfect, either of so soft
And yeelding temper, that lamenting oft,
I into teares my mournefull selfe might melt;
Or else so dull, my losse not to haue felt.
I haue by my too deare experience bought,
That fooles and mad men, whom I euer thought
The most vnhappy, are in deede not so:
And therefore I lesse pittie can bestowe
(Since that my sence, my sorrowe so can sound)
On those in Bedlam that are bound, 60
And scarce feele scourging; and when as I meete
A foole by Children followed in the Streete,
Thinke I (poor wretch) thou from my griefe art free,
Nor couldst thou feele it, should it light on thee;
But that I am a _Christian_, and am taught
By him who with his precious bloud me bought,
Meekly like him my crosses to endure,
Else would they please me well, that for their cure,
When as they feele their conscience doth them brand,
Vpon themselues dare lay a violent hand; 70
Not suffering Fortune with her murdering knife,
Stand like a Surgeon working on the life,
Deserting this part, that ioynt off to cut,
Shewing that Artire, ripping then that gut,
Whilst the dull beastly World with her squint eye,
Is to behold the strange Anatomie.
I am persuaded that those which we read
To be man-haters, were not so indeed,
The Athenian _Timon_, and beside him more
Of which the _Latines_, as the _Greekes_ haue store; 80
Nor not did they all humane manners hate,
Nor yet maligne mans dignity and state.
But finding our fraile life how euery day,
It like a bubble vanisheth away:
For this condition did mankinde detest,
Farre more incertaine then that of the beast.
Sure heauen doth hate this world and deadly too,
Else as it hath done it would neuer doe,
For if it did not, it would ne're permit
A man of so much vertue, knowledge, wit, 90
Of naturall goodnesse, supernaturall grace,
Whose courses when considerately I trace
Into their ends, and diligently looke,
They serue me for Oeconomike booke.
By which this rough world I not onely stemme,
In goodnesse but grow learn'd by reading them.
O pardon me, it my much sorrow is,
Which makes me vse this long Parenthesis;
Had heauen this world not hated as I say,
In height of life it had not, tane away 100
A spirit so braue, so actiue, and so free,
That such a one who would not wish to bee,
Rather then weare a Crowne, by Armes though got,
So fast a friend, so true a Patriot.
In things concerning both the worlds so wise,
Besides so liberall of his faculties,
That where he would his industrie bestowe,
He would haue done, e're one could think to doe.
No more talke of the working of the Starres,
For plenty, scarcenesse, or for peace, or Warres: 110
They are impostures, therefore get you hence
With all your Planets, and their influence.
No more doe I care into them to looke,
Then in some idle Chiromantick booke,
Shewing the line of life, and _Venus_ mount,
Nor yet no more would I of them account,
Then what that tells me, since what that so ere
Might promise man long life: of care and feare,
By nature freed, a conscience cleare, and quiet,
His health, his constitution, and his diet; 120
Counting a hundred, fourscore at the least,
Propt vp by prayers, yet more to be encreast,
All these should faile, and in his fiftieth yeare
He should expire, henceforth let none be deare,
To me at all, lest for my haplesse sake,
Before their time heauen from the world them take,
And leaue me wretched to lament their ends
As I doe his, who was a thousand friends.