Chapter X: Part V (1)

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._

_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.