Chapter V: Part 5

1 Who vnder the Most High Himselfe doth hide,
In most assurèd safety shall abide.
2 Thou art, O Lord, my hope and my defence,
My God, in Thee is all my confidence.
3 Hee shall preserue thee from the hunter's snare,
And from the pestilent contagious aier.
4 His winges shall both protect and cherish thee,
His faithfull promise shall thy buckler bee.
5 Noe terror of the night shall thee dismay,
Nor Satan's arrow flyinge in the day,
6 Nor mortall plague, which in the darke annoyes,
Nor that ill angell which at none[241] destroyes.[242]
7 Thousands, ten thousands shall about thee fall,
Yet noe such ill shall thee approach at all;
8 Yea with thine eyes thou shalt behould and see,
The iust reward of such as impious bee;
9 Thou art my hope, I will on Thee rely,
Thy tower of safety, Lord, is sett soe high.
10 Noe mischeefe, noe mischance shall thee betide
No plague come near the place where Thou shalt bide.
11 The Lord His angells will Thy keepers make,
In all Thy righteous wayes which thou shalte take;
12 They in their hands shall thee sustaine and stay
That Thou shalt neuer stumble in thy way.
13 Uppon the basilisk and adder's head,
Dragon and lyon thou shalt safely tread.
14 Thy loue to Mee shall saue thee from mischance,
Thy knowledge of My name shall thee aduance.
15 I will him hear, and help him in His trouble;
I will protect him and his honour duble.
With length of dayes, hee satisfied shall bee,
And hee at last shall My saluation see.

[Footnote 241: Noon? G.]

[Footnote 242: _Sic._ Qu: = departs? G.]

PSALM XCV.[243]

Come let vs hartily reioyce and singe
To God our mightie Sauiour, and our Kinge;
Present the prayse which doth to Him belonge,
And show our gladnes in a cheerfull songe;
For God our Lord, the greatest God is Hee,
And Monarch of all gods that worshipt bee.
The Earth's round globe, Hee holdeth in His hand:
And th' highest mountaynes are at His command.
The sea is His, Hee hath it made of old,
And the dry land His blessed hands did mould:
Come let vs worship then, and humble fall
Before our mightie God which made vs all.
Hee is our Lord, and wee His people bee;
Our shepheard, and His proper sheep are wee.
This day yf you His holy voice will heare,
Let not your hearts bee hardned as they were,
When in the desert you His wrath did moue,
And temptinge Him His mightie power did proue.
Full forty yeeres this nation greeud mee so,
Their erringe harts My wayes would neuer know;
Therefore displeas'd by oath I did protest
They neuer should possesse my Land of rest.

[Footnote 243: Written in the centre of the page XCV. G.]

PSALM C.

Bee ioyfull in the Lord, yee nations all,
Cheer vp your harts in mirth, and songs withall;
The Lord is God, not wee but Hee alone
Hath made vs all, and feeds vs euery one.
Then enter yee His gates and courts with prayse,
And striue with hart and voice His name to raise.
For why? the Lord is sweet, His mercy rare,
His truth for euer constant shall endure.

PSALM CIII.

My soule with all thy powers thy Maker praise;
Forget not all His benefits to thee,
Who pardons all thy sinnes, and doth thee rayse
When thou art fal'n through any infirmitie:
Who doth thee saue from mischeifs that would kill thee,
And crowneth thee with mercies euer more.
And with the best of thinges doth feed and fill thee,
And egle-like thy youth and strength restore.
When men oppressèd doe to Him appeale,
Hee righteth euery one against his foe;
Hee vnto Moses did His lawes reueale,
And vnto Jacob's eare His workes did show.
Hee is more full of grace then wee of sinne;
To anger slowe, compassionate and kind;
Hee doth not euer chide, and never linne,[244]
Nor keepes displeasure alwayes in His minde,
Nor after our misdeedes doth Hee vs charge;
Nor takes Hee of our faults a strict account,
But as the space from earth to heauen is large,
So farr His mercy doth our sinnes surmount.
As east from west is distant farr away,
Soe farr doth Hee from us our sinnes remoue:
As fathers, kindnes to their sonnes bewray,
Soe God to them that feare Him, showes His loue.
For Hee that made vs and knowes all, doth know
The matter whereof man was made of old;
That wee were formèd heer on earth below
Of dust and clay, and of noe better mold.
Man's age doth wither as the fadinge grasse;
He flourisheth, but as y^{e} flower in May,
Which when the South-wind ouer it doth passe
Is gone; and where it grew no man can say.
But God's sweet kindnes[245] euer doth consist;
His truth, from age to age, continew shall,
To them that in His righteous lawes persist,
And thinke vppon them to performe them all.
Heauen is God's seat; there doth His glorie dwell,
But ouer all, His empire doth extend;
Praise Him yee angells which in strength excell,
And His command doe euermore attend.
Praise Him yee hosts of heauen which serue Him there,
Whose seruice with His pleasure doth accord;
And praise Him all His creatures euery where;
And thou my soule for thy part, praise the Lord.

[Footnote 244: = cease. G.]

[Footnote 245: 'to mankind for' written here and erased: 'doth consist' and its corresponding rhyme two lines below, 'persist,' written in a later hand. Originally the former line read 'But God's sweet kindness to mankind for euer,' and to rhyme with this, the corresponding line ended with 'perseuer.' G.]

PSALM CL.

To Him with trumpets and with flutes,
With cornets, clarions and with lutes;
With harpes, with organs and with shawmes,
With holy anthems and with psalmes;
With voice of angells and of men
Sing! Aleluyia! Amen, Amen.

VIII. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED.

_Miscellaneous Poems._

OF FAITH THE FIRST THEOLOGICALL VERTUE.

Faith is a sunbeame of th' Æternall light,
That in man's soule infusd by grace doth shine:
Which giues her dazled eye soe cleare a sight
As evidently sees the truith divine;
This beame that cleares our eyes, inflames our hearts,
And Charitie's kind fire doth there begett:
For sunlike, it both light and heate imparts:
Faith is the light, and Charitie the heate:
This light of faith the noblest wisdome is,
For it the onley truith allowes and a'plyes:
The virgin's lamp, that lights the soule to blisse;
The Jacob's scales,[246] whereby shee clymes the skyes;
The eye that sees, the hand that apprehends;
The cause of causes, and the end of ends.

[Footnote 246: Scala = ladder. G.]

A SONGE OF CONTENTION

BETWEENE FOWRE MAIDS CONCERNINGE THAT WHICH ADDETH MOST PERFECTION TO THAT SEXE.

THE FIRST FOR BEAUTY.

Our fairest Garland, made of Beautye's flowers,
Doth of it selfe supplyall other dowers:
Women excell the perfects' men in this,
And therefore herein theire perfection is:
For beautye wee the glorious heauens admire;
Faire feilds, faire howses, gold and pearle, desire.
Beautye doth alwayes health and youth imploy
and doth delight the noblest sense, the eye.

THE SECOND FOR WITTE.

Beautye delights the soule, but witte the Reason:
Witte lasts an age, and beautye but a season:
The sense is quickly cloyd with beautye's tast;
When witt's delight still quicke and fresh doth last:
Beautye, weake eyes with her illusion blindes,
Witte conquers spirits and triumphs ouer minds:
Deade things haue beautye, onely man hath witte,
and man's perfection doth consist in it.

THE THIRD FOR WEALTH.

Wealth is a power that passeth nature farre:
Makes euery goose a swanne, and sparke a starre:
Queene money, bringes and giues with royall hands
Freinds, kindred, honour, husband, house and lands;
Not a faire face, but fortune faire, I craue,
Lett mee want witte soe I fooles' fortune haue.

THE FOURTH FOR VERTUE.

Yet those perfections most imperfect bee,
If there bee wantinge vertuous modestye;
Vertue's aspect would haue the sweetest grace
If wee could see as wee conceaue her face:
Vertue guids witte, with well-affected will,
Which if witte want, it proues a dangerous ill:
Vertue gaines wealth with her good gouerment,
If not, sh'is rich, because shee is content.[247]

[Footnote 247: The preceding are in a third handwriting. G.]

A MAID'S HYMNE IN PRAISE OF VIRGINITY.

Sacred virginity, vnconquered Queene!
Whose kingdome never hath invaded beene;
Of whose sweete rosy crowne noe hand hath power
Once but to touch, much lesse to plucke a flower:

Gainst whome proud Love--which on the world doth raigne,--
With armies of his passions fights in vaine;
In whome gray Winter neuer doth appeare,
To whome greene Springtide lasteth all the yeare.

O fresh immortall baye, vntroubled well,
Or violett, which vntoucht doest sweetest smell;
Faire vine, which without prop[248] doest safely stand,
Pure gold, new coynd, which neuer past a hand.

O temperance, in the supreame degree
And hiyest pitch that vertue's winges can flee:
O more then humane spirit, of Angells' kind:
O white, unspotted garment of the mind,

Which first cloathed man, before hee was forlorne;
And wherein God Himselfe chose to bee borne.
Within my soule, O heavenly vertue rest,
Untill my soule with heaven it selfe bee blest.[249]

[Footnote 248: Miswritten 'drop' in MS. G.]

[Footnote 249: At bottom of this page in the MS. 'Thomas Bakewell' is scribbled twice. G.]

PART OF AN ELEGIE IN PRAISE OF MARRIAGE.

When the first man from Paradise was driven,
Hee did from thence his onely comfort beare:
Hee still enioyes his wife, which God had giuen,
Though hee from other joyes deuorcèd were.

This cordiall comfort of societye,
This trueloue knott, that tyes the heart and will,
When man was in th' extremest miserye
To keepe his heart from breaking, existed still.[250]

There is a tale then[251] [when] the world beganne,
Both sexes in one body did remaine:
Till Joue, offended with that double man,
Caused Vulcan to diuide him into twayne.

In this diuision, hee the hart did seuer,
But cunningly hee did indent the heart,
That if they should be reunited euer,
Each part might know which was the counterpart:

Since when, all men and women thinke it longe,
Each of them their other part haue mett:
Sometimes the[y] meete y^{e} right, sometimes y^{e} wrong,
This discontent, and that doth ioy begett.

It ioye begetts in there indented harts,
When like indentures they[252] are matcht aright:
Each part to other mutuall joy imparts,
And thus the man which Vulcan did deuide,

Is nowe againe by Hymen made entire,
And all the ruine is ræedified;
Two beeinge made one by their diuine desire.
Sweete marriage is the honny neuer cloyinge;

The tune, which being still plaid, doth euer please,
The pleasure which is vertue's in inioyinge.
It is the band of peace and yoake of ease,
It is a yoake, but sweete [and] light it is;

The fellowship doth take away the trouble,
For euery griefe is made halfe lesse by this,
And euery ioy is by reflection double.
It is a band, but one of Love's sweete bands,

Such as hee binds the world's great parts withall:
Whose wonderous frame by there convention stands,
But beinge disbanded would to ruine fall.[253]

[Footnote 250: Written 'x'ested.]

[Footnote 251: Miswritten 'There is a tale then.' G.]

[Footnote 252: Miswritten 'ye.' G.]

[Footnote 253: Two preceding are apparently in the same handwriting with those before them. G.]

[A FRAGMENT OF A LOVE ELEGIE.]

But those impressions by this forme are staynde,
and blotted out as if they had not beene:
And yet if nothing else in mynde I beare,
makes me not lesse learn[è]d then before:
For that in her as in a merrour cleare,
I see and learne far better things and more.
The students of the world and Natur's booke,
Beauty and order in the world doe noate;
She is my little world; on her I looke,
and doe in her the same p'fections quoate:
For in her eyes the beames of beauty shine,
and in her sweete behaviour and her grace,
Order apears, and comlines divine,
Befitting every tyme and every place.

3.

Vnto that sparkling wit, that spirit of fire,
That pointed diomond looke, that ægle's eye
Whose lyghtning makes audacity retire
and yet drawes on respectiue modesty,
With wings of feare and loue, my spirit doth fly
and doth therein a flame of fire resemble;
Which, when it burnes most bright and mounts most high,
then doth it waver most and most doth tremble.
O that my thoughts were words, or could I speake
The tongue of Angells, to expresse my mynde:
For mortall speach is far too faint and weeke
to utter passion of so high a kynde.
You have a beauty of such life and light
As it hath power all wandring eyes to stay:
To move dombe tongues to speake, lame hands to write,
Stayde thoughts to run, hard harts to melt a way:
Yet painters' can of this draw every line
And every wittles person that hath eyes,
Can se[e] and judg and sweare it is divine:
For in these outwarde formes all fooles are wise.
But that which my admireing spirit doth veiw,
I[n] thought whereof it would for ever dwell,
Eie never saw, the pensill never drew,
Pen neuer coulde describe, tongue never tell:
It is the invisible beauty of your mynde,
Your cleare immagination, lively witt,
So tund, so temp'rd, of such heavenly kind,
As all mens spirits ar charmd and rapt with it.
This life within begetts your lively looke,
As fier doth make all metalls looke like fier;
Or your quicke soule by choise this body tooke,
As angells w^{th} bright formes themselves attire.
O that my brest might ope, and hart might cleave
That so you might my silent wondring veiw:
O that you might my soreing spirit p'ceive,
How still with trembling wings it waites on you.
Then should you se[e] of thoughts an endles chaine,
Whose links are[254] vertues, and yor vertues bee;
Then should you see how your faire forme doth raigne
Through all the regions of my fantesie.
Then should you fynde that I was yours as much
As ar your sharpe conceits borowd of none;
Or as your native beautyes, that are such
As all the world will sweare it is your owne.

[Footnote 254: Miswritten 'y^{r}.' G.]

4.

As they that worke in mines, rich vaines beray,
By some few garaines[255] of ore whereon the[y] hit:
And as one letter found is oft a kay
To many lines that ar in cipher writt;
So I by your few loveing lines descry
Of your long hiden love the golden mine;
And reade therein with a true lover's eye
Of the hart's volume, every secrett line.
But what availes it now, alas to know
That once a blessed man I might haue beene?
Since I haue lett, by lookeing downe too low
My highest fortunes sore away vnseene:
And yett if I had raisd my humble eyes
As high as heauen I could not haue discer[n]d
Of invisible thoughts which in your hart did rise,
Unles of you I had my lesson learnd.
But all was darke and folden vp to me;
As soon might I my selfe, my selfe haue taught
To read y^{e} blacke records of destiny,
As read the ridles of the silent thought:
But whereto may I best resemble this?
Your loue was like the springing of a tree:
We cannot see the growing when it is,
But that it hath sprunge up and growne, we see.
Or it is like to wealth by fairyes brought,
Which they bring still while they invisible goe;
But all doth vanish and doth turne to nought,
If once a man enricht, those fairyes know:
But now your loue (say you) is dead and gone:
But my strong faith shall giue it life againe.
By strength of fancy miricles are done,
And true beleefe doth seldom hope in vaine.
Your Ph[oe]nix loue is vnto ashes turnd,
But now the fier of my affection true,
Which long within my hart hath kyndly burnd,
Shall spreade such heate as it shall liue anew.
Or if the fyer of your celestiall loue,
Be mounted vp to heauen and cannot dye:
Another slye Prometheus will I prove,
and play the theife to steale it from the skye.
When you vouchsaft to love vnworthy me,
Your loue discended like a shower of raine;
Which on the earth, euen senceles though she bee,
when once it falls, returneth not againe.
Then why should you withdraw the heauenly dew
Which fell sometymes on your despairing lover?
Though then his earthly spirit full little knew
How good an Angel did about him houer.
O you the glory of your sex and race!
You that all tymes and places hapie make!
You that in beeing vertuous vertue grace,
and make men love it better for your sake:
One sunbeame yet of favour cast on mee,
Let one kinde thought in your cleare fancy rise:
Loue but a thought, or if that may not be
Be pleasd that I may love, it shall suffise.

[Footnote 255: Qu: Grains? G.]

TO THE Q:[UEENE.]

What Musicke shall we make to you?
To whome the strings of all men's harts
Make musicke of ten thousand parts:
In tune and measure true,
With straines[256] and changes new.

How shall wee fraime a harmony
Worthie your eares, whose princely[257] hands
Keepe harmony in sundry lands:
Whose people divers be,
In station and degree?
Heauen's tunes may onely please,
and not such aires as theise.

For you which downe from heauen are sent
Such peace vpon the earth to bring,
Haue h[e]ard y^{e} quire of Angells sing:
and all the sphæres consent,
like a sweete instrument.

How then should theise harsh tunes you[258] heare
Created of y^{e} trubled ayer,
breed but distast--when you repaire--
to your celestiall eare?
So that this center here
for you no musicke fynds,
but harmony of mynds.

[Footnote 256: Miswritten 'strainest' in MS. G.]

[Footnote 257: 'heavenly' written and erased. G.]

[Footnote 258: Spelled here and elsewhere 'y^{u}.' It may be noted here, that throughout these Poems, as with the Psalms, my rule has been to extend mere contraction-forms. The few left have a place for philological ends. A kind of flourish at the end of a number of words, I was disposed to regard as intended to represent 's,' but instances occur in the MS. to show that it is a mere ornamental addition: and so I leave it unrepresented. G.]

[TO FAIRE LADYES.]

Ladyes of Founthill,[259] I am come to seeke
My hart amongst you, which I late did leese;
but many harts may be perhaps alike:
Therefore of mine, the proper markes, are theise.
It is not hard, though true as steele it be,
And like y^{e} diomond, cleare from any spot;
Transmixt with many darts you shall it se[e],
but all by vertue, not by Cupid, shot;
It hath no wings, because it needeth none,
Being now arived and settled where it would;
Wingèd desires and hopes from it gon are,
but it is full of joyes as it can hold.
Faine would I find it where it doth remaine,
but would not haue it though I might againe.

[Footnote 259: Founthill or Fonthill in Wilts. See Prefatory Note to these hitherto unpublished MSS. G.]

UPON A PAIRE OF GARTERS.

Go loveinge woode-bynde, clip with louely grace,
those two sweet plants which beare y^{e} flowers of loue
Go silken vines, those tender elmes embrace,
Which flourish still, although their roots doe moue.
As soone as you possess your blessed places,
You are advancèd and ennobled more
Then dyodemes, which were white silken laces
That ancient kings about there forehead wore:
Sweete bands, take heed lest you vnge[n]tly bynd,
Or with your stricktnes make too deepe a print:
Was neuer tree had such a tinder rynd,
Although her inward hart be hard as flynt;
And let your knots be fast, and loose at will,
she must be free, though I stand bounden still.

[TO HIS LADY-LOVE.]

In this sweete booke, y^{e} treasury of witt,
All virtues, beautyes, passions, written be:
And with such life they are sett forth in it
as still methinkes y^{t} which I read I see.
But this booke's Mrs. is a liveing booke,
Which hath indeed those vertues in her mynde,
And in whose face though envey's selfe do looke,
Even envye's eye shall all those beautyes fynd.
Onely y^{e} passions y are printed here,
In her calme thoughts can no impression make:
She will not love, nor hate, nor hope, nor feare,
Though others seeke theise passions for her sake.
So in y^{e} sonne, some say there is no heate
though his reflecting beames doe fire begett.

[TOBACCO.][260]

[Footnote 260: Cf. Harleian MS. lines 'Of Tobacco' in Epigrams pp. 32-35, _ante_. G.]

Homer[261] of Moly and Nepenthe singes:
Moly, the gods most soveraigne hearbe divine.
Nepenth Hellen's[262] drink, which gladnes brings,--
Hart's greife repells, and doth y^{e} witts refine.
But this our age another world hath found,
From whence an hearbe of heavenly power is brought:
Moly is not soe soveraigne for a wound
Nor hath Nepenth[e] so great wonders wrought.
It is tobacco: whose sweete subtile fume
The hellish torment of y^{e} teeth doth ease,
By drawing downe and drieing up y^{e} rume[263]
The mother and the nurse of each disease.[264]

[Footnote 261: Miswritten 'Honnour.' G.]

[Footnote 262: Cf. an Epigram 'Of Tobacco,' 36. The first edition thereof in its reading 'Hekens' is an obvious misprint, probably through Davies' ill writing. The reading here 'Nepen y^{e} Hellens' in the MS. is a scribe's misreading of 'Nepen_the_ Hellen's'--he having taken the ending 'the' for the article. Both point to the true reading, 'Nepenthe Helen's drink.' It is impossible that a scholar like Davies could have supposed 'Nepenthe' to be the drink of the gods, and equally impossible that he could have thought it drink of the Hellenes. G.]

[Footnote 263: Rheum. G.]

[Footnote 264: The handwriting of the six preceding pieces seems to be the same. G.]

ELEGIES OF LOUE.

Like as the diuers-fretchled[265] Butter-flye,
When Winter's frost is fallne upon his winge,
Hath onely left life's possibility,
and lies halfe dead untill the cherefull Spring:

But then the Sunne from his all-quickning eye,
Darts forth a sparkle of the liuinge fire:
Which[266] with kinde heate, doth warme the frozen flye
and with newe spirit his little breast inspire:

Then doth hee lightly rise and spread his winges,
And with the[267] beames that gaue him life doth playe:
Tasts euery flower that on th' earthe's bosoome springs,
and is in busye motion all the day:

Soe my gaye Muse, which did my heart possesse,
And in my youthful fantasie doth raigne:
Which cleard my forehead with her cheerefullnes
and gaue a liuely warmth unto my brayne:
With sadder[268] studye, and with graue conceite
Which late my Immagination entertaynd:
Beganne to shrinke, and loose her actiue heate,
and dead as in a læthargy remaynd.

Long in that senseles sleepe congeald shee laye,
Untill euen now another heauenly eye,
And cleare as that which doth begett the daye,
and of a like reviuinge simpathy:

Did cast into my eyes a subtile beame,
Which peirieinge[269] deepe, into my fancy went,
And did awake my muse out of her dreame,
and unto her new life and vertue lent:

Soe that shee now begins to raise her eyes
Which yett are dazled with her beautye's raye;
And to record her wonted melodyes,
Although at first shee bee not full so gaye.

[Footnote 265: = freckled? G.]

[Footnote 266: Miswritten 'with which.' G.]

[Footnote 267: Miswritten 'they.' G.]

[Footnote 268: = more serious. See Vol. I., p. 160, and related Note in Postscript. G.]

[Footnote 269: _Sic_: _not_ peircinge. G.]

THE KINGES WELCOME.[270]

[Footnote 270: From the autograph MS. in All Souls' College, Oxford, MS. 155. W. W. 11, 26, fol. 72, _a_ and _b_. The contractions of the MS. have been expanded, but _u_ and _v_ are reproduced. This full holograph of 'The Kinge's Welcome,' while it supersedes the short and imperfect copy from Dr. Laing's MS.--as first printed in our F. W. L. edition--confirms the authorship thereof. The abbreviated copy is also given after this one, as it is expedient to reproduce the MS. in its integrity. G.]

O nowe or never gentle muse be gaye,
And mount vp higher on thy paper winges,
Then doth the larke when he salutes the daye,
And to the morne a merrie welcome singes.

Fly swifter then the egle sent by art
From Noremberg, to the Almaine emperour:
A hand lesse cuning, but as true a hart
Sends thee to a prince of greater worth and power.

Rencounter him thowe shalt vpon the waye,
like Phebus midst of all his golden trayne;
And knowe him too thou shalt at first suruaye
By proper notes and by distinctions plaine.

By his faire outward formes and princely port,
by honours done to him with capp and knee;
He is decyphred by the vulgar sorte,
but truer caracters will rise to the[e].

Thy sight had once an influence devine.
which gave it power the soule of man to viewe;
wipe and make cleane that dazeled eye of thine,
and thowe shall see his reall markes and true.

Looke ouer all that divers troope, and finde
whoe hath his spirites most Jouiall and free,
whose bodie is best tempred, and whose minde
Is ever best in tune, and that is hee.

See who it is whose actions doe bewraye
that threefold power, which rarely mixt we see;
A iudgment graue, and yet a fancie gaye,
Joynd with a ritch remembrance, that is hee.

Marke who it is, that hath all noble skill,
which maye to publique good referrèd bee;
the quickest witt, and best affected will,
whence flowes a streame of vertues, that is hee

If any more then other clearely wise
or wisely iust or iustly valiant be;
If any doe fainte pleasures more despise,
or be more maister of himselfe, 'tis hee

But soft, thie Egletes eye will soone be dym
If thou this rising sunne directly viewe;
looke syde waies on the beames that spread from him;
faire peace, rich plentie, and religion true

Besides a guard of blessed angells houer
about his sacred person, day and night;
and with invisible winges his head doe cover,
that dangers dartes thereon may never light

When by these proper notes thowe shalt him ken,
fly towardes him with winges of love and feare;
like fire which most doth wane and tremble then
when it doth mount most high and burne most cleare.

Yet on; for wingèd time with the[e] goes on,
which like old Æ'son hath his youth renewd;
his hower glase turnèd and his sickle gone,
and all his graye and broken fethers mewd.

On, for the braue yong sonn aboue his head
Comes Northward, that he may his glorie meete;
whilest the fresh earth in all her pride doth spread
greene veluit carpettes vnderneath his feete.

On, for thee birds will help to fill thie songe,
whereto all english harte stringes doe agree;
And the Irish harpe stringes, that did iarre soe long
to make the musicke full, nowe tunèd be.

There is noe eye cast downe, there is noe voice
that to pronounce the harte assent, is dombe;
the world of thinges doth everie where reioyce,
in certaine hope of blessed times to come

Thousandes while they possesse and fill the waies
doth both desire, and hinder his repaire;
they fill the emptie heaven with praier and praise,
which he requites with demonstrations faire.

Then what hast thowe to doe, and what remaines?
praie as the people doth, and add but this
This little wish; that whiles he lives and raignes,
he maye be still the same, that nowe he is.

John Dauis.

TO THE KINGE

UPON HIS MA'TIES FIRST COMMING INTO ENGLAND.

O now or neuer, gentle Muse, be gaye:
And mount up higher with thy paper winges,
Than doth the larke when hee sallutes the daye,
And to the morne a merry wellcome singes.

Thou must goe meete King James, upon the way
Advanceing Southward, with his golden trayne;
And know him too thou maist at first survaye,
by proper noates and by distinctions plaine.

By his faire outward formes, and princely port,
By honour done to him with cap and knee,
Hee is distinguist to the vulgar sort:
but truer characters will rise to thee.

Thy sight had once an influence divine,
Which gaue it power the Soule of man to vew:
Wipe and make cleare that dazled eye of thine,
and thou shall see his reall markes and true.

Looke over all that divers troope, and finde
Who hath his spirits most joviall and free;
Whose body is best tempred, and whose mind
is ever best in tune; and that is he.

See who it is, whose actions doe bewraye
That threefold power, which rarely mixt wee see;
A judgment grave, and yett a fancy gaye
joynd with a rich remembrance, That is hee.

Marke who it is, that hath all noble skill,
Which may to publicke good referrèd bee:
The sharpest witte and best affected will,
whence floes a streame of vertues, That is hee.

If any more than other clearely wise,
Or wisely just, or justly valiant bee;
If any doe faint pleasure more dispise
or bee more maister of himselfe, its hee.

But soft, thine eagle's eye will soone bee dim,
If thou this risinge sonne directly vewe:
Looke sidewayes on the beames that spread from him,[271]
Faire peace, with Plenty, and Religion true.

With that strong g'ard of Angells which doe houer
About his sacred person, daye and night:
And with invissible winges his head doe cover,
that danger's darts thereon may neuer light.

Now on, for wingèd Time with thee goes on,
Which like old Æson hath his youth renewed,
His hower glasse turnd, and his sickle gon,
and all his graye and broken feathers mewd.

On, for the brave young sonne above his head
Comes North ward, that hee may his glory meete;
While the fresh Earth in all her pride doth spread,
greene velvett carpetts underneath his feete.

On, for the birdes will helpe to fill the songe,
Whereto all English hartstringes will agree:
An' th' Irish harpstringes that have jarrd soe longe,
to make the Musicke full, now tunèd bee.

There is noe eye cast downe, there is no voyce
Which to expresse the harts assent, is dumbe:
The world of thinges doth every where rejoyce
In certaine hope of blessed times to come.

While thousands doe posses and fill the wayes,
The[y] both desire and hinder his repaire;
They fill the emptie aire with prayer and praise,
which hee requitts with demonstrations faire.

[Footnote 271: Miswritten 'them.' G.]

TO THE QUEENE AT THE SAME TIME.

If wee in peace had not received the kinge
Wee see wee had beene conquered, since wee see
The Queene such armyes doth of beauties bringe
As all our eyes and hearts her vassals bee.

The Danish armyes once great honnour wonne
Upon this Land; yett conquered but a part.
But you greate Lady more, alone, haue done;
For at first sight you conquer'd every heart.

Starre of the North! upon these Northerne Realmes
Long may your vertues and your beauties raigne:
Beyond our Cinthiae's yeares, whose golden Beames
Ar[e] sett with vs, and cannot shine againe:
Well may it bee; though sunne and moone goe downe
Seas haue noe power the North pole starre to drowne.[272]

[Footnote 272: The allusion is to the storm on her voyage to Scotland in 1590. Cf. Constable's Sonnet to the King of Scots. See our Memorial-Introduction on these Lines. G.]

MIRA LOQUOR SOL OCCUBUIT NOX NULLA SECUTA EST.

By that Eclipse which darkned our Appollo,
Our sunne did sett, and yett noe night did follow;
For his successor's vertues shone soe bright,
As they continued still, there former light; [_their_]
And gaue the world a farther expectation
To adde a greater splendor to our Nation.

CHARLES HIS WAINE.

Brittaine doth vnder those bright starres remaine,
Which English Shepheards, Charles his waine, doe name;
But more this Ile is Charles, his waine,
Since Charles her royall wagoner became.
For Charles, which now in Arthure's seate doth raigne,
Is our Arcturus, and doth guide the waine.

OF THE NAME OF CHAROLUS, BEING THE DIMINATIVE OF CHARUS.

The name of Charles, darlinge signifies:
A name most fitte, for hee was ever such.
Neuer was Prince soe deare in all mens eyes.
Soe highly valued or esteemed soe much:
Edgar was England's darlinge, once wee find,
But Charles the Darlinge is of all mankind.

VERSES SENT TO THE KINGE WITH FIGGES: BY S^{r}. JOHN DAVIS.

To add unto the first man's happiness,
His maker did for him a garden make;
And placd him there, that hee the same might dresse,
And pleasure great with little labour take.
And this with nature stands, and reason right,
That man who first was formèd of the earth
In trimminge of the earth should take delight,
And her adorne from whom hee tooke his birth.
Nor her for this doth hee ungratefull finde;
For shee in gardens her best fruites doth yealde.
The Earth in gardens is a mother kinde,
When shee is but a steepdame in the feild.
Sir, in your service God hath mee soe blest
As I haue beene enabled to acquire
A garden, ready planted, trimd and drest,
Whereto in vacant times I doe retire.
This garden, and the fruite thereof, indeede
Are fruites of your great favour unto mee;
And therefore all the fruites which thence proceed
A proper offeringe to your Highnes bee:
But if this verse or boldness, meritt blame,
Those figge leaues, S^{r}. I hope shall hide the same.[273]

[Footnote 273: The six preceding pieces and the 'Elegiecall Epistle' are in the same handwriting with the 'Maid's hymne in praise of Virginity.' G.]

[LOVE-LINES.]

Stay lovely boy! why flyest thou mee
that languish in theis flames for thee?
I'me black 'tis true--why so is night,
yet louers in darke shades delight:
the whole World, doe but close thyne eye
will appeare as black as I;
or open'd, view but what a shade
is by thyne owne fayre body made,
that follows thee where ere thou goe:
Ah, who allow'd would not doe so?
lett mee for euer dwell so nigh,
and thou shalt need no shade but I.

[LOVE-FLIGHT.]

Black Mayel, complayne not y^{t} I flye,
since fate commaunds antipathy:
prodigious must y^{t} vnion proue,
where day and night togeather moue:
and the commotion of our lipps
not kisses make but an eclipps;
where the commixèd blacke and white
portend more terrour then delight:
yet if thou wilt my shaddow bee,
enioy thy deerest wish, but see
that like my shaddow's property
thou hast away as I come nye:
els[e] stay till death hath blinded mee
then I'le bequeath my selfe to thee.[274]

[Footnote 274: These two are in a new and apparently less-trained handwriting. G.]

AN ELEGIECALL EPISTLE ON SIR JOHN DAVIS DEATH.

Morgan! to call thee sadd and discontente
Were to proclaime thee weake; twere an evente
Of more then folly, since the obscurest eye
Is witness of thy magnanimity:
And yett to tell thee that thou hast noe cause
To greife, were to belye thy worth, because
The gapinge wound speakes out the sovldiers fame,
And deepe despites giue fortitude a name.
Tis true hee's dead, and the sterne fates (accurst)
There browes haue wrinkled, and haue done their worst
To spite this State and thee, in tearinge hence
That Nature's Accademy, that Starre, from whence
Streamd such full influence, of what the mind
Accounteth quintisentiall; and the vnkinde
And cruell Death, hath blasted such a flower,
Stolne such a gemme, as makes the sad Earth poore.
And yett alasse[275] hee is not fledd for want
Of what could make the ambitious, proud soule vaunt:
For whilst hee liv'd hee brocke up Honour's gates,
And pluck't bright fame from snarling Envie's grates
Doomd to obliuion; and his unmatchèd penne
(Drop'd from the winge of some bright Seraphin)
Inculpates him thus to all eternitye
The eldest of the Muses proginie.
Said I hee's dead? not soe; he could not die,
But findinge that curst lucre, bribery
And puft[276] ambition were the scarlett crimes
Of the Tribunall's tenants, and the times
Not suitinge with his vertues, cause his manner
Was to deserue and not desire, an honour;
Hee's sor'd aloft, where nought but virtue's pris'd,
And where base Mammon is not idoliz'd:
To that Kinge's Bench where Iustice is not gould,
Nor honours with old Ladies bought and sould;
To heauen's Exchequer, with intent to paye,
And render thence the Royall subsidaye
Of his rich spirit, which his soueraigne tooke
Without subscription, and crost Nature's booke.

[Footnote 275: This use of 'alas' was common contemporaneously, and especially by the Puritan divines. G.]

[Footnote 276: I am not quite certain as to this word. It may be 'pust': query from pus = poisonous matter? and so intended to characterize ambition? G.]

IX. ENTERTAINMENT OF QUEEN ELIZABETH AT HAREFIELD BY COUNTESSE OF DERBY.

NOTE.

This 'Entertainment' has the additional interest of having been that wherein "The Lottery" (pp. 87-95), was introduced. The reasons for our giving the whole to Davies, we have stated in the Memorial-Introduction (II. Critical: Minor Poems). Our text is from Nichols' Progresses of Q. Elizabeth, Vol. III., pp. 586-94. G.

_Entertainment of Q. Elizabeth at Harefield by Countesse of Derby._

After the Queene entered (out of the high way) into the Deamesne grounde of Harefielde, near the Dayrie howse, she was mett with 2 persons, the one representing a BAYLIFFE, the other a DAYRIE-MAIDE, with the Speech. Her Majesty, being on horsebacke, stayed under a tree (because it rayned) to heare it.

_B._ Why, how now, Joane! are you heere? Gods my life, what make you heere, gaddinge and gazinge after this manner? You come to buy gape-seede,[277] doe you? Wherefore come you abroade now I' faith can you tell?

[Footnote 277: A pun on the open mouth of wonder and curiosity. G.]

_Joa._ I come abroade to welcome these Strangers.

_B._ Strangers? how knew you there would come Strangers?

_Jo._ All this night I could not sleepe, dreaming of greene rushes; and yesternight the chatting of the pyes, and the chirkinge[278] of the frisketts[279] did foretell as much; and, besides that, all this day my lefte eare glowed,[280] and that is to me (let them all say what they wil) allwaies a signe of Strangers, if it be in the Summer; marye, if it be in the Winter, tis a signe of anger. But what make you in this company, I pray you?

[Footnote 278: Imitative word, as the 'chirr' of the grasshopper. G.]

_B._ I make the way for these Strangers, which the Way-maker himself could not doe; for it is a way was never passed before. Besides, the Mrs. of this faire company, though she know the way to all men's harts, yet she knowes the way but to few men's howses, except she love them very well, I can tell you; and therefore I myselfe, without any comission, have taken upon me to conduct them to the house.

_Jo._ The house? which house? doe you remember yourselfe? which way goe you?

_B._ I goe this way, on the right hand. Which way should I goe?

_Jo._ You say true, and you're a trim man; but I' faith I'll talke noe more to you, except you ware wyser. I pray you hartely, 'forsooth, come neare the house, and take a simple lodginge with vs to-night; for I can assuere you that yonder house that he talks of is but a Pigeon-house, which is very little if it were finisht, and yet very little of it is finisht. And you will believe me, vpon my life, Lady, I saw Carpenters and Bricklayers and other Workmen about it within less than these two howers. Besides, I doubt my Mr. and Mrs. are not at home; or, if they be, you must make your owne provision; for they have noe provision for such Strangers. You should seeme to be Ladies; and we in the country have an old saying, that "halfe a pease a day will serve a Lady." I know not what you are, nether am I acquainted with your dyet; but, if you will goe with me, you shall haue cheare for a Lady: for first you shall have a dayntie sillibub; next a messe of clowted creame; stroakings,[281] in good faith, redd cowes milk, and they say in London that's restorative: you shall have greene cheeses and creame. (I'll speake a bould word) if the Queene herself (God save her Grace) [were here] she might be seene to eat of it. Wee will not greatly bragge of our possets, but we would be loath to learne to praise: and if you loue frute, forsooth, wee haue jenitings,[282] paremayns,[283] russet coates,[284] pippines, able-johns,[285] and perhaps a pareplum,[286] a damsone, I or an apricocke[287] too, but that they are noe dainties this yeare; and therefore, I pray, come neare the house, and wellcome heartily, doe soe.

[Footnote 279: An unrecorded word. G.]

[Footnote 280: Folk-lore, as in Herrick, &c. G.]

[Footnote 281: = the last milk drawn from a cow in milking: same as strippings. G.]

[Footnote 282: = rennets--a kind of apple? G.]

[Footnote 283: = another kind of apple: see Gerard's Herbal, p. 1459 (1636 edn.) G.]

[Footnote 284: A species of apple like 'rennets.' G.]

[Footnote 285: = apple-johns, as in 1, Henry IV., iii. 3: 2, Henry IV., ii. 4 (_bis_). G.]

[Footnote 286: Query, a peach? See Gerard, as before, (p. 1447). Perse-boom is given as the Low-Dutch name of the peach. G.]

[Footnote 287: = Apricot. G.]

_B._ Goe to, gossip; your tongue must be running. If my Mrs. should heare of this, I' faith shee would give you little thankes I can tell you, for offeringe to draw so faire a flight from her Pigeon-house (as you call it) to your Dayrie-house.

_Jo._ Wisely, wisely, brother Richard; I' faith as I would vse the matter, I dare say shee would giue me great thankes: for you know my Mrs. charged me earnestly to retaine all idele hearvest-folkes that past this way; and my meaning was, that, if I could hold them all this night and to-morrow, on Monday morning to carry them into the fields; and to make them earne their entertaynment well and thriftily; and to that end I have heere a _Rake_ and _Forke_, to deliver to the best Huswife in all this company.

_B._ Doe soe then: deliver them to the best Huswife in all this company: for wee shall haue as much vse of her paines and patience there as here. As for the dainties that you talke of, if you have any such, you shall doe well to send them; and as for these strangers, sett thy hart at rest, Joane; they will not rest with [thee] this night, but will passe on to my Mr[s.] house.

_Joa._ Then, I pray, take this _Rake_ and _Forke_ with you; but I am ashamed, and woe at my hart, you should goe away soe late. And I pray God you repent you not, and wish yourselves here againe, when you finde you haue gone further and fared worsse.

When her Maiestie was alighted from her horse, and ascended 3 steeps neare to the entering into the house, a carpet and chaire there sett for her; PLACE and TIME present themselves, and vsed this Dialogue:

PLACE _in a partie-colored roabe, like the brick house_.

TIME _with yeollow haire, and in a green roabe, with a hower glasse, stopped, not runninge_.

_P._ Wellcome, good _Time_.

_T._ Godden, my little pretie priuat _Place_.

_P._ Farewell, godbwy _Time_; are you not gone? doe you stay heere? I wonder that _Time_ should stay any where; what's the cause?

_T._ If thou knewest the cause, thou wouldst not wonder; for I stay to entertaine the Wonder of this time; wherein I would pray thee to ioyne mee, if thou wert not too little for her greatnes; for it weare as great a meracle for thee to receive her, as to see the Ocean shut up in a little creeke, or the circumference shrinke vnto the pointe of the center.

_P._ Too little! by that reason shee should rest in noe _place_, for no _place_ is great ynough to receive her. Too little! I have all this day entertayned the Sunn, which, you knowe, is a great and glorious Guest; hee's but euen now gone downe yonder hill; and now he is gone, methinks, if Cinthia her selfe would come in his place, the place that contaynde him should not be to little to receave her.

_T._ You say true, and I like your comparison; for the Guest that wee are to entertaine doth fill all places with her divine vertues, as the Sunn fills the World with the light of his beames. But say, poore _Place_, in what manner didst thou entertaine the Sunn?

_P._ I received his glory, and was fill'd with it: but I must confesse, not according to the proportion of his greatnes, but according to the measure of my capacitie; his bright face (methought) was all day turned vpon mee; nevertheless his beames in infinite abundance weere disperst and spread vpon other places.

_T._ Well, well; this is noe time for vs to entertaine one another, when wee should ioine to entertaine her. Our entertaynment of this Goddesse will be much alike; for though her selfe shall eclipse her soe much, as to suffer her brightnes to bee shadowed in this obscuere and narrow _Place_, yet the sunne beames that follow her, the traine I meane that attends vpon her, must, by the necessitie of this _Place_, be deuided from her. Are you ready, _Place_? _Time_ is ready.

_P._ Soe it should seeme, indeed, you are so gaye, fresh, and cheerfull. You are the present _Time_, are you not? then what neede you make such haste? Let me see, your wings are clipt, and, for ought I see, your hower-glasse runnes not.

_T._ My wings are clipt indeed, and it is her hands hath clipt them: and, tis true, my glasse runnes not: indeed it hath bine stopt a longe time, it can never rune as long as I waite upon this Mris. I [am] her _Time_; and _Time_ weare very vngratefull, if it should not euer stand still, to serue and preserue, cherish and delight her, that is the glory of her time, and makes the _Time_ happy wherein she liueth.

_P._ And doth not she make _Place_ happy as well as _Time_? What if she make thee a contynewall holy-day, she makes me a perpetuall sanctuary. Doth not the presence of a Prince make a Cottage a Court, and the presence of the Gods make euery place Heauen? But, alas, my littlenes is not capable of that happines that her great grace would impart vnto me: but, weare I as large as there harts that are mine Owners, I should be the fairest _Pallace_ in the world; and weere I agreeable to the wishes of there hartes, I should in some measure resemble her sacred selfe, and be in the outward frount exceeding faire, and in the inward furniture exceeding rich.

_T._ In good time do you remember the hearts of your Owners; for, as I was passing to this place, I found this _Hart_,[288] which, as my daughter _Truth_ tould mee, was stolne by owne[289] of the Nymphes from one of the seruants of this Goddesse; but her guiltie conscience enforming her that it did belong only of right vnto her that is Mrs. of all harts in the world, she cast [it] from her for this time; and _Oportunity_, finding it delivered it vnto me. Heere, _Place_, take it thou, and present it vnto her as a pledge and mirror of their harts that owe thee.

[Footnote 288: A Diamond.]

[Footnote 289: = one. G.]

_P._ It is a mirror indeed, for so it is transparent. It is a cleare hart, you may see through it. It hath noe close corners, noe darkenes, noe unbutifull spott in it. I will therefore presume the more boldly to deliver it; with this assurance, that _Time_, _Place_, _Persons_, and all other circumstances, doe concurre alltogether in biddinge her wellcome.

_The humble Petition of a guiltlesse Lady, delivered in writing vpon Munday Morninge, when the [robe] of rainbowes was presented to the Q. by the La._ WALSINGHAM.

Beauties rose, and vertues booke,
Angells minde, and Angells looke,
To all Saints and Angells deare,
Clearest Maiestie on earth,
Heauen did smile at your faire birth,
And since, your daies have been most cleare.

Only poore St. _Swythen_ now
Doth heare you blame his cloudy brow:
But that poore St. deuoutly sweares,
It is but a tradition vaine
That his much weeping causeth raine,
For S^{ts} in heauen shedd no teares:

But this he saith, that to his feast
Commeth Iris, an vnbidden guest,
In her moist roabe of collers gay;
And she cometh, she ever staies,
For the space of fortie daies,
And more or lesse raines euery day.

But the good St., when once he knew,
This raine was like to fall on you,
If S^{ts} could weepe, he had wept as much
As when he did the Lady leade
That did on burning iron tread:
To Ladies his respect is such.

He gently first bids Iris goe
Unto the Antipodes below,
But shee for that more sullen grew.
When he saw that, with angry looke,
From her her rayneie roabes he tooke,
Which heere he doth present to you.

It is fitt it should with you remaine,
For you know better how to raine.
Yet if it raine still as before,
St Swythen praies that you would guesse,
That Iris doth more robes possesse,
And that you should blame him no more.

At her Maiesties departure from Harefield, PLACE, attyred in black mouringe aparell, vsed this farewell followinge:

_P._ Sweet Maiestie, be pleased to looke vpon a poore Wydow, mourning before your Grace. I am this _Place_, which at your comming was full of ioy; but now at your departure am as full of sorrow. I was then, for my comfort, accompanied with the present cheerful _Time_; but now he is to depart with you; and, blessed as he is, must euer fly before you: But, alas! I haue no wings, as _Time_ hath. My heauiness is such, that I must stand still, amazed to see so greate happines so sone bereft mee. Oh, that I could remoue with you, as other circumstances can! _Time_ can goe with you, _Persons_ can goe with you; they can moue like Heaven; but I, like dull Earth (as I am indeed) must stand vnmouable. I could wish my selfe like the inchanted Castle of Loue, to hould you heere for euer, but that your vertues would dissolue all my inchauntments. Then what remedy? As it is against the nature of an Angell to be circumscribed in _Place_, so it is against the nature of _Place_ to haue the motion of an Angell. I must stay forsaken and desolate. You may goe with maiestie, joy, and glory. My only suyte, before you goe, is that you will pardon the close imprisonment which you haue suffred euer since your comminge, imputinge it not to mee, but St. Swythen, who of late hath raysed soe many stormes, as I was faine to prouide this _Anchor_,[290] for you, when I did vnderstand you would put into this creeke. But now, since I perceaue this harbour is too little for you, and you will hoyse sayle and be gone, I beseech you take this Anchor with you. And I pray to Him that made both _Time_ and _Place_, that, in all places where euer you shall arriue, you may anchor as safly, as you doe and euer shall doe in the harts of my Owners.

[Footnote 290: A Jewell.]

THE COMPLAINT OF THE V SATYRES AGAINST THE NYMPHS.

Tell me, O Nymphes, why do you
Shune vs that your loues pursue?
What doe the Satyres notes retaine
That should merite your disdaine?

On our browes if hornes doe growe,
Was not Bacchus armèd soe?
Yet of him the Candian maid
Held no scorne, nor was affraid.

Say our colours tawny bee,
Ph[oe]bus was not faire to see;
Yet faire Clymen[291] did not shunn
To bee Mother of his Sonne.

If our beards be rough and long,
Soe had Hercules the strong:
Yet Deianier,[292] with many a kisse,
Joyn'd her tender lipps to his.

If our bodies hayry bee,
Mars as rugged was as wee:
Yet did Ilia[293] think her grac'd,
For to be by Mars imbrac'd.

Say our feet ill-fauored are,
Cripples leggs are worse by farre:
Yet faire Venus, during life,
Was the lymping Vulcan's wife.

Breefly, if by nature we
But imperfect creatures be;
Thinke not our defects so much,
Since Celestial Powers be such.

But you Nymphes, whose veniall loue
Loue of gold alone doth moue,
Though you scorne vs, yet for gold
Your base loue is bought and sold.

[Footnote 291: Clymene. G.]

[Footnote 292: Deianeira, daughter of Oeneus. G.]

[Footnote 293: Mother of Romulus. G.]

finis.

* * * * *

Transcriber's note:

In this etext a superscript is indicated by ^{e}