The Shorter Poems

  In earthlie blis, and ioy in pleasures vaine,

  Since that I sawe this gardine wasted quite,

  530

  That where it was scarce seemed anie sight?

  That I, which once that beautie did beholde,

  Could not from teares my melting eyes with-holde.

  4

  Soone after this a Giaunt came in place,

  Of wondrous power, and of exceeding stature,

  535

  That none durst vewe the horror of his face,

  Yet was he milde of speach, and meeke of nature.

  Not he, which in despight of his Creatour

  With railing tearmes defied the Iewish hoast,

  Might with this mightie one in hugenes boast.

  540

  For from the one he could to th’other coast,

  Stretch his strong thighes, and th’Occæan ouerstride,

  And reatch his hand into his enemies hoast.

  But see the end of pompe and fleshlie pride;

  One of his feete vnwares from him did slide,

  545

  That downe hee fell into the deepe Abisse,

  Where drownd with him is all his earthlie blisse.

  5

  Then did I see a Bridge, made all of golde,

  Ouer the Sea from one to other side,

  Withouten prop or pillour it t’vpholde,

  550

  But like the coulored Rainbowe arched wide:

  Not that great Arche, which Traian edifide,

  To be a wonder to all age ensuing,

  Was matchable to this in equall vewing.

  But (ah) what bootes it to see earthlie thing

  555

  In glorie, or in greatnes to excell,

  Sith time doth greatest things to ruine bring?

  This goodlie bridge, one foote not fastned well,

  Gan faile, and all the rest downe shortlie fell,

  Ne of so braue a building ought remained,

  560

  That griefe thereof my spirite greatly pained.

  6

  I saw two Beares, as white as anie milke,

  Lying together in a mightie caue,

  Of milde aspect, and haire as soft as silke,

  That saluage nature seemed not to haue,

  565

  Nor after greedie spoyle of blood to craue:

  Two fairer beasts might not elswhere be found,

  Although the compast world were sought around.

  But what can long abide aboue this ground

  In state of blis, or stedfast happinesse?

  570

  The Caue, in which these Beares lay sleeping sound,

  Was but earth, and with her owne weightinesse

  Vpon them fell, and did vnwares oppresse,

  That for great sorrow of their sudden fate,

  Henceforth all worlds felicitie I hate.

  575

  ¶ Much was I troubled in my heauie spright,

  At sight of these sad spectacles forepast,

  That all my senses were bereaued quight,

  And I in minde remained sore agast,

  Distraught twixt feare and pitie; when at last

  580

  I heard a voyce, which loudly to me called,

  That with the suddein shrill I was appalled.

  Behold (said it) and by ensample see

  That all is vanitie and griefe of minde,

  Ne other comfort in this world can be,

  585

  But hope of heauen, and heart to God inclinde;

  For all the rest must needs be left behinde:

  With that it bad me, to the other side

  To cast mine eye, where other sights I spide.

  1

  ¶ Vpon that famous Riuers further shore,

  590

  There stood a snowie Swan of heauenly hiew,

  And gentle kinde, as euer Fowle afore;

  A fairer one in all the goodlie criew

  Of white Strimonian brood might no man view:

  There he most sweetly sung the prophecie

  595

  Of his owne death in dolefull Elegie.

  At last, when all his mourning melodie

  He ended had, that both the shores resounded

  Feeling the fit that him forewarnd to die,

  With loftie flight aboue the earth he bounded,

  600

  And out of sight to highest heauen mounted:

  Where now he is become an heauenly signe;

  There now the ioy is his, here sorrow mine.

  2

  Whilest thus I looked, loe adowne the Lee,

  I sawe an Harpe stroong all with siluer twyne,

  605

  And made of golde and costlie yuorie,

  Swimming, that whilome seemed to haue been

  The harpe, on which Dan Orpheus was seene

  Wylde beasts and forrests after him to lead,

  But was th’Harpe of Philisides now dead.

  610

  At length out of the Riuer it was reard

  And borne aboue the cloudes to be diuin’d,

  Whilst all the way most heauenly noyse was heard

  Of the strings, stirred with the warbling wind,

  That wrought both ioy and sorrow in my mind:

  615

  So now in heauen a signe it doth appeare,

  The Harpe well knowne beside the Northern Beare.

  3

  Soone after this I saw on th’other side,

  A curious Coffer made of Heben wood,

  That in it did most precious treasure hide,

  620

  Exceeding all this baser worldes good:

  Yet through the ouerflowing of the flood

  It almost drowned was, and done to nought,

  That sight thereof much grieu’d my pensiue thought.

  At length when most in perill it was brought,

  625

  Two Angels downe descending with swift flight,

  Out of the swelling streame it lightly caught,

  And twixt their blessed armes it carried quight

  Aboue the reach of anie liuing sight:

  So now it is transform’d into that starre,

  630

  In which all heauenly treasures locked are.

  4

  Looking aside I saw a stately Bed,

  Adorned all with costly cloth of gold,

  That might for anie Princes couche be red,

  And deckt with daintie flowres, as if it shold

  635

  Be for some bride, her ioyous night to hold:

  Therein a goodly Virgine sleeping lay;

  A fairer wight saw neuer summers day.

  I heard a voyce that called farre away

  And her awaking bad her quickly dight,

  640

  For lo her Bridegrome was in readie ray

  To come to her, and seeke her loues delight:

  With that she started vp with cherefull sight,

  When suddeinly both bed and all was gone,

  And I in languor left there all alone.

  5

  645

  Still as I gazed, I beheld where stood

  A Knight all arm’d, vpon a winged steed,

  The same that was bred of Medusaes blood,

  On which Dan Perseus borne of heauenly seed,

  The faire Andromeda from perill freed:

  650

  Full mortally this Knight ywounded was,

  That streames of blood foorth flowed on the gras.

  Yet was he deckt (small ioy to him alas)

  With manie garlands for his victories,

  And with rich spoyles, which late he did purchas

  655

  Through braue atcheiuements from his enemies:

  Fainting at last through long infirmities,

  He smote his steed, that straight to heauen him bore,

  And left me here his losse for to deplore.

  6

  Lastly I
saw an Arke of purest golde

  660

  Vpon a brazen pillour standing hie,

  Which th’ashes seem’d of some great Prince to hold,

  Enclosde therein for endles memorie

  Of him, whom all the world did glorifie:

  Seemed the heauens with the earth did disagree,

  665

  Whether should of those ashes keeper bee.

  At last me seem’d wing footed Mercurie,

  From heauen descending to appease their strife,

  The Arke did beare with him aboue the skie,

  And to those ashes gaue a second life,

  670

  To liue in heauen, where happines is rife:

  At which the earth did grieue exceedingly,

  And I for dole was almost like to die.

  L: Envoy.

  Immortall spirite of Philisides,

  Which now art made the heauens ornament,

  675

  That whilome wast the worlds chiefst riches;

  Giue leaue to him that lou’de thee to lament

  His losse, by lacke of thee to heauen hent,

  And with last duties of this broken verse,

  Broken with sighes, to decke thy sable Herse.

  680

  And ye faire Ladie th’honor of your daies,

  And glorie of the world, your high thoughts scorne;

  Vouchsafe this moniment of his last praise,

  With some few siluer dropping teares t’adorne:

  And as ye be of heauenlie off-spring borne,

  685

  So vnto heauen let your high minde aspire,

  And loath this drosse of sinfull worlds desire.

  FINIS.

  TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE

  the Ladie Strange.

  Most braue and noble Ladie, the things that make ye so much

  honored of the world as ye bee, are such, as (without my simple

  lines testimonie) are throughlie knowen to all men; namely, your

  excellent beautie, your vertuous behauior, and your noble match

  5

  with that most honourable Lord the verie Paterne of right Nobil-

  itie: But the causes for which ye haue thus deserued of me to be

  honoured (if honour it be at all) are, both your particular bounties,

  and also some priuate bands of affinitie, which it hath pleased

  your Ladiship to acknowledge. Of which whenas I found my selfe

  10

  in no part worthie, I deuised this last slender meanes, both to

  intimate my humble affection to your Ladiship and also to make

  the same vniuersallie knowen to the world; that by honouring you

  they might know me, and by knowing me they might honor you.

  Vouchsafe noble Lady to accept this simple remembrance, thogh

  15

  not worthy of your self, yet such, as perhaps by good acceptance

  therof, ye may hereafter cull out a more meet and memorable

  euidence of your own excellent deserts. So recommending the same

  to your Ladiships good liking, I humbly take leaue.

  Your La: humbly euer.

  20

  Ed. Sp.

  The Teares of the Muses.

  Rehearse to me ye sacred Sisters nine,

  The golden brood of great Apolloes wit,

  Those piteous plaints and sorowfull sad tine,

  Which late ye powred forth as ye did sit

  5

  Beside the siluer Springs of Helicone,

  Making your musick of hart-breaking mone.

  For since the time that Phœbus foolish sonne

  Ythundered through Ioues auengefull wrath,

  For trauersing the charret of the Sunne

  10

  Beyond the compasse of his pointed path,

  Of you his mournfull Sisters was lamented,

  Such mournfull tunes were neuer since inuented.

  Nor since that faire Calliope did lose

  Her loued Twinnes, the dearlings of her ioy,

  15

  Her Palici, whom her vnkindly foes

  The fatall Sisters, did for spight destroy,

  Whom all the Muses did bewaile long space;

  Was euer heard such wayling in this place.

  For all their groues, which with the heauenly noyses

  20

  Of their sweete instruments were wont to sound,

  And th’hollow hills, from which their siluer voyces

  Were wont redoubled Echoes to rebound,

  Did now rebound with nought but rufull cries,

  And yelling shrieks throwne vp into the skies.

  25

  The trembling streames which wont in chanels cleare

  To romble gently downe with murmur soft,

  And were by them right tunefull taught to beare

  A Bases part amongst their consorts oft;

  Now forst to ouerflowe with brackish teares,

  30

  With troublous noyse did dull their daintie eares.

  The ioyous Nymphes and lightfoote Faeries

  Which thether came to heare their musick sweet,

  And to the measure of their melodies

  Did learne to moue their nimble shifting feete;

  35

  Now hearing them so heauily lament,

  Like heauily lamenting from them went.

  And all that els was wont to worke delight

  Through the diuine infusion of their skill,

  And all that els seemd faire and fresh in sight,

  40

  So made by nature for to serue their will,

  Was turned now to dismall heauinesse,

  Was turned now to dreadfull vglinesse.

  Ay me, what thing on earth that all thing breeds,

  Might be the cause of so impatient plight?

  45

  What furie, or what feend with felon deeds

  Hath stirred vp so mischieuous despight?

  Can griefe then enter into heauenly harts,

  And pierce immortall breasts with mortall smarts?

  Vouchsafe ye then, whom onely it concernes,

  50

  To me those secret causes to display;

  For none but you, or who of you it learnes

  Can rightfully aread so dolefull lay.

  Begin thou eldest Sister of the crew,

  And let the rest in order thee ensew.

  Clio.

  55

  Heare thou great Father of the Gods on hie

  That most art dreaded for thy thunder darts:

  And thou our Syre that raignst in Castalie

  And mount Parnasse, the God of goodly Arts:

  Heare and behold the miserable state

  60

  Of vs thy daughters, dolefull desolate.

  Behold the fowle reproach and open shame,

  The which is day by day vnto vs wrought

  By such as hate the honour of our name,

  The foes of learning, and each gentle thought;

  65

  They not contented vs themselues to scorne,

  Doo seeke to make vs of the world forlorne.