Part 3

[Footnote 9: Cf. _E. and Phoebe_, sub fin.; _Shep. Sir._ 145-8; _Ep. Hy. Reyn._ 79 sqq.]

[Footnote 10: Those reprints which were really new _editions_ are in italics.]

[Footnote 11: 1594 ed., Pref. Son. and nos. 12, 18, 28; 1599 ed., nos. 3, 31, 46; 1602 ed., 12, 27, 31; and 1603 ed., 47.]

[Footnote 12: Meres thought otherwise. Cf. _Palladis Tamia_ (1598), 'As Accius, M. Atilius, and Milithus were called _Tragediographi_, because they writ tragedies: so may wee truly terme Michael Drayton _Tragaediographus_ for his passionate penning the downfals of valiant Robert of Normandy, chast Matilda, and great Gaueston.' Cf. Barnefield, _Poems: in diuers humors_ (ed. Arber, p. 119), 'And Drayton, whose wel-written Tragedies, | And Sweete Epistles, soare thy fame to skies. | Thy learned name is equall with the rest; | Whose stately Numbers are so well addrest.']

[Footnote 13: Cf. Meres, _Palladis Tamia_ (1598), 'Michael Drayton doth imitate Ouid in his _England's Heroical Epistles_.']

[Footnote 14: Cf. id., _ibid._, 'As Lucan hath mournefully depainted the ciuil wars of Pompey and Cæsar: so hath Daniel the ciuill wars of Yorke and Lancaster, and Drayton the civill wars of Edward the second and the Barons.']

[Footnote 15: Cf. Elegy viij. 126-8.]

[Footnote 16: Cf. Morley's ed., _Barons' Wars_, &c., 1887, pp. 6-7.]

[Footnote 17: Cf. Elron, pp. 83-93, and Whitaker, _M. Drayton as a Dramatist_ (Public. Mod. Lang. Assoc. of America, vol. xviij. 3).]

[Footnote 18: Cf. _Nl._ ij. 127 sqq., p. 172.]

[Footnote 19: Cf. Elegy ij. 20.]

[Footnote 20: Cf. _Palladis Tamia_: 'Michael Drayton is now in penning, in English verse, a Poem called _Poly-olbion_, Geographicall & Hydrographicall of all the forests, woods, mountaines, fountaines, riuers, lakes, flouds, bathes, & springs that be in England.']

[Footnote 21: Cf. _Amours_ (1594), xx and xxiv.]

[Footnote 22: Cf. Sonnet vj (1619 edition); which is a dignified summary of much that he says more coarsely in the _Moone-Calfe_.]

[Footnote 23: Cf. Morley's ed. _Barons' Wars, &c._, p. 8.]

[Footnote 24: Charles FitzGeoffrey, _Drake_ (1596), 'golden-mouthed Drayton musical.' Guilpin, _Skialetheia_ (1598), 'Drayton's condemned of some for imitation, But others say, 'tis the best poet's fashion ... Drayton's justly surnam'd golden-mouth'd.' Meres, _Palladis Tamia_ (1598),' In Charles Fitz-Jefferies _Drake_ Drayton is termed "golden-mouth'd" for the purity and pretiousnesse of his stile and phrase.']

[Footnote 25: Cf. _E. H. E._, pp. 90, 99 (ed. 1737); Elegy i; and _Ode written in the Peak_.]

[Footnote 26: Elegy viij, ad init.]

[Footnote 27: _Palladis Tamia_ (1598).]

[Footnote 28: Cf. _Returne from Parnassus_, i. 2 (1600) ed. Arb. p. 11.]

[Footnote 29: _Michael Drayton. A Critical Study_. Oliver Elton, M.A. London: A. Constable & Co., 1905.]

SONNETS

[from the Edition of 1594]

To the deere Chyld of the Muses, and _his euer kind_ Mecænas, _Ma._ Anthony Cooke, Esquire

Vovchsafe to grace these rude vnpolish'd rymes, Which long (dear friend) haue slept in sable night, And, come abroad now in these glorious tymes, Can hardly brook the purenes of the light. But still you see their desteny is such, That in the world theyr fortune they must try, Perhaps they better shall abide the tuch, Wearing your name, theyr gracious liuery. Yet these mine owne: I wrong not other men, Nor trafique further then thys happy Clyme, Nor filch from _Portes_, nor from _Petrarchs_ pen, A fault too common in this latter time. Diuine Syr Phillip, I auouch thy writ, I am no Pickpurse of anothers wit. Yours deuoted, M. DRAYTON.

Amour 1

Reade heere (sweet Mayd) the story of my wo, The drery abstracts of my endles cares, With my liues sorow enterlyned so; Smok'd with my sighes, and blotted with my teares: The sad memorials of my miseries, Pend in the griefe of myne afflicted ghost; My liues complaint in doleful Elegies, With so pure loue as tyme could neuer boast. Receaue the incense which I offer heere, By my strong fayth ascending to thy fame, My zeale, my hope, my vowes, my praise, my prayer, My soules oblation to thy sacred name: Which name my Muse to highest heauen shal raise By chast desire, true loue, and vertues praise.

Amour 2

My fayre, if thou wilt register my loue, More then worlds volumes shall thereof arise; Preserue my teares, and thou thy selfe shall proue A second flood downe rayning from mine eyes. Note but my sighes, and thine eyes shal behold The Sun-beames smothered with immortall smoke; And if by thee, my prayers may be enrold, They heauen and earth to pitty shall prouoke. Looke thou into my breast, and thou shall see Chaste holy vowes for my soules sacrifice: That soule (sweet Maide) which so hath honoured thee, Erecting Trophies to thy sacred eyes; Those eyes to my heart shining euer bright, When darknes hath obscur'd each other light.

Amour 3

My thoughts bred vp with Eagle-birds of loue, And, for their vertues I desiered to know, Vpon the nest I set them forth, to proue If they were of the Eagles kinde or no: But they no sooner saw my Sunne appeare, But on her rayes with gazing eyes they stood; Which proou'd my birds delighted in the ayre, And that they came of this rare kinglie brood. But now their plumes, full sumd with sweet desire, To shew their kinde began to clime the skies: Doe what I could my Eaglets would aspire, Straight mounting vp to thy celestiall eyes. And thus (my faire) my thoughts away be flowne, And from my breast into thine eyes be gone.

Amour 4

My faire, had I not erst adorned my Lute With those sweet strings stolne from thy golden hayre, Vnto the world had all my ioyes been mute, Nor had I learn'd to descant on my faire. Had not mine eye seene thy Celestiall eye, Nor my hart knowne the power of thy name, My soule had ne'er felt thy Diuinitie, Nor my Muse been the trumpet of thy fame. But thy diuine perfections, by their skill, This miracle on my poore Muse haue tried, And, by inspiring, glorifide my quill, And in my verse thy selfe art deified: Thus from thy selfe the cause is thus deriued, That by thy fame all fame shall be suruiued.

Amour 5

Since holy Vestall lawes haue been neglected, The Gods pure fire hath been extinguisht quite; No Virgin once attending on that light, Nor yet those heauenly secrets once respected; Till thou alone, to pay the heauens their dutie Within the Temple of thy sacred name, With thine eyes kindling that Celestiall flame, By those reflecting Sun-beames of thy beautie. Here Chastity that Vestall most diuine, Attends that Lampe with eye which neuer sleepeth; The volumes of Religions lawes shee keepeth, Making thy breast that sacred reliques shryne, Where blessed Angels, singing day and night, Praise him which made that fire, which lends that light.

Amour 6

In one whole world is but one Phoenix found, A Phoenix thou, this Phoenix then alone: By thy rare plume thy kind is easly knowne, With heauenly colours dide, with natures wonder cround. Heape thine own vertues, seasoned by their sunne, On heauenly top of thy diuine desire; Then with thy beautie set the same on fire, So by thy death thy life shall be begunne. Thy selfe, thus burned in this sacred flame, With thine owne sweetnes al the heauens perfuming, And stil increasing as thou art consuming, Shalt spring againe from th' ashes of thy fame; And mounting vp shall to the heauens ascend: So maist thou liue, past world, past fame, past end.

Amour 7

Stay, stay, sweet Time; behold, or ere thou passe From world to world, thou long hast sought to see, That wonder now wherein all wonders be, Where heauen beholds her in a mortall glasse. Nay, looke thee, Time, in this Celesteall glasse, And thy youth past in this faire mirror see: Behold worlds Beautie in her infancie, What shee was then, and thou, or ere shee was. Now passe on, Time: to after-worlds tell this, Tell truelie, Time, what in thy time hath beene, That they may tel more worlds what Time hath seene, And heauen may ioy to think on past worlds blisse. Heere make a Period, Time, and saie for mee, She was the like that neuer was, nor neuer more shalbe.

Amour 8

Vnto the World, to Learning, and to Heauen, Three nines there are, to euerie one a nine; One number of the earth, the other both diuine, One wonder woman now makes three od numbers euen. Nine orders, first, of Angels be in heauen; Nine Muses doe with learning still frequent: These with the Gods are euer resident. Nine worthy men vnto the world were giuen. My Worthie one to these nine Worthies addeth, And my faire Muse one Muse vnto the nine; And my good Angell, in my soule diuine, With one more order these nine orders gladdeth. My Muse, my Worthy, and my Angell, then, Makes euery one of these three nines a ten.

Amour 9

Beauty sometime, in all her glory crowned, Passing by that cleere fountain of thine eye, Her sun-shine face there chaunsing to espy, Forgot herselfe, and thought she had been drowned. And thus, whilst Beautie on her beauty gazed, Who then, yet liuing, deemd she had been dying, And yet in death some hope of life espying, At her owne rare perfections so amazed; Twixt ioy and griefe, yet with a smyling frowning, The glorious sun-beames of her eyes bright shining, And shee, in her owne destiny diuining, Threw in herselfe, to saue herselfe by drowning; The Well of Nectar, pau'd with pearle and gold, Where shee remaines for all eyes to behold.

Amour 10

Oft taking pen in hand, with words to cast my woes, Beginning to account the sum of all my cares, I well perceiue my griefe innumerable growes, And still in reckonings rise more millions of dispayres. And thus, deuiding of my fatall howres, The payments of my loue I read, and reading crosse, And in substracting set my sweets vnto my sowres; Th' average of my ioyes directs me to my losse. And thus mine eyes, a debtor to thine eye, Who by extortion gaineth all theyr lookes, My hart hath payd such grieuous vsury, That all her wealth lyes in thy Beauties bookes; And all is thine which hath been due to mee, And I a Banckrupt, quite vndone by thee.

Amour 11

Thine eyes taught mee the Alphabet of loue, To con my Cros-rowe ere I learn'd to spell; For I was apt, a scholler like to proue, Gaue mee sweet lookes when as I learned well. Vowes were my vowels, when I then begun At my first Lesson in thy sacred name: My consonants the next when I had done, Words consonant, and sounding to thy fame. My liquids then were liquid christall teares, My cares my mutes, so mute to craue reliefe; My dolefull Dypthongs were my liues dispaires, Redoubling sighes the accents of my griefe: My loues Schoole-mistris now hath taught me so, That I can read a story of my woe.

Amour 12

Some Atheist or vile Infidell in loue, When I doe speake of thy diuinitie, May blaspheme thus, and say I flatter thee, And onely write my skill in verse to proue. See myracles, ye vnbeleeuing! see A dumbe-born Muse made to expresse the mind, A cripple hand to write, yet lame by kind, One by thy name, the other touching thee. Blind were mine eyes, till they were seene of thine, And mine eares deafe by thy fame healed be; My vices cur'd by vertues sprung from thee, My hopes reuiu'd, which long in graue had lyne: All vncleane thoughts, foule spirits, cast out in mee By thy great power, and by strong fayth in thee.

Amour 13

Cleere _Ankor_, on whose siluer-sanded shore My soule-shrinde Saint, my faire _Idea_, lyes; O blessed Brooke! whose milk-white Swans adore The christall streame refined by her eyes: Where sweet Myrh-breathing _Zephyre_ in the spring Gently distils his Nectar-dropping showers; Where Nightingales in _Arden_ sit and sing Amongst those dainty dew-empearled flowers. Say thus, fayre Brooke, when thou shall see thy Queene: Loe! heere thy Shepheard spent his wandring yeeres, And in these shades (deer Nimphe) he oft hath been, And heere to thee he sacrifiz'd his teares. Fayre _Arden_, thou my _Tempe_ art alone, And thou, sweet _Ankor_, art my _Helicon_.

Amour 14

Looking into the glasse of my youths miseries, I see the ugly face of my deformed cares, With withered browes, all wrinckled with dispaires, That for my mis-spent youth the tears fel from my eyes. Then, in these teares, the mirror of these eyes, Thy fayrest youth and Beautie doe I see Imprinted in my teares by looking still on thee: Thus midst a thousand woes ten thousand joyes arise. Yet in those joyes, the shadowes of my good, In this fayre limned ground as white as snow, Paynted the blackest Image of my woe, With murthering hands imbru'd in mine own blood: And in this Image his darke clowdy eyes, My life, my youth, my loue, I heere Anotamize.

Amour 15

Now, Loue, if thou wilt proue a Conqueror, Subdue thys Tyrant euer martyring mee; And but appoint me for her Tormentor, Then for a Monarch will I honour thee. My hart shall be the prison for my fayre; Ile fetter her in chaines of purest loue, My sighs shall stop the passage of the ayre: This punishment the pittilesse may moue. With teares out of the Channels of mine eyes She'st quench her thirst as duly as they fall: Kinde words vnkindest meate I can deuise, My sweet, my faire, my good, my best of all. Ile binde her then with my torne-tressed haire, And racke her with a thousand holy wishes; Then, on a place prepared for her there, Ile execute her with a thousand kisses. Thus will I crucifie, my cruell shee; Thus Ile plague her which hath so plagued mee.

Amour 16

Vertues _Idea_ in virginitie, By inspiration, came conceau'd with thought: The time is come deliuered she must be, Where first my loue into the world was brought. Vnhappy borne, of all vnhappy day! So luckles was my Babes nativity, _Saturne_ chiefe Lord of the Ascendant lay, The wandring Moone in earths triplicitie. Now, or by chaunce or heauens hie prouidence, His Mother died, and by her Legacie (Fearing the stars presaging influence) Bequeath'd his wardship to my soueraignes eye; Where hunger-staruen, wanting lookes to liue, Still empty gorg'd, with cares consumption pynde, Salt luke-warm teares shee for his drink did giue, And euer-more with sighes he supt and dynde: And thus (poore Orphan) lying in distresse Cryes in his pangs, God helpe the motherlesse.

Amour 17

If euer wonder could report a wonder, Or tongue of wonder worth could tell a wonder thought, Or euer ioy expresse what perfect ioy hath taught, Then wonder, tongue, then ioy, might wel report a wonder. Could all conceite conclude, which past conceit admireth, Or could mine eye but ayme her obiects past perfection, My words might imitate my deerest thoughts direction, And my soule then obtaine which so my soule desireth. Were not Inuention stauld, treading Inuentions maze, Or my swift-winged Muse tyred by too hie flying; Did not perfection still on her perfection gaze, Whilst Loue (my Phoenix bird) in her owne flame is dying, Inuention and my Muse, perfection and her loue, Should teach the world to know the wonder that I proue.

Amour 18

Some, when in ryme they of their Loues doe tell, With flames and lightning their exordiums paynt: Some inuocate the Gods, some spirits of Hell, And heauen, and earth doe with their woes acquaint. _Elizia_ is too hie a seate for mee: I wyll not come in _Stixe_ or _Phlegiton_; The Muses nice, the Furies cruell be, I lyke not _Limbo_, nor blacke _Acheron_, Spightful _Erinnis_ frights mee with her lookes, My manhood dares not with foule _Ate_ mell: I quake to looke on _Hecats_ charming bookes, I styll feare bugbeares in _Apollos_ cell. I passe not for _Minerua_ nor _Astræa_. But euer call vpon diuine _Idea_.

Amour 19

If those ten Regions, registred by Fame, By theyr ten Sibils haue the world controld, Who prophecied of Christ or ere he came, And of his blessed birth before fore-told; That man-god now, of whom they did diuine, This earth of those sweet Prophets hath bereft, And since the world to iudgement doth declyne, Instead of ten, one Sibil to vs left. Thys pure _Idea_, vertues right Idea, Shee of whom _Merlin_ long tyme did fore-tell, Excelling her of _Delphos_ or _Cumæa_, Whose lyfe doth saue a thousand soules from hell: That life (I meane) which doth Religion teach, And by example true repentance preach.

Amour 20

Reading sometyme, my sorrowes to beguile, I find old Poets hylls and floods admire: One, he doth wonder monster-breeding _Nyle_, Another meruailes Sulphure _Aetnas_ fire. Now broad-brymd _Indus_, then of _Pindus_ height, _Pelion_ and _Ossa_, frosty _Caucase_ old, The Delian _Cynthus_, then _Olympus_ weight, Slow _Arrer_, franticke _Gallus_, _Cydnus_ cold. Some _Ganges_, _Ister_, and of _Tagus_ tell, Some whir-poole _Po_, and slyding _Hypasis_; Some old _Pernassus_ where the Muses dwell, Some _Helycon_, and some faire _Simois_: A, fooles! thinke I, had you _Idea_ seene, Poore Brookes and Banks had no such wonders beene.

Amour 21

Letters and lynes, we see, are soone defaced, Mettles doe waste and fret with cankers rust; The Diamond shall once consume to dust, And freshest colours with foule staines disgraced. Paper and yncke can paynt but naked words, To write with blood of force offends the sight, And if with teares, I find them all too light; And sighes and signes a silly hope affoords. O, sweetest shadow! how thou seru'st my turne, Which still shalt be as long as there is Sunne, Nor whilst the world is neuer shall be done, Whilst Moone shall shyne by night, or any fire shall burne: That euery thing whence shadow doth proceede, May in his shadow my Loues story reade.

Amour 22

My hart, imprisoned in a hopeless Ile, Peopled with Armies of pale iealous eyes, The shores beset with thousand secret spyes, Must passe by ayre, or else dye in exile. He framd him wings with feathers of his thought, Which by theyr nature learn'd to mount the skye; And with the same he practised to flye, Till he himself thys Eagles art had taught. Thus soring still, not looking once below, So neere thyne eyes celesteall sunne aspyred, That with the rayes his wafting pyneons fired: Thus was the wanton cause of his owne woe. Downe fell he, in thy Beauties Ocean drenched, Yet there he burnes in fire thats neuer quenched.

Amour 23

Wonder of Heauen, glasse of diuinitie, Rare beautie, Natures joy, perfections Mother, The worke of that vnited Trinitie, Wherein each fayrest part excelleth other! Loues Mithridate, the purest of perfection, Celestiall Image, Load-stone of desire, The soules delight, the sences true direction, Sunne of the world, thou hart reuyuing fire! Why should'st thou place thy Trophies in those eyes, Which scorne the honor that is done to thee, Or make my pen her name immortalize, Who in her pride sdaynes once to look on me? It is thy heauen within her face to dwell, And in thy heauen, there onely, is my hell.

Amour 24

Our floods-Queene, _Thames_, for shyps and Swans is crowned, And stately _Seuerne_ for her shores is praised, The christall _Trent_ for Foords and fishe renowned, And _Auons_ fame to _Albyons_ Cliues is raysed. _Carlegion Chester_ vaunts her holy _Dee_, _Yorke_ many wonders of her _Ouse_ can tell, The _Peake_ her _Doue_, whose bancks so fertill bee, And _Kent_ will say her _Medway_ doth excell. Cotswoold commends her _Isis_ and her _Tame_, Our Northern borders boast of _Tweeds_ faire flood; Our Westerne parts extoll theyr Wilys fame, And old _Legea_ brags of _Danish_ blood: _Ardens_ sweet _Ankor_, let thy glory be That fayre _Idea_ shee doth liue by thee.

Amour 25

The glorious sunne went blushing to his bed, When my soules sunne, from her fayre Cabynet, Her golden beames had now discouered, Lightning the world, eclipsed by his set. Some muz'd to see the earth enuy the ayre, Which from her lyps exhald refined sweet, A world to see, yet how he ioyd to heare The dainty grasse make musicke with her feete. But my most meruaile was when from the skyes, So Comet-like, each starre aduanc'd her lyght, As though the heauen had now awak'd her eyes, And summond Angels to this blessed sight. No clowde was seene, but christalline the ayre, Laughing for ioy upon my louely fayre.

Amour 26

Cupid, dumbe-Idoll, peeuish Saint of loue, No more shalt thou nor Saint nor Idoll be; No God art thou, a Goddesse shee doth proue, Of all thine honour shee hath robbed thee. Thy Bowe, halfe broke, is peec'd with old desire; Her Bowe is beauty with ten thousand strings Of purest gold, tempred with vertues fire, The least able to kyll an hoste of Kings. Thy shafts be spent, and shee (to warre appointed) Hydes in those christall quiuers of her eyes More Arrowes, with hart-piercing mettel poynted, Then there be starres at midnight in the skyes. With these she steales mens harts for her reliefe, Yet happy he thats robd of such a thiefe!

Amour 27

My Loue makes hote the fire whose heat is spent, The water moisture from my teares deriueth, And my strong sighes the ayres weake force reuiueth: Thus loue, tears, sighes, maintaine each one his element. The fire, vnto my loue, compare a painted fire, The water, to my teares as drops to Oceans be, The ayre, vnto my sighes as Eagle to the flie, The passions of dispaire but ioyes to my desire. Onely my loue is in the fire ingraued, Onely my teares by Oceans may be gessed, Onely my sighes are by the ayre expressed; Yet fire, water, ayre, of nature not depriued. Whilst fire, water, ayre, twixt heauen and earth shal be, My loue, my teares, my sighes, extinguisht cannot be.

Amour 28

Some wits there be which lyke my method well, And say my verse runnes in a lofty vayne; Some say, I haue a passing pleasing straine, Some say that in my humour I excell. Some who reach not the height of my conceite, They say, (as Poets doe) I vse to fayne, And in bare words paynt out my passions payne: Thus sundry men their sundry minds repeate. I passe not I how men affected be, Nor who commend, or discommend my verse; It pleaseth me if I my plaints rehearse, And in my lynes if shee my loue may see. I proue my verse autentique still in thys, Who writes my Mistres praise can neuer write amisse.

Amour 29

O eyes! behold your happy _Hesperus_, That luckie Load-starre of eternall light, Left as that sunne alone to comfort vs, When our worlds sunne is vanisht out of sight. O starre of starres! fayre Planet mildly moouing, O Lampe of vertue! sun-bright, euer shyning, O mine eyes Comet! so admyr'd by louing, O cleerest day-starre! neuer more declyning. O our worlds wonder! crowne of heauen aboue, Thrice happy be those eyes which may behold thee! Lou'd more then life, yet onely art his loue Whose glorious hand immortal hath enrold thee! O blessed fayre! now vaile those heauenly eyes, That I may blesse mee at thy sweet arise.

Amour 30