Part 7

This while we are abroad, Shall we not touch our Lyre? Shall we not sing an ODE? Shall that holy Fire, In vs that strongly glow'd, In this cold Ayre expire?

Long since the Summer layd Her lustie Brau'rie downe, The Autumne halfe is way'd, And BOREAS 'gins to frowne, 10 Since now I did behold Great BRVTES first builded Towne.

Though in the vtmost _Peake_, A while we doe remaine, Amongst the Mountaines bleake Expos'd to Sleet and Raine, No Sport our Houres shall breake, To exercise our Vaine.

What though bright PHOEBVS Beames Refresh the Southerne Ground, 20 And though the Princely _Thames_ With beautious Nymphs abound, And by old _Camber's_ Streames Be many Wonders found;

Yet many Riuers cleare Here glide in Siluer Swathes, And what of all most deare, _Buckston's_ delicious Bathes, Strong Ale and Noble Cheare, T' asswage breeme Winters scathes. 30

Those grim and horrid Caues, Whose Lookes affright the day, Wherein nice Nature saues, What she would not bewray, Our better leasure craues, And doth inuite our Lay.

In places farre or neere, Or famous, or obscure, Where wholesome is the Ayre, Or where the most impure, 40 All times, and euery-where, The Muse is still in vre.

HIS DEFENCE AGAINST THE IDLE CRITICK

The Ryme nor marres, nor makes, Nor addeth it, nor takes, From that which we propose; Things imaginarie Doe so strangely varie, That quickly we them lose.

And what 's quickly begot, As soone againe is not, This doe I truely know: Yea, and what 's borne with paine, 10 That Sense doth long'st retaine, Gone with a greater Flow.

Yet this Critick so sterne, But whom, none must discerne, Nor perfectly haue seeing, Strangely layes about him, As nothing without him Were worthy of being.

That I my selfe betray To that most publique way, 20 Where the Worlds old Bawd, Custome, that doth humor, And by idle rumor, Her Dotages applaud.

That whilst he still prefers Those that be wholly hers, Madnesse and Ignorance, I creepe behind the Time, From spertling with their Crime, And glad too with my Chance. 30

O wretched World the while, When the euill most vile, Beareth the fayrest face, And inconstant lightnesse, With a scornefull slightnesse, The best Things doth disgrace.

Whilst this strange knowing Beast, Man, of himselfe the least, His Enuie declaring, Makes Vertue to descend, 40 Her title to defend, Against him, much preparing.

Yet these me not delude, Nor from my place extrude, By their resolued Hate; Their vilenesse that doe know; Which to my selfe I show, To keepe aboue my Fate.

TO HIS RIVALL

Her lou'd I most, By thee that 's lost, Though she were wonne with leasure; She was my gaine, But to my paine, Thou spoyl'st me of my Treasure.

The Ship full fraught With Gold, farre sought, Though ne'r so wisely helmed, May suffer wracke 10 In sayling backe, By Tempest ouer-whelmed.

But shee, good Sir, Did not preferre You, for that I was ranging; But for that shee Found faith in mee, And she lou'd to be changing.

Therefore boast not Your happy Lot, 20 Be silent now you haue her; The time I knew She slighted you, When I was in her fauour.

None stands so fast, But may be cast By Fortune, and disgraced: Once did I weare Her Garter there, Where you her Gloue haue placed. 30

I had the Vow That thou hast now, And Glances to discouer Her Loue to mee, And she to thee Reades but old Lessons ouer.

She hath no Smile That can beguile, But as my Thought I know it; Yea, to a Hayre, 40 Both when and where, And how she will bestow it.

What now is thine, Was onely mine, And first to me was giuen; Thou laugh'st at mee, I laugh at thee, And thus we two are euen.

But Ile not mourne, But stay my Turne, 50 The Wind may come about, Sir, And once againe May bring me in, And help to beare you out, Sir.

A SKELTONIAD

The Muse should be sprightly, Yet not handling lightly Things graue; as much loath, Things that be slight, to cloath Curiously: To retayne The Comelinesse in meane, Is true Knowledge and Wit. Not me forc'd Rage doth fit, That I thereto should lacke Tabacco, or need Sacke, 10 Which to the colder Braine Is the true _Hyppocrene_; Nor did I euer care For great Fooles, nor them spare. Vertue, though neglected, Is not so deiected, As vilely to descend To low Basenesse their end; Neyther each ryming Slaue Deserues the Name to haue 20 Of Poet: so the Rabble Of Fooles, for the Table, That haue their Iests by Heart, As an Actor his Part, Might assume them Chayres Amongst the Muses Heyres. _Parnassus_ is not clome By euery such Mome; Vp whose steep side who swerues, It behoues t' haue strong Nerues: 30 My Resolution such, How well, and not how much To write, thus doe I fare, Like some few good that care (The euill sort among) How well to liue, and not how long.

THE CRYER

Good Folke, for Gold or Hyre, But helpe me to a Cryer; For my poore Heart is runne astray After two Eyes, that pass'd this way. O yes, O yes, O yes, If there be any Man, In Towne or Countrey, can Bring me my Heart againe, Ile please him for his paine; And by these Marks I will you show, 10 That onely I this Heart doe owe. It is a wounded Heart, Wherein yet sticks the Dart, Eu'ry piece sore hurt throughout it, Faith, and Troth, writ round about it: It was a tame Heart, and a deare, And neuer vs'd to roame; But hauing got this Haunt, I feare 'Twill hardly stay at home. For Gods sake, walking by the way, 20 If you my Heart doe see, Either impound it for a Stray, Or send it backe to me.

TO HIS COY LOVE

A CANZONET

I pray thee leaue, loue me no more, Call home the Heart you gaue me, I but in vaine that Saint adore, That can, but will not saue me: These poore halfe Kisses kill me quite; Was euer man thus serued? Amidst an Ocean of Delight, For Pleasure to be sterued.

Shew me no more those Snowie Brests, With Azure Riuerets branched, 10 Where whilst mine Eye with Plentie feasts, Yet is my Thirst not stanched. O TANTALVS, thy Paines n'er tell, By me thou art preuented; 'Tis nothing to be plagu'd in Hell, But thus in Heauen tormented.

Clip me no more in those deare Armes, Nor thy Life's Comfort call me; O, these are but too pow'rfull Charmes, And doe but more inthrall me. 20 But see, how patient I am growne, In all this coyle about thee; Come nice thing, let my Heart alone, I cannot liue without thee.

A HYMNE TO HIS LADIES BIRTH-PLACE

Couentry, that do'st adorne The Countrey wherein I was borne, Yet therein lyes not thy prayse Why I should crowne thy Tow'rs with Bayes: _Couentry finely 'Tis not thy Wall, me to thee weds walled._ Thy Ports, nor thy proud Pyrameds, _The Shoulder-bone Nor thy Trophies of the Bore, of a hare of But that Shee which I adore, mighty bignesse._ Which scarce Goodnesse selfe can payre, First their breathing blest thy Ayre; 10 IDEA, in which Name I hide Her, in my heart Deifi'd, For what good, Man's mind can see, Onely her IDEAS be; She, in whom the Vertues came In Womans shape, and tooke her Name, She so farre past Imitation, As but Nature our Creation Could not alter, she had aymed, More then Woman to haue framed: 20 She, whose truely written Story, To thy poore Name shall adde more glory, Then if it should haue beene thy Chance, T' haue bred our Kings that Conquer'd _France_. Had She beene borne the former Age, _Two famous That house had beene a Pilgrimage, Pilgrimages, the And reputed more Diuine, one in_ Norfolk, Then _Walsingham_ or BECKETS Shrine. _the other in_ That Princesse, to whom thou do'st owe Kent. Thy Freedome, whose Cleere blushing snow, 30 Godiua, _Duke_ The enuious Sunne saw, when as she Leofricks _wife, Naked rode to make Thee free, who obtained the Was but her Type, as to foretell, Freedome of the Thou should'st bring forth one, should excell city, of her Her Bounty, by whom thou should'st haue husband, by riding More Honour, then she Freedome gaue; thorow it naked._ And that great Queene, which but of late _Queene_ Rul'd this Land in Peace and State, Elizabeth. Had not beene, but Heauen had sworne, A Maide should raigne, when she was borne. 40 _A noted Streete Of thy Streets, which thou hold'st best, in_ Couentry. And most frequent of the rest, Happy _Mich-Parke_ eu'ry yeere, _His Mistresse On the fourth of _August_ there, birth-day._ Let thy Maides from FLORA'S bowers, With their Choyce and daintiest flowers Decke Thee vp, and from their store, With braue Garlands crowne that dore. The old Man passing by that way, To his Sonne in time shall say, 50 There was that Lady borne, which long To after-Ages shall be sung; Who vnawares being passed by, Back to that House shall cast his Eye, Speaking my Verses as he goes, And with a Sigh shut eu'ry Close. Deare Citie, trauelling by thee, When thy rising Spyres I see, Destined her place of Birth; Yet me thinkes the very Earth 60 Hallowed is, so farre as I Can thee possibly descry: Then thou dwelling in this place, Hearing some rude Hinde disgrace Thy Citie with some scuruy thing, Which some Iester forth did bring, Speake these Lines where thou do'st come, And strike the Slaue for euer dumbe.

TO THE CAMBRO-BRITANS and their Harpe, his Ballad of AGINCOVRT

Faire stood the Wind for _France_, When we our Sayles aduance, Nor now to proue our chance, Longer will tarry; But putting to the Mayne, At _Kaux_, the Mouth of _Sene_, With all his Martiall Trayne, Landed King HARRY.

And taking many a Fort, Furnish'd in Warlike sort, 10 Marcheth tow'rds _Agincourt_, In happy howre; Skirmishing day by day, With those that stop'd his way, Where the _French_ Gen'rall lay, With all his Power.

Which in his Hight of Pride, King HENRY to deride, His Ransome to prouide To the King sending. 20 Which he neglects the while, As from a Nation vile, Yet with an angry smile, Their fall portending.

And turning to his Men, Quoth our braue HENRY then, Though they to one be ten, Be not amazed. Yet haue we well begunne, Battels so brauely wonne, 30 Haue euer to the Sonne, By Fame beene raysed.

And, for my Selfe (quoth he), This my full rest shall be, _England_ ne'r mourne for Me, Nor more esteeme me. Victor I will remaine, Or on this Earth lie slaine, Neuer shall Shee sustaine, Losse to redeeme me. 40

_Poiters_ and _Cressy_ tell, When most their Pride did swell, Vnder our Swords they fell, No lesse our skill is, Than when our Grandsire Great, Clayming the Regall Seate, By many a Warlike feate, Lop'd the _French_ Lillies.

The Duke of _Yorke_ so dread, The eager Vaward led; 50 With the maine, HENRY sped, Among'st his Hench-men. EXCESTER had the Rere, A Brauer man not there, O Lord, how hot they were, On the false _French-men_!

They now to fight are gone, Armour on Armour shone, Drumme now to Drumme did grone, To heare, was wonder; 60 That with the Cryes they make, The very Earth did shake, Trumpet to Trumpet spake, Thunder to Thunder.

Well it thine Age became, O Noble ERPINGHAM, Which didst the Signall ayme, To our hid Forces; When from a Medow by, Like a Storme suddenly, 70 The _English_ Archery Stuck the _French_ Horses,

With _Spanish_ Ewgh so strong, Arrowes a Cloth-yard long, That like to Serpents stung, Piercing the Weather; None from his fellow starts, But playing Manly parts, And like true _English_ hearts, Stuck close together. 80

When downe their Bowes they threw, And forth their Bilbowes drew, And on the French they flew, Not one was tardie; Armes were from shoulders sent, Scalpes to the Teeth were rent, Downe the _French_ Pesants went, Our Men were hardie.

This while our Noble King, His broad Sword brandishing, 90 Downe the _French_ Hoast did ding, As to o'r-whelme it; And many a deepe Wound lent, His Armes with Bloud besprent, And many a cruell Dent Bruised his Helmet.

GLOSTER, that Duke so good, Next of the Royall Blood, For famous _England_ stood, With his braue Brother; 100 CLARENCE, in Steele so bright, Though but a Maiden Knight, Yet in that furious Fight, Scarce such another,

WARWICK in Bloud did wade, OXFORD the Foe inuade, And cruell slaughter made, Still as they ran vp; SVFFOLKE his Axe did ply, BEAVMONT and WILLOVGHBY 110 Bare them right doughtily, FERRERS and FANHOPE.

Vpon Saint CRISPIN'S day Fought was this Noble Fray, Which Fame did not delay, To _England_ to carry; O, when shall _English_ Men With such Acts fill a Pen, Or _England_ breed againe, Such a King HARRY? 120

[from the Edition of 1606]

_Ode 4_

_To my worthy frend, Master John Sauage of the Inner Temple_

Vppon this sinfull earth If man can happy be, And higher then his birth, (Frend) take him thus from me.

Whome promise not deceiues That he the breach should rue, Nor constant reason leaues Opinion to pursue.

To rayse his mean estate That sooths no wanton's sinne, 10 Doth that preferment hate That virtue doth not winne.

Nor brauery doth admire, Nor doth more loue professe To that he doth desire, Then that he doth possesse.

Loose humor nor to please, That neither spares nor spends, But by discretion weyes What is to needfull ends. 20

To him deseruing not Not yeelding, nor doth hould What is not his, doing what He ought not what he could.

Whome the base tyrants will Soe much could neuer awe As him for good or ill From honesty to drawe.

Whose constancy doth rise 'Boue vndeserued spight 30 Whose valewr's to despise That most doth him delight.

That earely leaue doth take Of th' world though to his payne For virtues onely sake And not till need constrayne.

Noe man can be so free Though in imperiall seate Nor Eminent as he That deemeth nothing greate. 40

_Ode 8_

Singe wee the Rose Then which no flower there growes Is sweeter: And aptly her compare With what in that is rare A parallel none meeter.

Or made poses, Of this that incloses Suche blisses, That naturally flusheth 10 As she blusheth When she is robd of kisses.

Or if strew'd When with the morning dew'd Or stilling, Or howe to sense expos'd All which in her inclos'd, Ech place with sweetnes filling.

That most renown'd By Nature richly crownd 20 With yellow, Of that delitious layre And as pure, her hayre Vnto the same the fellowe,

Fearing of harme Nature that flower doth arme From danger, The touch giues her offence But with reuerence Vnto her selfe a stranger. 30

That redde, or white, Or mixt, the sence delyte Behoulding, In her complexion All which perfection Such harmony infouldinge.

That deuyded Ere it was descided Which most pure, Began the greeuous war 40 Of _York_ and _Lancaster_, That did many yeeres indure.

Conflicts as greate As were in all that heate I sustaine: By her, as many harts As men on either parts That with her eies hath slaine.

The Primrose flower The first of _Flora's_ bower 50 Is placed, Soo is shee first as best Though excellent the rest, All gracing, by none graced.

ELEGIES VPON SVNDRY OCCASIONS

[from the Edition of 1627]

Of his Ladies not Comming _to London_

That ten-yeares-trauell'd _Greeke_ return'd from Sea Ne'r ioyd so much to see his _Ithaca_, As I should you, who are alone to me, More then wide _Greece_ could to that wanderer be. The winter windes still Easterly doe keepe, And with keene Frosts haue chained vp the deepe, The Sunne's to vs a niggard of his Rayes, But reuelleth with our _Antipodes_; And seldome to vs when he shewes his head, Muffled in vapours, he straight hies to bed. 10 In those bleake mountaines can you liue where snowe Maketh the vales vp to the hilles to growe; Whereas mens breathes doe instantly congeale, And attom'd mists turne instantly to hayle; Belike you thinke, from this more temperate cost, My sighes may haue the power to thawe the frost, Which I from hence should swiftly send you thither, Yet not so swift, as you come slowly hither. How many a time, hath _Phebe_ from her wayne, With _Phoebus_ fires fill'd vp her hornes againe; 20 Shee through her Orbe, still on her course doth range, But you keep yours still, nor for me will change. The Sunne that mounted the sterne Lions back, Shall with the Fishes shortly diue the Brack, But still you keepe your station, which confines You, nor regard him trauelling the signes. Those ships which when you went, put out to Sea, Both to our _Groenland_, and _Virginia_, Are now return'd, and Custom'd haue their fraught, Yet you arriue not, nor returne me ought. 30 The Thames was not so frozen yet this yeare, As is my bosome, with the chilly feare Of your not comming, which on me doth light, As on those Climes, where halfe the world is night. Of euery tedious houre you haue made two, All this long Winter here, by missing you: Minutes are months, and when the houre is past, A yeare is ended since the Clocke strooke last, When your Remembrance puts me on the Racke, And I should Swound to see an _Almanacke_, 40 To reade what silent weekes away are slid, Since the dire Fates you from my sight haue hid. I hate him who the first Deuisor was Of this same foolish thing, the Hower-glasse, And of the Watch, whose dribbling sands and Wheele, With their slow stroakes, make mee too much to feele Your slackenesse hither, O how I doe ban, Him that these Dialls against walles began, Whose Snayly motion of the moouing hand, (Although it goe) yet seeme to me to stand; 50 As though at _Adam_ it had first set out And had been stealing all this while about, And when it backe to the first point should come, It shall be then iust at the generall Doome. The Seas into themselues retract their flowes. The changing Winde from euery quarter blowes, Declining Winter in the Spring doth call, The Starrs rise to vs, as from vs they fall; Those Birdes we see, that leaue vs in the Prime, Againe in Autumne re-salute our Clime. 60 Sure, either Nature you from kinde hath made, Or you delight else to be Retrograde. But I perceiue by your attractiue powers, Like an Inchantresse you haue charm'd the bowers Into short minutes, and haue drawne them back, So that of vs at _London_, you doe lack Almost a yeare, the Spring is scarce begonne There where you liue, and Autumne almost done. With vs more Eastward, surely you deuise, By your strong Magicke, that the Sunne shall rise 70 Where now it setts, and that in some few yeares You'l alter quite the Motion of the Spheares. Yes, and you meane, I shall complaine my loue To grauell'd Walkes, or to a stupid Groue, Now your companions; and that you the while (As you are cruell) will sit by and smile, To make me write to these, while Passers by, Sleightly looke in your louely face, where I See Beauties heauen, whilst silly blockheads, they Like laden Asses, plod vpon their way, 80 And wonder not, as you should point a Clowne Vp to the _Guards_, or _Ariadnes_ Crowne; Of Constellations, and his dulnesse tell. Hee'd thinke your words were certainly a Spell; Or him some piece from _Creet_, or _Marcus_ show, In all his life which till that time ne'r saw Painting: except in Alehouse or old Hall Done by some Druzzler, of the Prodigall. Nay doe, stay still, whilst time away shall steale Your youth, and beautie, and your selfe conceale 90 From me I pray you, you haue now inur'd Me to your absence, and I haue endur'd Your want this long, whilst I haue starued bine For your short Letters, as you helde it sinne To write to me, that to appease my woe, I reade ore those, you writ a yeare agoe, Which are to me, as though they had bin made, Long time before the first _Olympiad_. For thankes and curt'sies sell your presence then To tatling Women, and to things like men, 100 And be more foolish then the _Indians_ are For Bells, for Kniues, for Glasses, and such ware, That sell their Pearle and Gold, but here I stay, So I would not haue you but come away.

To Master GEORGE SANDYS

_Treasurer for the English Colony in_ VIRGINIA