Minor Poems of Michael Drayton Part 15

No more talke of the working of the Starres, For plenty, scarcenesse, or for peace, or Warres: 110 They are impostures, therefore get you hence With all your Planets, and their influence.

No more doe I care into them to looke, Then in some idle Chiromantick booke, Shewing the line of life, and _Venus_ mount, Nor yet no more would I of them account, Then what that tells me, since what that so ere Might promise man long life: of care and feare, By nature freed, a conscience cleare, and quiet, His health, his const.i.tution, and his diet; 120 Counting a hundred, fourscore at the least, Propt vp by prayers, yet more to be encreast, All these should faile, and in his fiftieth yeare He should expire, henceforth let none be deare, To me at all, lest for my haplesse sake, Before their time heauen from the world them take, And leaue me wretched to lament their ends As I doe his, who was a thousand friends.

Vpon the death of the Lady OLIVE STANHOPE

Canst thou depart and be forgotten so, STANHOPE thou canst not, no deare STANHOPE, no: But in despight of death the world shall see, That Muse which so much graced was by thee Can black Obliuion vtterly out-braue, And set thee vp aboue thy silent Graue.

I meruail'd much the _Derbian_ Nimphes were dumbe, Or of those Muses, what should be become, That of all those, the mountaines there among, Not one this while thy _Epicedium_sung; 10 But so it is, when they of thee were reft, They all those hills, and all those Riuers left, And sullen growne, their former seates remoue, Both from cleare _Darwin_, and from siluer _Doue_, And for thy losse, they greeued are so sore, That they haue vow'd they will come there no more; But leaue thy losse to me, that I should rue thee, Vnhappy man, and yet I neuer knew thee: Me thou didst loue vnseene, so did I thee, It was our spirits that lou'd then and not wee; 20 Therefore without profanenesse I may call The loue betwixt vs, loue spirituall: But that which thou affectedst was so true, As that thereby thee perfectly I knew; And now that spirit, which thou so lou'dst, still mine, Shall offer this a Sacrifice to thine, And reare this Trophe, which for thee shall last, When this most beastly Iron age is past; I am perswaded, whilst we two haue slept, Our soules haue met, and to each other wept, 30 That destenie so strongly should forbid, Our bodies to conuerse as oft they did: For certainly refined spirits doe know, As doe the Angels, and doe here belowe Take the fruition of that endlesse blisse, As those aboue doe, and what each one is.

They see diuinely, and as those there doe, They know each others wills, so soules can too.

About that dismall time, thy spirit hence flew, Mine much was troubled, but why, I not knew, 40 In dull and sleepy sounds, it often left me, As of it selfe it ment to haue bereft me, I asked it what the cause was, of such woe, Or what it might be, that might vexe it so, But it was deafe, nor my demand would here, But when that ill newes came, to touch mine eare, I straightwayes found this watchfull sperit of mine, Troubled had bin to take it leaue of thine, For when fate found, what nature late had done, How much from heauen, she for the earth had won 50 By thy deare birth; said, that it could not be In so yong yeares, what it perceiu'd in thee, But nature sure, had fram'd thee long before; And as Rich Misers of their mighty store, Keepe the most precious longst, so from times past, She onely had reserued thee till the last; So did thy wisedome, not thy youth behold, And tooke thee hence, in thinking thou wast old.

Thy shape and beauty often haue to me Bin highly praysed, which I thought might be, 60 Truely reported, for a spirit so braue, Which heauen to thee so bountifully gaue; Nature could not in recompence againe, In some rich lodging but to entertaine.

Let not the world report then, that the Peake, Is but a rude place only vast and bleake; And nothing hath to boast of but her Lead, When she can say that happily she bred Thee, and when she shall of her wonders tell Wherein she doth all other Tracts excell, 70 Let her account thee greatst, and still to time Of all the rest, accord thee for the prime.

To Master WILLIAM IEFFREYS, Chaplaine to the Lord Amba.s.sa_dour in Spaine_

My n.o.ble friend, you challenge me to write To you in verse, and often you recite, My promise to you, and to send you newes; As 'tis a thing I very seldome vse, And I must write of State, if to _Madrid_, A thing our Proclamations here forbid, And that word State such Lat.i.tude doth beare, As it may make me very well to feare To write, nay speake at all, these let you know Your power on me, yet not that I will showe 10 The loue I beare you, in that lofty height, So cleere expression, or such words of weight, As into _Spanish_ if they were translated, Might make the Poets of that Realme amated; Yet these my least were, but that you extort These numbers from me, when I should report In home-spunne prose, in good plaine honest words The newes our wofull _England_ vs affords.

The Muses here sit sad, and mute the while A sort of swine vnseasonably defile 20 Those sacred springs, which from the by-clift hill Dropt their pure _Nectar_ into euery quill; In this with State, I hope I doe not deale, This onely tends the Muses common-weale.

What canst thou hope, or looke for from his pen, Who liues with beasts, though in the shapes of men, And what a poore few are we honest still, And dare to be so, when all the world is ill.

I finde this age of our markt with this Fate, That honest men are still precipitate 30 Vnder base villaines, which till th' earth can vent This her last brood, and wholly hath them spent, Shall be so, then in reuolution shall Vertue againe arise by vices fall; But that shall I not see, neither will I Maintaine this, as one doth a Prophesie, That our King _Iames_ to _Rome_ shall surely goe, And from his chaire the _Pope_ shall ouerthrow.

But O this world is so giuen vp to h.e.l.l, That as the old Giants, which did once rebell, 40 Against the G.o.ds, so this now-liuing race Dare sin, yet stand, and Ieere heauen in the face.

But soft my Muse, and make a little stay, Surely thou art not rightly in thy way, To my good _Ieffrayes_ was not I about To write, and see, I suddainely am out, This is pure _Satire_, that thou speak'st, and I Was first in hand to write an Elegie.

To tell my countreys shame I not delight.

But doe bemoane 't I am no _Democrite_: 50 O G.o.d, though Vertue mightily doe grieue For all this world, yet will I not beleeue But that shees faire and louely, and that she So to the period of the world shall be; Else had she beene forsaken (sure) of all, For that so many sundry mischiefes fall Vpon her dayly, and so many take Armes vp against her, as it well might make Her to forsake her nature, and behind, To leaue no step for future time to find, 60 As she had neuer beene, for he that now Can doe her most disgrace, him they alow The times chiefe Champion, and he is the man, The prize, and Palme that absolutely wanne, For where Kings Clossets her free seat hath bin She neere the Lodge, not suffered is to Inne, For ignorance against her stands in state, Like some great porter at a Pallace gate; So dull and barbarous lately are we growne, And there are some this slauery that haue sowne, 70 That for mans knowledge it enough doth make, If he can learne, to read an Almanacke; By whom that trash of _Amadis de Gaule_, Is held an author most authenticall, And things we haue like n.o.blemen that be In little time, which I haue hope to see Vpon their foot-clothes, as the streets they ride To haue their hornebookes at their girdles ti'd.

But all their superfluity of spite On vertues hand-maid Poesy doth light, 80 And to extirpe her all their plots they lay, But to her ruine they shall misse the way, For his alone the Monuments of wit, Aboue the rage of Tyrants that doe sit, And from their strength, not one himselfe can saue, But they shall tryumph o'r his hated graue.

In my conceipt, friend, thou didst neuer see A righter Madman then thou hast of me, For now as _Elegiack_ I bewaile These poor base times; then suddainely I raile 90 And am _Satirick_, not that I inforce My selfe to be so, but euen as remorse, Or hate, in the proud fulnesse of their hight Master my fancy, iust so doe I write.

But gentle friend as soone shall I behold That stone of which so many haue vs tould, (Yet neuer any to this day could make) The great _Elixar_ or to vndertake The _Rose-crosse_ knowledge which is much like that A Tarrying-iron for fooles to labour at, 100 As euer after I may hope to see, (A plague vpon this beastly world for me,) Wit so respected as it was of yore; And if hereafter any it restore, It must be those that yet for many a yeare, Shall be vnborne that must inhabit here, And such in vertue as shall be asham'd Almost to heare their ignorant Grandsires nam'd, With whom so many n.o.ble spirits then liu'd, That were by them of all reward depriu'd. 110 My n.o.ble friend, I would I might haue quit This age of these, and that I might haue writ, Before all other, how much the braue pen, Had here bin honoured of the _English_ men; Goodnesse and knowledge, held by them in prise, How hatefull to them Ignorance and vice; But it falls out the contrary is true, And so my _Ieffreyes_ for this time adue.

Vpon the death of Mistris ELIANOR FALLOWFIELD

Accursed Death, what neede was there at all Of thee, or who to councell thee did call; The subiect whereupon these lines I spend For thee was most vnfit, her timelesse end Too soone thou wroughtst, too neere her thou didst stand; Thou shouldst haue lent thy leane and meager hand To those who oft the help thereof beseech, And can be cured by no other Leech.

In this wide world how many thousands be, That hauing past fourescore, doe call for thee. 10 The wretched debtor in the Iayle that lies, Yet cannot this his Creditor suffice Doth woe thee oft with many a sigh and teare, Yet thou art coy, and him thou wilt not heare.

The Captiue slaue that tuggeth at the Oares, And vnderneath the Bulls tough sinewes rores, Begs at thy hand, in lieu of all his paines, That thou wouldst but release him of his chaines; Yet thou a n.i.g.g.ard listenest not thereto, With one short gaspe which thou mightst easily do, 20 But thou couldst come to her ere there was neede, And euen at once destroy both flower and seede.

But cruell Death if thou so barbarous be, To those so goodly, and so young as shee; That in their teeming thou wilt shew thy spight; Either from marriage thou wilt Maides affright, Or in their wedlock, Widowes liues to chuse Their Husbands bed, and vtterly refuse, Fearing conception; so shalt thou thereby Extirpate mankinde by thy cruelty. 30 If after direfull Tragedy thou thirst, Extinguish _Himens_ Torches at the first; Build Funerall pyles, and the sad pauement strewe, With mournfull Cypresse, and the pale-leau'd Yewe.

Away with Roses, Myrtle, and with Bayes; Ensignes of mirth, and iollity, as these; Neuer at Nuptials vsed be againe, But from the Church the new Bride entertaine With weeping _Nenias_, euer and among, As at departings be sad _Requiems_ song. 40 _Lucina_ by th' olde Poets that wert sayd, Women in Childe-birth euermore to ayde, Because thine Altars, long haue layne neglected: Nor as they should, thy holy fiers reflected Vpon thy Temples, therefore thou doest flye, And wilt not helpe them in necessitie.

Thinking vpon thee, I doe often muse, Whether for thy deare sake I should accuse Nature or Fortune, Fortune then I blame, And doe impute it as her greatest shame, 50 To hast thy timelesse end, and soone agen I vexe at Nature, nay I curse her then, That at the time of need she was no stronger, That we by her might haue enioy'd thee longer.

But whilst of these I with my selfe debate, I call to minde how flinty-hearted Fate Seaseth the olde, the young, the faire, the foule, No thing on earth can Destinie controule: But yet that Fate which hath of life bereft thee, Still to eternall memory hath left thee, 60 Which thou enioy'st by the deserued breath, That many a great one hath not after death.

NIMPHIDIA

THE COVRT OF FAYRIE

Olde CHAVCER doth of _Topas_ tell, Mad RABLAIS of Pantagruell, A latter third of _Dowsabell_, With such poore trifles playing: Others the like haue laboured at Some of this thing, and some of that, And many of they know not what, But that they must be saying.

Another sort there bee, that will Be talking of the Fayries still, 10 Nor neuer can they have their fill, As they were wedded to them; No Tales of them their thirst can slake, So much delight therein they take, And some strange thing they fame would make, Knew they the way to doe them.

Then since no Muse hath bin so bold, Or of the Later, or the ould, Those Eluish secrets to vnfold, Which lye from others reading, 20 My actiue Muse to light shall bring, The court of that proud Fayry King, And tell there, of the Reuelling, _Ioue_ prosper my proceeding.

And thou NIMPHIDIA gentle F_ay_, Which meeting me vpon the way, These secrets didst to me bewray, Which now I am in telling: My pretty light fantastick mayde, I here inuoke thee to my ayde, 30 That I may speake what thou hast sayd, In numbers smoothly swelling.

This Pallace standeth in the Ayre, By Nigromancie placed there, That it no Tempests needs to feare, Which way so ere it blow it.

And somewhat Southward tow'rd the Noone, Whence lyes a way vp to the Moone, And thence the _Fayrie_ can as soone Pa.s.se to the earth below it. 40

The Walls of Spiders legs are made, Well mortized and finely layd, He was the master of his Trade It curiously that builded: The Windowes of the eyes of Cats, And for the Roofe, instead of Slats, Is couer'd with the skinns of Batts, With Moones.h.i.+ne that are guilded.

Hence _Oberon_ him sport to make, (Their rest when weary mortalls take) 50 And none but onely _Fayries_ wake, Desendeth for his pleasure.

And _Mab_ his meerry Queene by night Bestrids young Folks that lye vpright, (In elder Times the _Mare_ that hight) Which plagues them out of measure.

Hence Shaddowes, seeming Idle shapes, Of little frisking Elues and Apes, To Earth doe make their wanton skapes, As hope of pastime hasts them: 60 Which maydes think on the Hearth they see, When Fyers well nere consumed be, Their daunsing Hayes by two and three, Iust as their Fancy casts them.

These make our Girles their s.l.u.ttery rue, By pinching them both blacke and blew, And put a penny in their shue, The house for cleanely sweeping: And in their courses make that Round, In Meadowes, and in Marshes found, 70 Of them so call'd the _Fayrie_ ground, Of which they haue the keeping.

Thus when a Childe haps to be gott, Which after prooues an Ideott, When Folke perceiue it thriueth not, The fault therein to smother: Some silly doting brainlesse Calfe, That vnderstands things by the halfe, Say that the _Fayrie_ left this Aulfe, And tooke away the other. 80

But listen and I shall you tell, A chance in _Fayrie_ that befell, Which certainly may please some well; In Loue and Armes delighting: Of _Oberon_ that Iealous grewe, Of one of his owne _Fayrie_ crue, Too well (he fear'd) his Queene that knew, His loue but ill requiting.

_Pigwiggen_ was this _Fayrie_ knight, One wondrous gratious in the sight 90 Of faire Queene _Mab_, which day and night, He amorously obserued; Which made king _Oberon_ suspect, His Seruice tooke too good effect, His saucinesse, and often checkt, And could have wisht him starued.

_Pigwiggen_ gladly would commend, Some token to queene _Mab_ to send, If Sea, or Land, him ought could lend, Were worthy of her wearing: 100 At length this Louer doth deuise, A Bracelett made of Emmotts eyes, A thing he thought that shee would prize, No whitt her state impayring.

And to the Queene a Letter writes, Which he most curiously endites, Coniuring her by all the rites Of loue, she would be pleased, To meete him her true Seruant, where They might without suspect or feare, 110 Themselues to one another cleare, And haue their poore hearts eased.

At mid-night the appointed hower, And for the Queene a fitting bower, (Quoth he) is that faire Cowslip flower, On _Hipcut_ hill that groweth, In all your Trayne there's not a _Fay_, That euer went to gather May, But she hath made it in her way, The tallest there that groweth. 120

When by _Tom Thum_ a Fayrie Page, He sent it, and doth him engage, By promise of a mighty wage, It secretly to carrie: Which done, the Queene her maydes doth call, And bids them to be ready all, She would goe see her Summer Hall, She could no longer tarrie.

Her Chariot ready straight is made, Each thing therein is fitting layde, 130 That she by nothing might be stayde, For naught must be her letting, Foure nimble Gnats the Horses were, Their Harna.s.ses of Gossamere, Flye Cranion her Chariottere, Vpon the Coach-box getting.

Her Chariot of a Snayles fine sh.e.l.l, Which for the colours did excell: The faire Queene _Mab_, becomming well, So liuely was the limming: 140 The seate the soft wooll of the Bee; The couer, (gallantly to see) The wing of a pyde b.u.t.terflee, I trowe t'was simple tr.i.m.m.i.n.g.

The wheeles compos'd of Crickets bones, And daintily made for the nonce, For feare of ratling on the stones, With Thistle-downe they shod it; For all her Maydens much did feare, If _Oberon_ had chanc'd to heare, 150 That _Mab_ his Queene should haue bin there, He would not haue aboad it.

She mounts her Chariot with a trice, Nor would she stay for no advice, Vntill her Maydes that were so nice, To wayte on her were fitted, But ranne her selfe away alone; Which when they heard there was not one, But hasted after to be gone, As she had beene diswitted. 160

_Hop_, and _Mop_, and _Drop_ so cleare, _Pip_, and _Trip_, and _Skip_ that were, To _Mab_ their Soueraigne euer deare: Her speciall Maydes of Honour; _Fib_, and _Tib_, and _Pinck_, and _Pin_, _Tick_, and _Quick_, and _Iill_, and _Iin_, _t.i.t_, and _Nit_, and _Wap_, and _Win_, The Trayne that wayte vpon her.

Vpon a Grashopper they got, And what with Amble, and with Trot, 170 For hedge nor ditch they spared not, But after her they hie them.

A Cobweb ouer them they throw, To s.h.i.+eld the winde if it should blowe, Themselues they wisely could bestowe, Lest any should espie them.

But let vs leaue Queene _Mab_ a while, Through many a gate, o'r many a stile, That now had gotten by this wile, Her deare _Pigwiggin_ kissing, 180 And tell how _Oberon_ doth fare, Who grew as mad as any Hare, When he had sought each place with care, And found his Queene was missing.

By grisly _Pluto_ he doth sweare, He rent his cloths, and tore his haire, And as he runneth, here and there, An Acorne cup he greeteth; Which soone he taketh by the stalke About his head he lets it walke, 190 Nor doth he any creature balke, But lays on all he meeteth.

The _Thuskan_ Poet doth aduance, The franticke _Paladine_ of France, And those more ancient doe inhaunce, _Alcides_ in his fury.

And others _Aiax Telamon_, But to this time there hath bin non, So Bedlam as our _Oberon_, Of which I dare a.s.sure you. 200