SIR FRANCIS DRAKE, His Honourable life's commendation, and his Tragical deaths lamentation. * ⁎ *  Conamur tenues grandia. 
AT OXFORD, Printed by joseph Barnes, and are to be sold in Paul's Churchyard at the sign of the Bible. 1596.   

TO THE BEAUTEOUS, AND virtuous Lady ELIZABETH, late wife unto the highly renowned SIR FRANCIS DRAKE deceased.  
Divorced by Death, but wedded still by love,  
(For love by Death can never be divorced)  
Lo England's Dragon, thy true turtle Dove,  
To seek her make is now again enforced.  
Like as the Sparrow from the Castrels ire  
Made his Asylum in the wiseman's fist:  
So he, and I his tongues-man, do require  
Thy sanctuary, Envy to resist.  
So may heroic DRAKE, whose worth gave wings  
Unto my Muse that near before could fly,  
And taught her tune these harsh discordant strings,  
A note above her rural minstrelsy,  
Live in himself, and I in him may live,  
Thine eyes to both vitality shall give.  
Your ladyships virtues devoted, CHARLES FITZ-GEFFREY,   

To the Author.  

ONce dead, and twice alive, thrice worthy DRAKE,  
And worthy thou by whom he lives again:  
O would that thou who him alive dost make,  
A life unto thyself by him mightst gain!  
But if thou canst not get this for thy pain,  
Yet will I offer heart and pen to thee,  
And if one fail, the other thine shallbe.   

Sure one will fail; the other thine shallbe,  
Admitting thee into her chiefest part;  
Wishing that art with nature would agree,  
To join an able pen with loving heart,  
That to the world she might her mind impart:  
So heart imagine should, and art indite,  
And art and heart should both thy praises write.   

But now let DRAKE, unto whose shrine thou singest  
These lamentable accents on his tomb,  
Retribute part to thee of that thou bringest,  
And make thee famous, though himself be dumb;  
So by thy praising, shall thy praises come:  
Then let thy swan-sweet verse sing to a DRAKE,  
And that which makes him, shall thee famous make.   
R. R.   

To C. F.  
WHen to the banks of sweet Elysium  
Came worthy DRAKE, to get his passage there▪  
The ferry-man denied his ghost to come,  
Before his exequys solemnized were:  
But none t' adorn his funeral hearse did prove:  
And long he sat upon the hopeless shore.  
Until thy Muse (whom pity still did move)  
Helped thee to rise, and him to rest no more:  
And sent her mournful tears unto his ghost,  
And sweet (though sad) complaints as exequys,  
Passing him to those fields which long he lost,  
And won his soul the joy, thy pen the prize:  
So still thy funerals shall adorn his name,  
And ●●ll his funerals shall enlarge thy fame.  
F. R.   

To the Author.  

Englands' Ulysseses, slain by mortal fates,  
His body Tethys caught within her arms,  
Jove placed his soul amid the heavenly states,  
Setting him free from fortune-tossing harms,  
From Scylla's gulfs, and Circe's deadly charms:  
And both did choose a place to keep his prey,  
Tethys her lap, but Jove the Milk-white Way.   

Yet shall his fame, his worth▪ his worthy deeds,  
Eternised by thy verse, among us dwell,  
And whatsoever after-age succeeds,  
Unto posterity the same shall tell,  
And make thy praises with his own excel:  
Time that doth all things else in time devour,  
Shall never have thy name within her power.   

Old GEFFREY CHAUCER, England's ancient Muse,  
And mirror of the times that did ensue,  
Yielded to death, that near admits excuse;  
But now in thee he seems to live a new,  
(If grave Pythagoras sage saws be true:)  
Then sith old GEFFREY's spirit lives in thee,  
Rightly thou named art FITZ-GEFFERY.   
D. W.   

SIR FRANCIS DRAKE HIS HONOURABLE LIFE'S commendation, and his tragical deaths lamentation. * ⁎ *  

DARK night, the sovereign of Cymmerian black,  
Th' inhabitant of pitchy Acheron,  
Mounted upon Alastor's snaky back,  
From Taenarus (her black pavilion)  
Rides through the world in sad progression;  
Dew-dropping mists, and darkness dusky bloom  
Attend, as Heralds, to proclaim her room.   

Blind Vesperugo, clothed in sable shade  
(Night's cloudy harbinger, cold Hesperus)  
Runs on before to see that way be made;  
And being authorized her Prodromus,  
Rides on the Vulture-bearing Caucasus,  
veiling the golden tapers of the light,  
And bids Olympus entertain the night.   

She bristling up her leaden-plated crest  
Of feathers, broader than the dragon's wings,  
Whose space disjoines the Lycaonian beast  
From Cynosure, whose praise the seaman sings,  
That she as patroness directs his rings;  
Enclaspeth with her winged eminence  
The world's orbicular circumference.   

Now only is she earth's high Monarchesse,  
And tirannizeth over this massy round;  
For he, whose puissance quelled her monstruousness,  
Enchaining her beneath the weighty ground,  
By deaths fierce Ebony trident hath his wound,  
Repaying unto greedy destiny,  
The interest of his life-lent usury.   

Drowned is the daystar in th' Hesperian deeps,  
The radiant Eos of white Albion:  
Tithonus love-lasse, fair Aurora, weeps,  
And day-reducing Phosphorus doth moan,  
That he unto the other world is gone;  
Denying them the traffic of his sight,  
From whose fair lustre they derived their light.   

See how Apollo tasks his wearied teams  
Unto the Occidental Ax●ltree,  
Making th' Horizon mask in sable seams,  
Abandoning the earth from mirth and glee,  
Swearing it never more his lamps shall see,  
But means (except the fates his wrath appease)  
To live immured among th' Antipodes.   

As when he left th' Olympic starry rocks,  
Living an exile long in Thessaly;  
And near Amphrysus fed Admetus' flocks,  
Only accompanied with Mercury:  
Or when for Phäetons' sad tragedy,  
Enraged with passionate woe he fell at odds  
With thundering Jove, and all the minor-Gods.   

But now nor Clymenes audacious boy  
Torn by the morning-breathing horses rage;  
Nor Amcylean Hyacinth's annoy  
Cause this his grief, impatient of assuage;  
These woes long since gave place to time and age:  
The pains that now exagitate his soul,  
Time cannot tame, nor swan-white age control.   

He, from whose sun the sun derived his shine,  
(As doth his sister-planet from his light)  
Whilom than crystal far more crystalline,  
Now is oppressed with deaths eternal night,  
Exempt from intercourse of Phoebus' sight;  
Who wails his loss, but solaced in this,  
That his immortal soul survives in bliss.   

The Gods Pandora, heavens bright firmament,  
Fair Albion's bulwark, castle of defence,  
The worlds rare wonder, th' earth's rich ornament,  
Heart's adamant, minds sacred excellence,  
wisdoms grave Delphos, virtues quintessence,  
Right perfect workmanship of skilful nature,  
Some semi-God, more than a mortal creature.   

Great God of prowess, thunderbolt of war,  
Belionae's darling, Mars of chivalry,  
Bloody Enyo's champion, foeman's fear,  
Fame's stately Pharus, map of dignity,  
Jove's pearl, pearls pride, pride's foe, foes enemy:  
Spaine-shaking fever, regent of wars thunder,  
Undaunted DRAKE, a name importing wonder.   

All this, yea thrice a thousand times and more  
Than this untold, though Angel's eloquence,  
Though all the souls of Poets heretofore,  
And modern Muses made their residence  
In mortal mould to pen his excellence;  
More than all arts Arithmetic can sum,  
Ay me! are now enclosed in DRAKES rich tomb.   

Tomb? ah no tomb, but Neptune's froathing waves:  
Waves? ah no waves, but billow-rouling seas:  
Seas? ah no seas, but honour's hallowed graves:  
Graves? ah no graves, but bones eternal ease:  
Ease? ah no ease, but rest borne to displease:  
What ere it be where worthy DRAKE doth lie,  
That sacred shrine entombs a Deity.   

If Deity in earth can be enrolled,  
Or may participate with brickle clay,  
Or can be compassed with so frail a mould,  
Or be invested in so base array.  
As transitory flesh borne to decay;  
Then wheresoe'er it be that DRAKE doth lie,  
That sacred shrine entombs a Deity.   

If Deity may be a thing created,  
The quaintest workmanship of skilful nature;  
Or by a parliament of Gods enacted,  
Or be appropriated to a creature,  
Omnipotent Joves richest architecture:  
Then wheresoe'er it be that DRAKE doth lie,  
That sacred shrine entombs a Deity.   

But if man's soul his Deity define;  
Which is an essence metaphysical,  
Immortal, heaven-infused, and divine;  
And flesh be but a prison temporal,  
That for a season holds the soul in thrall:  
Then in DRAKES tomb doth this his prison lie,  
But heavens bright shrine contains his Deity.   

O who will lead me to that two toped mountain,  
The Heliconian Muses laureate hill?  
Who will conduct me to that sacred fountain,  
Whence soule-infusing Nectar doth distill,  
That Poets sp'rites with winged furies fill:  
Where naked Graces use to bathe and swim,  
While Nymphs and Fairies dance about the brim?   

Where no Actaeon straggling through the fields  
Defiles those Diana's with polluted eyes;  
No Pyrenëus this chaste forest yields,  
Whose sugared words and soothing flatteries  
Joined with constraint would cause them wantonize:  
No such polluted pessaunts haunt these places;  
For lust is sacrilege unto the Graces.   

Phoebus' fair wellsprings, fountains crystal bright,  
Oil of invention, Poet's paradise,  
Impressures of conceit, sap of delight,  
Souls sweet Emplastrum, unguent of the eyes,  
Drops, making men with Gods to sympathise,  
Baths of the Muses, Hebe's sugared wine,  
Pure Helicon, the very name divine.   

Mount me, fair offspring of Mnemosyne,  
Upon Bellerophon's winde-winged steed;  
Lift up my leaden sprite, Euphrosyne,  
Above the pitch of pastors rural reed:  
For he that sings of matchless DRAKE, had need  
To have all Helicon within his brain,  
Who in his heart did all heaven's worth contain.   

No common theme is subject of my verse,  
One Muse cannot suffice to pen this story:  
He that intends DRAKES merits to rehearse▪  
And pen the process of his famous glory,  
Should in his heart all Muse's spirits carry:  
Yet all inferior to his worthiness,  
Whose soul did all the Worthies sp'rites possess.   

Audacious infant, proud presumptuous boy,  
That dares presume to name with faltering tongue,  
And voice untaught to tune an humble lay,  
A name which thundering Zephyrus hath song,  
And thousand Echoes through the world have tongue▪  
With fames triumphant trumpet often spread,  
From th' Arctic to th' Antartique famosed.   

None but old Atlas' heaven-up-holding arms▪  
Or great Alcides' adamantine breast,  
To whose exploits all Poets sing alarms,  
Should underprop the Axel of the west,  
And wield the heaven that DRAKES name hath addressed,  
Whose weight will bruise the shoulders of the weak;  
Let children cease of such exploits to speak.   

Yet may we weep, although we cannot sing,  
And with sad passions volley forth our fears;  
While others accents in the air do ring,  
Our Anthems may detain the vulgar ears,  
And what we want in words, supply in tears▪  
While Philomela tunes sweet melody,  
Progne may weep her dismal tragedy,   

Than you, sweete-singing Sirens of these times,  
Dear darlings of the Delian Deity,  
That with your Angels-soule inchauntinge times  
Transport Parnassus into Brittany,  
With learning's garland crowning Poesy;  
Sdaine not that our harsh plaints should beat your cares:  
Arts want may stop our tongues, but not our tears.   

SPENSER, whose heart inharbours Homer's soul,  
If Samian Axioms be authentical:  
DANIEL, who well master Maro's text control  
With proud Plus ultra true note marginal:  
And golden-mouthed DRAYTON musical,  
Into whose soul sweet SIDNEY did infuse  
The essence of his Phoenix-feathered Muse:   

Types of true honour, Phoebus Tripodes,  
Hell-charminge Orphêi, Sirens of the sense,  
Wit's substance, Jove's braine-borne Pallades,  
Souls Manna, heavens Ambrosian influence,  
True centres of renowns circumference,  
The graceful Graces fair triplicity,  
Of modern Poets rarest trinarie.   

Imbath your Angel-feathers lofty quill  
In fluent amber-dropping Castalie.  
That liquid gold may from your pen distill,  
Encarving characters of memory,  
In brasen-leaved books of eternity:  
Be DRAKES worth royalised by your wits,  
That DRAKES high name may coronize your writs.   

Let famous RED CROSS yield to famous DRAKE,  
And good Sir GVION give to him his lance;  
Let all the MORTIMERS surrender make  
To one that higher did his fame advance;  
Cease LANCASTER'S, & YORK'S jars to enhance;  
Sing all, and all to few to sing DRAKES fame;  
Your Poems need no laurel save his name.   

Had he been borne in Agamemnon's age,  
When stout Achilles' lance scourged Troy's proud towers:  
When men 'gainst men, and Gods 'gainst Gods did rage,  
Aenaeas, Achilles, nor Ulysses powers,  
Had been so famous in this age of ours:  
All Poets would have written in his praise  
Their Aeneads, Iliads, and Odysseys.   

But now (o shame!) the virtuous are forgotten,  
Th' Heröes are contemned and nero's told:  
The ancient orders all are dead and rotten;  
Gone is the purity of Poets old,  
And now eternity is bought and sold:  
Free Poesy is made a merchandise,  
Only to flatter is to Poetize.   

Wel-worth Augustus' laurel crowned times,  
Pure halcyon hours, Saturnus golden days,  
When worthies patronized Poets times,  
And Poets times did only worthies praise,  
Sdaining base Plutus grooms with fame to raise:  
When now, save mercenaries, few do write,  
And be a Poet is be a Parasite.   

But you (sweet souls) the Grace's trinarie,  
Strain up your tunes with notes angelical;  
From heavens fair house (o Fames Trium-viri)  
Fetch Orpheus' harp with strings harmonical;  
And music from the Spheres melodical;  
And with sweet quires of Swans, and Nightingales,  
Sing doleful ditties at DRAKES funerals.   

My Muse all mantled in death's livery gown  
Shall mourn before his hearse in sad array,  
With sable Cyparissus hanging down  
Her mournful breast, whole boughs shall fan away  
Titan's bright beams, bedarkning all the day:  
And while with tears you sit melodying,  
She shall weep with you, though she cannot sing.   

Even as the Lark, when winter's waist draws near,  
Mounteth her basinetted head on high,  
And through the air doth tune her trebles clear  
Quavering full quaintlie forth her Tireli,  
Beyond the ken of any piercing eye;  
While as the Redbreast on an humble thorn,  
With weeping notes the summers lost doth mourn.   

Ye that attend on Cytherea's train,  
And feed her silver-feathered turtle-doves,  
Which in their golden-wired cage remain,  
Whether at Paphos' shrine or Cnydus groves;  
Whose livet-laps do swell with full-vained loves,  
While damosel Ladies do imparadise  
Your thoughts within the Eden of their eyes.   

Whose Muse is so inravished with the looks  
Which from your Mistress ivory brows do fall.  
As makes you fill the largest volumed books  
With soule-perswasive songs pathetical,  
And minde-alluring speech methodical;  
Tasking your pens to pen a woman's praise,  
And she the actress of your own disease.   

O let your Muse make an Apostrophe  
From Venus courts unto Bellona's camps;  
Give but a glance on DRAKES high dignity,  
Impressed with magnanimities true stamps:  
And when your sense is lightened with these lamps,  
Solemnize to the world his funerals,  
In all your sonnets and your Madrigals.   

Cease (foundlings) henceforth to idolatrize  
With Venus, your Carpathean-sea-borne Queen;  
And to heroic DRAKE do sacrifice  
Of expiation for your former sin,  
Erect his statue whereas hers hath been;  
Make DRAKE your Saint, and make the shrine, his hearse;  
Yourselves the Priests, the sacrifice your verse.   

O you the acquaint tragedians of our times,  
Whose stately shanks embuskind by the Muses,  
Draw all the world to wonder at your rhymes;  
Whose sad Melpomene robs Euripides,  
And wins the palm and price from Sophocles:  
While Poe and Seine are sick to think upon▪  
How Thames doth ebb and flow pure Helicon.   

Who at your pleasures draw, or else let down  
The floud-hatches of all spectators eyes;  
Whose ful-braind temples decked with laurel crown,  
o'er worlds of hearts with words do tyrannize;  
To whom all theatres sing Plaudities:  
While you with golden chains of wel-tuned songs.  
Link all men's ears and tears unto your tongues.   

Cease to eternize in your marble verse  
The falls of fortune-tossed Venerists;  
And strain your tragic Muses to rehearse  
The high exploits of jove- borne Martialists,  
Where smoky gun-shot clouds the air with mists;  
Where groves of spears pitched ready for to fight,  
Damp up the element from eagle's flight.   

What need you summon from the silent hell  
The souls of Hector and of Priamus,  
And thousand others that beneath us dwell,  
Wafted long since through Styx to Erebus,  
Or to th' Elysian Tempe glorious?  
Whose acts by ancients often have been told,  
And all love novels, few like that is old.   

Lo here a modern subject for your wits,  
But loftier than any heretofore  
Eternised by former Poet's writs;  
Whose worth their sacred Muses did adore,  
And he scarce entered yet th' Elysian door;  
Whom dead, yet all men's thoughts alive do make:  
For who would think that death could conquer Drake▪   

Hear Poets, spend your wits chief quintessence,  
And bandy verses with the God of verse,  
Imbalme him with your wits best influence,  
All intellectual powers his praise rehearse,  
And with your poems bewtisie his hearse:  
Fear neither Theons tooth, nor Critic looks,  
DRAKES only name shall patronize your books▪   

Be DRAKES heroic deeds the argument,  
His name the prologue of your tragedy,  
The acts and scenes, his acts all excellent,  
Himself chief actor of Spain's misery,  
His lance the Scorpion-scourge of Hesperie;  
Fettring with golden chains their principates,  
And leading captive Spain's chief potentates.   

The Muse's hill shallbe the Theatre,  
And all the world spectators of the shows,  
A choir of Angels shall the Chorus bear,  
The massacre shallbe of England's foes,  
And such as think to work Eliza's woes:  
And when DRAKES death ends the Catastrophe,  
Heaven shall clap hands, and give the Plaudite.   

But ah! our days are stamped in envi's mint,  
And this our age cast in the iron mould,  
Our hearts are hewed out of Caucasean flint,  
And two-leaved plates of brass our breasts enfold;  
Hate waxeth young, the world thus waxing old:  
And best we like them that do love us least,  
And lest we love them whom we should like best.   

Impiety of times, virtues chief hater,  
The dying worlds twise-infant-waxen dotage,  
Worth's cankar-worme, deserts ingrate abater,  
Hard yron-ages death-declining sottage,  
Fowl serpent-eating envi's loathsome cottage:  
Poyson-toothed viper, impiously that bites  
The womb of those who are her favourites.   

False touchstone, not discerning gold from brass,  
False soothsayer, divining always lies,  
False clock, not telling how the day doth pass,  
False friend, forsaking in adversities,  
False pilot, leading through extremities,  
False in election, false in amity,  
And only true in infidelity.   

Such is the world, as one that dotes with years,  
Loathing things present, though of greater price,  
Liking that which is past and not appears,  
And says, the elder age was far more wise,  
Of higher worth, and of more sound advise:  
All that it sees, it think's not worth the sight,  
But what it wants, it craves with main and might,   

Blear-eyed eld, not seeing dark from day,  
Blind with affection, ignorant of truth,  
Vnwained from self-love, never at a stay,  
Leaning upon the crabbed staff of ruth;  
Untoward to forecast for that ensueth,  
Injurious to those that most befriend it,  
Obsequious to those that most offend it.   

The ancient nobles are most noble deemed,  
And in Fame's calendar Saints registered,  
While present worthies vassals are esteemed,  
Though worthier to be canonised  
Than those that are in Legendaries red:  
Nor Hercules, nor Mars were Gods accounted,  
Before they died, and unto heaven were mounted.   

What marvel then though some base humorists,  
Fowl whelps of fierce Hyrcanean tigers seeds,  
Extenuate the worth of lovialists,  
And such as merit heaven by famous deeds,  
Returning base disdain for worthy medes:  
Oule-sighted eyes, that dazzled are with light,  
But see acutelie in the darksome night.   

Some such there are, (o shame! too great a sum!)  
Who would impeach the worth of worthy DRAKE,  
With wrongful obloquys sinister doom,  
And eagerly their serpent-tongues they shake,  
And sith they cannot sting, a hissing make:  
But he, who made all Spain quake with his fame,  
Shall quell such mushrooms only with his name.   

Monsters of nature, Nile-bred Crocodiles,  
Sight-slaying Basilisks, poyson-swolne toads,  
Fame-fretting cankers, shames infectious biles,  
Earth-gaping Chasma's, that mishap aboades,  
Presumptuous giants, waging war with Gods:  
Aire-putrifying Harpies loathsome brood,  
Echidna's offspring, sworn foes to the good.   

These serpent's mouths with tongues & teeth are filled,  
With tongues they sting, with teeth they fiercely bite;  
By stinging, minds; by biting, hearts are killed;  
The minds with grief, the hearts with deadly spirit:  
This spirit kills joy, this grief doth slay delight.  
O what fierce hell begot this monstrous kind,  
Whose tongue, whose teeth, kills, slays, the heart, the mind?   

Their breast, the harbour of an envious heart;  
Their heart, the storehouse of a poisoned hate;  
Their hate, the quiver holding slanders dart;  
That dart they shoot at men of highest state;  
That state, that soon is subject to debate:  
And that debate breeding dissension,  
Procures all commonwealth's destruction.   

Their heads lay complots, strife how to procure:  
Their hands do practise what their heads desire:  
Their hearts approve what hands have put in ure:  
Their minds in mischief with their hearts conspire:  
Their soul's consent to that their minds require:  
Who will not say they are sprung from the devil.  
Whose heads, hands, hearts, whose minds, whose souls are evil?   

Celestial Goddess, eviternall Fame  
Minerva's daughter by fair Maia's son,  
Of all th' inhabitants of heavens fair frame  
Most highly honoured since the world begun,  
And shallbe, till the fatal Glass be run;  
Souls sweet receipt, the health's restorative,  
Hearts cordial, the minds preservative:   

Goddess of thoughts, Muse animating spirit,  
Altar of honour, temple of renown,  
Shrine of devotion yielding art her merit,  
Life's richest treasure, virtues gorgeous gown,  
Heaven's best habilement, Ariadne's crown;  
The Cynosura of the purest thought,  
Fair Helice, by whom the heart is taught:   

Send honour down (o chief of Goddesses,)  
Honour thy royal persons messenger,  
To ravish DRAKE from earth's unworthiness,  
(As Jupiter once sent his armour-bearer  
To transport Ganymede from Ida thither:)  
And as that boy was honoured of Jove,  
So honour DRAKE, and let him be thy love.   

Daughter of time, sincere Posterity,  
Alway new borne, yet no man knows thy birth,  
The arbitress of pure sincerity,  
Yet changeable (like Proteus) on the earth,  
Sometime in plenty, sometime joined with dearth:  
Alway to come, yet alway present here,  
Whom all run after, none come ever near:   

Unpartial judge of all, save present state,  
Truth's Idioma of the things are past,  
But still pursuing present things with hate,  
And more injurious at the first than last,  
Preserving others, while thine own do waste:  
True treasurer of all antiquity,  
Whom all desire, yet never one could see:   

Be thou religious to renowned DRAKE,  
And place him in thy catalogue of saints;  
In steed of Neptune, God of sea him make,  
Either to lose, or bind the winds restraints;  
Let seamen offer him their vows and plaints:  
Envy lives with us, while ourselves survive,  
But when we die, it is no more alive.   

And you, eternal Jove's high progeny,  
Whom at your birth the Gods, your parents, blessed,  
To consecrate unto eternity  
In never-dying registers of rest  
Yourselves, and others that deserve it best;  
To whom they sealed this chartar at your birth,  
Your souls should live in heaven, your fames on earth:   

Jove's dearest darlings, Gods best favourites,  
Saints paragons, of purest earth refined,  
Scorned of the world, because heavens chief delights,  
Inheritors of Paradise by kind,  
Which was to you before your birth assigned:  
The golden rings where honours jewels shines,  
Whose sun is Fame, heaven Zodiac, you the Signs:   

Imbathe your Phoenix quills in Nectar streams  
Of milken showers, that Juno's breasts did rain,  
Let DRAKES high excellence be all your themes,  
Whereon to spend the chiefest of your brain,  
His worth in honour's purest dye engraine;  
That afterages may him deify  
In holy heavens celestial Hierarchy.   

GRINVIL, a name that made Iberia tremble,  
Whom Jove would make the Atlas of the west,  
(So well he did his Hercules resemble)  
Had not a weightier charge his mind possessed;  
For having placed him in Elysian rest,  
In heaven's star-chamber held a Parliament,  
And made him Prorex of his regiment.   

Well hath his Poet royalized his acts,  
And curiously described his tragedy;  
Quaintlie he hath eternised his facts  
In lasting registers of memory,  
Even coëternall with eternity:  
So that the world envies his happy state,  
That he should live when it is ruinated.   

Some fiery Muse with heavenly heat inflamed,  
Mount DRAKE likewise above the azur'd sky;  
Be not the Eagle Jove's thunder-bearer named,  
Let DRAKE possess that glorious dignity,  
Or rather let himself the thunderer be,  
And make the world his majesty to wonder:  
For who more fit than DRAKE to rule the thunder?   

He ruled earth's thunder while he did survive,  
Which, when he list, could make great Neptune quake,  
Angry with Jove that any man alive  
Should terrify, and make his kingdom shake;  
But when he heard it was renowned DRAKE,  
He gave to him his trident, and his mace,  
As one more fit to rule that stormy place.   

Spain trembled at the thunder of his name,  
And when those Giants proudly did rebel,  
No thunderbolt had needed but his fame,  
Their hawtie-minded forces for to quell,  
And send them by whole Myriads unto hell;  
That Charon cursed their coming on so fast,  
And knew not how so many could be passed.   

The proud Tartessian Caligula fears,  
And hides his doting head for very horror,  
If but DRAKES name do thunder in his ears:  
And lies astonished with an uncouth terror,  
Exhaling forth his gasping breath with dolour,  
While DRAKE (our new Alcides) vanquished  
This Spanish Hydra's ever-growing head.   

The Pyrenean cloudie-topped mountains,  
At his approach, with mists their faces veiled,  
The hills shed tears, and made increase of fountains,  
Still fleeting down the cliffs, and never failed,  
When through the Ocean waves his navy sailed:  
And if clear waters in the fleet were scant,  
He made his foeman's tears supply the want.   

Oft did the surges, ploughed up by his ship,  
Seem to o'erwhelm the Cassiterides;  
While the Cantabrian-Ocean sea-nymphs skip,  
Together with the fair Nerëides,  
And all the lovely Oceanitides,  
Dancing about to have a sight of DRAKE,  
Or of his ship a lovely kiss to take.   

As oft as near the Gades both he sailed,  
And by Cape-Sacers sky-toped promontory,  
Their heads (like dappers) under waves they veiled,  
Th' Herculean main itself seemed to be sorry  
Grieving it should such ponderous forces carry;  
For though it could bear him who bore the sky,  
It could not DRAKE, for DRAKE was more than he.   

The Baleares wished them-selves unknown  
Or joined in league unto the British main,  
Dreading they should by DRAKE be overthrown,  
And ravished from their neighbour-bordring Spain,  
Whose weakened powers itself could not maintain:  
They wished some God would metamorphose them  
To sea-nymphs, that they might be safe from him.   

Toledo's towers, and Compostella's Saint  
Kept not Hesperia secure from dread;  
The towers declind, the Saint with fear was faint,  
Faint Saint, for fear that durst not show his head,  
Dreading least greater dangers followed:  
Alas! what could such fearful Saints prevail,  
Where such great Joves, as DRAKE, meant to assail?   

Iberus river in Cantabria  
Oft wished he had still kept him under ground;  
His headspring near to Juliobrica  
Thrice hid himself, and could no where be found,  
Thrice overwhelming, all the land was drowned,  
For hearing that the conquering DRAKE came by,  
Poor coward river knew not where to fly.   

What profited th' Herculean Calpe now,  
That Titan in the Occidental line  
traveling unto th' Antipodes below.  
Daynes to salute him with his radiant shine,  
As to the other world he doth decline?  
One means to dispossess him of his might,  
Who dispossessed Titan of his light.   

Tagus, thy gold could not redeem thy fear,  
Nor all thy sands thy grief could countervail;  
DRAKE comes, and leads with him the Gods to war,  
With victory displayed on his sail:  
What can thy gold and water now avail?  
Thy precious water shall his thirst allay,  
Thy gold shall serve to give his soldiers pay.   

Spain annually prepared a royal fleet,  
To sweep the seas unto the Indian coast.  
That coming home they might our Dragon meet,  
And pay him tribute at their proper cost;  
England, thou hadst the gain, and Spain the lost:  
Had he survived, Tempe had been our land,  
And Thames had streamed with Tagus' golden sand.   

Such as the Hyperborean Dragon, was,  
That bore th' enchanting daughter of the sun  
On scaled crest of triple-plated brass,  
When through Campania's coast he used to run,  
And ceased not ranging till his course were done;  
But with irrefragable force and might  
Made obstant lets give way unto his flight.   

Such was our Dragon when he list to soar  
And circuit Amphitrite's watery bower:  
The rampant lion, and the tusked boar,  
The ravenous tigar borne still to devour,  
To bar him passage never had the power:  
Whole herds and hosts could never make him stay,  
His only sight sufficed to make him way.   

Forth of his nostrils burning flakes of fire  
(As from an ovens gaping mouth) did flame,  
Wherewith he wasted in his raging ire  
All that opposed themselves against the same;  
All the sea-monsters trembled at his name:  
And when it pleased him progress through the sea,  
His fame was herald to proclaim him way.   

O what an heavenly sight it were to view,  
And with the eye survey him on the main,  
Encountering with a proud Tartessian crew,  
The choicest Martialists of warlike Spain,  
And swarthy Moors, and Indian slavish train,  
Mantling all Tethys with their Argos eyes  
With high-topt masts included in the skies.   

Their galleys fraughted full with men of war,  
Whose oars ploughed furrows in the swelling waves  
Than towered whales, or dolphin's, larger far,  
Of size sufficient to be giants graves,  
Rowed with an hundred Indian captive slaves;  
Made glaucie Nereûs' groan, and seem to shrink,  
Who often wished to see their navy sink.   

Sea-castles, which they Galeazos named,  
Guarded (like bulwarks) all the mighty fleet,  
Whose masts of seven conjoined oaks were framed  
By skilful architecture made to meet,  
Whose tops might seem the element to greet:  
Hoist aloft their sails displayed on high,  
As though they meant to vail the shining sky.   

Who so beholding from the bordering shore,  
Had viewed their navy floating on the main,  
Would swear they were no ships, that Neptune bore,  
But woods of cedars growing on a plain,  
Whose tops above the region of the rain,  
Were damped with circumfused clouds from sight,  
Which no transpiercinge eye could ken aright.   

Neptune encircled in his watery arms  
His silver-shining darling Albion,  
And in his bosom shielded her from harms,  
That might endanger his chief paragon,  
Fearing of nothing save his lovely one:  
And like as Perseus kept Andromeda,  
So kept he her from monsters of the sea.   

Now had our Dragon roused him from his cave,  
Against his foe-men bending forth his flight:  
All the sea-sourges passage to him gave,  
Until he had his enemies in sight,  
'Gainst whom he bended all his force and might:  
And in approach the adversary deemed  
That all heaven's host to march against them seemed.   

Who so had ever seen in Arcady  
The Molorchean Lion, through the field  
Whole herds of beasts pursuing eager,  
That none escape but such as meeklye yield,  
Until desire of pray be largely filled:  
He might have judged how our Dragon raged,  
Till full revenge his thirst had quite assuaged.   

On some he breathed a fatall-burning fire,  
That blew them up in ashes to the sky:  
Others aghast, dreading his wrathful ire,  
Ducked down their fearful heads immediately  
Under the waves to save themselves thereby:  
So that their fleet invincible by fame,  
Christninge anew he gave an other name.   

As on Ulysses Circe did bestow  
A blather, where the winds emboweled were,  
That at his pleasure he might let them blow,  
Or keep them in when danger did appear:  
So DRAKE about him still the winds did bear:  
And if misfortune forced some ships to fall  
Jove into sea-nymphs did transform them all.   

If fates had framed him in the giants age,  
When ●erra's high descent made heaven to tremble,  
And Titan's brood against the Gods did rage,  
Whose trumpets (that did thunder's noise resemble)  
Whole myriads of monsters did assemble;  
Whose coal-black ensigns in the sky displayed,  
Out-bearded Jove, and made the Gods dismayed.   

When Phloegra's fields and proud Pellene's coast  
Swarmed with troops of ghastly giants bands;  
Where sturdy Typhon general of the host,  
Summoned his kinsmen with the hundred hands  
To come and fight with Jupiter for lands,  
Under the conduct of great Briareûs,  
With Gya●, Caeus, and Halcyoneûss.   

Their ponderous weight did make their mother groan,  
Dreading she should be pressed down to hell▪  
Their father Titan seemed himself to moan,  
As oft as from their mouths and nostrils fell  
(Broad, like Abyssus gulf where devils do dwell)  
Forth issued mighty clouds of misty smoke,  
Whose dusky fogs his fiery beams did choke.   

Ossa they pressed down with Pelions weight,  
And on them both imposed Olympus hill;  
Upon whose crooked top (by strength made strait)  
Black pitched pavilions all the space did spill,  
The which before the subtle air did fill:  
Which being exiled from his proper place,  
Wandered, and could not find a vacant space.   

Porphyrio, Crius, and Enceladus,  
With Ephialtes, and Polybotes,  
Pallas, Lapetus, Clytius, Euritus,  
Gration, Agrius, and Argyropes,  
With millians more as big and large as these;  
Followed the colours of Typheous bands,  
Swearing to batter heaven with their hands.   

They wore no harness to defend their breast,  
But marched naked 'gainst their foeman's face;  
They thought their skin was armour of the best,  
To shield them woundless in the eager chase:  
Such was the proof thereof in every place,  
As scarce a thunderbolt could enter in  
But was rebated with the very skin.   

Typhon, whose ribs resembled cedar trees,  
A quiver full of mountains by his side  
Instead of darts did bear, and at his knees  
Two dragons heads in knotted joints were tied,  
Which in their mouths two fiery tongues did hide:  
Against whose sting no plaster could prevail,  
Nor Moly, nor Dictamnum once could heal.   

In steed of trumpet, Briareûs did roar,  
And strained his high-resounding voice aloud;  
Whose ugly note a base so ghastly boar,  
As when amid the air some uncouth cloud  
Meets with an other, and together crowd  
With such a deadlie-sounding fearful voice,  
As heaven and earth do tremble at the noise▪   

Heaven hide his head, and seemed to fly for fear,  
The dastard Gods betook themselves to flight,  
And unto Egypt forthwith made repair,  
Not daring to encounter them by might,  
But trusting more to flight than unto fight:  
near unto Nilus (hoping so to scape)  
Each one of them resumed a diverse shape.   

jove (like a ram) did wear both horns & wool,  
(A livery which of late he gave to many)  
Hence Ammon yet doth bear a horned skull:  
Juno became a cow unknown to any,  
To save her from the giants tyranny:  
Men to themselves their wives enjoined now,  
While he did play the sheep, and she the cow.   

Swift-footed Mercury his talars changed  
Into the serpent-slayeinge Ibis' wing:  
Venus (turned to a fish) the seas now ranged,  
Supposing that, which first her life did bring,  
Should save her life again from perishing:  
Phoebe did play the cat, Phoebus the crow,  
Bacchus disguised like a goat did go.   

O had victorious DRAKE among them then  
In heaven (as now he is) been deified,  
They needed not have dreaded mortal men,  
Nor for a world of Giants have denied,  
Their Godheads, and, like cowards, in caves abide.  
DRAKE should have pierced them with his burning darts,  
Though all their thunder could not wound their hearts.   

Not to a fearful ram, or feeble cow,  
But to a dragon DRAKE himself should turn;  
From whose fierce nostrils flakes of fire should flow,  
That in a moment all their tents should burn,  
And headlong from their mountains overturn  
Their big boned carcases to Orcus' evils,  
And bid them there wage battle with the devils.   

O where is now that cunning Tarentine  
Archytas, far renowned for his skill,  
That could Art's purest quintessence refine,  
And in fair Practics limbeck at his will  
The purest juice of Theoriques' flowers distill;  
And by proportion Geometrical,  
Make wooden doves to fly, and not to fall?   

Where is that cunning man of Syracuse,  
The first inventour of our Globes and Spheres,  
So deeply skilled in Mathematics use,  
As that whole armies only one man fears,  
Whose skilful stratagems their might impairs;  
And what a thousand could not do by fight,  
One could atchive by arts celestial might?   

Such as were they, such was our worthy DRAKE,  
Whose head a storehouse was of policies,  
That (like his valour) forced his foes to quake,  
Making their hulks to caper in the skies,  
And quaver in the air their Argos-eys:  
So by a proper sleight he knew full well,  
To send their ships to heaven, their souls to hell.   

Sometime, when number virtue did surprise,  
(As virtue sometime is surprised by number)  
His policy could soon a way devise,  
To fly their forces that might bring him under;  
And how he could escape, it made them wonder:  
For of their Indian gold he made him wings,  
And (like a Phoenix) safely from them flings.   

Think how the Eagle, armourer to Jove,  
Espying Ganymede on Ida's plains,  
Intended to convey him to his love;  
Which being noted by the Phrygian trains,  
And other sturdy rutters, Trojan swains:  
They flock together with confused cries,  
To rescue from the bird his lovely prize:   

An hundred yron-pointed darts they fling,  
An hundred stones fly whistling by his ears,  
An hundred deadlie-dinted staves they bring,  
Yet neither darts, nor stones, nor staves he fears;  
But through the air his plumed crest he rears:  
And in derision safely escapes away,  
Presenting unto Jove his long-loved pray.   

So DRAKE (divine ELISA's champion)  
Seizing upon a pray of Indian gold,  
Meaning to ship it home to Albion,  
Ballasts his bark with treasures manifold;  
Which when the grieved Iberians do behold,  
They swarm in troops to take his prize away,  
And to disrob him of his gained pray:   

A thousand hel-mouthed canons deadly shot,  
A thousand rattling muskets hailstones fly,  
Yet thousand deadly canons hurt him not,  
Nor thousand rattling muskets reckoneth he,  
But still rebeates them all as eager;  
And, maugre all their beards, brings home the spoil,  
Ritching ELISA, and ELISA's soil.   

Those peerless Peers, that through the world have spread  
Their predecessors virtues, and their own,  
And both with honour have enobeled;  
Who to nobilities chief point are grown,  
The sage attendants on ELISA's crown;  
Desired to venture on the foe with DRAKE,  
And with his fortunes good or ill partake.   

When forth they marched against their eager foe,  
HOPE, and REVENGE did bear them out to war;  
Guarded with NON-PERILLE did they go,  
While BONADVENTURE still their ensign bare,  
And cowardice by DREAD-NOUGHT bandoned far:  
SWIFT-SURE their race, though swift, yet always sure▪  
And good FORESIGHT to HOPE-WEL did allure.   

Watchful ADVISE did march in equipage  
Together with her sister PROVIDENCE;  
RELIEF with AID, and AID with high Courage,  
Courage was guided with Experience,  
And both did guide and guard their high pretence:  
Where all such worthy virtues captains were,  
What coward would not be a conqueror?   

The soldiers followed eager for the fight,  
Known to the foe by face, not by the back▪  
Skilful in fight, but ignorant in flight,  
Swift in assault, but in retiring slack;  
Never returning but with foeman's wrack:  
Who would not be a soldier in that band,  
Which, ere it fought, held VICTORY in hand?   

Art-tamed TIGERS made way with their paws,  
The VNICORN's sharp horn the foe did gore,  
The ravenous BEAR with blood imbrued his jaws,  
The LIONS with their tails did hurt them soar,  
And cut them short for coming once a shore:  
And he that went out WHITE against his foe,  
Returns home RED, for blood imbrued him so.   

A silver GRAYHOUND led a GOLDEN-HINDE,  
Now reconciled to his utter foe:  
A ROEBUCK that did bear a lion's mind,  
Together with DIANA still did go,  
And dreaded not her darts and murdering bow:  
The PHOENIX in his fleet her nest did make,  
And HERCULES himself attended DRAKE.   

GODS-GIFT he had, and God his gift did SPEED,  
No misadventure crossed, where God did guide,  
Where GOD did SAVE, none other salve did need,  
He sped the journey, he did give the tide,  
He saved the fleet from foes insulting pride:  
How could the enterprise ill issue have,  
Where GOD himself did guide, did Speed, did Save?   

FORTUNE herself was present in the fleet▪  
But stood not on her fickle-rowling wheel;  
Constant stability ballassed her feet,  
And being constant knew not how to reel,  
But ruled the rudder and directed the keel:  
How could mischance unto that ship betid,  
Where FORTUNE was the pilot, and the guide?   

Guarded with these associates royal train,  
Forth marched valiant DRAKE to martial arms,  
And makes an earthquake through the coasts of Spain,  
When as his thundering drum resounds alarms,  
And roaring trumpets volley forth their harms:  
HOPE and REVENGE to war conducted DRAKE,  
And VICTORY & TRIUMPH brought him back.   

Such were magnanimous DRAKES accomplices  
Not of the vulgar, base, inglorious sort,  
But such did follow wars as ruled in peace,  
Whose very names their fortunes did import:  
Such rare adherents did to DRAKE resort,  
As he that but their ominous names once heard,  
Did either vanquished yield, or fly afeard.   

Neither in wars his worth was only known,  
(Although his worth was chiefly known in wars)  
But all as well at home in peace was shown,  
In moderating public wealth's affairs,  
As quieting his foes tumultuous jars:  
And as the Laurel crowned him conqueror,  
So did the Olive show him counsellor.   

Like as abroad with unresisted arms  
He tamed his foes proud insultations;  
Even so at home with lenity he charms  
His jarring friends discordant passions,  
Rescu'ing the poor from proud vexations:  
So all his life he made a warfare long,  
Abroad 'gainst enemies, at home 'gainst wrong.   

In war he strove (and striving still did gain)  
To vanquish all with never daunted might:  
In peace he sought (and seeking did obtain)  
All to excel in equity and right:  
A justicer in peace, in war a knight:  
Though hard it were for him that might take ease,  
Scipio to be in war, Cato in peace.   

The mighty son of more than mighty Jove,  
Heaven-bearing Hercules, most famosed  
For twelve achievements, and disaster love  
Of Deianira being captived,  
After so many monsters vanquished,  
Having subdued all monsters saving one,  
(Woman) ordained to master him alone.   

Heaven-honored Poets in eternal verse,  
Among his many brave achievements done,  
As not the last, nor least act do rehearse  
His fair fame (though by filthy service won)  
Making th' Augaean Oxe-stall shine as sun;  
(Which more than thirty years vnclensed had been)  
By forcing of Alpheus' river in.   

Equal with Hercules in all, save vice,  
DRAKE of his country hath deserved grace,  
Who by his industry and acquaint devise  
Enforced a river leave his former place,  
Teaching his streams to run an uncouth race:  
How could a simple current him withstand,  
Who all the mighty Ocean did command?   

Now Plymmouth (great in nothing, save renown,  
And therein greater far, because of DRAKE)  
Seems to disdain the title of a town,  
And looks that men for city should her take;  
So proud her patron's favour doth her make:  
As those, whom princes patronage extolled,  
Forget themselves, and what they were of old.   

Her now-bright face, once loathsomely defiled.  
He purged and cleansed with a wholesome river:  
Her, whom her sister-citties late revilde,  
Upbraiding her with her unsavoury savour,  
DRAKE of this opproby doth now deliver:  
That if all Poets pens concealed his name,  
The waters glide should still record the same.   

Now Fame, the Queen of immortality,  
Summons my Muse from home-atchieved praise,  
(Abandoning all partiality,  
A fatal sin to Poets now adays)  
Her leaden-winged crest aloft to raise,  
And soar, in famous DRAKES memorial,  
About the compass of this earthly ball.   

Honour enmoves her to attempt the flight,  
And wave her feathers (unneath taught to fly)  
But faint despair doth urge her feeble might  
(That durst not yet her homebred nest out-prie)  
About the world to soar audaciously:  
Honour replies, that if she chance to fail,  
The brave attempt the shame shall countervail.   

Bound on an high adventure she intends  
To tell the world that all the world can tell,  
How all the triple earth's unbounded ends,  
And lands where no inhabitants do dwell,  
Where dark obscurity still keeps his cell,  
Whereas the sun dares scarce appearance make,  
Have heard, and seen the fame of famous DRAKE.   

Whose heaven-affecting thoughts could not remain  
Confined within the confines of the earth,  
But still contended higher to attain,  
Since that the stars portended at his birth,  
His praises plenty ne'er should feel a dearth,  
But grow to that high exaltation  
Of all the world's peregrination.   

A GOLDEN-HIND, led by his art and might,  
Bore him about the earth's sea-walled round,  
With unresisted Roe-out-running flight,  
While Fame (the harbinger) a trump did sound,  
That heaven and earth with echoes did abound;  
Echoes of DRAKES high praise, praise of his name,  
Name royalized by worth, worth raised by fame.   

Heart-stealing Homer, marrow of the Muses,  
Chief grace of Greece, best pearl of poetry.  
Drowner of souls with arts o'erwhelming sluices,  
Embellished with Phoebe's lunary,  
Decked with the Grace's rich embroidery,  
Sweet honeysuckle, whence all Poets spirits,  
Suck the sweet honey of divine delights:   

Cease to solemnize Anticleas' son,  
That famous Ithacensian roavers praise,  
(Who great Achilles' arms from Ajax won)  
His hard adventures, and his weary ways,  
His wandering pilgrimages through the seas:  
His dangerous travels, and his ten years toils,  
Discovering newfound lands, and uncouth soils.   

First, how he bore himself ten years at Troy,  
And slew by skill the two Dardanian spies;  
How from his foes he ravished with joy  
Their tall Palladium by acquaint policies,  
(Where Priam's heart, and hope, and help relies:)  
Then, how he spent ten other years at sea,  
Before to Ithaca he found the way.   

Raze forth his name out of the Odysseys,  
Be he no more the subject of thy verse;  
But let thy Muse record DRAKES worthiness,  
And in Ulysses' am his fame rehearse,  
That far beyond Ulysses' fame did pierce:  
Searching the confines of this earthy round,  
And provinces, that carst were never found.   

Tell how he bore the round world in a ship,  
A ship, which round about the world he bore,  
Whose sail did winged Eurus flight outstrip,  
Scorning tempestuous Boar as stormy dare,  
Descrying uncouth coasts, and countries rare:  
And people, which no eye had ever seen,  
Save Days fair golden Eye, & Nights bright Queen.   

Tell how he hath escaped warily  
Loud-barking Sylla's ever-howling dogs,  
And sealed his ears, and lips up charily  
'Gainst Siren's songs, and Circe's poisoned drugs,  
That metamorphose men to ugly hogs:  
Nor Siren's songs, nor Circe's drugs he fears,  
Virtue had locked his lips, art sealed his ears.   

Tell how he passed Charybdis whirlpool waves,  
Whereas two mighty roaring channels mere,  
To swallow ships, and make their womb their graves,  
And cause their high-toped masts the gravel greet;  
Tell how Caphareûs could not hurt his fleet:  
Neither the straits, nor quicksands him amated,  
Nor waves, nor winds his valour once abated.   

Homer tell how; but ah, how canst thou tell  
Homer, how DRAKE to purchase glory wont,  
Since that sweet sprite that in thy soul did dwell,  
And that sweet soul, sweet above all souls counted,  
Long since to souls sweet paradise is mounted;  
Where thou with DRAKE to saints dost sing DRAKES praise,  
Hear we bewail his loss, our deep disease.   

O thou so high renowned for thy art,  
In memorizinge base achievements done  
By one that bore a fearful hares faint heart,  
While subtle fox's head his credit won;  
O had thy Muse once shined with DRAKES bright sun,  
Or had thy golden verse his praise recounted,  
Homer himself had Homer far surmounted.   

Thy glory, DRAKE would more have glorified,  
His travel eased thee, that eased it,  
In him thyself thou hadst historified,  
His fame would raise thy Muse, that raised it,  
His name would praise thy verse, that praised it,  
That afterages should a question make,  
Wheth'r DRAKE graced Homer more, or Homer DRAKE.   

Mark how a civet-smellinge damask rose,  
In laurel-leaved garland quaintlie placed,  
Yields beauty to the bay, where best it shoes,  
And neither by the other is defaced,  
But graceth that wherewith itself is graced:  
So each the other should more famous make,  
DRAKE Homer should adorn, and Homer DRAKE.   

The fierie-sparkling precious Chrysolite,  
Spangled with gold, doth most transplendent shine:  
The pearl graced by the ring, the ring by it,  
The one the others beauty doth refine,  
And both together beauties both combine,  
The jewel decks the golden hair that wears it.  
Honour decks learning that with honour rears it.   

Valour, and art are both the sons of Jove,  
Both brethren by the father, not the mother,  
Both peers without compare, both like in love,  
But art doth seem to be the elder brother,  
Because he first gave life unto the other:  
Who afterward gave life to him again,  
Thus each by other doth his life retain.   

Art is nobilities true register,  
Nobility arts champion still is said;  
Learning is fortitudes right calendar,  
And fortitude is learning's Saint & aid:  
Thus if the balances twixt both be weighed,  
Honour shields learning from all injury,  
And learning honour from black infamy.   

Why should Ulysses be opposed to DRAKE?  
DRAKE, that Ulysses' worth excelled so far,  
As Hyperion's golden chariots slack  
Surmounts his silver sisters two-wheeled car;  
Or as her planet doth the smallest star:  
DRAKE did Ulysses' worth exceed so far,  
As sun exceeds the moon, the moon each star▪   

Ulysses was constrained to go to Troy,  
DRAKE unconstrained, except constrained by fame:  
Ulysses feigning fury fain would stay,  
A heavenly fury DRAKES mind did inflame,  
To purchase glory to Elysa's name:  
He mad among his friends, mild with his foes;  
But DRAKE was mild to them, and mad with those.   

Both left their ladies, fair, & chaste: (a wonder:)  
O who could leave a lady chaste and fair!  
But fortune for a while their loves did sunder;  
That sundered love could never love impair:  
Ulysses left a lady with an heir:  
DRAKE left a lady bounteous, fair, and wise,  
For whose sweet love the Gods would leave the skies.   

Ulysses did the innocent betray,  
And in extremes forsook his aged friend;  
No such defaults did ever DRAKE bewray:  
This difference between them both I find,  
Wherein great DRAKE Ulysses came behind;  
Ulysses Homer had to pen his story,  
DRAKE hath no Homer to emblaze his glory.   

Envy herself is forced to say the truth,  
(And yet the truth doth envy seldom say)  
Since Brute trained hither first the Trojan youth,  
(If ever Brute trained hither youth of Troy)  
The small remainder of the Greeks' destroy,  
nobly descended from a virtuous line:  
Noble descents make virtue more divine.   

How still the silver rocks of Albion,  
Lightened translucent lustre from the shore,  
(Like to the carbuncles that shine upon  
The fair suns golden palace ivory door)  
Whose radiant splendour, and whose beauties lore,  
Upon the world's extremest walls reflect,  
Dazzling the eyes that gaze on such aspect.   

How that their lofty minds could not be bounded  
Within the cancels, that the world do bound;  
How that the deepest seas they searched, and sounded,  
Beyond all lands that ever have been found,  
Making the farmost seas our praise resound:  
And nations, which not Fame herself had seen,  
To carol England's fame, and fames rare Queen.   

How they have traversed sundry foreign lands,  
Lands, all environed with the swelling seas,  
Seas, ignorant of ends, devoid of bands,  
Bands, that might yield some harbour to their ease,  
Ease, to refresh them in their weary ways:  
Lands, bands, seas, ways their minds amated not,  
By lands, bands, seas, and ways they honour got.   

Unto the confines of Assyria  
Honour led princely EDWARD, (HENRY'S son,  
The third that did the English sceptre sway)  
Whose brave achievements both in Acra done,  
And Galilee, when Nazareth was won,  
Enrolls in ancient records of renown,  
The tributory fame to England's crown.   

Rich heart of Lion, RICHARD Lyon-hart,  
Twice matched by name, but never in renown:  
Two more in RICHARDS title bore a part,  
But none save he (that wore the English crown)  
The name of Lyon-hart claimed as his own:  
His heart was richest, that a lions was,  
Save her rich heart, whose heart all hearts doth pass.   

Tancred can tell, and all Sicilia,  
But most Messana his great victories,  
The coasts of Palestine and Syria,  
And Cyprus captivated Emprour's eyes,  
Saw him attired in triumphs jollities:  
And on the Pagans, in defence of Zion,  
His lance bare witness, that he was a Lyon.   

Clio herself (I fear) would be offended,  
And whip me down with laurel from her mount,  
If WILLIAM Peregrine be not commended,  
If I should not that pilgrims praise recount  
In verse, who did in verse so far surmount:  
Since thou wert that I am not, but would be,  
How can I not (sweet Poet) writ of thee?   

Brave LONGSWORD in the coasts of Asia,  
Displayed the ensign of the English fame;  
And near Nile-bord'ring Alexandria,  
Engraved with steeled sword fair Albion's name  
In characters, which valours art did frame;  
Where 'gainst the Saracens (who Christ defied)  
He boldly dying fought, and fight died.   

Renowned MADOCKE, Prince's son of Wales,  
Brave Cambro-britton uncontrolled by might,  
Blown by successful fortunes prosperous gales,  
In discontentment (most victorious knight)  
Left his rich Princedom, left to him by right,  
Between his brethren in dissension:  
A crown twixt brethren breeds contention.   

Before COLUMBUS ere set foot in Ind,  
He did discover Nov' Hispania;  
Before VESPUCIUS lived, did MADOCKE find  
The world, called after him America;  
He saw the famous Terra Florida:  
Little regarding all their gain and store,  
Honour he gained, and MADOCKE sought no more.   

What coast or country knows not MANDEVIL,  
His pilgrimage of three and thirty years,  
A vowed votary to honour still,  
Vnequalized by valour's chiefest peers?  
Whose travels legend whosoever hears,  
May doubt (if men for merits sainted be)  
Which should be Albon's saint, ALBAN or he.   

Courageous CABOT, brave Venetian borne,  
Fostered with honour-breathing English air,  
Victorious, HENRY'S name the more t'adorn,  
And to emblazon Troynovant the fair,  
Unto the farmost climates made repair;  
And by the Southern and Septentrion,  
Measured the fame of famous Albion.   

Sightless and nameless Prima-vista lay,  
Till from his eyes it borrowed name and light;  
Flora did never Florida array,  
Roses, nor lilies show'd their shining sprite,  
Till it was rosed and lilied with his sight:  
Thrice happy sight that verdant spring composes,  
By strewing lands with lilies, and with roses.   

By Labradars high Promontory Cape,  
Beyond the Isles of Cuba, CABOT sailed,  
Discovering Baccalaos uncouth shape;  
The mighty Silver-river not concealed,  
His tributory sands to him revealed;  
Nor sdained it to be a tributour,  
Unto the Ocean's mighty Emperor.   

Honour of England, brave SEBASTIAN,  
Mirror of Briton magnanimity,  
Although by birth a right Venetian,  
Yet for thy valour, art, and constancy,  
Due unto England from thy infancy:  
Venice, thou claim'dst his birth, England his art,  
Now judge thyself which hath the better part.   

WYNDAM, although thy rash temerity,  
Hastening to rendlesse gain, gained hastened end;  
And though improvident celerity,  
Too soon accelerated death did send:  
Yet since so far thy valour did extend,  
And death for rashness made full satisfaction,  
Why should not fame advance thy valorous action?   

When valours fire inflamed young Isadas,  
Rashly to venture battle unregarded;  
His rashness by a mulct corrected was,  
But with a crown his valour was rewarded,  
Because his prowess had the Spartans' guarded:  
For if by rashness valour have got honour,  
We blame the rashness, but reward the valour.   

Then WYNDAM, though thy high-resolved thought,  
A harebrained hardiment had ill prevented;  
Yet since so dear thou hast this rashness bought,  
Which at the fatal rate of death was rent,  
Let envy with misfortune be contented:  
Hadst thou Ulysses' head to Hector's heart,  
The world a braver peer could not impart.   

With like misfortune (though unlike advice)  
Did fame-enobled WILLOUGHBY intent  
A famous actions hapless enterprise;  
Arzina saw his lamentable end,  
Which her eternal-winters frost did send:  
Though freezing cold benumbed his vital flame,  
Heat shall not hurt, nor could consume his Fame.   

Fortune not alway good, nor alway ill,  
Willing to show her mercy with her power,  
Feasted on others falls (as seemed) her fill,  
Smiled with a mild aspect on CHAUNCELOUR,  
Making herself his daily orator:  
Hereby (quoth she) the world shall know my powers,  
How Fortune sometime laughs, as well as lowers.   

Forthwith for him a bark herself she framed,  
Enchanting it with an almighty charm;  
Which she the blissful Bon-adventure named,  
Which wind, nor wave, nor heat, nor cold could harm,  
While her omnipotence the same did arm,  
Guiding it safely to Moscovia,  
Safely reducing it from Russia.   

Bold with success, and proud on fortune's favour,  
Again his lofty sails he doth advance,  
Allured by silvers soule-attractive savour:  
But fortune (like the moon in change and chance,  
That never twice doth show like countenance)  
At Pettislego drenched him in the seas:  
Thus most she hurts, when most she seems to please.   

O tempt not Fortune, she will not be tempted,  
Her thunder follows, when her lightning's done;  
Her dangers are foreseen, but not prevented;  
When she doth frown, think she will smile anon;  
And when she smiles, think not her frowns are gone:  
What doth her laughter but her lowrs importune?  
Misfortune follows him that tempteth fortune.   

Ask the Wingandicoa savages  
They can relate of GRINVILE, and his deeds▪  
The Isles of Flores, and Azores, these  
Extol his valour and victorious medes;  
While Spain's gripped heart fresh streams of anguish bleeds:  
His worth withal the world his praise made even,  
But he scorned earth, and therefore went to heaven.   

What time out-sliding thought so far could fly,  
As did heroic CAVENDISH drive his sails?  
The great Magores kingdom did he see,  
Where freezing Boreas rings his northern peals,  
'Gainst whose benumbing blast no heat avails:  
His prowess hath been known to Mallaca,  
And to her neighbour-bord'ring Bengala.   

Knighted by honour in deserts fair field,  
Death-scorning GILBERT, chronicled by fame,  
To England's Monarchesse did force to yield  
The savage land (that Newfound now we name)  
Making wild people mild, submiss, and tame.  
O were men's lives unto their praises tied!  
Then, noble GILBERT, never hadst thou died.   

But cursed fates did cross brave CHIDLIES' thought,  
(O that brave thoughts by fates still crossed should be!)  
Nothing but worth his hungry humour sought,  
Nothing but honour's Nectar thirsted he,  
When death untimely did exact his fee:  
But CHIDLIE, that which death took from thy days,  
Honour shall add to thine immortal praise.   

If searching labyrinths inextricable,  
By hard adventures, and ambiguous ways,  
To purchase glory, and renown be able,  
And meritorious of eternal praise;  
Then FROBISHER outlives the Sibyl's days:  
What death took from his life, this gives his name:  
Death hath no dart to slay deserved fame.   

Out of the concave cavern's of the earth,  
Her golden-oared entrails he descried,  
Exiling famine, poverty, and dearth,  
These precious bowels having once espied,  
Where massy gold ingorged did abide:  
He recompensed nature's injury,  
That gives earth gold, and leaves men poverty.   

Rich China, and fair Met' Incognita,  
Admired his valour, and extolled his fame,  
Cathaia, and the great America,  
The dangerous straits that yet do bear his name,  
Are monumental annals of the same;  
Annals, wherein posterity shall read,  
How fame the living salves, revives the dead.   

Now drop my pen in ink of dreary tears,  
A name of late of laughter, and of joy;  
But now (o death, the agent of our fears!)  
A name of dolour and of dire annoy,  
The sad memorial of the fates destroy;  
HAWKINS (o now my heart cleave thou a sunder!)  
In naming him (me seems) I name a wonder.   

Epitome of Gods, heaven's conterfaire,  
Fame's Pyramid, honour's imagery,  
High throne, wherein all virtues made their seat,  
True prospective of immortality,  
Fair mirror of celestial majesty:  
White palm, whose silver boughs inharboured rest,  
Snowe-feath'red swan, the Nestor of the West.   

Nestor in wisdom, art, and policy,  
Nestor in knowledge, skill and prudency;  
Nestor in counsel, and in gravity,  
Nestor in wit, foresight, and modesty,  
Nestor in might, and magnanimity:  
O would he had (as he had Nestor's hairs)  
Enjoyed Nestor's age, and Nestor's years!   

A mortal man more than a man of late,  
(If mortal man more than a man may be)  
Since his life's calendar is out of date,  
And death's new-year exacts his customed fee,  
No more a man, nor mortal now is he:  
No more a man, because of breath bereaven,  
Mortal no more, because a saint in heaven.   

CLIFFORD, a name that still was ominous,  
Prefiguring an high-resolved mind,  
Victorious, venturous, virtuous, valorous,  
Eternal adiunctes to that noble kind,  
By nature's secret influence assigned;  
Who can deny that names are ominous?  
For CLIFFORD'S name hath still been valorous.   

O had he perished in his enterprise,  
(As did th' inventour of that brazen beast)  
Who first that fatal engine did devise  
The dismal Gun, the actor of unrest,  
Whose thunderbolts do pierce the strongest breast:  
O had he perished in his mother's womb,  
And that which gave him life, had been his tomb!   

Now is the consummation of your grief,  
The fates have set full period to your pain▪  
He, who on earth was all your heart's relief,  
Whose absence you in heaven itself did plain,  
(If plaints attach them that in heaven remain)  
In heaven is now associate of your joy,  
Your glad, our grief; your pleasure, our annoy.   

You, whose exploits the world itself admired,  
Admire the strange exploits of peerless DRAKE;  
And you whom neither lands nor sea's have tired,  
Have tired your tongues when they rehearsal make  
What hard adventures he did undertake;  
Then if that such Atlantes are too weak,  
What marvel, if this weight our shoulders break?   

O you once matchless monarchs of the seas,  
But now advanced to an higher place,  
Invested Viceroy's and high satraps,  
In that fair palace near the milken race;  
O think not that his praise doth yours deface:  
If he be justly praised, you justly graced,  
Your graces by his praise are not defaced.   

What though his worth above yours is extolled?  
Yet thereby is not yours extenuated:  
What though your neighbour's jewels dearer sold,  
Than for the price whereat your gem is rated;  
What thereby is your Diamond abated?  
Wherefore to give both him and you your due▪  
I say he was the best, the next were you.   

Like as some travel-tired passenger,  
By silent-sliding Thames rose-shadowed side  
(Poor care-accloyed pilgrim traveller,)  
Sits down to view the sight-reviving slide,  
The wanton-bubling waters gentle glide;  
Smiling to see the rivers quavering flanks,  
Dally upon the daysie-diap'red banks.   

Thus while he feasteth both his eyes and ears  
With native music sweeter than a man's,  
(Like to a shower of silver snow) appears  
A flight of alabaster-feath'red swans;  
Whose number while his sense amazing scans,  
Forthwith an other flight his mind doth cumber,  
And thus doth number bring him out of number.   

So in the May-tide of his summer age.  
Valour enmoved the mind of ventious DRAKE,  
To lay his life with winds and waves in gage,  
And bold and hard adventures t' undertake,  
Leaving his country for his countries' sake;  
Loathing the life that cowardice doth stain,  
Preferting death, if death might honour gain.   

At Cuba silver, at Coquimbo gold,  
At China cloth and precious silks he found,  
Pearl at the Pearled Isles he did behold;  
Rich Couchanelo hoarded did abound,  
Embosomed in Tichamachalco's ground:  
Thus his industrious labour still did raise  
The public profit, and his private praise.   

As Nilus with his inundation  
Upon all Egypt fertile fat less showers;  
Or as Euphrates on the Chaldee nation  
An overflowing flood of plenty powers,  
And graceth all the continent with flowers:  
So DRAKE his country filled with store & plenty,  
And filling it, himself was almost empty.   

Whereas the night can never find a place  
The suns eternal shining to assuage;  
Whereas the sun durst never show his face,  
For fear of icy winters choking rage;  
Nations unknown unto the antic age:  
There hath he been, and made eternal light,  
Where, but for him, had been eternal night.   

Plunged in the Ocean of perplexities,  
With waves of death, and winds of black despair,  
Amid the Scylla's of uncertainties,  
With surges of sad death and dreary fear,  
Which to the skies their billows oft did rear:  
Scorne-fortune DRAKE by fortune's rage was borne,  
The more she raged, the more he did her scorn.   

Where dismal dread, and agonizing death  
Hovers about them with their hellish wings,  
Still threatening to intoxicate their breath,  
And stop the conduits of the vital springs,  
That nutrimental spirits to them brings;  
Even in the laws of death did valour bear him,  
That death himself might know DRAKE did not fear him.   

O heavens, why take you that which late you gave?  
O seas, why hold you him that once held you?  
O earth, how hast thou missed that thou didst crave?  
O England, how art thou bereft thy due?  
O unto whom wilt thou for comfort sue?  
To earth? why that's partaker of thy moan:  
To heavens? ah they withhold that is thine own?   

O now descend my ever-mourning Muse  
Down from the by-cliffe of thy sister's mount;  
Forsake Cithaeron, nor frequent the use  
Of th' amber weeping Pegase-hoofe-made fount,  
Now prune thy wings, aloft thou mayst not mount:  
Sigh forth the humble model of thy woe;  
For joy ascends, but sorrow sings below.   

Now change thy winter-scorning laurel boughs,  
That made thy temples swell with mounting brain:  
And with sad cypress all begirt thy brows,  
The dreary ensigns of ensuing pain,  
Sad presentations of a tragic vain;  
In whose broad leaves spectators eyes may see,  
The deepe-graved characters of ecstasy.   

Now leave Parnassus heaven-aspiring mountain,  
For sad Avernus' hel-depressed plains:  
Leave Aganippe's hony-bubling fountain,  
Whereby the Muse's Chorus still remains,  
And to the waters warble forth their strains:  
Leave Aganippe for the Stygian lake,  
And for the fiends the Muses songs forsake.   

In steed of Helicons greene-varnisht grove  
Walk in the silent shade of Erebus:  
In steed of Ida (where the ladies strove,  
Before the brainsick son of Priamus)  
Frequent the bloomy walks of Taenarus:  
Wear sable Ebony for the springing bay,  
Change joys aucoutrements for griefs array.   

Sorrow be thou my Muse, sadness my song,  
And death the subject that I versify:  
The destinies despite, and fortunes wrong,  
Is that which now I must historify,  
In silent cell of sad Melancholy:  
My Ebony pen shall pour out ynkie tears,  
That he may weep that reads, he sigh that hears.   

But that which Jove and destiny hath done,  
Men may lament, but never disannul:  
And they that check me for presumption,  
(When love constrained me write, though I were dull)  
Blaming presumption, must praise love at full:  
And easily the fault may be redressed,  
Where love and duty only have transgressed.   

Now was the mon'the that old Sextilis name  
Changed by the Roman Senate's sage decree:  
And glorying so to innovate the same,  
To have himself new-christ'ned did agree,  
Proud, that Augustus' godfather should be:  
While Ceres clad him in a mantle fair  
Of bearded corn still quavering with the air:   

When as a royal fleet, with joyful minds,  
(O how mishap is nearest still to joy!)  
daring their hopes, and lives to sea, and winds,  
(Two trustless treasurers, full of annoy)  
Did toward the western Indeses their course employ:  
Whose guide to DRAKE, & HAWKINS was assigned,  
When they went forth, o who would stay behind?   

Whether to win from Spain that was not Spain's,  
Or to acquit us of sustained wrong,  
Or intercept their Indian hoped gains,  
Thereby to weaken them, and make us strong;  
Hear to discuss, to me doth not belong:  
Yet if grief may say truth by nature's laws,  
Ill was th' effect, how good soever the cause.   

Now are they on the seas, resolved to prove  
The mercy of a mercie-wanting wave:  
England behind them lies, there lies their love;  
Before them, and about them air they have,  
And sometime foggy mists their sight bereave:  
Beneath them, seas; above them, skies they find:  
Seas full of waves, skies threatening storms & wind.   

O Neptune, never like thyself in show,  
Inconstant, variable, mutable,  
How dost thou Proteus-like thy form renew?  
O whereto is thy change imputable?  
O whereunto art thou best suitable?  
Rightly the moon predominateth thee,  
For thou art all as changeable as she.   

Thus still ambiguous twixt fear and hope,  
Fear in the storms, and hope in calmer tide;  
Passing saint Michael's promontory top,  
At length the bay of Portugal they spied,  
Where not determining long time t' abide,  
Again they venture on their dangers source,  
And to the Grand Canaries bend their course.   

Now pass in silence, o my drooping pen,  
So many famous towns and ports passed by.  
Some took, some burnt, some unassaulted then,  
As that Port Rico, place of misery,  
Where (o!) great HAWKINS, & brave CLIFFORD lie;  
The taking of the city Hatch conceal,  
Nor many other brave attempts reveal:   

Only two base ignoble places tell,  
Famous for nothing, but for death and dread:  
Where (o!) that, which my Muse laments, befell,  
The stages where our tragedy was played,  
Th' one Scudo, th' other Portabella said:  
Both to be razed out of memory,  
But for memorial of this tragedy.   

O wherefore should so many famous places,  
Worthy eternal memory and fame,  
Be here concealed, unworthy such disgraces,  
And these two should be registered by name,  
Though meritorious of eternal blame?  
But some are sometime named to their shames,  
And therefore must I tell these places names.   

Whether of both was in the greatest fault,  
I know not, nor I care not much to know:  
(Far deeper passions now my mind assault:)  
Thus much I know (o that I knew not so!)  
Both jointly joined to aggravate our woe;  
Since he on whom his countries hope relied,  
At Scudo sickened, at Portbella died.   

Accursed Isle, whose life-impoys'ning air,  
Intoxicate his sanctified breath!  
But most accursed port that did impair  
That flesh, compacted of the purest earth,  
And made the same a sacrifice to death!  
O let them languish in eternal night,  
That did extinguish earth's faire-shining light!   

O let these places be earth's dismal hell,  
Th' inhabitants eternall-tortured ghosts,  
The snaky-hayred Furies loathsome cell,  
Swarming with fiends and damned spirits hosts,  
And palpable thick fogs infect the coasts:  
And be this never-ending purgatory  
A place of penance for DRAKES woeful story.   

O soul, exhale out of thy deepest centre  
The sorrow-sobbing sighs of ecstasy;  
O let thy voice heavens territories enter,  
breath forth into the airs concavity  
The dismal accents of thy tragedy:  
Call heaven and earth to witness of thy woe,  
How that thy grief doth heaven and earth oreflowe.   

O let our clamours to the skies repair;  
O let our smoake-exhalinge breaths enfold  
A mighty cloud of sighs amid the air,  
Like vapours in the element enrolled  
By Sol's attractive power expelling cold;  
Till being dissolved, they shall on earth again  
power down a deluge of teare-showring rain.   

Now dusky clouds have overcast the sun,  
That lately bright translucent splendour shed  
In radiant rays, that from his beams did run  
Into earth's eyes, with darkness dazzled,  
Since first these clouds his face incurtained:  
A dark eclipse obscures his shining light,  
That lately made clear day in darkest night.   

Behold the lofty Cedars stately top,  
Whilom attired in summer's rich array,  
That in the skies his proud head did enwrap,  
Now are his greene-silke leaves gone to decay,  
His tufted boughs, and branches fallen away:  
And since his nutrimental sap is perished,  
He falling breaks the trees he lately cherished.   

He, that the bravest Champion was accounted  
Boldly t' encounter with the proudest foe;  
Now from his stately courser is dismounted,  
And hath by death received an overthrow,  
Unto the world's inconsolable woe:  
The tournament turned to lamenting fears,  
And all the triumphs into ruthful tears.   

A sacred Temple edified to Fame,  
Where honour annually did sacrifice  
An holy Hecatomb to her name,  
Now, levelled with the earth, everted lies:  
This only comfort have the votaries;  
That though the temple thus be overblown,  
The sacred saint shall near be overthrown.   

The vulture anguish ●ireth on my maw,  
Sorrow hath ceased on my grieved heart:  
There doth he without intermission gnaw,  
From hence the other never can departed,  
But still gins, and never ends my smart:  
And thus poor I, twixt sorrow and twixt anguish,  
Do neither live nor die, but alway languish.   

Ay me! what shall I do this grief t' allay?  
Shall I with feigned smiles my smart conceal?  
Ah no! like fire, it will itself bewray:  
Or shall I sue to heaven his back repeal?  
Ah no! such suits with heaven can near prevail:  
What therefore shall I do this grief t' allay?  
Still grieve, till Death take grief and life away.   

O Death inhoused in hell's profundities,  
Now excercise on me thy tyranny:  
Anatomize me into atomies,  
Set period to my full fallen ecstasy,  
Prolong no longer this long tragedy:  
O Death some ease unto my sorrow send:  
For Death, they say, doth grief and sorrow end.   

What say they? Death doth grief and sorrow end?  
O how they are deceived in saying so!  
Death only did this grief and sorrow send:  
Death was the only agent of our woe,  
Death was our dreary and our dismal foe:  
For had not Death himself subdued DRAKE.  
The world beside could not him captive make.   

This only comfort is unto us left,  
(O simple comfort in so great distress!)  
That no proud Spaniard hath his life bereft,  
No man may boast he caused our wretchedness,  
Nor triumph he subdued earth's worthiness:  
But only Death our treasure hath bereaven,  
And that was due to earth, he gave to heaven.   

To heaven? ah why is heaven covetous?  
Why are the Gods (o pardon grief) so greedy,  
To ravish from the earth, the precious,  
And leave to us th' unworthy, base, and needy?  
O heavens, what can our harms and losses steed ye?  
Ah Jove! if thou be'st rightly termed a giver,  
Why dost thou take from earth that should relieve her?   

An high disdain enraged the Macedon,  
And gall did grate against his eager breast,  
Dreading, his father all the world had won,  
And measured with his sword from east to west,  
And he should languish in ignoble rest:  
Wherefore he often wished, two worlds had been,  
One for his father, one for him to win.   

As great as Alexander in renown,  
In virtue greater far than ever he,  
Great DRAKE on nature sometime seemed to frown,  
That but one world, and that all known should be;  
Wherefore he sought some other world to see:  
Until at length so heaven he did attain,  
And finding heaven scorned to return again.   

As one, that vows a solemn pilgrimage  
To some canonised Saints religious shrine,  
Doth leave his solitary hermitage,  
And with a new-incensed zeal divine,  
Unto devotion doth his mind incline:  
Passing the way and day in meditation,  
Beguiling both with holy contemplation:   

At length with often-tired tedious race,  
Alway invoking Saints successive aid,  
Arriveth at the sanctified place,  
Where after all his orisons are said,  
And due oblations to his Saint are paid;  
Ravished in spirit with devoted zeal,  
Becomes a Priest, and will not home repeal.   

So DRAKE, the pilgrim of the world, intending  
A vowed voyage unto Honour's shrine,  
At length his pilgrimage in heaven had ending,  
Where ravished with the joys more than divine,  
That in the temple of the Gods do shine:  
There did a never-dying life renew,  
Bidding base earth, and all the world, adieu.   

Intending for to work his country's pleasure.  
O cruel chance! he wrought his country's pain:  
And minding to augment fair England's treasure,  
(Alas!) he drowned in the Ocean main  
The richest treasure England did contain,  
Save one rare jewel, whose rich price is such,  
As none can either prize, or praise too much.   

What treasure was it then that DRAKE hath lost?  
It was not silver, silver yields to gold:  
It was not gold, pearl is of greater cost:  
Nor pearl, for precious stones are dearer sold:  
Yet precious stones this treasure did not hold:  
O no! it was himself, more worth alone  
Then silver, gold, or pearl, or precious stone.   

O dire mischance! o lamentable loss!  
Impov'rishing the riches of our Isle,  
O wherefore should sinister dest'nie cross,  
And with her frown incurtaine fortunes smile?  
O now I see she smiles but to beguile!  
O Fortune alway to deserts unkind!  
That England lost, not all the world can find.   

O let us lose our sight with shedding tears,  
And with eternal weeping lose our eyes,  
Lose breath with sighs, lose mind with dreary fears,  
Lose sense with terror, and lose voice with cries,  
Still meditating on our miseries:  
Since we have found his loss, he lost his breath,  
Since we have lost his help, he found his death.   

But oh! why do we break our hearts with grief,  
And to the senseless air sigh forth our groans?  
Sith all in vain, heavens send us no relief,  
But stop their ears against our piteous moans;  
Our sighs as soon may penetrate the stones,  
As heavens hard ears: o therefore do we plain,  
And therefore weep, because we weep in vain.   

We weep in vain, because for him we weep,  
Since he with saints in thought-surmounting joy▪  
At Jove's great festival doth revel keep,  
Where neither scarcity doth him annoy,  
Nor loathed satiety his mind accloy:  
O since that he from us is gone to bliss,  
We do lament our own mishap, not his.   

The fairest plot in all th' Elysian field,  
By Jove's command, is unto him assigned;  
And heavens eternal Summer-house doth yield,  
A paradise unto his soul refined,  
For sacred contemplation of the mind:  
And as of men to Gods he was the nearest,  
So now to Jove of Gods he is the dearest.   

And if his death be rightfully respected,  
Some joy it hath to mitigate our woe;  
For that which for our country is effected,  
Is good, though death with these effects doth go,  
And well he dies, that dies 'gainst country's foe:  
Therefore though death unto him did betide,  
(O joyful end!) DRAKE for his country died.   

DRAKE for his country died, o joyful end!  
This joyful end began his country's woe:  
His glorious death his country did defend,  
And yet his death did grieve his country so,  
As floods of sorrow do her overflow:  
Well did he die, that for his country died,  
Had not his country's death to his been tied.   

This end began our woe, ended our pleasure,  
This end did end our weal, began our pain,  
This end began our loss, ended our treasure,  
This end did end our mirth, began our plain,  
This end began our grief, ended our gain,  
This end did end relief, began annoy;  
O then no joyful end, but end of joy!   

Spain, clap thy hands, while we our hands do wring,  
And while we weep, laugh thou at our distress,  
While we do sob and sigh, sit thou and sing,  
Smile thou, while we lament with heaviness,  
While we our grief, do thou thy joy express:  
Since he, who made us triumph, and thee quake,  
Hath ceased to live; o most victorious DRAKE.   

Proud Spain, although our Dragon be bereft us,  
We rampant Lions have enough for thee:  
Magnanimous ESSEX (heavens delight) is left us,  
And o long may the heavens let him be!  
Great COMBERLAND and HOWARD yet have we;  
And o long may we have them, and enjoy  
These worthies to our wealth, and thine annoy.   

These yet survive (o may they so for ever!)  
To make eternal thunder in thine ears  
With their hart-daunting names, and (like a fever)  
To make thee tremble all distraught with fears,  
When thou th' alarum of their trumpets hears:  
ELISA lives, and while ELISA reigns  
One England need not fear an hundred Spain's.   

And that dear body held in Neptune's womb,  
By Jove shallbe translated to the sky:  
The sea no more, heaven then shall be his tomb,  
Where he a new-made star eternally  
Shall shine, transparent to spectators eye:  
A fearful comet in the sight of Spain,  
But shall to us a radiant light remain.   

He, who alive to them a Dragon was,  
shallbe a Dragon unto them again,  
For with his death his terror shall not pass,  
But still amid the air he shall remain  
A dreadful Meteor in the eye of Spain:  
And as a fiery Dragon, shall portend  
England's success, and Spain's disaster end.   

Known to the heavens by honour long before,  
Now by the presence of th'immortal soul,  
O new-made saint, (for now a man no more)  
Admit my tender infant Muse t' enrol  
Thy name in honours everlasting scroll:  
What though thy praises cannot live by me?  
Yet may I hope to live by praising thee.   

And may thy praises live a while by me,  
Though praising thus I do but stain thy praise:  
And I awhile may live by praising thee:  
Until some heavenly Muse begin to raise  
Thy fame from grave to live eternal days:  
If ominous birds beguile not with their song,  
I augurize, this shall be done ere long.   

Phoebus himself shall chronicle thy fame,  
And of a radiant sunbeam make the pen;  
The ink, the milk whence Via Lactea came;  
Th' empyrean heaven, the volume shallbe then;  
To register this miracle of men:  
The sun and moon, the letters capital;  
The stars, the commas and the periods all.   

Jove's silver footstool shall be library  
That shall these Acts and Monuments contain;  
Which that they may to after ages tarry,  
And as a true memorial still remain,  
Eternity is th' adamantine chain:  
And that the heavens still on DRAKES praise may look,  
The Gods shall read, and Saints peruse the book.   Quis Martem tunica tectum adamantina Dignè scripserit? 
FINIS.