VERSES Of praise and joy, Written vpon her majesties preservation.  
Whereunto is annexed Tychbornes lamentation, written in the tower with his own hand, and an answer to the same.  
LONDON Printed by John wolf. 1586.   

VERSES OF PRAISE, AND IOY, Written vpon her majesty, after the apprehension and execution of Babington, Tychborne, salisbury, & the rest.  
'mongst spyny cares sprung up now at the last,  
sprowt higher then the hautiest of their heads:  
That with thy Roselike Royal peace( O Prince)  
all other princes thou must ouer-peere.  
Thee and thy realm oppressed it happ'ly pleased  
our highest God in safety to preserve.  
For this, thy people publicly applaud,  
and every where aboundeth godly love.  
Good f●rtune and an everlasting famed  
attend on th●e in all thine actions.  
This makes thy friends, this makes thy foes admire,  
and daily hold thy name in reverence.  
honoured art, Princely behaviour, zeal to good,  
and with thee rest a royal majesty.  
These four faire gifts( O Prince, of right renound)  
thy Princely mind most Princely Ente●teignes.  
live sovereign lady, live Elizabeth  
health of thy country, help to all our harms.  
Seeld seen, thou Reign'st a maiden & a queen,  
Long mayst thou live, and heaven be thy home.   

Tychbornes elegy, written with his own hand in the Tower before his execution.  

MY prime of youth is but a frost of cares,  
my feast of ioy is but a dish of pain:  
My Crop of corn is but a field of tares,  
and al my good is but vain hope of gain  
The day is past, and yet I saw no sun,  
And now I live, and now my life is done.   

My tale was heard, and yet it was not  told,  
my fruit is fallen, & yet my leaves are green:  
My youth is spent, and yet I am not old,  
I saw the world, and yet I was not seen.  
My thread is cut, and yet it is not spun,  
And now I live, and now my life is done.   

I sought my death, and found it in my womb,  
I looked for life, and saw it was a shade:  
I trod the earth, and knew it was my tomb,  
and now I die, and now I was but made.  
My glass is full, and now my glass is run,  
And now I live, and now my life is done.    

Hendecasyllabon T. K. in Cygneam Cantionem Chidiochi Tychborne.  

THy prime of youth is frozen with thy faults,  
thy feast of ioy is finished with thy fall:  
Thy crop of corn is tares auailing naughts,  
thy good God knows, thy hope, thy hap and all  
Short were thy daies, and shadowed was thy sun  
T'obscure thy light vnluckelie begun.   

Time trieth truth, & truth hath treason tripped,  
thy faith bare fruit as thou hadst faithless been:  
Thy ill spent youth shine after yeares hath nipped,  
and God that saw thee hath preserude our queen 〈…〉  
Her thread still holds, thine perished though vnspun,  
And she shall live when traitors lives are done.   

Thou soughtst thy death, and found it in desert,  
thou look'dst for life, yet lewdlie forced it fade:  
Thou trodst the earth, and now on earth thou art,  
as men may wish thou never hadst been made.  
Thy glory and thy glass are timeles run,  
And this, O Tychborne, hath thy treason done.    

In nefariam Babingtoni caeterorumque coniurationem, Hexasticon.  
Quid non Papa ruens spondet, modo iussa capessas?  
en diadema tibi, sceptráque, pactus Hymen.  
Dissimilem votis mercedem nacta, said ausis ▪  
& sceleri retulit turba nefanda parem.  
Successere regi regno, coruoque coronae,  
pro sceptro laqueus, pro thalamo tumulus.  

The same in englishe.  
The Pope to prop his ruinous state,  
doth golden proffers make:  
crown, sceptre, royal marriage bed,  
to those his part that take.  
The traitorous crew late reaped reward ▪  
not fitting their desire:  
But as their purpose bloody was,  
so shameful was their hire.  
For chair of state, a stage of shane,  
and crows for crownes they haue:  
Their sceptre to a halter changed,  
their bed become their grave.    

Ad Serenissimam Reginam Elizabetham, Apostrophe.  
Regna, vive, vale, mundi, patriae, atque tuorum,  
splendida, sola, vigens, gloria, vita, salus.  
In te speramus, per te spiramus ouantes:  
debt spirare tibi saecula multa Deus.  
Pro te dulce mori, nisi pro te vivere durum ▪  
at sine te mors est vivere, vita mori.  

The same in englishe.  
reign, live, and blissful dayes enjoy,  
thou shining lamp of th'earth:  
The only life of countries state,  
thy subiects health and mirth.  
On thee we ground our hope, through thee  
we draw our breath with ioy:  
God grant thee long amongst us breath,  
God shield thee from annoy.  
To die for thee were sweet, to live  
were wretched but for thee.  
Without thee, death a second life,  
life double death should be.