SE I 1 Ultc Julier Worthies' THE .POEMS* OF SIR JOHN BEAUMONT, BART., * FOR THE FIKST TIME COLLECTED AND EDITED , THE ENGRAVING OF GRACE-DIBU,, BY THE REV. ALEXANDER B. GROSART, ST. GEORGE'S, BLACKBURN, LANCASHIRE. PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION. 1869. 106 copies only. ICanuel Chester, MY DEAR SIR, Allow me the pleasure of associating your name with, this Worthy and my labours on his too little known Poetry. I like you for your English Puritan name and for your English face that of 1 a brave gentleman ' all of the olden time ; I like you for your right and good service in writing for the first time adequately, the Life a supremely noble and beautiful one of ' John Rogers ' Proto- martyr of England, under Mary ; I like you as an American proud of your ancient lineage and unmixed English descent ; and I like you for your catholic literary sympathies and brother-hood. Moreover, with * Sunny Memories ' of my pilgrim- visits to shrines of the New World human and of Nature from the graves of my fellow-Scots, Alexander Wilson the Ornithologist and Poet and IV. TO JOSEPH LEMUEL CHESTER, ESQ. leonine Dr. John Witherspoon, and the Homes and Haunts of David Brainerd and Jonathan Edwards, and Franklin and Washington, and of the illustrious Living, to the palace of Thunder of Niagara and scenes in fair Virginia all transfigured with the glory of RALEIGH and other of the Eliza- bethan heroes I must ever have a warm hand- clasp and heart-clasp for your mighty Country's masterful and most lavishly-kind countrymen. By-and-bye these "Worthies will find their widest realm over the Atlantic. You will agree with me that it is well to get away o' times from the inevitable strivings and vulgarisms of the Present into the calm of thank God the changeless Past. Yours very cordially, ALEXANDER B. GROSART. I HE present Volume for the first time brings together the hitherto somewhat scattered and carelessly-kept Poems of SIR JOHN BEAUMONT. BART. It contains the whole of the volume of 1629, edited by his son ; and also a number of additions gathered from various sources, as told in the relative foot-notes. I have also reprinted the ' Metamorphosis of Tabacco ', from the solitary surviving copy preserved in the British Museum Library. These additions are marked with an asterisk [*] in the Contents. I indulge a hope that from some unexpected quarter perchance an old Library of Leicester- shire the certainly printed, if not published * Crowne of Thornes ', will turn up. For more on it see our Memorial-Introduction : where will also be found curious details of a cancelled leaf in the volume of 1629. As an Appendix I give two poems by our Worthy's son and heir, Sir John Beaumont, Bart. yi. PREFATORY NOTE. The same principle has been acted on through- out this addition to our Library, as in the others : the text is reproduced in integrity, all original notes are faithfully given, under the initial B., with biographic and elucidatory additions, under my own initial, G., and noticeable words marked, and the like. The edition of 1629 was not very well overseen in printing, and still worse in its pointing. The more important misprints are noted in their places, others self-evident are corrected silently. The original arrangement is slightly departed from, by placing the poems on more or less sacred subjects as one class^ and all the trans- lations as another. I owe thanks to the present Sir George H. Beaumont, Bart., of Cole-orton Hall, Leicestershire, James Delano, Esq., London, W. Aldis Wright, Esq, M.A., Trinity College, Cambridge, J. Payne Collier, Esq., Maidenhead, J. L. Chester, Esq., of US. A., and S. Christie- Miller, Esq., of Britwell, for aid very pleasantly rendered. By the kindness of the Proprietors (Messrs. Routledge) I am enabled to furnish (in large paper) Einden's exquisite steel-engraving of the Beaumont-home, Grace-dieu. A. B. G. PAGES. I. Dedication iii iv. II. Prefatory Note v vi. III. Memorial-Introduction xi Ixv. IV. Note 2. V. Epistle-Dedicatory 34. VI. Preliminary Verses by Neuill, Hawkins, Sir John and Francis Beaumont, Fortescue, Ben. Jonson, Drayton, King and la. Cl 521. VII. BOSWORTH FIELD 2363. VIII. SACRED POEMS 65 1 12 (1) Vpon the two great feasts of the Ann- unciation and Resurrection 67 68. (2) Of the Epiphany 6971. (3J Of the Transfiguration of our Lord ... 71 72. (4) On Ascension Day 73. (5) An Ode of the Blessed Trinity 7477. (6) A Dialogue betweene the World, a Pilgrime and Vertue 77 80. An Act of Contrition 8082. In Desolation 8285. 9) In Spiritual Comfort 8587. (10) An Act of Hope 8889. (11) OfTeares 8990. (12) OfSinne 9092. (13) Of the miserable state of Man 9295. (14) OfSicknesse 9596. (15) Of True Liberty 9698. (16) Against inordinate loue of Creatures .. 98 99. Vlll. CONTEXTS. PAGRS (17) Against abused Lone 99105. (18) A description of Loue 105107. (19) An expression of (Sibyll's Acrostichs .. 107 109. (20) Virgil : Kclog IV 109112. IX. ROYAL AND COURTLY POEMS. ... 113 171. (1) On the anniuersary day of his Maies- tio's Reign ouer England 115 116. (2) A Thank.s<:iuing for the deliuerance of our Soueraigne 116 117. (3) To his late Maiesty, concerning the 121127. true form of English Poetry 118121. (4) To the glorious Memory of King James 121 127. ^5) A Panegyrick at the Coronation of King Charles 127130. (6) Of the Prince's Journey 130 131. (7) Of the Prince's Departure and Returne 132. (8) Of the Prince's most happy Returne . . 132138. N. Hooke to Amanda ". . . 134135. (9) Upon the Anniuersary-day of the Prince's Return e 139140. (10) Of the most excellent use of Poems . . 140144. (1 1) To the Prince 144145. (12) An Epithalamium vpon the happy marriage of King Charles 145148. (13) At the end of iiis Maiestie's first year : two sonnets 148 150. (14) An Epithalamium to Buckingham 150 152. (15) The Shepherdesse 152 156. (16) Of bis Maiestie's Vow for the felicity of Buckingham 156. (17) My Lord of Buckingham's welcome to the King at Burley 157. (18) A congratulation on birth of Bucking- ham's daughter 157 158. (19) Of true greatnesse 158161. (20) Various poems on the Buckinuhams . . 161 168. (21) To my Lord Purbeck. . . .for his health 169171. X. ELEGIAC-MEMORIALS OF WORTHIES 173 207. (1) On Mrs. Neuell 175. (2) Of the truly noble Lady, the Lady* Marquesse of Winchester 176 180. * Lady, dropped out in heading, inadvertently. G-. CONTENTS. IX. PAGES. (3) Vpon his noble friend, Sir William Skip- with 180181. (4) An epitaph vpon my deare brother, Francis Beaumont 182. (5) Of my deare sonne, Geruase Beaumont 183. (6) Teares for the death of Lord Chandos. . 184185. (7) Vpon the untimely death of the honour- able, hopefull young gentleman, Ed- ward Stafford 186187. (8) To the memory of Edward, Lord Stafford 187190. (9) To the memory of the learned and religious Ferd'inando Poulton, Esq. . . 190193. (10) To the immortal memory of Lady Clifton 193 197. (11) Ypon the death of the most noble Lord, Henry, earle of Southampton ...... 198 201. (12) An Epitaph vpon the Lord Wriothesley 202. *(13) Of the death of the most noble the Lord Marquesse of Hamilton 203. *(14) Vpon a Funeralle 204. *(15) To the Authour [Francis Beaumont] .. 205. *(16) To my most esteemed friend, Master Thomas Collins 206. *(17) To the Translatour, [Sir Thomas Haw- kins]* 207. XI. TRANSLATIONS 209261 (1) Juvenal : Satire X 211231. (2) A Funerall Hymne out of Prudentius. . 231 237. (3) An Epigram concerning Man's life : composed by Crates or Posidippus . . 238. (4) The Answer of Metrodorus 239 240. fa) Horace : Lib. 2. Sat. 6 240247. (6) Carm. Lib. 3. Od. 29 247249. (7) . Epod. 2 250252. (8) Persius : Satire 2 253257. (9) Ausonius : Idyll 16 258259. (10) Claudian's Epigram of the old Man of Verona . 259261. * No 1517 are not 'Elegiac', but naturally take their place among. ' Memorials *. G. X. CONTENTS. PAGES. *XII. METAMORPHOSIS OF TABACCO 275 321. Note 264265. Dedication to Drayton 266 Preliminary Verses 267 273. APPENDIX : POEMS BY SIR JOHN BEAUMONT, BART, SON OF THE POET 321332. *(1) To the memory of him who can never be forgotten, Master Beniamin John- son 325328. *(2) To the memory of Edward King [' Ly- cidas' of Milton] 328-332. XIV. ERRATA NOTE . . .333 m SITT |OU have opposite our title-page, 1 a daintily- rendered view of the ruins Bancroft's " grand relic ",* and Nichols's " noble fragment " 3 of Grace-Dieu : and what the rage of man and the teeth of Time have done on the originally grand and indeed magnificent religious House, has been done, even more sorrowfully and irrevocably in the family papers. So that with 1 gentle ' as with ' simple ' it is found hard to recover memorials of our Worthy as DAELEY* and DrcE 5 and others had to lament in trying to keep in remembrance the greater name and fame of his younger brother, FRANCIS BEAUMONT, 1 In large paper copies only. 2 See lines onward a little. 3 Nichols's Leicestershire, iii., 651. 4 Memoir prefixed to his Beaumont and Fletcher. 5 Memoir prefixed to his Beaumont and Fletcher : Vol. i. Xll. MEMORIAL-rSTTRODTJCTlOff. the Dramatist to whose memory our Sir John dedicated some of his most pathetic verses. Grace-die u is beautifully situated lying low in a valley, upon a little brook, in what was formerly one of the most recluse spots in the cen- tre of Charnwood Forest within a little distance of the turn-pike road that leads from Ashby-de-la- zouch to Loughborongh. It stands within the parish of Belton, but ecclesiastically in the deanery of Akeley. Its name, Grace Dieu, in Latin de Gratia Dei recals the pre-Reformation times, and its pre- sent re-possession by a Roman Catholic Family (Phillips), curiously confirms the old creed of indelibility or indefeasibility. The Foundress of the ' Nunnery ' and the giver of the name, was one Roesia de-Yerdun, daughter and co-heir of Nicholas, Lord Yerdon reaching away back to 1236 and 1247. Wide-brained and saintly Bishop Grosseteste and the earlier Henries, come up in connection with the Foundation. I must refer all antiquarianly-disposed to Nichols' Leicestershire, where will be found abundant details, from Agnes de Gresley first prioress and Mary de Stretton, to John Comin, Earl of Buchan. * 1 As before, Vol. iii., 655-661* et alibi. Where other reference is not given, Nichols is my authority. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. Xlii. THOMAS BANCROFT, the Epigrammatist, thus sketches Grace-dieu as associated with the Beau- mont s : l " Grace-dieu, that under Cham wood stand'st alone, As a grand Relicke of Religion, I reverence thine old, but fruitful!, worth, That lately brought such noble Beaumonts forth : Whose brave Heroick Muses might aspire To match the Anthems of the Heavenly Quire : The mountaines crown'd with rockey fortresses, And sheltering woods, secure thy happinesse, That highly favour'd art though lowly plac'd Of Heaven, and with free Nature's bounty grac'd : JJ erein grow happier ; and that blisse of thine Nor Pride ore-top, nor Envy undermine!" John Beaumont, Esq., of not distant Thringston, was the first Beaumont-owner of the venerable Priory. He obtained a grant of the site. He had been appointed by the king's writ January 30th, 1534-35 to "take the ecclesiastial survey of the county of Leicestershire :" 2 and in association with Drs. Leigh and Layton, he ' reports ' as told in the ' Compendium Compcrtorum' charges of ' incontinentia ' (alas !) and ' superstitio ' 1 Two Bookes of Epigrammes and Epitaphs, &c. (1G39) Bi. Ep. 81. 2 Nichols, as before. XIV. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. against Elizabeth Hall and Catharina Ekesildena, 'nuns ' the latter because of veneration paid to the girdle and part of the tunic of St. Francis. The great strong wall, with which the Priory was ' compassed ' and the garden in resemblance of Gethsemane, failed I fear to keep out the three enemies, " the world, the devil, the flesh ". Ee this as it may, Grace-dieu was included in the Suppression of 1536. Agnes Litheiiand was the last Prioress. There were delays in consummat- ing the Suppression : but it was finally surrendered on October 27th, 1539. In that year it was granted to Sir Humphrey Foster, Knight, who thereupon conveyed it to John Beaumont, gent oddly mispelled Bewman. Mr. Beaumont seems to have been interrupted in the possession of his newly-acquired property by a claim on the part of the Earl of Huntingdon. A vigorous remonstra- tive Letter to Lord Cromwell remains, reminding of the transition period. He is very earnest, indeed vehement : "for I do feyre" he says, "the seyd erle and his sonns do seke my lyfe, and all for the truthe sake." 1 In 1541 this John Beau- mont was cited to shew by what title he held the 1 Wright's Letters relating to the Suppression of Monasteries, p. 251. MEMOEIAL-INTKODrCTION. XV. Priory of Gracc-dieu. Disputes went on for a number of years, and only closed apparently, by intermarriages of the Families concerned. In 1550, JOHN BEAUMONT, Esquire, was elected Ee- corder of Leicester, and in the same year (Dec. 3) Master of the Eolls. In 1551 a fine, with pro- clamation, was levied on the lordship, by the Master of the Eolls, to the use of King Edward VI. and his successors : and perplexingly, the Earl of Huntingdon in 1552 " did get a fee-farm of the manor-house of Grace-dieu and the whole manor and grange, called Myral Grange." On the accession of Mary "the Bloody" pity so sacred and softly-sweet a name should have epithet so dark ! the ' Eecorder ' and ' Master ' lost his offices to him a favorably significant fact. 1 John Beaumont was married twice. First to Isabel, daughter of Lawrence Dutton, Esq., of Dutton, co. Chester, by whom he had two daughters, Dorothy and Anne. Secondly, to Elizabeth, eldest daughter and coheir of Sir William Hastings, younger brother to George, Earl of Huntingdon, by whom he had issue, viz,, Elizabeth, who was married to William, Lord Yaux of Harrowden Jane JFran- 1 Nichols's Leicestershire, as before, Vol. III., Pt. II., pp 651 *66 XVI. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. cis, his successor, and Henry, who died unmarried, and was buried at Temple Church, London. Within five years of the death of her husband, Elizabeth Beaumont claimed and obtained posess- ion of Grace-dieu : and in 1574 Henry, Earl of Huntingdon, reciting the conveyance of Sir Humphrey Foster to John Beaumont and Eliza- beth Beaumont and their heirs, confirmed and ratified it all and so ended protracted disputes and counter-rights. The family by direct lineage and marriage was ancient and honourable and ' generosus/ Darley has pointed out that the name, in common with Fletcher, is French \_Beau-Mont and Flechier~] indicating a foreign extraction. 1 The extraction is historical, not mythic-heraldic, being directly traceable to the earl of Meulan or llellent, of BEAUMONT in Normandy, who as a reward for valour displayed at the battle of Hastings, was given many ' lordships ' by the Conqueror, and subsequently created earl of Leicester by Henry the I st no fewer than sixteen of his * lordships ' lying within the county. Robert do Beaumont, earl of Leicester, fills a large space in the county, if indeed it might not be said, the 1 As before. MEMORIAL-INTEODUCTIOJf. XV11. national history of his age : and so onward in Robert Bossu, i.e. the Hunchback, the friend of Thomas a Becket, and Eobert Blanchmains i. e. Eobert with the White Hands, son and grandson respectively, and all through gentle and noble marriages not without tragic and pathetic alter- nations, as in Hugh, surnamed Pauper, the youngest son of Robert de Beaumont, earl of Leicester, who fell from the rank of Earl of Bed- ford to that of knight, and finally became (literally) a beggar. On the other hand there were exalt- ations, as besides above Robert, Waloran became earl of Mellent, and of the (five) daughters, one married Strongbow, earl of Pembroke, and two to members of the house of Simon de Montfort. Beaumont is thus unquestionably an ancient and illustrious JSTorman name its other form, Bello- mont, being only a corruption or abbreviation of the Latin (De Bellomonte) employed by the monk- ish-historians, and used by Philip King in his Latin-verses in memory of our Worthy. Wace and William of Poitiers, Benoit de Saint More and Hollinshed, and Thierry in his * History of the Conquest of England by the Normans,' have burnished the names of many Beaumonts. Of the first connected with England, viz., above, Eobert de Beaumont, Henry of Huntingdon says, XV111. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. "he was in worldly affairs the wisest of all men betwixt England and Jerusalem ; eminent for knowledge, plausible of speech, keen and crafty, a subtle genius, of great foresight and prudence, not easily over-reached, profound in council, and of great wisdom." It is much to be wished that living Beaumonts would do for their family-history what has been done so admirably for the Lindsays by Lord Lindsay and for the Manchesters by the Duke of Manchester. Bom and resident in Leices- tershire and within the territories of the original Beaumonts, there can be no doubt that our Poet's family belonged to them in one or other of their manifold branches. 1 Francis, the first-born son of John Beaumont, succeeded his father. He was brought up to the Law. 2 He was appointed one of the Justices of the Common Pleas, 25th January, 1592-93, and subsequently he received the dignity of knight- hood. 3 Burton terms him " that grave, learned, and reverend judge". 4 He married Anne, 1 See for these details and references, Thompson's "History of Leicester" [1849] pp 27-61 et alibi. 2 Nichols, as before : andDj^ce's Memoir of Beaumont, as before. 3 As in 2. 4 Quoted in Nichols, as before. MEMOIUAL-IXTRODTJCTION. XIX. daughter to Sir George Pierrepoint, of Holme- Pierrepoint, co. Notts., knight, and relict of Thomas Thorolcl, of Marston, co. Lincoln, esq., the name of PIERREPOINT recalling that from the same stock sprang -in England, Lady Mary "Wort- ley Montagu, and over the Atlantic, the mother of America's greatest Thinker, JOXATHAX EDWARDS. His family by her, consisted of Elizabeth, who ultimately married Thomas Seyliard, of Kent : l and by the way, Erancis Beaumont, it will be remembered also went to Kent for his wife, fetching his Ursula from Sundridge, and three sons, Henry, John, and Erancis. John is our Worthy. His father died at Grace-dieu, April 22nd, 1598. His Will wherein he specially remembered troops of lowly friends, his servants, was made only the day before, and the inquisi- tion, taken June 8th following, recounts that he was ' ' seised of the house and site of Grace-dieu aforesaid, of divers lands in the parish of Belton, Grace-dieu, Meriel, Shepeshed, Osgathorpe, Thringston, and Swannington." 2 1 MS. Visitation of Kent, 1619, College of Arms, as cited by Dyce, as before, p xxi. He corrects Nichols' blunder of " Hilyard " for " Seyliard." 2 The Will is given in extenso in Dyce, as before, Vol. I. pp Ixxxix-xc. 2 MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. Henry Fletcher, the eldest son of Judge enjoyed his inheritance only a brief period. He died in 1605 aged 24 having been knighted in 1 603. l John, our Poet, in turn, succeeded him. He was born no doubt at the family-seat of Grace-dieu in 1582 or 158?. There are no entries of the baptisms of the Beaumonts neither of our Worthy nor of Francis the explanation being that the rite would most naturally be cele- brated in the Metropolis, where the Judge must have had a residence. But the birth-year is approximately found from the Funeral-Certificates in the College of Arms, whereby we learn that John Beaumont, " second sonne " was " at the tymc of the death of his father [22nd April, 1598] of the age of fouretcen yeares or tlwre- aloutes." This takes us back by the Old Style to 1582-3. Of his School and home-training nothing has come down. Probably along with his elder brother Henry, and his younger Francis, and only sister Elizabeth, his education was private. "Whether or no, the three brothers in 1596 pro- ceeded to Oxford and entered as " gentlemen 1 "Sir Henry Beaumont, knight, buried 13th day of Julie, anno domini, 1G05. Belton Church Register, in Dyce, as before, p. xxi. MEMORIAL-IOTBOT)UCTION. XXI. commoners " in Broadgate's Hall " in the begin- ning of Lent-term ": (4th February, 1596-7.) ANTHONY A- WOOD designates John as then " aged 14 ", which agrees with the other authority above. 1 Broadgates-Hall on the site of which Pembroke College now stands was .the principal nursery in Oxford for students of the civil and common Law. ]S"one of the brothers appears to have resided long- in Oxford : and all quitted the University without taking any degree. Francis, the Dramatist, was entered a member of the Inner Temple, 3rd Novem- ber, 1600 : and our Poet is also usually stated to have entered " one of the Inns of Court." 2 I have failed to trace him there. If ever he took up residence, he soon quitted it : in all liklihood on succeeding to the family-estates on the death of Sir Henry, his elder brother, in 1605. During his College residence, and in London, he must have begun his poetic studies. " In his youth " says Wood and the Biographia Britannica and other authorities " he applied himself to the Muses, with good success". 3 When in his 20th year (1602) he published anonymously, his ' Meta- 1 Athen. Oxon. (by Bliss) II. 437: (See also pp. 434-435.) 2 Dyce, as before, p. xxii. 3 Biog. Brit. (1747), Vol. i., *. ., p. 621. XX11. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. morphosis of Tabacco ' a mock heroic-poem : and prefixed to it, among others, were dedicatory lines to MICHAEL DKAYTOX, and the first published Verses of his brother Francis, the illustrious associate of FLETCHER. Both are very noticeable and therefore must be adduced here : I. FRANCIS BEAUMONT, TO HIS BROTHER. " My new-borne Muse assaies her tender wing, And where she should crie is enforst to sing : Her children prophesie thy pleasing rime Shall neuer be a dish for hungrie Time : Yet he regardlesse what those verses say, Whose infant mother was but borne to day." II. DEDICATION TO "METAMORPHOSIS." jld mare riinili TO MY LOVING FRIEND, MASTER MICHAEL DRAYTON. The tender labour of my wearie pen, And doubtfull triall of my first-borne rimes, Loaths to adorne the triumphs of those men, Which hold the raines of fortunes, and the times : Only to thee, which art with ioy possest Of the faire hill, where troupes of Poets stand, 1 See our Volume, p. 272. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. XX111. Where thou enthron'd with laurell garlands blest, Maist lift me vp with thy propitious hand ; I send this poeme, which for nought doth care, But words for words, and loue for loue to share. 1 From these and after- Yerses commendatory, to the (posthumous) volume of 1629, our Poet must early have passed within the ' charmed circle ' of the Mermaid, and won the friendship trans- mitted to his son, 2 of BEN JONSON and other of the immortals. To vivify our realisation of the glorious company, I will here set down Francis Beaumont's description of their Wit-combats : " What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid ! heard words that have heen So nimble, and so full of subtle flame, As if that every one from whom they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolv'd to live a fool the rest Of his dull life ; then when there hath been thrown Wit able enough to justify the town For three days past ; wit that might warrant be For the whole city to talk foolishly, 1 Ibid, p. 226. 2 See Appendix to our Volume for our Poet's son's strong-thoughted Verses to the memory of Jonson, pp. 325-328. The wonder is that Shakespeare should be unnamed. G. XXIV. MEMORIAL-IXTRODTJCIIOX. Till that were cancel? d ; and when that was gone "We left an air behind us, which alone "Was able to make the two next companies (Right witty, though but downright fools) mere wise." 1 Let the Header turn now to Joxsox's some- what laboured but thought-packed ' Lines ', and ponder the tribute, from the splendid honour of its first words ' l This book shall live ' ' to the close. 2 It is the more interesting if that be not too poor a word to take note of this friendship, because if I am not much mistaken, Jonson was indebted to our Poet for probably the most memor- able couplet in his over-memorable Yerses on the Portrait of Shakespeare, prefixed to the folio of 1623. We may read them and dwell on the italicized lines : " To the Reader. This Figure, that thou hero seest put, It was for gentle Shakespeare cut ; Wherein the Graner had a strife 1 Works of Beaumont and Fletcher by Dyce, as before, Vol. xi. pp. 501-502: Darley, as before, in line seventh reads ' known ' for ' thrown ' and in last line ' mere ' wise. Probably the latter is the true reading and meaning as adopted by Seward and in text. 2 See our Volume, pp. 15-16. MEMOEIAL-INTEODUCTIOX. XXV. With Nature, to out-doo the life : O, could lie but haue drawne his wit As well in brasse, as he hath hit His face ; the Print would then surpasse All, that was euer writ in brasse. But, since he cannot, Reader, looke Not on his Picture, but his Booke." Surely the italicized lines from Sir John Beau- mont's Elegy "to the immortall memory of the fairest and most vcrtuous Lady Clifton" in 1613, or ten good years before the Shakespeare inscrip- tion must have been read or heard, and lingered in Ben's capacious memory, consciously or uncon- sciously ? " Ah why neglected I to write her prayse, And paint her vertues in those happy dayes ! Then my now trembling hand and dazled eye, Had seldome fail'd, hauing the patterne by : Or had it err'd, or made some strokes amisse, For who can portray Vertue as it is P .Art might ivith Nature haue maintain d her strife, ' By curious lines to imitate true lifc.''i I am not aware that this bit of Shakespcriaua has before been noticed. My ear can't get quit of au echo in the mightier lines from the earlier. 1 Sec the entire poem in our Volume, pp 193197. XXVI. MEMOEIAL-INTHODT7CTIOX. I have stated that our Poet published the ' Metamorphosis of Tabacco ' in 1602. There can be but little doubt of the authorship. The late George Chalmers possessed a copy of the poem,. on the title-page of which was written in a contem- porary hand " By John Beaumont." 1 In accord with this, is the dedication of it to Drayton, and the initials of the various commendatory verses prefixed. Those by F. B. unquestionably belong to his brother the Dramatist. 2 Besides, the t Met- amorphosis ' is the main poem that answers to Sir Thomas Hawkins' happy characterisation of his various- sided genius, as ' sportive ' as well as ' serious ' e.g. " Nor lesse delight things serious set apart Thy sportive poems yeeld, with heedfull art Composed so, to minister content, That though we there thinke onely wit is meant, We quickly by a happy error, find In cloudy words, cleare lampes to light the mind. ''3 In the same year 1602 with the publication of the ' Metamorphosis of Tabacco ', appeared also 1 Dyce, as before, p. xxiii. 2 See our Volume p 272. 3 See the whole poem in our Volume, pp C 9. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. XXV11. anonymously the somewhat famous volume called "Salmacis and Hermaphroditus " . I think few will disagree with Mr. Dyce in opposition to Mr. Collier, in pronouncing this the genuine pro- duction of Francis Beaumont. Among the com- mendatory verses prefixed to " Salmacis and Her- maphroditus " is a copy signed I. 33. which seems plainly to belong to the elder brother, our Poet. 1 Briefly resident in one of the Inns of Court if indeed it was so he retired to his family-seat of Grace-Dieu. 2 When he did so, and for years subsequent, he lacked one element of the Poet's inspiration a' ' lady-love '. This comes out in his lines " Against abused Loue." Thus : " How can I write of Lone, who neucr felt His dreadful arrow ; nor did euer melt My heart away before a female flame, Like waxen statues, which the witches frame."3 1 "Dyce, as before, pp xxiii-iv., and see Mr. Collier's Life of Shakespeare and Bibl. Account, s. n. 2 In the Will of Sir Henry Beaumont, which was proved 3rd February, 1605-6, the 'surplusage' of his property nut otherwise assigned, was " to be devided into twoe partcs," whereof u one parte ' ' went to his ' sister ' and the other was "to be equallie devided " between the two brothers " John and Francis." Dyce, as before, p xxvii. 3 See our Volume pp 101-102. XXV111. MEMOEIAL-IXTRODUCTIOX. But he escaped not the inevitable and delicious woe of woman. For he married a ' faire ladye ' of the family of Fortescue her brother GEOKGE FOHTESCUE, Esq., adding a grateful and graceful commendatory to the others in the volume of 1629. 1 By her he had four sons John, Francis, Gervase, and Thomas. The first, who succeeded his father, was a man of extraordinary strength, a kind of English Grettir the Strong : it being reported by old men who knew him that * ' he did leap sixteen feet at one leap, and would commonly, at a stand-leap, jump over a high long table in the hall, light on a settle beyond the table, and raise himself straight up." 2 He was not without a vein of the true poetic faculty, if deficient in the music of utterance. To him we are indebted for the precious volume of 1629, and among other things, for a well-put tiibute to his " dearc father." He fell at the siege of Gloucester, in the service of the king, in 1644. 3 Francis sometimes con- founded with his uncle, as he in turn', by Anthony a- WOOD and others, has been confounded with another Francis Beaumont of the family of the 1 See our Volume pp 10-12. 2 Nichols, as before : iii, Pt. 2nd, p 659. 3 Ibid and Dyce, as before. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. Beaumontsof Cole-orton and who died Master of the Charter-House in 1624 became a Jesuit. 1 It is much to be wished that more were known of him. His Yerses in honour of his father are delicately affectionate. A portrait is assigned to him in Nichols' Leicestershire. 2 The authenticity of this assignation requires confirmation. The whole look of it disposes me to think the portrait rather represents our Sir John Beaumont. Gervase died in his seventh year : and infinitely pathetic, soft and also strong as tears, is his father's poem to his memory. The Archbishop of Dublin, (Trench) has selected it as one of the jewels of that Casket of Jewels, his " Household Book of English Poetry " (1868). It is a curious coinci- 1 Wood's Athenee Oxon. by Bliss II. 434-5. 2 As before, p *662. The present Sir George H. Beaumont, Bart., of Coleorton Hall, informs me that he has " a picture of a boy, holding a bow, with a ruff round his neck apparently of the time of Elizabeth," and that this picture is called in his Catalogue " Viscount Beau- mont, killed at the battle of Towton." On this Sir George remarks "I think this must be a mistake, as the arms are in the corner with an Esquire's helmet. " He seems disposed to consider it a portrait of our Sir John Beaumont : but as a ' boy,' the at'tcr-Viscount might only be represented as an Esquire. XXX. MEMOEIAL-INTEODFCTTOX. denco, and one that won Id bind the two friends all the closer, that Ben Jonson's first-born also died at seven years (in 1603) : " Seven years thou were lent to me." 1 Thomas ultimately came into possession of the title and family-property. It is usually stated even by Dyce that our Worthy's poetry was produced in his earlier years. The dates of various of his Elegies and other Verses, disprove this. He seems to have gone on singing to the close. It was self-evident- ly his ambition and resolute purpose to win a name as a Poet. There is the ring of Milton's lofty ideal in incidental revelations of his yearning after a true Poet's renown, as in this great line, " No earthly gift lasts after death, but Fame."* It is here I find the solution of the imagined- obscure if not enigmatical and mysterious allusion, of Michael Drayton. That then aged Poet in the Verses referred to, utters a kind of quiet ' Vanitas Vanitatum ' over his own ' with'ring bayes ' 1 "Works by GIFFOHD viii. 175 2 See our Volume p 94, MEMOEIAL-INTRODUCTION. XXXI. specifically, and on the thirst after celebrity generally. Hence his plaintive memorial- words of our Poet, must be interpreted as bearing the same burden. The Reader will do well to study the Verses as a whole. 1 This couplet may suffice here : " Thy care for that which was not worth thy breath, Brought on too soon thy much lamented death." Over-studiousness and ' o'er-dnforming of the clay' through an over-hunger after Fame, gives the meaning of this cynic -touched lament. Bishop Corbet indeed, had put the thing more directly, of our Poet's brother Francis, on his premature death being within 30 in the celebrated line " Wit's a disease consumes men in few years."2 DKAYTOST is an authority : for he was a bosom- friend of both the Eeaumonts, as witness in one of his well-known Epistles, viz., to REYNOLDS, * Of Poets and Poetry ' of them and the author of ' Britannia's Pastorals ' : 3 1 Ibiclpp 17-18. 2 Poems (1672) p 68. 3 The Works of William Browne have at last been worthily reproduced by Mr. W. C. Hazlitt in his Rox- burghe Library: (2 vols.) As Browne's biography is XXXll. MEMOBIAL-rNTRODUCTION. " Then the two Beaumonts, and my Browne arose, My dear companions, whom I freely chose My bosom-friends ; and in their several ways Kightly born poets, and in these last days Men of much note, and no less nobler parts ; Such as have freely told to me their hearts As I have mine to them." Yery touching, and in the same groove of thought, is our Poet's own * Epitaph on his deare brother Francis Beaumont,' as here : " Thou shouldst haue followed me, but Death to blame, Miscounted yeeres, and measur'd age by fame. So dearely hast thou bought thy precious lines, Their praise grew swiflly : so thy lijc declines." l Our Singer indubitably put forth his whole strength in his " Crowne of Thornes," a "poem in eight books ". If only we were fortunate enough to recover it, the Poem would prove, I feel assured, a profound-thoughted and tender- feelinged and musically-worded addition to our scant sacred Poetry. It is tantalizing to read his meagre, I record here that in Samuel Austin's " Vrania ' ' (1629) is a striking appeal to him, as to Drayton, to turn his mind to sacred poetry. Mr. Hazlitt has overlooked this. 1 See our Volume p 182. MIMOBIAL-INTBODUCTIOIT. xxxiii. own allusions to it : and scarcely less so those of 8m THOMAS HAWKINS. I give them here. First the Poet's own, in his admirable Elegy on Shakes- peare's Earl of Southampton : ; I keep that glory last, which is the best : The loue of learning, which he oft exprest By conuersation, and respect to those Who had a name in artes, in verse or prose : Shall euer I forget with what delight He on my simple lines would cast his sight ? His onely memory my poor e worke adornes lie is a father to my crowne of thornes : Xoiv since his death how can I euer looke, Without someteares vpon that orphan booke ? Ye sacred Muses, if ye will admit My name into the roll, which ye haue writ Of all your seruants, to my thoughts display Some rich receipt, some vnfrequentod way, Which may hereafter to the world commend A picture fit for this my noble friend : For this is nothing, all these rimes I scorne ; Let pens be broken, and the paper torne : And with his last breath let my musick cease, Yiilesse my lowly poem could increase In true description of immortall things. And rays' d aboue the earth ivith nimble wings, Fly like an eagle from his fun' rail fire, Admired by all, as all did him admire" Mark the close. It seems to intimate that the XXXIV. MEMOEIAL-rNTEODIJOTIOX. book was just printed and ready for issue, dedi- cation and all : l Next, SIR THOMAS HAWETN T S : " Like to the bee, thou didd'st those flow'rs select, That most the tastefull palate might affect, With pious relishes of things diuine, And discomposed sence with peace combine, Which in thy Crowne of Thornes we may discerne, Fram'd as a modell for the "best to learne That verse may Vertue teach as well as prose, And minds with natiue force to good dispose, Deuotion stirre, and quicken cold desires, To entertaine the warmth- of holy fires. There may we see thy soule exspaciate, And with true feruour sweetly meditate, Vpon our Sauiour's sufferings ; that while Thou seek'st His painefull torments to beguile, With well-tun' d accents of thy zealous song Breath' d from a soule transfix'd, a passion strong, We better knowledge of His woes attaine, Fall into tcares with thee, and then againe, Eise with thy verse to celebrate the flood Of those eternall torrents of His blood." 2 Read in the ligbt of his extant sacred Poems so thought-full, rich, solemn, vivid, and of the cunningest workmanship our sense of loss in the 1 See the whole Poem in this Volume, pp 198201. 2 See this Volume for the whole poem pp 69. MEMOEIAL-INTRODUCTIOK. XXXV. " Crowne of Thornes" is keen-edged and passion- ate. I understand the Poet's own references and Hawkins's, as declaring PUBLICATION of the Poem or at least as designating a privately-printed im- pression, accessible to more or fewer. This being so, especially in the knowledge of (literally) scores of others, earlier and contemporary and later, that survive in single exemplars only, I shall cherish the ' Pleasures of Hope ' of the Poem emerging from some hiding-place. May they not prove the ' Pleasures of Imagination I' 1 Of literary habits and tastes as probably of a shy and retiring disposition our Worthy seems to have dedicated daily selected and sequestered hours, to their satisfaction. We get a glimpse of him at these studies in a hitherto overlooked Letter, prefixed to the " Elements of Armories " (1601) by EDMUND BOLTOX. The book is now rare. It consists of a Dialogue between two 1 I regard books like Mr. Collier's ' Bibliographical Account" (2 vols. 8vo. 1865) and Mr. Hazlitt's " Hand- Book' ', as 'about the most humiliating in the language. Scarcely a page but tells of some treasure overlooked, gone out of sight, yet of as real intellectual bullion as ever lost and recovered coin of the Henries. I hold myself, precious books of which no other copy is known. XXXVI. MEMOEIAL-INTEODIICTIO]^. Knights, Sir Eustace and Sir Amias. The Letter follows, verbatim : with hest thanks to Mr. W. Aldis Wright of Cambridge for calling my atten- tion to it : " A Letter to tiie Author, from the learned young gentleman, I. B. of Grace-dieu in the County of Leicester, Esquier. Syr, I haue here with many thanks returned to you, your profound discourse of the ELEMENTS of ARMORIES, which I haue read ouer with great profit and delight : for I confesse, that till now, I neuer saw any thing in this kind worthy the entertainment of a studious mind, wherin you haue most commendably shewed your skill, finding out rare and vnknowne beauties in an Art, whose highest perfection, the meanest wits, if they could blazon, and repeat pedigrees, durst heretofore (but shall not now) challenge. Our sight (which of all senses wee hold ye dearest) you haue made more precious vnto vs, by teaching vs the excellent proportions of our visible obiects. In performance wherof, as you haue followed none, so haue you left it at a rash, and desperate aduenture, for any to follow you. For he that only considers your choice copie of matter, without forcing, will find it an hard task to equall your inuention, not to speake of your iudiciall method, wherin you haue made your workmanship excell your subiect, though it bee most worthy of all ingenuous industry. Eeleeue me, Syr, in a word. I cannot but highly admire your attempt so wel performed, and among many others will be an earnest furtherer of that benefit, which MEMOEIAL-INTEODUCTIOlf. XXXvii. this dull age of ours (in this our countrey, carelesse of al but gainful Arts) claim eth at your hands. In which hope I rest. Your most louing friend, lohn Beaymont." 26. Nouemb. 1609. Turning elsewhere, our Poet incidentally informs us that it was the Duke of Buckingham who first drew him into publicity. Thus in his " True greatnesse : to my lord Marquesse of Bucking- ham," he addresses him : " Sir, you are truely great, and euery eye Not dimme with enuy, ioyes to see you high : Bat chiefely mine, which buried in the night, Are by your beamcs rais'd and restored to light. You, onely you, haue pow'r to make me dicell In sight of men, draivne from my silent cell." 1 - Again, in his lines " to the Duke of Buckingham at his return e from Spaine " we have the same sentiments : and an intimation that by him the King (James), had been led to read his ' lines ' : " My Muse, tvhich tookefrom you Tier life and light Sate like a weary wretch, whom suddaine night Had ouer-spred ; your absence casting downe The flow'rs and Sirens' feathers from her crown e : 1 See pp 158161. XXXV111. MEMOEIAL-INTEODUCTIO^. Your fauor first th' anointed head inclines To heare my rurall songs and reade my lines : Your voyce, my reede with lofty musick reares, To offer trembling songs to princely eares."! "We have already seen that the Earl of South- ampton was another of his patrons and friends. His Elegies of varying worth, but none without some choice thought or felicitous epithet reveal the society in which he moved. I do not care to be critical on his homage, even to prostration before kings James and Charles. His was a gallant, chivalrous loyalty to the throne, irre- spective of its occupant that self-forgetting and beautiful devotion, which transfigured the meanest and turned the crown into an aureole. Probably he uttered his own as well as Surrey's sentiment in his ' Bos worth Pield ' : " Set England's royall wreath upon a stake There will I fight, and not the place forsake." 2 Personal ties to Buckingham and others, explain if they do not altogether vindicate his verse-beati- fication of men and women concerning whom History has little of great or good to tell. That our Poet, Cavalier and Eoyalist though he was, 1 See pp 163164. 2 See p. 51. MEMOKIAL-INTEODCCTION. XXXIX. had touches of the Puritan : or to put it in another shape, was centrally and controllingly a Christian man, through tragic conflict and agony of penitence, and Luther or Bunyan-like fighting "the fight of Faith" as against "the world, the flesh and the devil", is everywhere evidenced. Turn, Reader, to his "In Desolation" and "of the miserable state of man " and "of sinne." Brood over these, if with wet eyes so much the better. Twice over concerning the former, Dr. George Macdonald in ' Antiphon ', thus writes : " The following contains an utterance of personal experi- ence, the truth of which will be recognized by all to whom heavenly aspiration and needful dis- appointment are not unknown :" and " Surely this is as genuine an utterance, whatever its merits as a poem and those I judge not small as ever flowed from Christian heart." 1 His " Act of Contrition " is as purged and strong and touch- ing. 2 Of rare beauty, and of exquisite tender- ness 'of feeling, are all his allusions to The Saviour. You have a sense in reading, of a hush on his spirit, a tremble in his tones, a devoutness, soft as light and nevertheless penetrating as the lightning, in His presence, How finely-put is this " of the Epiphany" as one out of many examples! It 1 Pages 143, 145. 2 Sec pp. 8082. xl. MEMOEIAL-INTEODT7CTIOK. would be desecration to mutilate in any way, this lovely poem : and therefore I give it in full : " Faire Easterne starre, that art ordain' d to run no Before the sages, to the rising Sunne, Heare cease thy course, and wonder that the cloud Of this poore stable can thy Maker shroud : Ye heauenly bodies, glory to be bright, And are esteem' d, as ye are rich in light: But here on Earth is taught a diff'rent way, Since vnder this low roofe the Highest lay ; Jerusalem erects her stately towres, Displayes her windowes, and adornes her bowre? ; Yet there thou must not cast a trembling sparke : Let Herod's palace still continue darke : Each schoole and synagogue thy force repels, There Pride enthron'd in misty errours, dwels. The temple, where the priests maintaine their quire, Shall taste no beame of thy celestiall fire ; While this weake cottage all thy splendour takes. A joy full gate of eu'ry chinke it makes. Here shines no golden roofe, no iu'ry staire, No king exalted in a stately chaire, Girt with attendants, or by heralds styl'd. But straw andhayinwrap a speechlesse child; Yet Sabae's lords before this Babe vnfold Their treasures, off' ring incense, myrrh and gold. The cribbe becomes an altar ; therefore dies No oxe nor sheepe ; for in their fodder lies The Prince of Peace, who thankfull for His bed, Destroyes those rites, in which their blood was shed : 1TEMORIAL-IXTBODUCTIOX. xli. The quintessence of earth. He takes and fees, And precious gummes distill'd from weeping tress ; Rich metals and sweet odours now declare The glorious blessings, which His lawes prepare To cleare vs from the hase and lothsouie flood Of sense, and make vs fit for angels' food, Who lift to God for vs the holy smoke Of feruent pray'rs, with which we Him inuoke, A.nd trie our actions in that searching five, By which the serapliitos our lips inspire : No muddy dross pure min'ralls sliull infect, We shall exale our vapours vp direct : No stormes shall crosse, nor glitt'ring lights defare Perpetuall sighes, which seeke a happy plyce." On this, Dr. Macdonald remarks " The creatures no longer offered on His altar, standing around the Prince of Life, [Peace] to whom they have given a bed, is a lovely idea." It may also be observed here, with reference to Dr. Macdonald's and our note on the place : [See page 70] that our present Laureate uses the technical ' in fee ' in his immortal 'InMemoriam', in a passage dear to many hearts and in myriad memories : " More than my brothers are to me ". Let not this vez thee, noble heart ! I know thee of what force thou art, To hold the costliest love in fee.' Xlii. MEMOEIAL-1NTEODUCTION-. Equally if not surpassingly original, is lordly Jeru- salem lifting up high its signal-lights from tower and palace in vain : while the lowly manger- cradle is accepted. I can't resist also quoting in this place the beautiful little poem " Ypon the two great Feasts of the Annunciation and Resurrec- tion": " Thrice happy day, which sweetly do'st combine Two hemispheres in th' Equinoctiall line : The one debasing God to earthly paine, The other raising man to endlesse raigne. Christ's humble steps declining to the wombe, Touch heau'nly scales erected on His tombe : We first with Gabriel must this Prince conuay Into His chamber on the marriage day, Then with the other angels cloth' d in white, We will adore Him in this conqu'ring night : The Sonne of God assuming humane breath, Becomes a subiect to His vassall Death, That graues and Hell laid open by His strife, May giue vs passage to a better life. See for this worke how things are newly styl'd, Man is declar'd, Almighty, God. a child ; The Word made flesh, is speechlesse, and the Light Begins from clouds, and sets in depth of night ; Behold the sunne eclips'd for many yeeres, And eu'ry day more dusky robes He weares, Till after totall darknesse shining faire, No moone shall barre His splendour from the airc. MEMOBIAL-INTBODUCTIOtf. xllii. Let faithfull soules this double feast attend In two processions : let the first descend The temple's staires, and with a downe-cast eye Vpon the lowest pauement prostrate lie ; In creeping violets, white lilies, shine Their humble thoughts, and eu'ry pure designe ; The other troope shall climbe, with sacred heate, The rich degrees of Salomon's bright seate, In glowing roses feruent zeale they beare, And in the azure flowre de-lis appeare Celestiall contemplations, which aspire Aboue the skie, vp to th' immortall quire." 1 ATilton might have worked the close into ' Comus 7 or even ' Paradise Lost '. The reader of GILES FLETCHER will recognize his influence in the above poem, in the paradoxes of the Divinely-human and hnmanly-Divine life, and elsewhere, as in "Of Sinne " there are evident recollections of ' Chiists's Yictorie " the first edition of which was published in 1610. Nearly all the ' Sacred Poems ' ore similarly markedly genuine, markedly evangelic, and finished in workmanship. Like tho ' wise man ' of old, he had sought out f many in- ventions ' and to ' intermeddle ' with ' all know- ledge ', but tbe deeper hunger went unsatisfied, 1 See our Volume, pp. 6768. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. and he looked UP. There was no common experi- ence in this cry ' of the miserable state of man ' : " But these are ends which draw the meanest hearts : Let vs search deepe and trie our better parts : knowledge, if a heau'n on earth could be, 1 would expect to reape that blisse in th.ee : But thou art blind, and they that haue thy light More clearely know, they Hue in darksome night . See, man, thy stripes at schoole, thy paincs abroad. Thy watching and thy palenesse well bestow'd : These feeble helpes can scholers neuer bring To perfect knowledge of the plainest thing : And some to such a height of learning grow, They die perswaded that they nothing know . In vaine swift houres spent in deep study sb'de ; Vnlesse the purchast doctrine cuvbe our pride. The soule pers waded, that no fading loue Can equall her imbraces, seekes aboue : And now aspiring to a higher place, Is glad that all her comforts here are base.' '1 At the opposite pole, are his "In spmtuoll Comfort ", " let of Hope " and " True Liberty," which tell of the very rapture of Christian fellow- ship. Of his pursuit after Knowledge in less promi- nent and less urgent departments we are informed 1 See our Volume, pp. 9295. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. xlv. in the Letter to Edmund Bolton already given, and there are acknowledgments of help rendered by him to the good old Historian of Leicestershire, BURTON, who writes thus gratefully concerning him as " a gentleman of great learning, gravity and worthiness : the remembrance of whom I may not here omit, for many worthy respects." 1 Similarly, Anthony a- Wood wakes up from his usual Dr. Dry-as-dust style, to say of him : " The former part of his life he had fully employed in poeti.y : and the latter he as happily bestowed on move serious and beneficial studies : [Innocent Dr. Dty- as-dust !] and had not death untimely cut him off in his middle age, he might have prov'd a patiiot, being accounted at the time of his death a person of great knowledge, gravity and worth." 2 That word ' patriot ' from the pen of Anthony a- Wood was a synonym for Royalist or one for the King as against the Kingdom, for Privilege as above Law : and perchance he was right though per- sonally, as in innumerable cases, the loyalty of our Worthy was pure and unselfish, if blinded. In 1626 he was made a 'Baronet': and he evidently stood high in favour at Court. We may 1 'Quoted by Nichols, as before. Burton was "brother of the Burton of ' Melancholy '. 2 As "before. xlvi. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. agree with his poet-friend DRAYTON that it was good he was gone before the Tempest crashed over England : " Heau'n was kinde, and would not let thee see The plagues that must vpon this Nation be." 1 His son and heir Sir John adhered to the king, and as already told, was killed at the siege of Gloucester. He but followed in what would have been his father's footsteps. The family and the family-property, direct and collateral, suffered as in all Civil Wars, and especially the losing side. I am enabled by the spontaneous courtesy of the present Sir George H. Beaumont, Bart., of Cole- orton Hall another branch of the Beaumont-stock, destined to shai'e for ever the glory of WORDS- WORTH to print for the first time a melancholy memorial of the ravage of the period, in the form of a " Petition," in his possession. The Bishop addressed was Humphrey Henchman, Bishop of London from 1663 to 1675: which chronological fact convicts the Petitioners of shall I say ? fibbing, seeing that JS~aseby was fought in 1645, thirty (not ' above forty') years only before the latest date at which the petition could have been written : 1 See our Volume, pp. 17 18. MEMOKIAL-INTHODTJCTION. xlvii. " To the Righte Reverend Father in God Humphrey, now Lord Bishop of London. The humble Petition of the inhabitants of Coleorton, in the Countye of Leicester, Humbly sheweth, that in the reign of that sacred martyr, Charles the I (of ever blessed memorye) above 40 years agoe, the bouse of the rights Honourable Thomas Beamonte, VJscouute Swords, was made a Garrison, and the Parish Churche was also included within their Bulwarks; where, whilst these rude Oliverians stayed, they made greate spoyle and committed many out- rages, keeping sentinell in the Church, which they defac- ed, with a stately monument of the Beaumonts' noble family e, broke down all the windows, threw down the battlements, caused all the lead from off all the 3 Ifles 1 to be carried away and embessled, andpluck'd down many houses adiacent, whereof a fine parsonage-house, new built, was one ; by this rude action, ever since the fatal battle at Nasebye, we have been exposed to all incon- veniences of storms and tempests, so that many times, to our unspeakable griefe, we have been driven from our devotions, and now the roofes, havinge so long laine without coveringe, are all rotten, and the walls which should have supported them being in many places fallen downe, we are afraide to enter the Church, when there is any highe windes, least it should fall upon cure heads and entombe us quicke. "We being a lamentable poore parishe, most consisting of colliers, and so despairinge ever to repaire it, have formerly made our addresses to 1 Query isles = aisles? G. Xlvili. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. the General Sessions, and did procure their informatione and request to bis sacred Majestye to grant us his letters pattant, without which it will falle to rubbishe speedily. We had 4 able workmen, a mason, a plumber, a carpenter, and a joiner, who upon their oaths certified that 1391 pounds would not complete it as formerly it had been. : therefore we jointly begg your gracious assistance, so shall we be bound all to pray for your Lordship['s] health and everlasting happinesse hereafter." It were veiy idle to start a controversy out of this old Petition, as it were easy to bandy words as between Cavalier and Roundhead. Either side, in the alteration of triumph and defeat, could shew the same ordeal of suffering and wrong. War i? too realistic to leave one side less at fault than the other. But all the shame and sorrow of the internecine Contest, our Poet was spared. He died according to Anthony a- Wood " in the "Win- ter-time of 1628 :" and so all the old authorities, probably following him. But as the Athena mistakes in adding " and was buried in the Church at Grace-dieu", we may safely regard 1628 as a mistake for 1627. This entry from the Register of Burials from "Westminster Abbey, cannot be disputed : " 1627. &'. John Beaumont b<3 in ye broad He on ye souths. April 29.'' MEMORIAL-INTRODTJCTION. xlix. Our Worthy departed not without the ' meed of some melodious tear.' I am fortunate enough to have secured from the Bodleian, an ' Elegy ' by WILLIAM COLEMAN, one of those appended to his excessively rare " La Dance Machabre or Death's Duell " It is as follows : " An Elegie VPON THE HONORABLE SIR IOHN BEAVMONT. Knight Baronet. A Beaiimont dead ; lie forfeiteth his pen That writeth not an elegie. For when The Muses' darlings, whose admir'd numbers Recorded are amongst our ages wonders, Exchange this dull earth for a crowne of glorie, All are rngag'dt' immortalize their storie. Bat thou hast left vs sacred poesie Reduc'd vnto her former infancie. Hauing as all things else by long gradation Lost her first lustre, till thy reformation, Forcing her backe into the ancient streame Taught's[t] thy chast muse diuinitie : a thcame So faire neglected, we did hardly know If there were any but a name or no. Mirror of men, who leftist vs not a line Wherein thy lining honor doth not shine Equall with that of the celestiall globe, Clad in the splendor of her midnight robe, Onely that Venus neuer did appeare Within the circle of thy hemispheare ; Which so much addes to thy religious verso, Succeeding ages shall not dare reherse Without some sacred ceremonie, sent Beforehand, as a diuine complement." Again the l Crowne of Thornes ' seems designa- ted in these allusions to his ' religious ve^se.' Such is what we have to tell of our Worthy. It is to be regretted that very much fuller though our Memoir be, than any preceding, a fter all so little should have been transmitted concerning him. On reading the many noble and eminent names celebrated by him, one wistfully asks, Where is his Correspondence ? Where his Manuscripts ? Turning to MRS. THOMSON'S " Life and Times of George Yilliers, Duke of Buckingham" (3 vols. 8vo.) it is vexatious to find a single passing allu- sion to him and a reference for more to 'the Appendix', while not a syllable is given there. However his Poetry remains * in part, ' if the record of the Life be dim and inadequate : and so we may comfort ourselves as did la. Cl. whoever he was in these ingenious lines : " / knew thee not, I speake it to my shame : But by that cleare, and equall voyce of Fame, Which \vith the sunne's bright course didioyntly beare Thy glorious name about each hemisphere ! MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. li. While I who had confin'd my selfe to dwell "Within the straite bounds of an obscure cell, Tooke in those pleasing beames of wit and worth, Which, where the sunne could neuer shine, breake forth Wherewith I did refresh my weaker sight, When others bath'd themselues in thy full light. But when the dismall rumour was once spred, That struck all knowing soules, of Beaumont dead : Aboue thy best friends, 'twas my benefit To know thee onely by thy liuing wit ; And whereas others might their losse deplore, Thou liu'st to me iust aa thou didst before. In all that we can value great or good, Which were not in these cloathes of flesh and blood Thou now hast laid aside ; BUT IN THAT MIND THAT ONELY BY ITSELFE COULD BE CONFIN'D, THOU LIU'ST TO ME."I Even more widely, must we say with LEOPOLD SCHEFER, of such, outwardly-oblivionized Lives : " Out of all poets since the hoary eld, Out of the poems and the legends all, Out of all sages that have said their word, Out of their words themselves and prophecies, Out of all painters, who haue wrote their sketch, Out of all pictures, even of those passed by, OUT OF ALL GOOD MEN WHO HAUE DONE THEIR WORK, Out of all champions who haue fought the fight 1 See our Volume, pp. 2021. 111. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. With bodies, souls, dragons, and despotisms, Down to this hour, and out of all the treasures Which all shall still to the last day of earth Conspire to swell with godlike energies, Out of all these comes MAN ! the only one Among all heings, THAT FOR EVER GROWS. "While rock and cloud, lion and cypress-tree, Are all alike, the latest and the first, Just as one egg is like all other eggs."i Of the Poetry of Sir John Beaumont as now brought together, little more requires to be said. The commendatory Yerses prefixed to the ' Met- morphosis of Tabacco' (1602) and to the volume of 1629, shew that independent of partialities of friendship, he had made his mark on his con- temporaries : while later, even the blundering and frigid WINSTANLEY is stirred to write of him thus : " Sir John Beaumont was one who drank as deep draughts of Helicon as any of that age : and though not many of his works are extant, yet those we have be such as are displayed on the flags of highest invention, and may justly style him to be one of those great souls of numbers." 2 Later still, WORDSWORTH * one whose praise is 1 " The Layman's Breviary " translated by Brooks : Boston, U.S. 1867, pp. 42728. 2 Quoted in Nichols, as before, p. 657. MEMOIIIAL-INTEODUCIION. liii. lame ' justly observes Dyce, in quoting the words praises him for " spirit, elegance and harmony," l and CAMPBELL remarks that he " deserves notice as one of the earliest polishers of what is called the heroic couplet." 2 Darley himself a genuine poet is amusingly irate with certain critics for their over-praise of Francis Beaumont's verse- letter to Ben Jonson on his Fox. 3 I think it clear that those critics must have mixed up in their memories, our poet's thoughtful and sonorous address " To his late Majesty, concerning the true forme of English Poetry," 4 with his brother's verses, and perhaps his son's " Congratulation to the Muses, for the immortalizing of his deare father, by the sacred vertue of poetry." 5 The "Metamorphosis of Tabacco " is more remark- able for its smoothness of versification so early as 1602 than substanti vely . The youthful poet to a considerable extent paraphrases Ovid and Yirgil. He turns aside with every possible opportunity, to glorify Elizabeth. I give a single specimen of the 1 Note on the Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle. 2 Specimens, s.n. 3 Introduction to Beaumont and Fletcher, as before. 4 See our Volume, pp 118 121. .3 Ibid. pp. 1012. liv. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. ' Metamorphosis, ' which King James would have read with horror and Joshua Sylvester with loathing. You have in the following passage, a fair example of the serio-comic exaggeration of the poem : but it will be hard to discover anywhere the ' philosophic ' for which I. P. eulogises him. in his commendatory lines : " The marrow of the world, starre of the West, The pearle, whereby this lower orbe is blest, The ioy of mortals, vmpire of all strife, Delight of nature, Mithridate of life, The daintiest dish of a delicious feast, By taking which man differs from a beast. Thrice happie Isles, which steale the world's delight, And doe produce so rich a Margarite ! Had but the old heroicke spirits knowne The newes, which Fame vnto our eares hath blowne, Colchis, and the remote Hesperides Had not been sought for halfe so much as these ; Nor had the fluent wits of ancient Greece Prais'd the rich apples or the Golden Fleece ; Nor had A.polloe's garland been of bayes, Nor Homer writ of sweete Nepenthe's praise : Nor had Anacreon with a sugred glose Extold the vertues of the fragrant rose ; Nor needed Hermes with his fluent tongue flaue ioyn'd in one a rude vnciuil throng, And by perswasions made that companies An order' d politike societie, MEMORIAL-IXTBOI)UCTIOSr. Iv. "When this dumbe oratour would more perswade Then all the speeches Mercurie had made ; Nor honour' d Ceres been create diuine, And worshipt so at curious Eleusine : Whom blinder ages did so much adorne For the inuention of the vse of corne : Nor Saturne s feast had been the ioyfull day Wherein the Romanes washt their cares away, But in the honour of great Trinidade A new Tobacconalia had been made." x The Battle of " Bosworth Field " deserves the encomium of Campbell, and apart from its work- manship is a very striking poem, although all must shew pale before the mighty pages of Shakespeare's Richard III. One incident, admir- ably told, viz., the meeting of BYRON and Clinton, in its apologetic introduction : " If in the midst of such a bloody fight, The name of friendship be not thought too light " 2 reminds us of a curious parallel in Byron's ' Childe Harold,' wherein he turns aside from the general carnage of Waterloo to celebrate young Howard. Leaving the prominent dead, the noble Poet exclaims, 1 See our Volume, pp, 304 306. 2 See our present Volume p. 56. Ivi. MEMOKIAL-INTRODUCTION. " Their praise is hymn'd by loftier harps than mine : Yet one I would select from that proud throng, Partly "because they blend me with his line, And partly that I did his sire some wrong, And partly that bright names will hallow song ; And his was of the bravest, and when shower'd The death-bolts deadliest the thinn'd files along, Even where the thickest of War's tempest lower' d, They reach' d no nobler "breast than thine, young, gallant Howard/'i Some of the similes and separate lines, are vivid and memory-haunting, as of the sleeping sentinel killed by the King : " I leaue him as I found him, fit to keepe The silent doores of euerlasting Sleepe/'2 and this of the infamous Tyrell, under the threat of Richard : " The wretch astonisht, hastes away to slide, As damned ghosts themselues in darknesse hide." 3 and this of the troubled night-dreams : " If some resistlesse strength my cause should crosse, Feare will increase, and not redeeme the losse : 1 Childe Harold, c. iii., st. xxix. 2 See our present Volume p. 28. 3 Ibid p. 25. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. Ivil. All dangers, clouded with the mist of feare, Seem great farre off, but lessen comming neare."i and this of the fully-armed hero : "he takes his helmet bright Which like a trembling starre, with twinkling light- Sends radiant lustre through the darksome aire." 2 and this of the doomed monarch : " Then putting on his crowne, a fatall signe So offerM beasts neere death in garlands shine."? and this of Richmond's view of the army: " He sees their motion like to rolling fires, Which by the winde along the fields are borne Amidst the trees, the hedges and the come : Where they the hopes of husbandmen consume, And fill the troubled ay re with dusky fume.' 1 * The death of Richard has often been quoted for its power and keeping : * The king growes weary, and begins to faint, It grieues him that his foes perceiue the taint : Some strike him that till then durst not come neare, With weight and number they to ground him beare, Where trampled down, and hew' d with many swords, 1 Ibid p. 26 2 Ibid p. 27. 3 Ibid p. 34. 4 Ibid p. 53. Iviii. MEMOEIAL-INTEODTJCTION. He softly vtter'd these his dying words : ' Now strength no longer Fortune can withstand, I perish in the center of my Land.' His hand he then with wreathes of grasse infolds, And bites the earth, which he so strictly holds, As if he would haue borne it with him hence, So loth he was to lose his right's pretence."! On this the Biographia Britannica remarks : " A. moderate Poet would have been contented with the King's biting the earth ; but it belonged to a sublimer imagination to paint the reluctance with which he quitted his usurped possession, even in death." 2 The same authority praises his Trans- lations. They are pretty close to the original, occasionally somewhat clumsy : occasionally also bits shew that considerable pains must have been spent on them. The version of the City and Country Mouse, after Horace, has arch touches The Satires of Juvenal and Persius lack the pungency, the burning passion of the Latin : and yet now and again there are flashes of the true rage. His Elegies like some of his Eoyal and Courtly poems are unequal and task- work, on the face of them. Nevertheless there are scattered up and down, felicities brilliant as dew-drops gleaming on the 1 Ibid pp. 62-63. 2 As before, pp. 622. MEMOEIAL-INTKODUCTION. llX. spider's web in the hedge-row. A few must have been heart-felt: for they go right to one's heart still. His religious poetry, all too disproportionate in amount, in the (present) loss of the c Crowne of Thornes ' is his supreme gift to our Literature. The more it is read and returned on, the higher will be the estimate of the Poet and the man. I have already given examples of his originality and beauty in this department : but the slightest will reward study. I think THOMSON may have read the Poems of our Worthy. In the ' Ode of the blessed Trinity ' we have this, " Then praise with humble silence heavenly things And what is more then this, to still deuotion leaue." 1 The Hymn at the close of The Seasons ends, " Hose Myself in Him, in light ineffable ! Come, then, expressive silence, muse His praise." Every one knows the fine rapture in the Castle of Indolence : " I care not Fortune, what you me deny ; You cannot rob me of free Nature's grace, 1 Ibid p. 77. Ix. MEMORIAL-INTBODTTCTIOff. You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shews her brightening face ; You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream at eve ; Let health my nery es and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave ; Of fancy, reason, vertue, nought can me bereave.'' Fainter perhaps, but in the same line of thought, is this of our Poet in his ' True Liberty : ' " In these delights, though freedome show more high, Few can to things aboue their thoughts apply. .But who is he that cannot cast his looke On earth, and reade the beauty of that booke ? A bed of smiling flow* 'rs, a trickling spring, A. sivelling riuer, more contentment bri)itf, Then can be shadow* d by the beat of Art : THUS STILL THE 1'OORE MAN HATH THE BETTER PART." 1 I believe another anticipation of THOMSON, but later than our Poet herein, has escaped our literary Critics and Commentators : I refer to Randolph's " Ode to Mr. Anthony Stafford, to hasten him into the Country ", which has these noticeable lines : " Where every word is thought and every thought is pure Our's is the skie 1 See our Volume pp. 97 98. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. Ixi. Whereat what fowl we please our hauk shall flye : Nor will we spare To hunt the crafty fox or timorous hare ; And let our hounds run loose In any ground they'l choose ; The buck shall fall, The stag and all : Our pleasure must from their own warrants be, FOR TO MY MUSE, IF NOT TO MEE, I'M SURE ALL GAME IS FREE : HEAVEN, EARTH, ARE ALL BUT PARTS OF HER GREAT ROYALTY." 1 This reference to RANDOLPH, reminds me of another parallel with our Beaumont, as Beaumont suggests that Milton may have read him. In his Lines ''Upon report of the King of Sweden's death " he exclaims grandly : "If I had seen a, comet in the air With glorious eye, and bright dishevett'd hair All on a suddain with his gilded train Drop down." Nearer to Milton is our Poet thus, of base Loue : " A vapor first extracted from the stewes Which with new fewell still the lampe renewes 1 My edition is the 3rd, 1640 , pp. 6265. 2 Ibid p. 77. Ixii. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. And with a pander's sulph'rous breath inflam' d, Becomes a meteor for distinction fram'd. Like some prodigious comet which foretells Disasters to the realine on which it dwells."}. I note one Shakesperian parallel and one golden little bit that has jbeen worked in finely into an imperishable Hymn. The former is " soule of goodness" (p. 186) which occurs also in Henry Y. (iv. i.). The latter is Keble's " Sun of my soul," as in our Poet's " Abused Love " : " Sunne of the soule, cleare beauty, liuing fire, Celestiall Light, which dost pure hearts inspire." 2 Bibliographically, there is one curious circum- stance connected with the volume of 1629. Mchols in his Leicestershire states that he had examined no fewer than twenty copies without finding pp. 181 182 : and so Anthony a- Wood, and all the leading authorities. From the Grenville copy in the British Museum I give in our volume, what is there inserted for the cancelled leaf viz., Verses on the death of ' Marquesse of Hamilton ' and others, on a ' Funeralle '. There is nothing in these to suggest a motive for their suppression : 1 See our Volume, p. 103 2 Ibid p. 101. MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION. Ixiii. and if a ' forgery ' as written by Grenville, it is equally difficult to understand their insertion. Probably these two unimportant pieces are genuine, and taken from some copy wherein they had been inserted contemporaneously, either in print or in manuscript. But be this as it may, on ex- amining another copy of the volume in the British Museum [1077, b. 26] and that in the Bodleian, I find the leaf has been in each case so hastily or clumsily cut out, that a fragment is left, suffi- cient to prove another than the first piece at any rate in the Grenville copy, had been printed and cancelled. In the former these are the first letters of the successive lines left the catchword on p. 180 being ' Of ' : Broken I, N or M. E D T [apparently ' To '] B [ 'BuH Se W Fo A In [or < Im '] T [apparently < Th '] Ixiv. MEMORIAL-liVTltODUCT ION. T[ > was victorious, was fought on March 29th, 1461. G. 48 BOSWORTH FIELD. 1 Blest be thy tongue ' replies the King * in thee The strength of all thine ancestors I see, Extending warlike armes for England's good, By thee their heire, in valour as in blood.' But here we leaue the King, and must reuiew Those sonnes of Mars, who cruell blades imbrue In riuers sprung from hearts that bloodlesse lie, And staine their shining armes in sanguine die. Here valiant Oxford and fierce Norfolke meete, And with their speares each other rudely greete ; About the ayre the shiuerd pieces play, Then on their swords their noble hands they lay, And Norfolke first a blow directly guides To Oxford's head, which from his helmet slides Vpon his arme, and biting through the steele, Inflicts a wound, which Yere disdaines to feele ; He lifts his fauchion with a threatning grace, And hewes the beuer off" from Howard's face. This being done, he with compassion charm'd, Eetires, asham'd to strike a man disarm' d : But straight a deadly shaft sent from a bow, Whose master, though farre off, the Duke could know Vntimely brought this combat to an end, And pierc'd the braine of Eichard's constant friend. When Oxford saw him sinke, his noble soule Was full of griefe, which made him thus condole : BOSWORTH FIELD. 49 ' Farewell, true knight, to whom no costly graue Can giue due honour : would my teares might saue Those streames of blood, deseruing to be spilt In better seruice : had not Richard's guilt Such heauy weight vpon his fortune laid, Thy glorious vertues had his sinnes outwaigh'd.' Couragious Talbot had with Surrey met, And after many blowes begins to fret, That one so young in armes should thus vnmou'd, Resist his strength, so oft in warre approu'd. And now the Earle beholds his father fall ; Whose death, like horri'd darkenesse, frighted all : Some giue themselues as captives, others flie, But this young lion casts his gen'rous eye On Mowbraye's lion, 1 painted in his shield, And with that king of beasts, repines to yeeld : * The field ' saith he * in which the lion stands, Is blood, and blood I offer to the hands Of daring foes ; but neuer shall my flight Die blacke my lion, which as yet is white.' His enemies like cunning huntsmen striue In binding snares, to take their prey aliue, While he desires t' expose his naked brest, 1 An allusion to the arms of the Dukes of Norfolk, descended from the Mowbrays. G. D 50 BOSWORTH FIELD. And thinkes the sword that deepest strikes, is best. Young Howard single with an army fights ; "When, mou'd with pitie, two renowned knights, Strong Clarindon, 1 and valiant Coniers 2 trie To rescue him, in which attempt they die ; For Sauage, red with blood of slaughter' d foes, Doth them in midst of all his troopes inclose, "Where, though the captain for their safetie striues, Yet baser hands depriue them of their Hues ; ~Now Surrey fainting, scarce a sword can hold, "Which makes a common souldier grow so bold, To lay rude hands vpon that noble flower ; "Which, he disdaigning, anger giues him power Erects his weapon with a nimble round, And sends the peasant's arme to kisse the ground. This done, to Talbot he presents the blade, And saith, ' It is not hope of life hath made This my submission, but my strength is spent ; And some, perhaps, of villaine blood, will vent My weary soule : this fauour I demand, That I may die by your victorious hand.' 1 Sir Richard Clarendon. G. 2 Sir William Coniers, or Conyers. These were two of the king's most courageous knights : they vowed to rescue him or perish in the attempt. G. BOSWOBTH FIELD. 51 ' Nay, God forbid that any of my name ' Quoth Talbot 'should put out so bright a flame As burnes in thee braue youth where thou hast err'd, It was thy father's fault, since he pref err'd A tyrant's crowne before the iuster side.' The Earle, still mindfull of his birth, replied, ' I wonder Talbot that thy noble hart Insults on ruines of the vanquisht part : We had the right, if now to you it flow, The fortune of your swords hath made it so : I neuer will my lucklesse choyce repent, Nor can it staine mine honour or descent. Set England's royall wreath vpon a stake, There will I fight, and not the place forsake ; And if the will of God hath so dispos'd, That Richmond's brow be with the crowne in- clos'd, I shall to him, or his, give doubtlesse signes That duty in my thoughts, not faction, shines.' The earnest souldiers still the chase pursue, But their commanders grieue they should imbrue Their swords in blood which springs from English veines ; The peacefull sound of trumpets them restraines From further slaughter, with a milde retreat, 52 BOSWOKTH MELD. To rest contented in this first defeate. The king intended, at his setting out, To helpe his vantguard ; but a nimble scout Eunnes crying, ' Sir, I saw not farre from hence, "Where Eichmond houers with a small defence, And like one guilty of some heynous ill, Is couer'd with the shade of yonder hill/ The rauen, almost famisht, ioyes not more, "When restlesse billowes tumble to the shore A heape of bodies shipwrackt in the seas, Then Eichard with these newes himselfe doth please : He now diuerts his course another way, And with his army led in faire array, Ascends the rising ground, and taking view Of Henrie's army, sees they are but few : Imperiall courage fires his noble brest, He sets a threatning speare within his rest, Thus saying, 'All true knights on me attend, I soone will bring this quarrell to an end; If none will follow, if all faith be gone, Behold, I goe to try my cause alone.' He strikes his spurres into his horse's side, "With him stout Louell and bold Ferrers ride; To them braue Eatcliffe, gen'rous Clifton haste, Old Brakenbury scornes to be the last : As borne with wings, all worthy spirits flye, BOSWORTH FIELD. 53 Resolu'd for safety of their prince to dye ; And Catesby to this number addes his name, Though pale with fear, yet ouercomne with shame. Their boldnesse Richmond dreads not, but admires ; He sees their motion like to rolling fires, "Which, by the winde, along the fields are borne Amidst the trees, the hedges and the corne : "Where they the hopes of husbandmen consume, And fill the troubled ayre with dusky fume. Now as a carefull lord of neighb'ring grounds, He keepes the flame from entering in his bounds ; Each man is wam'd to hold his station sure, Prepared with courage strong assaults t' endure ; But all in vaine : no force, no warlike art, From sudden breaking can preserue that part, Where Richard, like a dart from thunder falles : His foes giue way, and stand as brazen walles On either side of his inforced path ; "While he neglects them, and reserues his wrath For him whose death these threatning cloudes would cleare, "Who now with gladnes he beholdeth neere, And all those faculties together brings, "Which moue the soule to high and noble things. Eu'n so a tyger hauing folio w'd long The hunter's steps that robb'd her of her young : When first she sees him is by rage inclin'd 54 BOSWORTH FIELD. Her steps to double, and her teeth to grind. JSTow horse to horse, and man is ioyn r d to man So strictly, that the souldiers hardly can Their aduersaries from their fellowes know : Here each braue champion singles ont his foe. In this confusion Brakenbury meetes "With Hungerford, 1 and him thus foulely greetes : * Ah traytor, false in breach of faith and loue, "What discontent could thee and Bourchier 2 moue, "Who had so long my fellowes beene in armes, To flie to rebels ? What seducing charmes Could on your clouded minds such darknesse bring, To serue an outlaw, and neglect the king?' "With these sharpe speeches Hungerford enrag'd, T' vphold his honour, thus the battaile wag'd : 'Thy doting age ' saith he ' delights in words, But this aspersion must be try'd by swords.' Then leaning talke, he by his weapon speakes, And driues a blow, which Brakenbury breakes, By lifting vp his left hand, else the steele Had pierc'd his burgonet, and made him feele 1 " Stout Hungerford." Drayton. G. 2 " Brave Bourchier." Drayton. Sometimes the name is written Boucher. Hungerford and Bourchier deserted Brakenbury their leader, a little beyond Stony Stratford. Brakenbury was killed by Hungerford at Bos worth. G. BOSWOKTH FIELD. 55 The pangs of death : hut now the fury fell Vpon the hand that did the stroke repell, And cuts so large a portion of the shield, That it no more can safe protection yeeld. Bold Hungerford disdaines his vse to make Of this aduantage, hut doth straight forsake His massy target, render' d to his squire, And saith : ' Let cowards such defence desire.' This done, these valiant knights dispose their blades, And still the one the other's face inuades, Till Brakenburie's helmet giving way To those fierce strokes that Hungerford doth lay, Is brus'd and gapes; which Bourchier, fighting neare, Perceiues, and cries, ' Brave Hungerford, forbeare. Bring not those siluer haires to timelesse end ; He was, and may be once againe our friend.' But oh too late ! The fatall blow was sent Prom Hungerford, which he may now repent But not recall, and digges a mortall wound Into Brackenburie's head, which should be crown'd With precious metals, and with bayes adorn'd For constant truth appearing, when he scorn' d To staine his hand in those young princes' blood, And like a rocke amidst the ocean stood Against the tyrant's charmes, and threats vnmoud 56 BOSWORTH FIELD. Though death declares how much he Richard lou'd. Stout Ferrers aimes to fix his mighty launce In Pembroke's heart, which on the steele doth glaunce, And runnes in vaine the empty ayre to presse ; But Pembroke's speare, obtaining wisht successe, Through Ferrer's brest-plate and his body sinkes, And vitall blood from inward vessels drinkes. Here Stanley, and braue Louel trie their strength, "Whose equal! courage drawes the strife to length, They thinke not how they may themselues defend, To strike is all their care, to kill their end. So meete two bulls vpon adioyning hills Of rocky Chamwood, while their murmur fills The hollow crags, when striuing for their bounds, They wash their piercing homes in mutuall wounds. If in the midst of such a bloody fight, The name of friendship be not thought too light, Recount my Muse how Byron's faithfull loue 1 To dying Clifton 2 did it selfe approue : 1 Sir John Byron, of Clayton, in Lancaster, knighted by Henry VIII., died third May, 1488. See our Memo- rial-Introduction for a curious parallel in Byron's ' Childe Harold,' c III. st, 29-30. G. 2 " An interesting incident is mentioned of Sir John BOSWOBTH FIELD. 57 For Clifton fighting brauely in the troope, Receiues a wound, and now begins to droope : Which Byron seeing, thongh in armes his foe, In heart his friend, and hoping that the blow Had not been mortall, guards him with his shield From second hurts, and cries, * Deare Clifton, yeeld ; Thou hither cam'st, led by sinister fate, Against my first aduice, yet now though late, Take this my counsell.' Clifton thus replied : * It is too late, for I must now prouide To seeke another life : Hue thou, sweet friend, And when thy side obtains a happy end, Ypon the fortunes of my children looke ; Byron and Sir Gervase Clifton, friends and neighbours in Nottinghamshire. Byron joined Henry ; Clifton fought with Richard: they agreed that whichever party triumphed, the supporter of that should intercede with the victor for his friend's estate, for the benefit of his family. In the midst of the battle, Byron saw Clifton fall, in the opposite ranks. He ran to him, sustained him on his shield, and entreated him to surrender. Clifton faintly exclaimed, * All is over : remember your promise : use all your interest that my lands be not taken from my children ;' and expired. Byron performed this promise, and the estate was preserved to the Clifton family. Button's Bos. Field,. 11 7, 9. There are grants to Clifton, in the Harl. MSS. 433, as pp 81, 96." Sharon Turner's History of England (1839) Vol. vi. p 526 (note). G. 58 BOSWORTH FIELD. Remember what a solemne oath, we tooke, That he whose part should proue the best in fight, Would with the conqu'rour trie his vtmost might, To saue the other's lands from rau'nous pawes, "Which seaze on fragments of a lueklesse cause. My father's fall our house had almost drown' d, But I by chance a boord in shipwracke found : May neuer more such danger threaten mine, Deale thou for them, as I would doe for thine/ This said, his senses faile, and powr's decay, While Byron calles ; ' Stay, worthy Clifton, stay, And heare my faithfull promise once againe, Which if I breake, may all my deeds be vaine.' But now he knowes, that vitall breath is fled, And needlesse words are vtter'd to the dead : Into the midst of Richard's strength he flies, Presenting glorious acts to Henrie's eyes, And for his seruice he expects no more, Then Clifton's sonne from forfeits to restore. While Richard bearing downe with eager mind, The steps by which his passage was confin'd, Laies hands on Henrie's standard as his prey; Strong Brandon 1 bore it, whom this fatall day 1 Sir William Brandon, Henry's Standard-bearer, father to Charles Brandon, created duke of Suffolk, by Henry VIII. G. BOSWORTH FIELD. 59 Markes with a "blacke note, as the onely knight, That on the conqu'ring part forsakes the light. But Time, whose wheels with various motion runne, Repayes this seruice fully to his sonne, "Who marries Richmond's daughter, borne hetweene Two royall parents, and endowed a Queene, 1 "When now the King perceiues that Brandon striues To saue his charge, he sends a blow that riues His skull in twaine, and by a gaping hole, Giues ample scope to his departing soule. And thus insults ; ' Accursed wretch, farewell, Thine ensignes now may be display' d in hell : There thou shalt know, it is an odious thing, To let thy banner flie against thy King.' "With scorne he throwes the standard to the ground, When Cheney 2 for his height and strength renown'd Steps forth to couer Richmond, now expos'd To Richard's sword : the King with Cheney clos'd, And to the earth this mighty giant fell'd. Then like a stag whom fences long with-held Prom meddowes, where the Spring in glory raignes : 1 By marriage. G. 2 " Sir Ihon Cheinye, a man of great force and strength by hym [Richard] manfully over thro wen. [Hall]. G. 60 BOSWORTH FIELD. Now hairing leuell'd those vnpleasing chaines, And treading proudly on the vanquisht flowres, He in his hopes a thousand ioyes deuoures : For now no pow'r to crosse his end remaines, "But onely Henry, whom he neuer daines To name his foe, and thinkes he shall not braue, A valiant champion, but a yeelding slaue. Alas ! how much deceiu'd, when he shall find An able body and couragious minde : For Richmond boldly doth himselfe oppose Against the King, and giues him blowes for blowes, "Who now confesseth with an angry frowne, His riuall, not vnworthy of the crowne. The younger Stanley then no longer staid, The Earle in danger needs his present aide, "Which he performes as sudden as the light : His comming turnes the ballance of the fight. So threatning clouds, whose fall the ploughmen feare, "Which long upon the mountaine's top appeare, Dissolue at last, and vapours then distill To watry showres that all the valley fill. The first that saw this dreadfull storme arise, Was Catesby, who to Richard loudly cries, 1 No way but swift retreate your life to saue, BOSWOETH FIELD. 61 It is no shame with wings t' auoide the graue.' This said, he trembling turnes himselfe to Hie, And dares not stay, to heare the King's replie, "Who scorning his aduice, so foule and base, Retumes this answer with a wrathfull face ; * Let cowards trust their horse's nimble feete, And in their course with new destruction meete ; Gain thou some houres to draw thy fearefull breath, To me ignoble flight is worse then death.' But at th' approach of Stanleye's fresh supply, The King's side droopes : so gen'rous horses lie Vnapt to stirre, or make their courage knowne, Which vnder cruell masters sinke and grone. There at his Prince's foote stout Ratcliffe dies, !N"ot fearing, but despairing, Louell flies, For he shall after end his weary life In not so faire, but yet as bold a strife. The King maintaines the fight, though left alone : For Henrie's life he faine would change his owne, And as a lionesse, which compast round With troopes of men, receiues a smarting wound By some bold hand, though hinder' d and opprest "With other speares, yet slighting all the rest, "Will follow him alone that wrong'd her first : So Richard pressing with reuengefull thirst, Admits no shape, but Richmond's to his eye, 62 BOSWOETH FIELD. And would in triumph on his carcase die r 1 But that great God, to whom all creatures yeeld Protects His seruant with a heau'nly shield ; His pow'r, in which the Earle securely trusts, Rebates 2 the blowes, and falsifies the thrusts. The King growes weary, and begins to faint, It grieues him that his foes perceiue the taint : Some strike him that till then durst not come neare, "With weight and number they to ground him beare, "Where trampled down, and hew'd with many swords He softly vtter'd these his dying words ; * Now strength no longer Fortune can withstand, I perish in the center of my Land.' His hand he then with wreathes of grasse infolds ; And bites the earth : which he so strictly holds, 1 So Charles Alleyn in his " Kedmoore or Bos worth " (1638) : " Ha like a Bore his bearing was a Bore A cognizance which with his mind agrees, Broke up the rankes to Richmond's selfe, and tore Men up like trees." (Nichols's Leicestershire, as before p 564). Gr. 2 = Beats back. Cf. remarks on ' rebate ' in Memorial- Introduction to our Joseph Fletcher, pages 9 10. G. iOSWOETH FIELD. 63 As if he would haue borne it with him hence, So loth he was to lose his right's pretence. 1 1 Compare the end of Richard, as described by our Poet, with Alleyn's, as before : "And now to see him sinke : his eyes did make A shot like falling starres : flash out and done : Groaning he did a stately farewell take, And in his night of death set like the sunne : For Richard in his West seem'd greater, than When Richard shin'd in the Meridian, Three yeares he acted ill, these two houres well, And with unmatched resolution strove : He fought as bravely, as he justly fell. As did the Capitoll to Manlius prove So Bosworth did to him, the monument Both to his glory and his punishment." G. f oems, VPON THE TWO GREAT FEASTS OF THE ANNUNCIATION AND EESUEEECTION FALLING ON THE SAME DAY, MAECH 25TH, 1627. |HEICE happy day, which sweetly do'st combine Two hemispheres in th' Equinoctiall line : The one debasing God to earthly paine, The other raising man to endlesse raigne. Christ's humble steps declining to the wombe, Touch heau'nly scales erected on His tombe : We first with Gabriel must this Prince conuay Into His chamber on the marriage day, Then with the other angels cloth' d in white, We will adore Him in this conqu'ring night : TJie Sonne of God assuming humane breath, Becomes a subiect to His vassall Death, That gravies and Hell laid open by His strife, 68 SACKED THESIS. May giue vs passage to a better life. See for this worke how things are newly styl'd, Man is declar'd, Almighty, God, a child ; The Word made flesh, is speechlesse, and the Light Begins from clouds, and sets in depth of night ; Behold the sunne eclips'd for many yeeres, And eu'ry day more dusky robes He weares, Till after totall darknesse shining faire, No moone shall barre His splendor from the aire. Let faithfull soules this double feast attend In two processions : let the first descend The temple's staires, and with a downe-cast eye Vpon the lowest pauement prostrate lie ; In creeping violets, white lilies, shine Their humble thoughts, and eu'ry pure designe ; The other troope shall climbe, with sacred heatc, The rich degrees 1 of Salomon's bright seate, In glowing roses feruent zeale they beare, And in the azure flowre de-lis appeare Celcstiall contemplations, which aspire Aboue the skie r vp to th' immortall quire. 1 Stops = ascents. See Mr. W. A. Wright's Bible "Word-book, as before. G. SAUIKI) POK.MS. 69 OF THE EPIPHANY. AIKE Easterne starre, that art ordain'd to runne Before the sages, to the rising Sunne, Here cease thy course, and wonder that the cloud Of this poore stable can thy Maker shroud : Ye heauenly bodies, glory to be bright, And are esteem'd, as ye are rich in light : But here on earth is taught a diff'rent way, Since vnder this low roofe the Highest lay ; Jerusalem erects her stately tow res, Displayes her windowes, and adornes her bowres ; Yet there thou must not cast a trembling sparke : Let Herod's palace still continue darke ; Each schoole and synagogue thy force repels, There Pride enthron'd in misty errours, dwels. The temple, where the priests maintaine their quire, Shall taste no beame of thy celestiall fire ; While this weake cottage all thy splendor takes, A joyfull gate of eu'ry chinke it makes. Here shines no golden roofe, no iu'ry staire, No king exalted in a stately chaire, Girt with attendants, or by heralds styl'd, But straw and hay in wrap a speechlesse child ; Yet Sabae's lords before this Babe vnfold 70 SACRED POEMS. Their treasures, off'ring incense, myrrh and gold. The cribbe becomes an altar ; therefore dies "No oxe nor sheepe ; for in their fodder lies The Prince of Peace, who thankfull for His bed, Destroyes those rites, in which their blood was shed : The quintessence of earth, He takes and fees, 1 And precious gummes distill' d from weeping trees ; Bich metals and sweet odours now declare The glorious blessings, which His lawes prepare To cleare vs from the base and lothsome flood Of sense, and make vs fit for angels' food, "Who lift to God for vs the holy smoke Of feruent pray'rs, with which we Him inuoke, And trie our actions in that searching fire, By which the seraphims our lips inspire : Ko muddy drosse pure min'ralls shall infect, 1 Dr. George Macdonald, in ' Antiphon ' as before, asks " Should this be " in fees ;" that is, in acknowledgemement of His feudal sovreignty ?" (p 143) But the technical term proper would be ' in fee '. The rhyme might necessi- tate ' in fees.' Perhaps ' and feea ' is really the Poet's idea. He describes a two-fold act, taking and taking as ' in fee.' The allusion may be as Dr. Macdonald sug- gests, albeit a corruption must be very evident to warrant change of an author's text. G. SACEED POEMS. 71 We shall exhale our vapours vp direct : No stormes shall crosse, nor glitt'ring lights deface Perpetuall sighes, which seeke a happy place. OF THE TRANSFIGURATION OF OUR LORD. ]EE that in lowly valleyes weeping sate, And taught your humble soules to mourne of late For sinnes, and sufferings breeding griefes and feares, And made the riuers bigger with your teares ; Now cease your sad complaints, till fitter time, And with those three belou'd Apostles clime To lofty Thabor, where your happy eyes Shall see the Sunne of glory brightly rise : Draw neere, and euer blesse that sacred hill, That there no heate may parch, no frost may kill The tender plants, nor any thunder blast That top, by which all mountaines are surpast. By steepe and briery paths ye must ascend : Eut if ye know to what high scope ye tend, No let 1 nor danger can your steps restraine, 1 Hindrance or obstacle. G. 72 SACRED POEMS. The crags will easie seeme, the thickets plaine. Our Lord there stands, not with His painefull crosse Laid on His shoulders, mouing you to losse Of precious things or calling you to beare That burden, which so much base worldlings feare. Here are no promist hopes obscur'd with clouds, No sorrow with dim vailes true pleasure shrowds, But perfect ioy, which here discouer'd shines, To taste of heauenly light your thoughts inclines, And able is to weane deluded mindes From fond 1 delight, which wretched mortals blinds : Yet let not sense so much your reason sway, As to desire for euer here to stay, Eefusing that sweet change which God prouides, To those whom with His rod and staife He guides : Your happinesse consists not now alone In those high comforts which are often throwne In plenteous manner from our Sauiour's hand, To raise the fall'n, and cause the weake to stand : But ye are blest, when being trodden downe, Ye taste His cup, and weare His thorny Crowne. 1 Foolish. G. SACRED POEMS. 73 ON ASCENSION DAY. jE that to heau'n direct your curious eyes, And send your minds to walk the spac- ious skies, See how the Maker to your selues you brings, Who sets His noble markes on meanest things : And hauing man aboue the angels plac'd, The lowly earth more then the heau'n hath grac'd. Poore- clay, each creature Thy degrees admires ; Pirst, God in thee a liuing soule inspires, Whose glorious beames hath made thee farre more bright, Then is the sunne, the spring of corp'rall light : He rests not here, but to Himselfe thee takes, And thee diuine by wondrous vnion makes. "What region can afford a worthy place For His exalted flesh ? Heau'n is too base, He scarce would touch it in His swift ascent, The orbes fled backe like Jordan as He went : And yet He daign'd to dwell a while on earth, As paying thankefull tribute for His birth : But now this body all God's workes excels, And hath no place, but God, in "Whom it dwels. 74 SACKED POEMS. AN ODE OF THE BLESSED TRINITIE. ]VSE, that art dull and weake, Opprest with worldly paine, If strength in thee remain e, Of things diuine to speake : Thy thoughts awhile from vrgent eares restraine, And with a cheareful voice thy wonted silence hreake. No cold shall thee benumme, Nor darknesse taint thy sight ; To thee new heate, new light, Shall from this obiect come, Whose praises if thou now wilt sound aright, My pen shall giue thee leaue hereafter to be dumbe. Whence shall we then begin To sing, or write of this, "Where no beginning is ? Or if we enter in, Where shall we end ? The end is endlesse blisse ; Thrice happy we, if well so rich a thread we spinne. For Thee our strings we touch, Thou that are Three, and One, Whose essence though vnknowne SACKED I'OEMS. 75 Beleeu'd is to be such ; To Whom what ere we giue, we giue Thine owne, And yet no mortall tongue can giue to Thee so much. See how in vayne we trie To find some tipe, t'agree With this great One in Three, Yet can none such descrie ; If any like, or second were to Thee, Thy hidden nature then were not so deepe and high. Here failc inferiour things ; The sunne whose heate and light Make creatures wanne and bright, A feeble shadow brings : The sunne shewes to the world his Father's might, With glorious raies, from both our fire the spirit springs. Now to this toplesse hill, Let vs ascend more neare, Yet still within the spheare Of our connat'rall skill, We may behold how in our soules we beare An vnderstanding pow'r, ioyn'd with effectuall will. We can no higher goe To search this point diuine ; /b SACRED POEMS. Here it dotli chiefly shine, This image must it show : These steppes as helpes our humble minds incline, T' embrace those certaine grounds, which from true faith must flow. To Him these notes direct, Who not with outward hands, Nor by His strong commands, Whence creatures take effect : While perfectly Himselfe He vnderstands, Begets another selfe, with equall glory dcckt. From these, the spring of loue, The Holy Ghost proceeds, Who our affection feeds, With those cleare flames which moue From that eternall essence which them breeds, And strikes into our soules, as lightning from alxmo. Stay, stay, Parnassian girle, Heere thy descriptions faint, Thou humane shapes canst paint, And canst compare to peaiie White teeth, and speak of lips which rubies taint, Resembling beauteous eicsto orbs that swiftly whirle. But now thou mayst perceiue The weakenesse of thy wings ; SACKED POEMS. 77 And that tliy noblest strings To muddy obiects cleaue : Then praise with humble silence heau'nly things, And what is more then this, to still deuotion leaue. A DIALOGUE BETWEENE THE WORLD, A PILGRIM, AND VERTTJE. PILGRIM. | HAT darknes clouds my senses ? Hath the day Eorgot his season, and the sunne his way ? Doth God withdraw His all-sustaining might, And works no more with His faire creature Light, While heau'n and earth for such a losse com- plaine, And turne to rude vnformed heapes againe ? My paces with intangling briers are bound, And all this forrest in deepe silence drownd ; Here must my labour and my iourney cease, By which in vaine I sought for rest and peace : But now perceiue that man's vnquiet mind, In all his waies can only darkenesse find. Here must I starae and die, vnlesse some light Point out the passage from this dismall night. 78 SACRED POEMS. WOULD. Distressed pilgrim, let not causelesse feare Depresse thy hopes, for thou hast comfort neare, Which thy dull heart with splendor shall inspire, And guide thee to thy period of desire. Cleare vp thy browes, and raise thy fainting eyes, See how my glitt'ring palace open lies For weary passengers, whose desp'rate case I pitie, and prouide a resting place. PILGRIM. thou whose speeches sound, whose beauties shine ! Not like a creature but some pow'r diuine, Teach me thy stile, thy worth and state declare, Whose glories in this desart hidden are. WORLD. 1 am thine end, Felicity my name ; The best of wishes, Pleasures, Riches, Fame, Are humble vassals, which my throne attend, And make you mortals happy when I send : In my left hand delicious fruits I hold, To feede them who with mirth and ease grow old ; Afraid to lose the fleeting dayes and nights, They seaze on times, and spend it in delights. My right hand with triumphant crownes is stor 'd, Which all the kings of former times ador'd : SACRED POEMS. 79 These gifts are thine : then enter where no strife, No griefe, no paine shall interrupt thy life. VEETTTE. Stay, hasty wretch, here deadly serpents dwell, And thy next step is on the brinke of Hell : Wouldst thou, poore weary man, thy limbs repose ? Behold my house, where true contentment growes : Not like the baites, which this seducer giues, Whose blisse a day, whose torment euer Hues. "WOULD. Regard not these vaine speeches, let them goe, This is a poore worme, my contemned foe, Bold thredbare Yertue ; who dare promise more From empty bags, then I from all my store ; Whose counsels make men draw vnquiet breath, Expecting to be happy after death. VEBTUE. Canst thou now make, or hast thou euer made Thy seruants happy in those things that fade ? Heare this my challenge, one example bring Of such perfection ; let him be the king Of all the world, fearing no outward check, And guiding others by his voice or beck : Yet shall this man at eu'ry moment find More gall then hony in his restlesse mind. 80 SACKED POEMS. ]S T ow monster, since my words liauc struck tlur dumb, Behold this garland, whence such vertues come, Such glories shine, such piercing beamcs arc throwne, As make thee blind, and turne thee to a stone. And thou, whose wand'ring feet were running downe Th'infernall steepenesse, looke vpon this crownc : AYithin these folds lie hidden no deceits, No golden lures, on which perdition waites : But when thine eyes the prickly thornes haue past, See in the circle boundlesse ioyes at last. PILGRIM. These things are now most cleare, thee I imbrace : Immortall wreath, let worldlings count thee base, Choyce is thy matter, glorious is thy shape, Fit crowne for them who tempting dangers scape. AN ACT OP CONTBITION. |HEN first my reason, dawning like the day, .Disperst the clouds of childish sense away : God's image fram'd in that superior tow'r, Diuinely drew mine vnderstanding pow'r To thinkc vpon His greatncssc, and to feare SACRED POEMS. 81 His darts of thunder, which the mountainea teare. And when with feeble light my soule began T'acknowledge Him a higher thing then man, My next discourse erected by His grace, Conceiues Him free from bounds of time or place, And sees the furthest that of Him is knowne, All spring from Him, and He depends of none. The steps which in His various workes are seal'd, The doctrines in His sacred Church reueal'd, "Were all receiu'd as truths into my mind, Yet durst I breake His lawes, strangely blind : My festring wounds are past the launcing cure Which terrour giues to thoughts at first impure : No helpe remaines these vlcers to remoue, Ynlesse I scorch them with the flames of loue. Lord, from Thy wrath my soule appeales, and flyes To gracious beames of those indulgent eyes, Which brought me first from nothing, and sustaine My life, lest it to nothing turne againe, Which in Thy Sonne's blood washt my parents' sinne, And taught me waies eternal! blisse to winnc. The starres which guide my bark with heau'nly calls, My boords in shipwrack after many falls : x 1 Cf. Acts xxvii. 44. G. 82 SACEED POEMS. In these I trust, and wing'd with pleasing hope, Attempt new flight to come to Thee, my scope, "Whom I esteeme a thousand times more deare, Then wordly things which faire and sweet appeare. Rebellious flesh, which Thee so oft offends, Presents her teares : alas, a poore amends, But Thou accept' st them. Hence they precious grow, As lining waters which from Eden flow. "With these I wish my vitall blood may runne, Ere new eclipses dimme this glorious sunne : And yeeld my selfe afflicting paines to take For thee my Spouse, and onely for Thy sake. Hell could not fright me with immortall fire, Were it not arm'd with Thy forsaking ire : Nor should I looke for comfort and delight In heau'n, if heau'n were shadow'd from Thy sight. IN" DESOLATION. THOU, "Who sweetly bend'st my stub- borne will, IWho send'st Thy stripes to teach, and not to kill ! Thy chearefull face from me no longer hide ; Withdraw these clouds, the scourges of my pride ; SACRED POEMS. 83 I sinke to hell, if I be lower throwne : I see what man is, being left alone. My substance, which from nothing did begin, Is worse then nothing by the waight of sin : I see my selfe in such a wretched state, As neither thoughts conceiue, [n]or words relate. How great a distance parts vs ! for in Thee Is endlesse good, and boundlessc ill in mee. All creatures proue me abiect, but how low Thou onely know'st, and teachest me to know : To paint this basenesse, Mature is too base ; This darknesse yeelds not but to beanies of grace. Where shall I then this piercing splendor find ? Or found, how shall it guide me, being blind ? Grace is a taste of blisse, a glorious gift, Which can the soule to heau'nly comforts lift : It will not shine to me, whose mind is drown' d In sorrowes, and with worldly troubles bound : It will not daigne within that house to dwell, Where drinesse raignes, and proud distractions swell. Perhaps it sought me in those lightsome dayes Of my first feruour, when few winds did raise The waues, and ere they could full strength obtainc, Some whisp'ring gale straight charm'dthem downo again : When all seem'd calme, and yet the virgin's Child 84 SACRED POEMS. On iny deuotions in His manger smild ; While then I simply walkt, nor heed could take Of Complacence, that slye deceitfull snake ; "When yet I had not dang'rously refus'd So many calls to vertue, nor abus'd The spring of life, which I so oft enioy'd, Nor made so many good intentions voyd ; Deseruing thus that grace should quite depart, And dreadfull hardnesse should possessc my heart : Yet in that state this onely good I found, That fewer spots did then my conscience wound, Though who can censure, 1 whether in those times, The want of feeling seem'd the want of crimes ? If solid verities dwell not but in paine, I will not wish that golden age againe Because it flow'd with sensible delights Of heauenly things : God hath created nights As well as dayes, to decke the varied globe ; Grace comes as oft clad in the dusky robe Of desolation, as in white attire, Which better fits the bright celestiall quire. Some in foule seasons perish through despaire, But more through boldnessc when the daies are faire. This then must be the incd'cine for my woes, 1 Judge, decide. G. SACKED POEMS. 85 To yeeld to what my Sauiour shall dispose : To glory in my bascnesse, to reioyce In mine afflictions, to obey His voyce, As well when thrcatnings my defects reproue As when I cherisht am with words of loue, To say to Him in en'ry time and place, ' Withdraw Thy comforts, so thou leaue Thy grace.' ^ SPIRITUALL COMFORT. jNOUGH delight, mine eternall good ! I feare to perish in this fiery flood i 1 And doubt, lest beanies of such a glorious light Should rather blind me, then extend my sight : For how dare mortals here their thoughts erect To take those ioyes, which they in heau'n expect ? Bat God inuites them in His boundlesse love, And lifts their heauy minds to things aboue. Who would not follow such a pow'rfull guide 1 Is this a reminiscence of the passionate-hearted Father ? " Eestrain O Lord ! the floods of Thy grace ! My Saviour depart a little way from me : for it is not possible for mo to bear the torrents of Thy consola- tion "? G. 86 SACRED POEMS. Immidst of flames, or through the raging tide ? "What carelcsse soule will not admire the grace Of such a Lord, who knowes the dang'rous place In which His seruants Hue ; their natiue woes, Their weake defence, and fury of their foes : And casting downe to earth these golden chaines, From Hcl's steepe brinke their sliding steps restraines ? His deare affection flies with wings of haste ; He will not stay till this short life be past : Eut in this vale where teares of griefe abound, He oft with teares of ioy His friends hath drown' d. IVIan, what desir'st thou ? wouldst thou purchase health, Great honour, perfect pleasure, peace and wealth ? All these are here, and in their glory raignc : In other things these names are false and vaine. True wisdome bids vs to this banquet haste, That precious nectar may renew the taste Of Eden's dainties, by our parents lost For one poorc apple, which so deare would cost, That eu'ry man a double death should pay ; But Mercy comes the latter stroke to stay, And leauing mortall bodies to the knife Of lustice striues to saue the better life. 1 1 Cf. our Phineas Fletcher, Vol. I. pp ccclii-ccclxi. G-. SACKED POEMS. 87 No sou'raigne med'cine can be halfe so good Against destruction, as this angels' food, This inward illustration, when it finds A seate in humble, and indifFrent 1 minds. If wretched men contemne a sunne so bright, Dispos'd to stray, and stumble in the night, And seeke contentment where they oft haue knowne By deare experience that there can be none : They would much more neglect their God, their end, If ought were found whereon they might depend, Within the compasse of the gen'rall frame : 2 Or if some sparkes of this celestiall flame Had not ingrau'd this sentence in their brest : In Him that made them is their onely rest. 3 1 = unprejudiced, unbiassed. G. 2 As below, our Poet is here versifying one of the memorabilia of St. Augustine, on the fascinations of our world oven as cursed and thorny. G. 3 " Lord ! Thou hast made us for Thyself ; and our souls are restless until they rest in Thee." : St. Augus- tine. G. 88 SACHED POEMS. AN ACT OF HOPE. jWEET Hope is soueraigne comfort of our life: Our ioy in sorrow, and our peace in strife : The dame of beggers and the queene of kings : Can these delight in height of prosp'rous things, "Without expecting still to keepe them sure ? Can those the weight of heauy wants endure, Vnlesse perswasion instant paine allay, Resenting spirit for a better day ? Our God, who planted in His creature's brest, This stop on which the wheeles of passion rest, Hath rays'd by beames of His abundant grace, This strong affection to a higher place. It is the second vertue which attends That soule, whose motion to His sight ascends. Rest here, my mind, thou shalt no longer stay To gaze vpon these houses made of clay : Thou shalt not stoope to honours, or to lands, Nor golden balles, where sliding fortune stands : If no false colours draw thy steps amisse, Thou hast a palace of eternall blisse, A paradise from care, and feare exempt, An obiect worthy of the best attempt. "Who would not for so rich a country fight ? SACRED POEMS. 89 Who would not runne that sees a goale so bright ? Thou Who art our author and our end, On Whose large mercy, chaines of hope depend ; Lift me to Thee by Thy propitious hand, For lower I can find no place to stand. OP TEARES. [EHOLD what riuers feeble nature spends, And melts vs into seas at losse of friends: Their mortall state this fountaine neuer dries, But fills the world with worlds of weeping eies. Man is a creature borne, and nurst i teares, He through his life the markes of sorrow beares ; And dying, thinkes he can no off'ring haue More fit then teares distilling on his graue. We must these floods to larger bounds extend ; Such streames require a high and noble end. As waters in a chry stall orbe contain' d Aboue the starry firmament, are chain' d To coole the fury of those raging flames, Which eu'ry lower spheare by motion frames : So this continuall spring within thy head, Must quench the fires in other members bred. If to our Lord our parents had been true, 90 SACRED POEMS. Our tcarcs had beene like drops of pleasing dew : But sinne hath made them full of bitter paines, Vntimely children of afflicted braines : Yet they are chang'd, when we our sinnes lament, To richer pearles, then from the East are sent. OF SINNE. |HAT pencil shall I take, or where begin To paint the vgly face of odious Sinne ? Man ginning oft, though pardon' d oft exceeds The falling angels in malicious deeds : When we in words would tell the sinner's shame, To call him diuell is too faire a name : Should we for euer in the chaos dwell, Or in the lothsome depth of gaping hell : ~We there no foule and darksome formes shall find Sufficient to describe a guilty mind. Search through the world, we shall not know a thing, "Which may to Reason's eye more horrour bring, Then disobedience to the highest cause, And obstinate auersion from His Lawes : The sinner will destroy God, if He can. what hath God deseru'd of thee, poore man, SACHET) POEMS. 91 That thou should' st boldly striue to pull Him downe From His high throne, and take away His crowne ? l What blindnesse moucs thee to vnequall fight ? See Low thy fellow creatures scorne thy might, Yet thou prouok'st thy Lord, as much too great, As thou too weake for His imperiall seate. Behold a silly wretch distracted quite, Extending towards God his feeble spite, And by his poys'nous breath his hopes are faire To blast the skies, as it corrupts the aire. Ypon the other side thou mayst perceiue A mild commander, to whose army cleaue The sparkling starres, and each of them desires To fall and drowne this rebell in their fires. The cloudes are ready this proud foe to tame, Full fraught with thunderbolts, and lightnings' flame. The earth, his mother, greedy of his doome, Expects to open her vnhappy wombe, That this degenerate sonne may Hue no more, So chang'd from that pure man, whom first she bore. 1 Jonathan Edwards of America, works out this idea very grandly in several of his burning Sermons. Very solemn and ' weighty' are his appeals to those who would if they could ' pull God from His throne.' G. 92 SACRED POEMS. The sauage beasts, whose names his father gaue, To quell this pride, their Maker's licence craue. The fiends his masters in this warlike way, Make sute to seaze him as their lawfull prey. No friends are left : then whither shall he flie ? To that offended King, Who sits on high, Who hath defcrr'd the battell, and restrain'd His souldiers like the winds in fetters chain' d : For let the sinner leaue his hideous maske, God will as soone forgiue, as he shall aske. OF THE MISEKiBLE STATE OF MAN. ]S Mail, the best of creatures, growne the worst ? He once most blessed was, now most accurst : His whole felicity is endlesse strife, Xo peace, no satisfaction crownes his life ; ]S"o such delight as other creatures take, Which their desires can free, and happy make : Our appetites, which seeke for pleasing good, Haue oft their wane and full ; their ebbe and floud ; Their calme and stormcs : the neuer- constant moone, The seas, and nimble winds not halfe so soone SACRED POEMS. 93 Incline to change, while all our pleasure rests In things which vary, like our wau'ring brests. He who desires that wealth his life may blesse, Like to a iayler, counts it good successc, To haue more pris'ners, which increase his care ; The more his goods, the more his dangers are : This sayler sees his ship about to drowne, And he takes in more wares to presse it downe. Vaine honour is a play of diuers parts, Where fained words and gestures please our hearts ; The flatt'red audience are the actor's friends, But lose that title when the fable ends. The faire desire that others should behold, Their clay well featur'd, their well temperd mould ; Ambitious mortals make their chiefe pretence, To be the objects of delighted sense : Yet oft the shape and hue of basest things, More admiration moues, more pleasure brings. Why should we glory to be counted strong ? This is the praise of beasts, the pow'r of wrong : And if the strength of many were inclos'd "Within one breast, yet when it is oppos'd Against that force, which Art or Nature frame, It melts like waxe, before the scorching flame. We cannot in these outward things be blest ; For we are sure to lose them ; and the best Of these contentments no such comfort beares, 94 SACKED POEMS. As may waigh equall with the doubts and fearcs, "Which fixe our minds on that vncertaine day, When these shall faile, most certaine to decay. From length of life no happinesse can come, But what the guilty feele, who after doome Are to the lothsome prison sent againc, And there must stay to die with longer paine. ~No earthly gift lasts after death, but Fame ; This gouernes men, more carefull of their name Then of their soules, which their vngodly taste Dissolues to nothing, and shall proue at last Farre worse then nothing : prayses come too late, When man is not, or is in wretched state. But these are ends which draw the meanest hearts : Let vs search decpe and trie our better parts : knowledge, if a heau'n on earth -could be, 1 would expect to reape that blisse in thee : But thou art blind, and they that haue thy light, More clearcly know, they Hue in darksome night. See, man, thy stripes at schoole, thy paines abroad, Thy watching, and thy palenesse well bestow' d : These feeble helpes can scholers neuer bring To perfect knowledge of the plainest thing : And some to such a height of learning grow, They die perswaded, that they nothing know. 1 1 Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, and later than our Poet, Newton in his tine modesty. G. SACRED POEMS. 95 In value swift houres spent in deep study slide, Ynlesse the purchast doctrine curbe our pride. The soule perswaded, that no fading loue Can equall her imbraces, seekes aboue : And now aspiring to a higher place, Is glad that all her comforts here are base. OF SICOTESSE. JHE end of sicknesse, health or death declare The cause as happy, as the sequels are. Yaine mortals, while they striue their sense to please, Endure a life worse then the worst disease : AVhen sports and ryots of the restlesse night, Breede dayes as thicke, possest with fenny light 1 : How oft haue these ccmpell'd by wholsome paine Return'd'to sucke sweet Nature's brest againe, And then could in a narrow compasse find Strength for the body, clearenesse in the mind ? And if Death come, it is not he, whose dart, Whose scalpe and bones afflict the trembling heart : As if the painters with new art would striue 1 Qu : ignis fatuus ? G. 96 SACKED POEMS. For feare of bugs 1 to kecpe poore men aliuc But one, who from thy mother's wombe hath been Thy friend and strict companion, though vnseene, To lead thee in the right appointed way, And crowne thy labours at the conqu'ring day. Yngratefull men, why doe you sicknesse loath, Which blessings glue in Heau'n, or Earth, or both ? OF TEUE LIBERTY. E that from dust of worldly tumults flies, May boldly open his vndazled eyes, To reade wise Nature's booke ; and with delight Surueyes the plants by day, and starres by night. We need not trauaile, seeking waycs to blisse, He that desires contentment, cannot misse : ]N"o garden walles this precious flowre imbrace, It common growes in eu'ry dcsart place. Large scope of pleasure drownes vs like a flood, To rest in little, is our greatest good. Learne ye that clime the top of Fortune's wheele, That dan'grous state which ye disdaine to feele : Your highnesse puts your happinessc to flight, 1 Bug-bears : t in the Puritans, fray -bugs. Gr. SACKED POEMS. 97 Your inward comforts fade with outward light ; Ynlesse it be a blessing not to know This certaine truth, lest ye should pine for woe, To see inferiours so diuinely blest With freedome, and yourselues with fetters prest ; Ye sit like pris'ners barr'd with doores and chaines And yet no care perpetuall care restraines. Ye striue to mixe your sad conceits with ioyes, By curious 1 pictures, and by glitt'ring toyes, "While others are not hind' red from their ends, Delighting to conuerse with bookes or friends, And liuing thus retir'd, obtaine the pow'r To reigne as kings, of euery sliding houre : They walke by Cynthiae's light, and lift their eyes To view the ord'red armies in the skies. The heau'ns they measure with imagin'd lines, And when the Northerne hemisphere declines, New constellations in the South they find, Whose rising may refresh the studious mind. In these delights, though freedome show more high Few can to things aboue their thoughts apply. But who is he that cannot cast his looke On earth, and reade the beauty of that booke? A bed of smiling flow'rs, a trickling spring, 1 See Mr. Wright's Bible Word-Book, as before. G. 98 SACKED POEMS. A swelling riuer, more contentment bring, Then can be shadow' d by the best of Art : Thus still the poore man hath the better part. 1 AGAINST INORDINATE LOTJE OF CREATURES. |H ! who would loue a creature ? who would place His heart, his treasure in a thing so base ? Which Time consuming, like a moth destroyes, And stealing Death will rob him of his ioyes. Why lift we not our minds aboue this dust ? Haue we not yet perceiu'd that God is iust, And hath ordain'd the obiects of our loue To be our scourges, when we wanton proue ? Go, carelesse man, in vaine delights proceed, Thy fansies, and thine outward senses feede, And bind thy selfe, thy fellow-seruants thrall : Loue one too much, thou art a slave to all. Consider when thou follow'st seeming good, And drown' st thy selfe too deepe in flesh and blood, 1 See our Memorial-Introduction for remarks on these fine closing lines together with parallels. G. SACKED POEMS. 99 Thou making sute to dwell with woes and fearcs, Art sworne their souldier in the vale of teares : The bread of sorrow shall be thy repast ; Expect not Eden in a thorny waste, "Where grow no faire trees, no smooth riuers swell; Here onely losses and afflictions dwell. These thou bewayl'st with a repining voyce, Yet knew' st before that mortall was thy choyse. Admirers of false pleasures must sustaine The waight and sharpenesse of insuing paine. AGAINST ABUSED LOTJE. jHALL I stand still, and see the world on fire, While wanton writers ioyne in one desire, To blow the coales of loue, and make them burne, Till they consume, or to the chaos turne This beautious frame by them so foully rent ? That wise men feare, lest they those flames pre- uent, 1 Which for the latest day th'Almightie keepes In orbes of fire, or in the hellish deepes. 1 Anticipate = hasten. G. 100 SACEED POEMS. Best wits, while they possesst with fury, thinke They taste the Muses' sober well, and drinke Of Phoebus' goblet now a starry signe Mistake the cup, and write in heat of wine. Then let my cold hand here some water cast, And drown their warmth, with drops of sweeter taste ; Mine angry lines shall whip the purblind page, And some will reade them in a chaster age ; .But since true loue is most diuine, I know, How can I fight with loue, and call it so ? Is it not loue ? It was not now : strange I- Time and ill custome, workers of all change, Haue made it loue : Men oft impose not names By Adam's rule, but what their passion frames. And since our childhood taught vs to approue Our father's words, we yeeld and call it loue. Examples of past times our deeds should sway, But Wb must speake the language of to day : Yse hath no bounds, it may prophanc once more The name of God, which first an idoll bore. How many titles fit for meaner groomes, Are knighted now, and marshal' d in high roomes ! And many which once good and great were thought, Posterity, to vice and basenesse brought, As it hath this of loue ; and we must bow, As States, vsurping tyrants' raignes allow, SACRED TOKMS. 10 I And after-ages reckon by their yeeres : Such force possession, though iniurious, beares ; Or as a wrongfull title, or foule crime Made lawfull by the statute for the time, "With reu'rend estimation blindes our eies, And is call'd iust, in spite of all the wise : Then heau'nly Loue, this loathed name forsake, And some of thy more glorious titles take : Sunne of the soule, cleare beauty, liuing fire, Celestiall light, which dost pure hearts inspire, "While lust, thy bastard brother, shal be knowne By Loue's wrong' d name, that louers may him owne. So oft with hereticks such tearmes we vse, As they can brooke, not such as we would chuse : And since he takes the throne of Loue exil'd, In all our letters he shall Loue be stil' d : But if true Loue vouchsafe againe his sight, No word of mine shall prejudice his right : So kings by caution with their rebels treate, As with free States, when they are growne too great. If common drunkards onely, can expresse To life the sad effects of their excesse : How can I write of Loue, who neuer felt His dreadfull arrow, nor did euer melt My heart away before a female flame, 102 SACRED POEMS. Like waxen statues, which the witches frame ? I must confesse if I knew one that had Bene poyson'd with this deadly draught, and mad, And afterward in Bedlem well reclaym'd To perfect sence, and in his wits not maym'd : I would the feruour of my Muse restraine, And let this subiect for his taske remaine : But aged wand'rers sooner will declare Their Eleusinian rites, then louers dare Renounce the deuil's pompe, and Christians die : So much preuailes a painted idol's eye. Then since of them, like lewes, we can conuert Scarce one in many yeeres, their iust desert, By selfe confession, neuer can appeare; But on presumptions wee proceed, and there The Judge's innocence most credit winnes : True men trie theeues, and saints describe foule sinnes. This monster, Loue by day, and Lust by night, Is full of burning fire, but voyde of light ; Left here on earth to keepe poore mortals out Of errour, who of Hell-fire else would doubt. Such is that wandring nightly flame, which leades Th'vnwary passenger, vntill he treades His last step on the steepe and craggy walles Of some high mountaine, whence he headlong falles. SACRED POEMS. 103 A vapor, first extracted from the stewes, Which with new fewell still the lampe renewes And with a pandar's sulph'rous hreath infiam'd, Became a meteor, for destruction fram'd : Like some prodigious comet which foretells Disasters to the realme on which it dwells. And now hath this false light preuail'd so farre That most ohserue 1 it as a fixed starre, Yea, as their load-starre ; hy whose beanies impure, They guide their ships, in courses not secure ; Bewitcht and daz'led with the glaring sight Of this proud fiend, attir'd in angel's light ; "Who still delights his darksome smoke to turne To rayes, which seeme t' enlighten, not to burne : He leades them to the tree, and they beleeue The fruite is sweete ; so he deluded Eue. But when they once haue tasted of the feasts, They quench that sparke, which seuers men from beasts, And feele effects of our first parents' fall Depriu'd of reason, and to sence made thrall. Thus is the miserable louer bound 1 Misprinted ' obserue, it is a fixed starre.* The ' yea, as their loadstarre ' seems to shew a needed correction, as in our text. G. 104 SACRED POEMS. "With fancies, and in fond 1 affection drown'd . In him no faculty of man is seene, But when he sighes a sonnet to his queene : This makes him more then man, a poet fit For such false poets, as make passion wit : Who lookes within an emptie caske, 2 may see, Where once a soule was, and againe may be ; "Which by this diffrence from a corse is knowne, One is in pow'r to haue life, both haue none : For louers slipp'ry soules as they confesse, "Without extending racke, or straining presse By transmigration to their mistresse flow : Pithagoras instructs his schollers so, "Who did for penance lustfull minds confine To leade a second life in goates, and swine : Then Loue is death, and driues the soule to dwell In this betraying harbour, which like Hell Giues neuer backe her bootie, and containes A thousand firebrands, whips, and restlesse paines : And which is worse, so bitter are those wheeles, That many hells at once, the louer feeles, And hath his heart dissected into parts, That it may meete with other double harts. This loue stands neuer sure, it wants a ground, It makes no ordred course, it findes no bound, 1 Foolish. G. 2 Casket? G. SACRED POEMS. 105 It aymes at nothing, it no comfort tastes, But while the pleasure, and the passion lasts. Yet there are flames, which two hearts one can make, Not for th' affections, but the obiect's sake ; That burning glasse, where beames disperst, incline Ynto a point, and shoot forth in a line. This noble Loue hath axletree, and poles Wherein it moues, and gets eternall goales : These resolutions, like the heau'nly spheres, Make all the periods equall as the yeeres : And when this time of motion finisht is, It ends with that great yeere of endlesse blisse. A DESCRIPTION OF LOTJE. OUE is a region full of fires, And burning with extreme desires ; An obiect seekes, of which possest, The wheeles are fixt, the motions rest, The flames in ashes lie opprest : This meteor striuing high to rise, The fewell spent falles downe and dies. Much sweeter, and more pure delights Are drawne from faire alluring sights, 1 06 SACKED POEMS. When rauisht minds attempt to praise Commanding eyes, like heau'nly rayes ; Whose force the gentle heart obayes : Then where the end of this pretence Descends to base inferiour sense. Why then should louers most will say Expect so much th'enioying day ? Loue is like youth, he thirsts for age, He scorncs to be his mother's page : But when proceeding times asswage The former heate, he will complaine, And wish those pleasant houres againe. We know that Hope and Loue are twinnes ; Hope gone, fruition now beginnes : But what is this ? vnconstant, fraile, In nothing sure, but sure to faile : Which, if we lose it, we bewaile ; And when we haue it, still we beare The worst of passions, daily Peare. When Loue thus in his center ends, Desire and Hope, his inward friends Are shaken off : while Doubt and Grriefe, The weakest giuers of reliefe, Stand in his councell as the chiefe : SACKED POEMS. 107 And now he to his period brought, From Loue becomes some other thought. These lines I write not, to remoue Vnited soules from serious loue : The best attempts by mortal made, Reflect on things which quicky fade ; Yet neuer will 1 men perswade To leaue affections, where may shine Impressions of the Loue diuine. AJST EXPRESSION OF SIBYLL'S ACEOSTICHS. 1 N signe that iudgement comes, the Earth shall sweat : xpected times, behold the Prince, whose might hall censure 2 all within His kingdome great : ntrue and faithfull shall approach His sight, hall feare this God, by His high glory knowne, 1 Cf. Ovid: Met. 14, 104 seqq: 154: 15, 712: Aeneid vi., 10. G. 2 Judge, as before. G. 108 SACRED POEMS. ombin'd with flesh, and compast with His saints ; is words diuiding soules before His throne, , edeerne the world from thornes and barren taints, n vaine then mortals leaue their wealth, and sinne : trong force the stubborne gates of Hell shall tame : he saints, though dead, shall light and freedome winne : o thriue not wicked men, with wrathfnll flame pprest : Whose beames can search their words and deeds ; jt o darkesome brest can couer base desires ; ew sorrow, gnashing teeth, and wailing, breeds ; xempt from sunny rayes, or starry quires, heau'n thou art roll'd vp, the moone shall die ; rom vales He takes their depth, from hilles their height. reat men no more are insolent and high ; n seas no nimble ships shall carry weight ; ire thunder arm'd with heat, the Earth confounds ; weet springs and bubbling streames their course restraine ; i heau'nly trumpet sending dolefull sounds, pbraydes the World's misdeeds, and threatens paine : SACKED POEMS. 109 n gaping earth infernall depths are seene ; ur proudest kings are summon'd by His call nto his seate ; from heau'n, with anger keene, euengefull floods of fire and brimstone fall. YIEGIL. ECLOG. IV. 1 Muses, sing we greater things, All are not pleas'd with shrubs and lowly springs; More fitly to the consull, 2 woods belong : JS r ow is fulfild Cuma3an sibyl's song : Long chaines of better times begin againe ; 8 The Maide 4 returnes, and brings backe Saturne'a raigne, Kew progenies from lofty Heau'n descend ; 3 Thou chaste Lucina, be this Infant's friend, Whose birth the dayes of irn shall quite deface, And through the world the golden age shall place :' Thy brother Phoebus weares his potent crowne, And thou -0 Pollio 7 know thy high renowne ; 1 Cf. Pope's 'Messiah'. G. 2 Pollio, as onward. G, 3 Cf. Isaiah Ixi. G. 4 Cf. Isaiah vii., 14. G. 5 Cf. Hesiod : Op. 256 et 109. G. 6 Cf. Isaiah ix., 6, 7. G. 7 Cf. Aeneid 6, 86 ; and 9, 47, G. 1 1 SACRED POEMS. Thy consulship this glorious change shall breed, Great moneths shall then endevour to proceed : Thy rule the steps of threatning sinne shall cleare, And free the Earth from that perpetuall feare : l He with the gods shall line, 2 and shall behold, With heauenly spirits noble soules enroll'd, And seene by them shall guide this worldly frame, Which to His hand His father's strength doth tame. To Thee sweet child the Earth brings natiue dowres, 3 The wandring iuy, 4 with faire bacchar's 5 flowres, And colocasia, 6 sprung from Egypt's ground, With smiling leaues of greene acanthus crown'd ; The gotes their swelling vdders home shall beare, The droues no more shall mighty lions feare : 7 Por Thee, Thy cradle, pleasing flowres shall bring; Imperious Death shall blunt the serpent's sting ; 1 Cf. Isaiah lx., 18. G. 2 Cf. Hesiod, Op. 118. G. 3 Cf. Isaiah xxxv., 1 ; and lx., 13. G. 4 = ivy. G. 5 Baccar = /^a/r^a/ny, a plant having a fragrant root, which produced a kind of oil. Is our abbreviation (vul- garly) 'bacca = tobacco, from this ? G. 6 = Casia, i.e. Laurus Cassia. G. 7 Cf. Isaiah xi., 6. G. SACEED POEMS. Ill "No herbes shall with dcccitfull poyson flow, And sweet amomum eu'iy where shall grow : But when Thou able art to reade the facts 1 Of worthies, 2 and thy father's famous acts, To know what glories Yertue's name adorne, The fields to ripenesse bring the tender come ; 3 Eipe grapes depend on carelesse brambles' tops, Hard oakes sweat hony, form'd in dewy drops ; Yet some few steps of former fraudes remaine, "Which men to trie, the sea with ships constraine, With strengthening walles their cities to defend, And on the ground long furrowes to extend ; A second Tiphys, and new Argo then, Shall leade to braue exploits the best of men ; The warre of Troy that town againe shall burne, And great Achilles thither shall returne : But when firme age a perfect man Thee makes, The willing sayler straight the seas forsakes, The pine no more the vse of Trade retaines ; Each countrie breeds all fruits, the Earth dis- daines The harrowes weight, and vines the sickle's strokes; Strong ploughmen let their bulls go free from yokes, 1 Deeds, as "before. G 2 Of. Isaiah vii. 16. G. 3 Cf. Isaiah lv., 13 ; et xxxv. 7. G. 1 1 2 SACRED POEMS. Woolll fearcs not to dissemble colours strange, But ramrnes their fleeces then in pastures change To pleasing purple, or to saffron die, And lambes turne ruddy, as they feeding lie. The Pates whose wills in stcdfast end agree, Command their wheeles to run such daies to see Attempt great honours, now the time attends ; Deare Childe of gods, whose line from loue des- cends. See how the world with weight declining lies ; The Earth, the spacious seas, and arched skies : Behold againe, how these their griefe asswage "With expectation of the future age : that my life and breath so long would last To tell Thy deeds ! I should not be surpast By Thracian Orpheus, nor if Linus sing, Though they from Phoebus and the muses spring : Should Pan Arcadia iudging striue with me, Pan by Arcadia's doome would conquer' d be. Begin Thou, little Childe ; by laughter owne Thy mother, who ten mon'ths hath fully knowne Of tedious houres : begin, Thou little Childe, On Whom as yet thy parents neuer smil'd ; The God with ineate hath not Thy hunger fed, 2sor goddesse laid thee in a little bed. 1 1 Cf. Horace, Od. 4. 8. 30. G. tortlg f cms. " O" TTT'?'* 6 sal anb Courtljj fjotms. IV .< ON THE ANNIUERSARY DAY OF HIS MAIESTIE'S REIGNE OUEll ENGLAND MARCH THE 24. WRITTEN AT THE BEGINNING OF HIS TWENTIETH YEERE. 1 [HE world to morrow celebrates with mirth The joyfull peace betweenethe heau'n and earth ; To day let Biitainc praise that lising light, Whose titles, her diuided parts vnitc. The time since Safety triumph'd ouer Fcare, Is now extended to the twenti'th ycere. Thou happy yeere with perfect number blest, slide as smooth and gentle as the rest : That when the sunne dispersing from his head, The clouds of Winter on his beauty spred, 1 James came to the Crown on the death of Elizaheth in 1603. G. 116 EOYAL AND COURTLY POEMS. Shall see his equinoctial! point againe, And melt his dusky maske to fruitfull raine, He may be loth our climate to forsake, And thence a patterne of such glory take, That he would leaue the Zodiake, and desire To dwell for euer with our northerne fire. A THANKSGIUING FOR THE DELIUER- ANCE OF OUR SOUERAIGNE, KING IAMES, FROM A DANGEROUS ACCI- DENT, JANUARY 8. GRACIOUS Maker, on Whose smiles or frownes Depends the fate of scepters and of crownes ! Whose hand not onely holds the hearts of kings, But all their steps are shadow'd with Thy wings ! To Thee immortall thanks three sisters giue, For sauing him, by whose deare life they Hue. First, England crown'd with roses of the Spring, An off'ring like to Abel's gift will bring : And vowes that she for Thee alone will keepe Her fattest lambes and fleeces of her sheepe. Next, Scotland triumphs, that she bore and bred This He's delight ; and wearing on her head B.OTAL AND COUUTLY POEMS. 117 A wreath of lilies gather' d in the field, Presents the min'rals which her mountaines yeeld. Last, Ireland like Terpischore attir'd With neuer-fading lawrell, and inspir'd By true Apollo's heat, a pajan sings, And kindles zealous flames with siluer strings. This day a sacrifice of praise requires, Our brests are altars, and our ioyes are fires. That sacred head, so oft, so strangely blest Prom bloody plots, was now feare ! deprest Beneath the water, and those sunlike beames Were threat' ned to be quencht in narrow streames. Ah ! who dare thinke, or can indure to heare Of those sad dangers, which then seem'd so neare ? What Pan would haue preseru'd our flocks' increase From wolues ? What Hermes could with words of peace, Cause whetted swords to fall from angry hands, And shine the starre of calmes in Christian Lands ? But Thou, Whose eye to hidden depths extends, To shew that he was made for glorious ends, Hast rays' d him by thine All-commanding arine, Xot onely safe from death, but free from harme. 118 ROYAL AXD COURTLY POEMS. TO HIS LATE MAJESTY, CONCERN CS T G THE TRUE FORME OF ENGLISH POETRY. 1 |REAT king, the sou'raigne ruler of this Land, By whose graue caro, our hopes securely stand : Since you descending from that spacious reach, Vouchsafe to be our Master, and to teach Your English poets to direct their lines, To mixe their colours, and expresse their signes : Forgiue my boldnesse, that I here present The life of Muses yeelding true content In ponder'd numbers, which with ease I try'd, When your iudicious rules haue been my guide. He makes sweet musick, who in serious lines, Light dancing tunes, and heauy prose declines : When verses like a milky torrent flow, They equall temper in the poet show. He paints true formes, who with a modest heart, Giues lustre to his worke, yet couers art. 2 1 James 1st., who it must be remembered had so early as 1584, published his u Essayes of a prentise, in the divine art of poesie." Eeferences are made to this quaint and still quick treatise by Beaumont, supra. G. 2 "Ars est celare artem." G. KOY.VL AM) COtitTI.V I'OK.M^. 119 Vneueii swelling is no way to fame, But solid ioiniug of the perfect frame : 80 that no curious 1 finger there can find The former chinkes, or nailes that fastly bind. Yet most would haue the knots of stitches seene, And holes where men may thrust their hands between. On halting feet the ragged poem goes With accents, neither fitting verse nor prose : The stile mine eare with more contentment fills In lawyers' pleadings, or phisicians' bills. For though in termes of art their skill they close, And ioy in darksome words as well as those : They yet haue perfect sense more pure and clear e Then enuious Muses, which sad garlands weare Of dusky clouds, their strange conceits to hide From humane eyes : and lest they should be spi'd By some sharpe Oedipus the English tongue For this their poore ambition suffers wrong. In eu'ry language now in Europe spoke By Nations which the Roman Empire broke, The relish of the Muse consists in rime, One verse must meete another like a chime. Our Saxon shortnesse hath peculiar grace In choice of words, fit for the ending place : 1 Skilful, as before. G. 120 ROYAL AND COUBTLY POEMS. Which leaue impression in the mind as well As closing sounds, of some delightfull bell : These must not be with disproportion lame, Nor should an eccho still repeate the same. In many changes these may be exprest : But those that ioyne most simply, run the best : Their forme surpassing farre the fettr'd staues, Vaine care, and needlesse repetition saues. These outward ashes keepe those inward fires, 1 Whose heate the Greeke and Roman works inspires Pure phrase, fit epithets, a sober care Of metaphors, descriptions cleare, yet rare, Similitudes contracted smooth and round, Not vext by learning, but with nature crown'd : Strong figures drawne from deepe inuention's springs, Consisting lesse in words, and more in things : A language not affecting ancient times, Nor Latine shreds, by which the pedant climes : A noble subiect which the mind may lift To easie vse of that peculiar gift, "Which poets in their raptures hold most deare, When actions by the liuely sound appeare. Giue me such helpes, I neuer will despaire, 1 " E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires." GRAY. G. KOYAL AND COUETLY POEMS. 121 But that our heads which sucke the freezing aire, As well as hotter braines, may verse adome, And be their wonder, as we were their scorne. TO THE GLORIOUS MEMORY OF OUR LATE SOTJERAIGNE LORD, KING IAMES. 1 EEPE, ye nymphes : that from your caues may flow Those trickling drops, whence mighty riuers gow. 2 Disclose your hidden store : let eu'ry spring To this our sea of griefe some tribute bring : And when ye once haue wept your fountaines dry, The heau'n with showres will send a new supply. But if these cloudy treasures prooue too scant, Our teares shall helpe, when other moystures want. This He, nay Europe, nay the World bewailes Our losse, with such a streame as neuer failes. Abundant floods from euery letter rise, 1 Died 27th March, 1625. G. 2 Misprinted ' flow ' as in previous line : but corrected contemporaneously in my copy, as above. G. 122 ROYAL AXD COURTLY POEMS. When we pronounce, great lames, our soueraigne dies. And while I write these words, I trembling stand, A sudden darkenesse hath possest the Land. I cannot now expresse my selfe by signes : All eyes are blinded, none can reade my lines ; Till Charles ascending, driues away the night, And in his splendour giues my verses light. Thus by the beanies of his succeeding flame, I shall describe his father's boundlesse fame. The Grecian emp'rours gloried to be borne, And nurst in purple, by their parents worne. See here a king, whose birth together twines The Britan, English, Norman, Scottish lines : How like a princely throne his cradle stands ; While 1 diadems become his swathing bands. His glory now makes all the Earth his tombe, But enuious fiends would in his mother's wombe Interre his rising greatnesse, and contend Against the babe : whom heau'nly troopes defend, And giue such vigour in his chillhood's-state, That he can strangle snakes, which swell with hate. This conquest his vndaunted brest declares In seas of danger, in a world of cares : Yet neither cares oppresse his constant mind, 1 Misprinted white ? G. 110 YAL AND COURTLY POEMS. 123 Nor dangers drowne his life, for age design'd. The Muses leaue their sweet Castalian springs In forme of bees, extending silken wings With gentle sounds, to keepe this infant still, While they his mouth with pleasing hony fill. Hence those large streames of eloquence proceed, Which in the hearers strange amazement breed : When laying by his scepters and his swords, He melts their hearts with his mellifluous words. So Hercules in ancient pictures fain'd, Could draw whole Nations to his tongue en chain' d. He firsts considers in his tender age, How God hath rays' d him on this earthly stage, To act a part, expos'd to eu'ry eye : With Salomon he therefore striues to flie To Him that gaue this greatnesse, and demands The precious gift of wisdome from His hands : While God delighted with this iust request, Not onely him, with wondrous prudence blest, But promis'd higher glories, new encrease Of kingdomes circled with a ring of peace. He thus instructed by diuine commands, Extends this peacefull line to other Lands. When warres are threat en' d by shiil trumpets sounds, His oliue stancheth bloud, and binds vp wounds. The Christian world this good from him deriues, 124 HOYAL AND COURTLY POEMS. That thousands had vntimely spent their Hues, If not preseru'd by lustre of his crowne : Which calm'd the stormes, and layd the billowes down : And dimm'd the glory of that Eoman wreath By souldiers gaiii'd for sailing men from death. This Denmarke felt, and Swethland, when their strife Ascended to such height, that losse of life Was counted nothing : for the dayly sight Of dying men made Death no more then night. Behold, two potent princes deepe engag'd In seu'rall int'rests, mutually enrag'd By former conflicts : yet they downe will lay Their swords, when his aduice directs the way. The Northeme climates from dissention barr'd, Receiue new ioyes by his discreete award. When Momus could among the godlike-kings, Infect with poyson those immortall springs Which flow with nectar; and such gall would cast, As spoyles the sweetnesse of ambrosiae's taste ; This mighty lord, as ruler of the quire, With peacefull counsels quencht the rising fire. The Austrian arch-duke, and Batauian State, By his endeuours, change their long-bred hate For twelue yeers truce : this rest to him they owe, EOTAL AND COURTLY POEMS. 125 As Belgian shepherds, and poore ploughmen know. The Muscouites opprest with neighbours, flie To safe protection of his watchful! eye. And Germany his ready succour tries, When sad contentions in the Empire rise. His mild instinct all Christians thus discerne, But Christ's malignant foes shall find him sterne. What care, what charge he suffers to preuent, Lest infidels their number should augment ; His ships restraine the pirates bloody workes , And Poland gaines his ayde against the Turkes; His pow'rfull edicts stretcht beyond the line, Among the Indians seu'rall bounds designe ; By which his subiects may exalt his throne, And strangers keepe themselues within their owne This He was made the sunne's ecliptick way, For here our Phoebus still vouchsafd to stay : And from this blessed place of his retreat, In diff'rent zones distinguisht cold and heate, Sent light or darknesse, and by his commands Appointed limits to the seas and lands ; Who would imagine, that a prince employ 'd In such affaires, could euer haue enioy'd Those houres, which drawne from pleasure, and from rest, To purchase precious knowledge, were addrest ? And yet in learning he was knowne t'exceed 126 ROYAL AND COURTLY POEMS. Most, whom our houses of the Muses breed. Ye English sisters, nurses of the Arts, Ynpartiall iudges of his better parts ; liaise vp your wings, and to the world declare His solid iudgement, his inuention rare, His ready elocution, which ye found In deepest matters, that your schooles propound. It is sufficient for my creeping verse, His care of English language to rehearse. He leades the lawlesse poets of our times, To smoother cadence, to exactor rimes : He knew it was the proper work of kings, To keepe proportion, eu'n in smallest things. He with no higher titles can be styl'd, When seruants name him lib'rall, subiects mild. Of Antonine's faire time the Romans tell, No bubbles of ambition then could swell To forraine warres ; nor ease bred ciuill strife, Nor any of the senate lost his life. Our king preserues for two and twenty yeeres, This realme from inward and from outward feares. All English peeres escape the deadly stroke, Though some with crimes his anger durst prouoke. He was seuere in wrongs, which others felt, But in his owne, his heart would quickly melt. For then like God, from Whom his glories flow He makes his mercy swift, his iustice slow. ROYAL AND COURTLY POEMS. 127 He neuer would our gen'rall ioy forget, When on his sacred brow the crowne was set ; And therefore striues to make his kingdome great, By fixing here his heires' perpetuall seate : Which eu'ry firme and loyall heart desires, May last as long as heau'n hath starry fires. Continued blisse from him this Land receiues, When leaning vs, to vs his sonne he leaues ; Our hope, our ioy, our treasure : Charles our king, Whose entrance in my next attempt I sing. A PANEGYRICK AT THE CORONATION OF OTJR SOUERAIGNE LORD, KING CHARLES. 1 JUROR A come : why should thine enuious stay Deferre the ioyes of this expected day ? Will not thy master let his horses runne, Because he feares to meete another sunne ? Or hath our Northerne starre so dimm'd thine eyes, Thou knowest not where at East or West to rise? Make haste, for if thou shalt denie thy light, 1 Succeeded his father, James, in 1625. G. 128 EOYAL AND COURTLY POEMS. His glitt'ring crowne will driue away the night. Debarre not curious Phoebus, who desires To guild all glorious obiects with his fires. And could his beames lay open people's harts, As well as he can view their outward parts j He heere should find a triumph, such as he Hath neuer seene, perhaps shall neuer see. Shine forth, great Charles, accept our loyall words, Throw from your pleasing eies those conqu'ring swords, That when vpon your name our voyces call, The birds may feele our thund'ring noise, and fall: Soft ayre rebounded in a circled ring, Shall to the gates of heau'n our wishes bring : For vowes, which with so strong affection flie From many lips, will doubtlesse pierce the skie : And God Who knowes the secrets of our minds, When in our brests He these two vertucs finds, Sincerity and concord, ioin'd in pray'r For him, whom nature made vn doubted heyre Of three faire kingdomes will His angels send With blessings from His throne, this pompe t' attend. Fairc citty, England's gemme, the queene of trade, By sad infection lately desart made : Cast off thy mourning robes, forget thy teares, EOYAL AND COURTLY POEMS. 129 Thy cleare and healthfull lupiter appeares : Pale Death, who had thy silent streets possest, And some foule dampe, or angry planet prest To work his rage, now from th' Almightie's will Receiues command to hold his iauelin still. But since my Muse pretends to tune a song Fit for this day, and fit t' inspire this throng; "Whence shall I kindle such immortall fires ? From ioyes or hopes, from prayses or desires ? To prayse him, would require an endlesse wheele ; Yet nothing told but what we see and feele. A thousand tongues for him all gifts intreate In which Felicity may claime her seate : Large honour, happy conquest, houndlesse wealth, Long life, sweete children, vnafflicted health : But chiefely, we esteeme that precious thing Of which already we behold the spring Directing "Wisdome ; and we now presage How high that vertue will ascend in age. In him, our certaine confidence vnites All former worthy princes' spreading lights ; And addes his glorious father to the summe : From ancient times no greater name can come. Our hopefull king thus to his subiects shines, And reades in faithfull hearts these zealous lines ; This is our Countrie's father, this is hee In whom we Hue, and could not Hue so free, i 130 ROYAL AND COTJBTLY POEMS. "Were we not vnder him : his watchfull care Preuents our dangers : how shall we declare Our thankfull minds, but by the humble gift Of firme obedience, which to him we lift ? As he is God's true image choicely wrought, And for our ioy to these dominions brought : So must we imitate celestiall bands, Which grudge not to performe diuine commands. His brest, transparent like a liquid flood, Discouers his aduice for publike good : But if we iudge it by deceiuing fame, Like Semele, we thinke loue's piercing flame "No more, then common fire in ashes nurst, Till formelesse fancies in their errors burst. Shall we discusse his counsels ? We are blest "Who know our blisse, and in his iudgement rest. OP THE PRINCE'S IOURNEY. 1 HE happy ship that carries from the Land Great Eritaine's ioy, before she knowes her losse, 1 The story of the (intended) Spanish < Marriage ' has only just been adequately told, in the matter-ful volumes of Mr. S. R. Gardiner thereon, with abundance of side- light on the \