MINOR POEMS OF MICHAEL DRAYTON CHOSEN AND EDITED BY CYRIL BRETT OXFORD AT THE CLARENDON PRESS 1907 Henry Frowde, M.A. Publisher to the University of Oxford London, Edinburgh, New York and Toronto CONTENTS PAGE CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE ...... iv INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . v SONNETS (15-94.). ....... i SONNETS (i?^) 28 SONNETS (i6"oi) ........ 4.2 SONNETS (1605-) ........ 47 SONNETS (1619) 51 ODES (1619) 5-6 ODES (1606) 85- ELEGIES (1627) 88 NIMPHIDIA (1627) 124. THE QUEST OF CYNTHIA 144 THE SHEPHEARDS SIRENA . . . . . . 151 THE MUSES ELIZIUM (1630) 161 SONGS FROM THE SHEPHERD'S GARLAND (i^ps) . . 2,31 SONGS FROM THE SHEPHERD'S GARLAND (1605-) . . 240 SONGS FROM THE SHEPHERD'S GARLAND (1606) . . 24.2 APPENDIX 24.8 NOTES 257 CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE OF DRAYTON'S LIFE AND WORKS 1^63 Dray ton born at Hartshill, Warwickshire. 1571? Drayton a page in the house of Sir Henry Goodere, ar Polesworth. c. 1/74. Anne Goodere born ? Feb. 1591 Drayton in London. Harmony of Cliurch. 1593 Idea, the Shepherd? s Garland. Legend of Peirs Gavtston. 1/94. Ideas Mirrour, Matilda. Lucy Harrington becomes Countess of Bedford. Sir Henry Goodere the elder dies. Endimion and Pho;l>e, dedicated to Lucy Bedford. Anne Goodere married to Sir Henry Rainsford. 1/96 Mortimeriados . Legends of Robert , Matilda, and Gaveston. 1597 England's Heroical Epistles. 1598 Drayton already at work on the Tolyoliilan. 1599 Epistles and Idea sonnets, new edition. (Date of Portrait of Drayton in National Portrait Gallery.) 1600 Sir John Oldcaitle. 1602, New edition of Epistles and Idea. 1603 Drayton made an Esquire of the Bath, to Sir Walter Aston. To the Maiestie of K^ing James. Barons' Wars. 1604. The Otfle. A Pean Triumphal!. Moyses in a Map of his Miracles. 160; First collected edition of Poems. Another edition of Idea and Epistles. \6o6 F femes Lyrick^and Pastorall. Odes. Eglogs. Ttie Man in th; Moone. 1607 Legend of Great Crormoill. 1608 Reprint of Collected Poems. 1609 Another edition of Cromwell. 1610 Reprint of Collected Poems. 1613 Reprint of Collected Poems. First Part of Polyolbion. 1618 Two Elegies in FitiGeoffrey's Satyrs and Epigrames. 1619 Collected Folio edition of Poems. ifizo Second edition of Elegies, and reprint of 1619 Poems. 1612. Poljolbion complete. 1617 Battle of ^gincourt, NymphidLi, &c. 1630 Muses Elizjum. Noah's Hand. Moses his Birth and Miracles. David, and Goliah. 1631 Second edition of 1617 folio. Drayton dies towards the end of the year. 1636 Posthumous poem appeared in jtnnaliti Dubrentia. 1637 Poems. INTRODUCTION MICHAEL DRAYTON was bom in 1 563,31 Hartshill,near Atherstone, in Warwickshire, where a cottage, said to have been his, is still shown. He early became a page to Sir Henry Goodere, at Poles- worth Hall : his own words give the best picture of his early years here. 1 His education would seem to have been good, but ordinary j and it is very doubtful if he ever went to a university. 2 Besides the authors mentioned in the Epistle to Henry Reynolds, he was certainly familiar with Ovid and Horace, and possibly with Catullus: while there seems no reason to doubt that he read Greek, though it is quite true that his references to Greek authors do not prove any first-hand acquaintance. He understood French, and read Rabelais and the French sonneteers, and he seems to have been acquainted with Italian. 3 His knowledge of English literature was wide, and his judgement good : but his chief bent lay towards the history, legendary and otherwise, of his native country, and his vast stores of learning on this subject bore fruit in the Pofyolbion. While still at Polesworth, Drayton fell in love with his patron's younger daughter, Anne ; * and, though she married, in 1*96, Sir Henry Rainsford of Clifford, Drayton continued his devotion to her for many years, and also became an intimate friend of her husband's, writing a sincere elegy on his death. 5 About February, 1 Cf. Elegy viij, 1o Henery Reynolds, Esquire, p. 1 08. 3 Sir Ascon Cokayne, in i6j8, says chat he wen: to Oxford, while Fleay asserts, without authority, that his university was probably Cambridge. * Cf. the motto of Ideas Mirrour, the allusions to ^riosto in the tfymphidia, p. 119; ar d above all, the Heroical Epistles; Dedic. of Ep. of D. of Suffolk^ to jjK tA.arga.ret: 'Sweet is the French Tongue, more sweet the Italian, but most sweet are they both, if spoken by your admired self.' Cf. Surrey to Ceraldine, 11. j sqq., with Drayton's note. 4 Cf. Sonnet xij (ed. 1601), p. 42, c 'Tis nine years now since first I lost my wit.' (This sonnet may, of course, occur in the supposed 1600 ed., which would fix an earlier date for Drayton's beginning of love.) 5 Elegy ix, p. 113. vi Introduction i 91, Drayton paid a visit to London, and published his first work, the Harmony of the Church, a series of paraphrases from the Old Testament, in fourteen-syllabled verse of no particular vigour or grace. This book was immediately suppressed by order of Arch- bishop Whitgift, possibly because it was supposed to savour of Puritanism. 1 The author, however, published another edition in 1610 ; indeed, he seems to have had a fondness for this style of work; for in 1604 he published a dull poem, Moyses in a Map of his Miracle r, re-issued in 1630 as Afoses his Birth and Miracles. Accompanying this piece, in 1630, were two other c Divine poems ' : Noah's Floud, and David and Goliath. Noah's Floud is, in part, one of Drayton's happiest attempts at the catalogue style of bestiary ; and Mr. Elton finds in it some foreshadowing of the manner of Paradise Lost. But, as a whole, Drayton's attempts in this direction deserve the oblivion into which they, in common with the similar productions of other authors, have fallen. In the dedication and preface to the Harmony of the Church are some of the few traces of Euphuism shown in Drayton's work; passages in the Her ok al Epistles also occur to the mind. 2 He was always averse to affectation, literary or otherwise, and in Elegy viij deliberately condemns Lyly's fantastic style. Probably before Drayton went up to London, Sir Henry Goodere saw that he would stand in need of a patron more powerful than the master of Polesworth, and introduced him to the Earl and Countess of Bedford. Those who believe 8 Drayton to have been a Pope in petty spite, identify the 'Idea' of his earlier poems with Lucy, Countess of Bedford ; though they are forced to acknowledge as self-evident that the c Idea ' of his later work is Anne, Lady Rainsford. They then proceed to say that Drayton, after consistently honouring the Countess in his verse for twelve years, abruptly 1 Cf. Morley's ed. of Barons' Wars, &c. (1887), p. 6. 2 Cf. E. H. Ep, 'Mat. to K. J.,' 100 sqq., &c. 3 Professor Courthope and others. There was some excuse for blunders before the publication of Professor Elton's book ; and they have been made easier by an unfortunate misprint. Professor Courthope twice misprints the first line of the Love-Parting Sonnet, as 'Since there's no help, come let us rise and part', and, so printed, the line supports better the theory that the poem refers to a patroness and not to a mistress. Cf. Courthope, Hist. Eng. Poetry, iii. pp. 40 and 4.3. Introduction vii transferred his allegiance, not forgetting to heap foul abuse on his former patroness, out of pique at some temporary withdrawal of favour. Not only is this directly contrary to all we know and can infer of Drayton's character, but Mr. Elton has decisively disproved it by a summary of bibliographical and other evidence. Into the question it is here unnecessary to enter, and it has been mentioned only because it alone, of the many Drayton-controversies, has cast any slur on the poet's reputation. In I? 93, Dray ton published idea, the Shepherds Garland, in nine Eclogues; in 1606 he added a tenth, the best of all, to the new edition, and rearranged the order, so that the new eclogue became the ninth. In these Pastorals, while following the Shepherds Calendar in many ways, he already displays something of the sturdy independence which characterized him through life. He abandons Spenser's quasi-rustic dialect, and, while keeping to most of the pastoral conventions, such as the singing-match and threnody, he contrives to introduce something of a more natural and homely strain. He keeps the political allusions, notably in the Eclogue containing the song in praise of Seta, who is, of course, Queen Elizabeth. But an over-bold remark in the last line of that song was struck out in 1606; and the new eclogue has no political reference. He is not ashamed to allude directly to Spenser ; and indeed his direct debts are limited to a few scattered phrases, as in the Ballad of Dowsabel. Almost to the end of his literary career, Drayton mentions Spenser with reverence and praise. 1 It is in the songs interspersed in the Eclogues that Drayton's best work at this time is to be found : already his metrical versatility is discernible ; for though he doubtless remembered the many varieties of metre employed by Spenser in the Calendar, his verses already bear a stamp of their own. The long but impetuous lines, such as ' Trim up her golden tresses with Apollo's sacred tree ', afford a striking contrast to the archaic romance-metre, derived from Sir Thopas and its fellows, which appears in Dotvsabel, and it again to the melancholy, murmuring cadences of the lament for Elphin. It 1 Cf. . and Plwebe, sub fin. ; Shef. Sir. 14.5-8 ; Ep. Hj. Reyn. 79 sqq. viii Introduction must, however, be confessed that certain of the songs in the 1593 edition were full of recondite conceits and laboured antitheses, and were rightly struck out, to be replaced by lovelier poems, in the edition of 1606. The song to Beta was printed in England.! Helicon^ 1600; here, for the first time, appeared the song of Dead Love, and for the only time, lowlands Madrigal. In these songs, Drayton offends least in grammar, always a weak point with him ; in the body of the Eclogues, in the earlier Sonnets, in the Odes, occur the most extraordinary and perplexing inversions. Quite the most striking feature of the Eclogues, especially in their later form, is their bold attempt at greater realism, at a breaking-away from the conventional images and scenery. Having paid his tribute to one poetic fashion, Drayton in 1^94 fell in with the prevailing craze for sonneteering, and published ideas Atirrour 3 a series of fifty-one 'amours' or sonnets, with two prefatory poems, one by Drayton and one by an unknown, signing himself Gorbo ilfidele. The title of these poems Drayton possibly borrowed from the French sonneteer, de Pontoux : in their style much recollection of Sidney, Constable, and Daniel is traceable. They are ostensibly addressed to his mistress, and some of them are genuine in feeling ; but many are merely imitative exercises in conceit ; some, apparently, trials in metre. These amours were again printed, with the title of 'sonnets', in //99, 1 1600, i6o2 3 1603, z6of 3 1608, 1610, 1613, /6/p, and 163 i, during the poet's lifetime. It is needless here to discuss whether Drayton were the 'rival poet' to Shakespeare, whether these sonnets were really addressed to a man, or merely to the ideal Platonic beauty; for those who are interested in these points, I subjoin references to the sonnets which touch upon them. 2 From the prentice-work evident in many of the ^4mours 3 it would seem that certain of them are among Drayton's earliest poems; but others show a craftsman not meanly advanced in his art. Nevertheless, with few exceptions, this first 'bundle of sonnets' consists rather of trials of skill, bubbles of the mind ; most of his sonnets which 1 Those reprints which were really new editions are in italics. 2 1594. ed., Pref. Son. and nos. iz, 18, 28; 1/99 cd., nos. 3, 31,46; 1602, ed., iz, 17, 31; and i6oj ed., 47. Introduction ix strike the reader as touched or penetrated with genuine passion belong to the editions from 1599 onwards; implying that his love for Anne Goodere, if at all represented in these poems, grew with his years, for the c love-parting ' is first found in the edition of 1619. But for us the question should not be, are these sonnets genuine representations of the personal feeling of the poet ? but rather, how far do they arouse or echo in us as individuals the universal passion? There are at least some of Drayton's sonnets which possess a direct., instant, and universal appeal, by reason of their simple force and straightfor- ward ring ; and not in virtue of any subtle charm of sound and rhythm, or overmastering splendour of diction or thought. Ornament vanishes, and soberness and simplicity increase, as we proceed in the editions of the sonnets. Drayton's chief attempt in the jewelled or ornamental style appeared in 1 59 J,withthetitleof EndimionandPhoebe^ndvrnSy'ma sense, an imitation of Marlowe's Hero and Leander. Hero and, Leander is, as Swinburne says, a shrine of Parian marble, illumined from within by a clear flame of passion ; while Endimion and Phoebe is rather a curiously wrought tapestry, such as that in Mortimer's Tower, woven in splendid and harmonious colours, wherein, however, the figures attain no clearness or subtlety of outline, and move in semi- conventional scenery. It is, none the less, graceful and impressive, and of a like musical fluency with other poems of its class, such as Venus and ^4donis^ or Salmacis and Hermaphroditus. Parts of it were re-set and spoilt in a 1606 publication of Drayton's, called The Atan in the Afoone. In 1593 and 1594 Drayton also published his earliest pieces on the mediaeval theme of the c Falls of the Illustrious ' j they were Peirs Gaveston and Matilda the faire and chaste daughter of the Lord Robert Firewater. Here Drayton followed in the track of Boccaccio, Lydgate, and the Alirrour for Magistrates^ walking in the way which Chaucer had derided in his Monies Tale : and with only too great fidelity does Drayton adapt himself to the dullnesses of his model : fine rhetoric is not altogether wanting, and there is, of course, the consciousness that these subjects deal with the history of his beloved country, but neither these, nor Robert, Dukg of Normandy (i?9<5), nor Great Cromwell } Earl of Essex (1607 and 1609), nor x Introduction the Miseries of Margaret (1617) can escape the charge of tediousness. 1 England's fferoical Epistles were first published in I 97, and other editions, of 1598, i?99j and 1602, contain new epistles. These are Drayton's first attempt to strike out a new and original vein of English poetry : they are a series of letters, modelled on Ovid's fferoidesj* addressed by various pairs of lovers, famous in English history, to each other, and arranged in chronological order, from Henry II and Rosamond to Lady Jane Grey and Lord Guilford Dudley. They are, in a sense, the most important of Drayton's writings, and they have certainly been the most popular, up to the early nineteenth century. In these poems Drayton foreshadowed, and probably inspired, the smooth style of Fairfax, Waller, and Dryden. The metre, the grammar, and the thought, are all perfectly easy to follow, even though he employs many of the Ovidian c turns ' and c clenches '. A certain attempt at realization of the different characters is observable, but the poems are fine rhetorical exercises rather than realizations of the dramatic and passionate possibilities of their themes. In 1*96, Drayton, as we have seen, published the Mortimeriadosj a kind of epic, with Mortimer as its hero, of the wars between King Edward II and the Barons. 3 It was written in the seven- line stanza of Chaucer's Troilus and Cressida and Spenser's Hymns. On its republication in 1603, with the title of the Barons Wars, the metre was changed to Ottawa rima, and Drayton showed, in an excellent preface, that he fully appreciated the principles and the subtleties of the metrical art. While possessing many fine passages, the Barons' 1 Meres thought otherwise. Cf. Pall&dis Tamla. (ijpS), 'As Accius, M. Atilius, and Milithus were called Trsgediographi, because they writ tragedies : so may wee truly terme Michael Drayton Tragaediographus for his passionate penning the downfals of valiant Robert of Normandy, chast Matilda, and great Gaueston.' Cf. Barnefield, Poems: in diners humors (ed. Arber, p. 119), 'And Drayton, whose wel-written Tragedies, | And Sweete Epistles, soare thy fame to skies. | Thy learned name is equall with the rest ; | Whose stately Numbers are so well add rest.' 8 Cf. Meres, Palladis Tamia (1598), ' Michael Drayton doth imitate Quid in his England's Heroical Epistles. ' 3 Cf. id., ibid., 'As Lucan hath mournefully depainted the ciuil wars of Pompey and Czsar : so hath Daniel the ciuill wars of Yorke and Lancaster, and Drayton the civill wars of Edward the second and the Barons.' Introduction XI Wars is somewhat dull, lacking much of the poetry of the older version; and does not escape from Drayton's own criticism of Daniel's Chronicle Poems : c too much historian in verse, . . . His rhymes were smooth, his metres well did close, But yet his manner better fitted prose'. 1 The description of Mortimer's Tower in the sixth book recalls the ornate style of Endimion and Phoebe, while the fifth book, describing the miseries of King Edward, is the most moving and dramatic. But there is a general lifelessness and lack of movement for which these purple passages barely atone. The cause of the production of so many chronicle poems about this time has been supposed 2 to be the desire of showing the horrors of civil war, at a time when the queen was growing old, and no successor had, as it seemed, been accepted. Also they were a kind of parallel to the Chronicle Play ; and Drayton, in any case even if we grant him to have been influenced by the example of Daniel, never needed much incentive to treat a national theme. About this time, we find Drayton writing for the stage. It seems unnecessary here to discuss whether the writing of plays is evidence of Drayton's poverty, or his versatility ; s but the fact remains that he had a hand in the production of about twenty. Of these, the only one which certainly survives is The first fart of the true and honorable historie, of the life of Sir John Oldcastle, the good Lord Cobham, &c. It is practically impossible to distinguish Drayton's share in this curious play, and it does not, therefore, materially assist the elucidation of the question whether he had any dramatic feeling or skill. It can be safely affirmed that the dramatic instinct was not upper- most in his mind ; he was a Seneca rather than a Euripides : but to deny him all dramatic idea, as does Dr. Whitaker, is too severe . There is decided, if slender, dramatic skill and feeling in certain of the Nymfhals. Drayton's persons are usually, it must be said, rather figures in a tableau, or series of tableaux j but in the second and seventh Nympbxls } and occasionally in the tenth, there is real 1 Cf. Elegy viij. 12.6-8. 2 Cf. Morley's ed., Banns' Wars, &c., 1887, pp. 6-7. 3 Cf. Elton, pp. 83-93, and Whitaker, M. Drayton as a Dramatist (Public. Mod. Lang. Assoc. of America, vol. xviij. 3). xii Introduction dramatic movement. Closely connected with this question is the consideration of humour, which is wrongly denied to Drayton. Humour is observable first, perhaps, in the Orvk (1604) ; then in the Ode to his Rival (1619)5 and later in the Nymphidia, Shef heard* Sirena, and Mutes Elysium. The second Nymphal shows us the quiet laughter, the humorous twinkle, with which Drayton writes at times. The subject is an dywv or contest between two shepherds for the affections of a nymph called Lirope : Lalus is a vale-bred swain, of refined and elegant manners, skilled., nevertheless, in all manly sports and exercises ; Cleon, no less a master in physical prowess, was nurtured by a hind in the mountains ; the contrast between their manners is admirably sustained : Cleon is rough, inclined to be rude and scoffing, totally without tact, even where his mistress is concerned. Lalus remembers her upbringing and her tastes ; he makes no unnecessary or ostentatious display of wealth j his gifts are simple and charming, while Cleon's are so grotesquely unsuited to a swain, that it is tempting to suppose that Drayton was quietly satirizing Marlowe's Passionate Shepherd. Lirope listens gravely to the swains in turn, and makes demure but provoking answers, raising each to the height of hope, and then casting them both down into the depths of despair ; finally she refuses both, yet without altogether killing hope. Her first answer is a good specimen of her banter and of Drayton's humour. 1 On the accession of James I, Drayton hastened to greet the King with a somewhat laboured song To the Maiestie of l\ing James j but this poem was apparently considered to be premature : he cried yi-vat Rex, without having said, Afortua est eheu Hegina, and accordingly he suffered the penalty of his c forward pen ', 2 and was severely neglected by King and Court. Throughout James's reign a darker and more satirical mood possesses Drayton, intruding at times even into his strenuous recreation-ground, the Polyolbion, and manifesting itself more directly in his satires, the Orvle (1604), the Moon-Calfe (itfzy), the Man in the Moone (1606), and his verse-letters and elegies; while his disappointment with the times, the country, and the King, 1 Cf. Nl. ij. 117 sqq., p. 172,. 2 Cf. Elegy ij. ao. Introduction xni flashes out occasionally even in the Odes, and is heard in his last publication, the Muses Eli^um (1630). To counterbalance the disappointment in his hopes from the King, Drayton found a new and life-long friend in Walter Aston, of Tixall, in Staffordshire ; this gentleman was created Knight of the Bath by James, and made Drayton one of his esquires. By Aston's continual bounty ' the poet was able to devote himself almost entirely to more congenial literary work} for, while Meres speaks of the Polyolbion in IJ98, 1 and we may easily see that Drayton had the idea of that work at least as early as i?94, 2 yet he cannot have been able to give much time to it till now. Nevertheless, the ' declining and corrupt times ' worked on Drayton's mind and grieved and darkened his soul, for we must remember that he was perfectly prosperous then and was not therefore incited to satire by bodily want or distress. In 1604 he published the Oip/e, a mild satire, under the form of a moral fable of government, reminding the reader a little of the Parlement of Potties. The Man in the Moone (1606) is partly a recension of Endimion and Phoebe^ but is a heterogeneous mass of weakly satire, of no particular merit. The Moon-Calfe (1627) is Drayton's most savage and misanthropic excursion into the region of Satire j in which, though occasionally nobly ironic, he is more usually coarse and blustering, in the style of Marston. 3 In i5oj Dray ton brought out his first c collected poems', from which the Eclogues and the Orvle are omitted j and in 1606 he published his Poemes Lyrick^ and Pastoral^ Odes, Eglogs, The Man in the Moone. Of these the Eglogs are a recension of the Shepherd's Garland of 1593 : we have already spoken of The Man in the Moone. The Odes are by far the most important and striking feature of the book. In the preface, Drayton professes to be following Pindar, Anacreon, and Horace, though, as he modestly implies, at a great distance. Under the title of Odes he 1 Cf. Palladis Tamia: 'Michael Drayton is now in penning, in English verse, a Poem called Poly-olbion, Geographicall & Hydrographicall of all the forests, woods, mountaines, fountaines, riuers, lakes, flouds, bathes, & springs that be in England.' 4 Cf. Amours (ij94), xx and xxiv. 3 Cf. Sonnet vj (1619 edition); which is a dignified summary of much that he says more coarsely in the Uioane-Calfe. Introduction includes a variety of subjects, and a variety of metres ; ranging from an Ode to bis ffarf or to his Qritickf, to a Ballad of -dgincourt, or a poem on the Rose compared with his Mistress. In the edition of 1619 appeared several more Odes, including some of the best ; while many of the others underwent careful revision, notably the Ballad. c Sing wee the Rose,' perhaps because of its unintelligibility, and the Ode to his friend John Savage, perhaps because too closely imitated from Horace, were omitted. Drayton was not the first to use the term Ode for a lyrical poem, in English : Soothernin 1 584, and Daniel in 159:1 had preceded him; but he was the first to give the name popularity in England, and to lift the kind as Ronsard had lifted it in France ; and till the time of Cowper no other English poet showed mastery of the short, staccato measure of the Anacreontic as distinct from the Pindaric Ode. In the Odes Drayton shows to the fullest extent his metrical versatility : he touches the Skeltonic metre, the long ten-syllabled line of the Sacrifice to Apollo ; and ascends from the smooth and melodious rhythms of the New Tear through the inspiring harp-tones of the Virginian Voyage to the clangour and swing of the Ballad of ^gincoun. His grammar is possibly more distorted here than anywhere, but, as Mr. Elton says, ' these are the obstacles of any poet who uses measures of four or six syllables.' His tone throughout is rather that of the harp, as played, perhaps, in Polesworth Hall, than that of any other instrument ; but in 1619 Drayton has taken to him the lute of Carew and his compeers. In 1619 the style is lighter, the fancy gayer, more exquisite, more recondite. Most of his few metaphysical conceits are to be found in these later Odes, as in the ffeartj the Valentine, and the Crier. In the comparison of the two editions the nobler, if more strained, tone of the earlier is obvious ; it is still Elizabethan, in its nobility of ideal and purpose, in its enthusiasm, in its belief and confidence in England and her men ; and this even though we catch a glimpse of the Jacobean woe in the Ode to John Savage: the 1619 Odes are of a different world ; their spirit is lighter, more insouciant in appearance, though perhaps studiedly so; the rhythms are more fantastic, with less of strength and firmness, though with more of grace and superficial beauty ; even the very textual alterations, while Introduction XV usually increasing the grace and the music of the lines, remind the reader that something of the old spontaneity and freshness is gone. In 1607 and 1609, Drayton published two editions of the last and weakest of his mediaeval poems the Legend of Great Cromwell ; and for the next few years he produced nothing new, only attending to the publication of certain reprints and new editions. During this time, however, he was working steadily at the Polyolbion 3 helped by the patronage of Aston and of Prince Henry. In 1612-13, Drayton burst upon an indifferent world with the first part of the great poem, containing eighteen songs ; the title-page will give the best idea of the contents and plan of the book : c Poly-Olbion or a Choro- graphicall Description of the Tracts, Riuers, Mountaines, Forests, and other Parts of this renowned Isle of Great Britaine, With intermixture of the most Remarquable Stories^ Antiquities, Wonders, Rarityes, Pleasures, and Commodities of the same : Digested in a Poem by Michael Drayton, Esq. With a Table added, for direction to those occurrences of Story and Antiquities, whereunto the Course of the Volume easily leades not.' &c. On this work Drayton had been engaged for nearly the whole of his poetical career. The learning and research displayed in the poem are extraordinary, almost equalling the erudition of Selden in his Annotations to each Song. The first part was, for various reasons, a drug in the market, and Drayton found great difficulty in securing a publisher for the second part. But during the years from 1613 to itfza, he became acquainted with Drummond of Hawthornden through a common friend. Sir William Alexander of Menstry, afterwards Earl of Stirling. In 1618, Drayton starts a correspondence j and towards the end of the year mentions that he is corresponding also with Andro Hart, bookseller, of Edinburgh. The subject of his letter was probably the publication of the Second Part ; which Drayton alludes to in a letter of 1619 thus: C I have done twelve books more, that is from the eighteenth book, which was Kent, if you note it ; all the East part and North to the river Tweed ; but it lies by me $ for the booksellers and I are in terms j they are a company of base knaves, whom I both scorn and kick at.' Finally, in idai, Drayton got Marriott, Grismand, and Dewe, of London, to Introduction take the work, and it was published with a dedication to Prince Charles, who, after his brother's death, had given Drayton patronage. Drayton's preface to the Second Part is well worth quoting : c To any that will read it. When I first undertook this Poem, or, as some veiy skilful in this kind have pleased to term it, this Herculean labour, I was by some virtuous friends persuaded, that I should receive much comfort and encouragement therein ; and for these reasons j First, that it was a new, clear, way, never before gone by any j then, that it contained all the Delicacies, Delights, and Rarities of this renowned Isle, interwoven with the Histories of the Britons, Saxons, Normans, and the later English : And further that there is scarcely any of the Nobility or Gentry of this land, but that he is in some way or other by his Blood interested therein. But it hath fallen out otherwise ; for instead of that comfort, which my noble friends (from the freedom of their spirits) proposed as my due, I have met with barbarous ignorance, and base detraction ; such a cloud hath the Devil drawn over the world's judgment, whose opinion is in few years fallen so far below all ballatry, that the lethargy is incurable : nay, some of the Stationers, that had the selling of the First Part of this Poem, because it went not so fast away in the sale, as some of their beastly and abominable trash, (a shame both to our language and nation) have either despitefully left out, or at least carelessly neglected the Epistles to the Readers, and so have cozened the buyers with unperfected books ; which these that have undertaken the Second Part, have been forced to amend in the First, for the small number that are yet remaining in their hands. And some of our outlandish, unnatural, English, (I know not how otherwise to express them) stick not to say that there is nothing in this Island worth studying for, and take a great pride to be ignorant in any thing thereof} for these, since they delight in their folly, I wish it may be hereditary from them to their posterity, that their children may be begg'd for fools to the fifth generation, until it may be beyond the memory of man to know that there was ever other of their families : neither can this deter me from going on with Scotland, if means and time do not hinder me, to perform as much as I have promised in my First Song: Introduction Till through the sleepy main, to Thufy I have gone, And seen the Frozen Isles, the cold Deucalidon, Amongst whose iron Rocks, grim Saturn yet remains Bound in those gloomy caves with adamantine chains. And as for those cattle whereof I spake before, Odi frofanum vulgus, et arceo 3 of which I account them, be they never so great, and so I leave them. To my friends, and the lovers of my labours, I wish all happiness. Michael Draytw.' The Polyolblon as a whole is easy and pleasant to read } and though in some parts it savours too much of a mere catalogue, yet it has many things truly poetical. The best books are perhaps the xiij, xiv, and xv, where he is on his own ground, and there- fore naturally at his best. It is interesting to notice how much attention and space he devotes to Wales. He describes not only the c wonders ' but also the fauna and flora of each district j and of the two it would seem that the flowers interested him more. Though he was a keen observer of country sights and sounds (a fact sufficiently attested by the Nymphidia. and the Nymphals^ it is evident that his interest in most things except flowers was rather momentary or conventional than continuous and heart-felt j but of the flowers he loves to talk, whether he weaves us a garland for the Thame's wedding, or gives us the contents of a maund of simples ; and his love, if somewhat homely and unimaginative, is apparent enough. But the main inspiration, as it is the main theme, of the Polyolbion is the glory and might and wealth, past, present, and future, of England, her possessions and her folk. Through all this glory, however, we catch the tone of Elizabethan sorrow over the ( Ruines of Time ' j grief that all these mighty men and their works will perish and be forgotten, unless the poet makes them live for ever on the lips of men. Drayton's own voluminousness has defeated his purpose, and sunk his poem by its own bulk. Though it is difficult to go so far as Mr. Bullen, and say that the only thing better than a stroll in the Polyolbion is one in a Sussex lane, it is still harder to agree with Canon Beeching, that e there are few beauties on the road ', the beauties are many, though of a quietly rural type, and the road, if long and winding, is of good surface, while its cranks xviii Introduction constitute much of its charm. It is doubtless, from the outside, an appalling poem in these days of epitomes and monographs, but it certainly deserves to be rescued from oblivion and read. In 1618 Dray ton contributed two Elegies to Henry FitzGeoffrey's Satyrs and Efigrames. These were on the Lady Penelope Clifton, and on { the death of the three sonnes of the Lord Sheffield, drowned neere where Trent falleth into Humber'. Neither is remarkable save for far-fetched conceits j they were reprinted in 1620, and again, with many others, in the volume of 1627. In 1619 Drayton issued a folio collected edition of his works, and reprinted it in 1620. In 1627 followed a folio of wholly fresh matter, including the Ba.tta.ik of ^Igincourt ; the Miseries of Queene Margarite, NtmfbidiO) Quest of Cinthia } Shefheards Sirena 3 Moone-Calfe, and Elegies vfon sundry occasions. The Battaile of ^Igincoun is a somewhat otiose expansion, with purple patches, of the Ballad j it is, nevertheless, Dray ton's best lengthy piece on a historical theme. Of the Miseries of Queene Margarite and of the Moone-Calfe we have already spoken. The most notable piece in the book is the Nimphidia. This poem of the Court of Fairy has invention, grace, and humour', as Canon Beeching has said. It would be interesting to know exactly when it was composed and committed to paper, for it is thought that the three fairy poems in Herrick's Hesperides were written about 1626. In any case, Dray ton's poem touches very little, and chiefly in the beginning, on the subject of any one of Herrick's three pieces. The style, execution, and impression left on the reader are quite different 5 even as they are totally unlike those of the Midsummer Night's Dream. Herrick's pieces are extraordinary combinations of the idea of c King of Shadows ', with a reality fantastically sober : the poems are steeped in moonlight. In Drayton all is clear day, or the most unromantic of nights ; though everything is charming, there is no attempt at idealization, little of the higher faculty of imagination ; but great realism, and much play of fancy. Herrick's verses were written by Cobweb and Moth together, Drayton's by Puck. Granting, however, the initial deficiency in subtlety of charm, the whole poem is inimit- ably graceful and piquant. The gay humour, the demure horror of the witchcraft, the terrible seriousness of the battle, wonderfully Introduction realize the mock-heroic gigantesque j and while there is not the minute accuracy of Gulliver in Lillipur, Drayton did not write for a sceptical or too-prying audience j quite half his readers believed more or less in fairies. In the metre of the poem Drayton again echoes that of the older romances, as he did in Dowsabtl. In the Quest of Cinthia, while ostensibly we come to the real world of mortals, we are really in a non-existent land of pastoral con- vention, in the most pseudo-Arcadian atmosphere in which Drayton ever worked. The metre and the language are, however, charm- ingly managed. The Shepheards Sirena. is a poem, apparently, c where more is meant than meets the ear,' as so often in pastoral poetry 1 j it is difficult to see exactly what is meant j but the Jacobean strain of doubt and fear is there, and the poem would seem to have been written some time earlier than 1627. The Elegies comprise a great variety of styles and themes j some are really threnodies, some verse-letters, some laments over the evil times, and one a summary of Drayton's literary opinions. He employs the couplet in his Elegies with a masterly hand, often with a deliberately rugged effect, as in his broader Marstonic satire addressed to William Browne j while the line of greater smoothness but equal strength is to be seen in the letters to Sandys and Jeffreys. He is fantastic and conceited in most of the threnodies ; but, as is natural, that on his old friend, Sir Henry Rainsford, is least artificial and fullest of true feeling. The epistle to Henery Reynolds. Of Poets and Poesie shows Drayton as a sane and sagacious critic, ready to see the good, but keen to discern the weakness also ; perhaps the clearest evidence of his critical skill is the way in which nearly all of his judgements on his contemporaries coincide with the received modern opinions. In his later years Drayton enjoyed the patronage of the third Earl and Countess of Dorset; and in 1630 he published his last volume, the Muses Eti^um, of which he dedicated the pastoral part to the Earl, and the three divine poems at the end to the Countess. The Muse i Eliiium proper consists of Ten Pastorals or Nymphals, prefaced by a Description of Eli^um. The three divine poems 1 Cf. Morley's ed. Barons' Wars, &c., p. 8. bz XX Introduction have been mentioned before, and were Noah's Floudj Moses his Birth and Miracles^ and David and Goliah. The Nymphals are the crown and summary of much of the best in Drayton's work. Here he departed from the conventional type of pastoral, even more than in the Shepherd's Garland; but to say that he sang of English rustic life would hardly be true : the sixth Nymphal, allowing for a few pardon- able exaggerations by the competitors, is almost all English, if we except the names } so is the tenth with the same exception ; the first and fourth might take place anywhere, but are not likely in any country j the second is more conventional ; the fifth is almost, but not quite, English ; the third, seventh, and ninth are avowedly class- ical in theme ; while the eighth is a more delicate and subtle fairy poem than the Nymphidia. The fourth and tenth Nymphals are also touched with the sadder, almost satiric vein j the former inveighing against the English imitation of foreigners and love of extravagance in dress ; while the tenth complains of the improvident and wasteful felling of trees in the English forests. This last Nymphal, though designedly an epilogue, is probably rather a warning than a despair- ing lament, even though \ve conceive the old satyr to be Drayton himself. As a whole the Nymphals show Drayton at his happiest and lightest in style and metre ; at his moments of greatest serenity and even gaiety ; an atmosphere of sunshine seems to envelope them all, though the sun sink behind a cloud in the last. His music now is that of a rippling stream, whereas in his earlier days he spoke weightier and more sonorous words, with a mouth of gold. 1 To estimate the poetical faculty of Drayton is a somewhat perplexing task j for, while rarely subtle, or rising to empyrean heights, he wrote in such varied styles, on such various themes, that the task, at first, seems that of criticizing many poets, not one. But through all his work runs the same eminently English spirit, the 1 Charles FitiGeoffrey, Drake ( I J9^), 'golden- mouthed Drayton musical.' Guilpin, Skitlftlxia (15-98), 'Dray ton's condemned of some for imitation, But others say, 'tis the best poet's fashion . . . Drayton 's justly surnam'd golden- mouth'd.' Meres, Palladis Tamia (15-98), 'In Charles Fitz-Jefferies Drake Drayton is termed "golden-mouth'd " for the purity and pretiousnesse of his stile and phrase.' Introduction same honesty and clearness of idea, the same stolidity of purpose, and not infrequently of execution also j the same enthusiasm characterizes all his earlier, and much of his later work ; the enthusiasm especially characteristic of Elizabethan England, and shown by Drayton in his passion for England and the English, in his triumphant joy in their splendid past, and his certainty of their future glory. As a poet, he lacked imagination and fine fury j he supplied their place by the airiest and clearest of fancies, by the strenuous labour of a great brain illumined by the steady flame of love for his country and for his lady. Mr. Courthope has said that he lacked loftiness and resolution of artistic purpose ; without these, we ask, how could a man, not lavishly dowered with poetry in his soul, have achieved so much of it ? It was his very fixity and loftiness of purpose, his English stubbornness and doggedness of resolution that enabled him to surmount so many obstacles of style and metre, of subject and thought. His two purposes, of glorifying his mistress and his friends, and of sounding England's glories past and future, while insisting on the dangers of a present decadence, never flagged or failed. All his poetry up to 1617 has this object directly or secondarily j and much after this date. Of the more abstract and universal aspects of his art he had not much conception ; but he caught eagerly at the fashionable belief in the eternizing power of poetry ; and had it not been that, where his patriotism was uppermost, he was deficient in humour and sense of proportion, he would have succeeded better: as it is, his more directly patriotic pieces are usually the dullest or longest of his works. He requires, like all other poets, the impulse of an absolutely personal and individual feeling, a moment of more intimate sympathy, to rouse him to his heights of song. Thus the Ballad of ^tgincoun is on the very theme of all patriotic themes that most attracted him ; Virginian and other Voyages lay very close to his heart; and in certain sonnets to his lady lies his only imperishable work. Of sheer melody and power of song he had little, apart from his themes : he could not have sat down and written a few lark's or nightingale's notes about nothing as some of his contemporaries were able to do: he required the stimulus of a subject, and if he were really moved thereby Introduction he beat the music out. Only in one or two of the later Odes, and in the volumes of 1627 and 1630, does his music ever seem to flow from him naturally. Akin to this quality of broad and extensive workmanship, to this faculty of taking a subject and then writing, with all thought concentrated on it, rather than on the method of writing about it, is his strange lack of what are usually called c quotations '. For this is not only due to the fact that he is little known j there are, besides, so few detached remarks or aphorisms that are separately quotable } so few examples of that curiosa felicitas of diction : lines like these, Thy Bowe, halfe broke, is peec'd with old desire ; Her Bowe is beauty with ten thousand strings. . . . are rare enough. Drayton, in fact, comes as near controverting the statement Poeta natcitur 3 non fit, as any one in English literature : by diligent toil and earnest desire he won a place for himself in the second rank of English poets : through love he once set foot in the circle of the mightiest. Sincere he was always, simple often, sensuous rarely. His great industry, his careful study, and his great receptivity are shown in the unusual spectacle of a man who has sung well in the* language of his youth, suddenly learning, in his age, the tongue spoken by the younger generation, and reproducing it with individu- ality and sureness of touch. It is in rhetoric, splendid or rugged, in argument, in plain statement or description, in the outline sketch of a picture, that Drayton excels ; magic of atmosphere and colouring are rarely present. Stolidity is, perhaps, his besetting sin j yet it is the sign of a slow, not a dull, intellect ; an intellect, like his heart, which never let slip what it had once taken to itself. As a man Drayton would seem to have been an excellent type of the sturdy, clear-headed, but yet romantic and enthusiastic English- man j gifted with much natural ability, sedulously increased by study; quietly humorous, self- restrained ; and if temporarily soured by disappointment and the disjointed times, yet emerging at last into a greater serenity, a more unadulterated gaiety than had ever before characterized him. It is possible, but from his clear and sane balance of mind improbable, that many of his light later poems are Introduction due to deliberate self-blinding and self-deception, a walking in enchanted lands of the mind. Of Drayton's three known portraits the earliest shows him at the age of thirty-six, and is now in the National Portrait Gallery. A look of quiet, speculative melancholy seems to pervade it ; there is, as yet, no inoroseness, no evidence of severe conflict with the world, no shadow of stress or of doubt. The second and best-known portrait shows us Drayton at the age of fifty, and was engraved by Hole, as a frontispiece to the poems of 1619. Here a notable change has come over the face ; the mouth is hardened, and depressed at the corners through disappointment and disillusionment ; the eyes are full of a pathos increased by the puzzled and perturbed uplift of the brows. Yet a stubbornness and tenacity of purpose invests the features and reminds us that Drayton is of the old and sound Elizabethan stock, c on evil days though fallen.' Let it be remembered, that he was in 1613, when the portrait was taken, in more or less prosperous circum- stances $ it was the sad degeneracy, the meanness and feebleness of the generation around him, that chiefly depressed and embittered him. The final portrait, now in the Dulwich Gallery, represents the poet as a man of sixty-five j and is quite in keeping with the sunnier and calmer tone of his later poetry. It is the face of one who has not emerged unscathed from the world's conflict, but has attained to a certain calm, a measure of tranquillity, a portion of content, who has learnt the lesson that there is a soul of goodness in things evil. The Hole portrait shows him with long hair, small c goatee * beard, and aquiline nose drawn up at the nostrils : while the National portrait shows a type of nose and beard intermediate between the Hole and the Dulwich pictures : the general contour of the face, though the forehead is broad enough, is long and oval. Drayton seems to have been tall and thin, and to have been very susceptible of cold, and therefore to have hated Winter and the North. 1 He is said to have shared in the supper which caused Shakespeare's death ; but his own verses 2 breathe the spirit of Milton's sonnet to Cyriack Skinner, rather than that of a devotee of Bacchus. 1 Cf. E. H. ., pp. 90, 99 (ed. 1737) ; Elegy i ; and Ode written in th: P**^ 2 Elegy viij, ad inic. Introduction He died in 1631, possibly on December 13, and was buried under the North wall of Westminster Abbey. Meres's 1 opinion of his character during his early life is as follows : c As Aulus Persius Flaccus is reported among al writers to be of an honest life and vpright conuersation : so Michael Drayton, quern totics honoris et amoris causa, nominoy among schollers, souldiours, Poets, and all sorts of people is helde for a man of uertuous disposition, honest conversation, and well gouerned cariage j which is almost miraculous among good wits in these declining and corrupt times, when there is nothing but rogery in villanous man, and when cheating and craftines is counted the cleanest wit, and soundest wisedome.' 2 Fuller also, in a similar strain, says, c He was a pious poet, his conscience having the command of his fancy, very temperate in his life, slow of speech, and inoffensive in company.' In conclusion I have to thank Mr. H. M. Sanders, of Pembroke College, Oxford, for help and advice, and Professor Raleigh and Mr. R. W. Chapman for help and criticism while the volume was in the press. Above all, I am at every turn indebted to Professor Elton's invaluable Michael Drayton* without which the work of any student of Drayton would be rendered, if not impossible, at least infinitely harder. CYRIL BRETT. ALTON, STAFFORDSHIRE. 1 Palladts Tamia (1/98). 3 Cf. Returne from Parnassus, i. 2. (1600), ed. Arb. p. 1 1. 3 JAichael Drayton. ui Critical Study, Oliver Elton, M.A. London: A. Constable & Co., SONNETS [from the Edition of To the deere Chyld of the Muses, and his euer kind Mecaenas, Ma. Anthony Cooke, Esquire VOVCHSAFE to grace these rude vnpolish'd rymes, Which long (dear friend) haue slept in sable night, And, come abroad now in these glorious tymes, Can hardly brook the purenes of the light. But still you see their desteny is such, That in the world theyr fortune they must try, Perhaps they better shall abide the tuch, Wearing your name, theyr gracious liuery. Yet these mine owne : I wrong not other men, Nor trafique further then thys happy Clyme, Nor filch from Fortes, nor from Petrarchs pen, A fault too common in this latter time. Diuine Syr Phillip, I auouch thy writ, I am no Pickpurse of anothers wit. Yours deuoted, M. DRAYTON. Sonnets 1594 Amour i READE heere (sweet Mayd) the story of my wo, The drery abstracts of my endles cares, With my Hues sorow enterlyned so ; Smok'd with my sighes, and blotted with my teares : The sad memorials of my miseries, Pend in the griefe of myne afflicted ghost ; My liues complaint in doleful Elegies, With so pure loue as tyme could neuer boast. Receaue the incense which I offer heere, By my strong fayth ascending to thy fame, My zeale, my hope, my vowes, my praise, my prayer, My soules oblation to thy sacred name : Which name my Muse to highest heauen shal raise By chast desire, true loue, and vertues praise. Amour 2 MY fayre, if thou wilt register my loue, More then worlds volumes shall thereof arise j Preserue my teares, and thou thy selfe shalt proue A second flood downe rayning from mine eyes. Note but my sighes, and thine eyes shal behold The Sun-beames smothered with immortall smoke ; And if by thee, my prayers may be enrold, They heauen and earth to pitty shall prouoke. Looke thou into my breast, and thou shalt see Chaste holy vowes for my soules sacrifice : That soule (sweet Maide) which so hath honoured thee, Erecting Trophies to thy sacred eyes $ Those eyes to my heart shining euer bright, When darknes hath obscur'd each other light. Ideas Mirrour Amour 3 MY thoughts bred vp with Eagle-birds of loue, And, for their vertues I desiered to know, Vpon the nest I set them forth, to proue If they were of the Eagles kinde or no : But they no sooner saw my Sunne appeare, But on her rayes with gazing eyes they stood ; Which proou'd my birds delighted in the ayre, And that they came of this rare kinglie brood. But now their plumes, full sumd with sweet desire, To shew their kinde began to clime the skies : Doe what I could my Eaglets would aspire, Straight mounting vp to thy celestiall eyes. And thus (my faire) my thoughts away be flowne, And from my breast into thine eyes be gone. Amour 4 MY faire, had I not erst adorned my Lute With those sweet strings stolne from thy golden hayre, Vnto the world had all my ioyes been mute, Nor had I learn'd to descant on my faire. Had not mine eye scene thy Celestiall eye, Nor my hart knowne the power of thy name, My soule had ne'er felt thy Diuinitie, Nor my Muse been the trumpet of thy fame. But thy diuine perfections, by their skill, This miracle on my poore Muse haue tried, And, by inspiring, glorifide my quill, And in my verse thy selfe art deified : Thus from thy selfe the cause is thus deriued, That by thy fame all fame shall be suruiued. B ^ Sonnets 2594 Amour 5- SINCE holy Vestall lawes haue been neglected, The Gods pure fire hath been extinguisht quite $ No Virgin once attending on that light, Nor yet those heauenly secrets once respected ; Till thou alone, to pay the heauens their dutie Within the Temple of thy sacred name, With thine eyes kindling that Celestial! flame, By those reflecting Sun-beames of thy beautie. Here Chastity that Vestall most diuine, Attends that Lampe with eye which neuer sleepeth ; The volumes of Religions lawes shee keepeth, Making thy breast that sacred reliqucs shryne, Where blessed Angels, singing day and night, Praise him which made that fire, which lends that light. Amour 6 IN one whole world is but one Phoenix found, A Phoenix thou, this Phoenix then alone : By thy rare plume thy kind is easly knowne, With heauenly colours dide, with natures wonder cround. Heape thine own vertties, seasoned by their sunne, On heauenly top of thy diuine desire j Then with thy beautie set the same on fire, So by thy death thy life shall be begunne. Thy selfe, thus burned in this sacred flame, With thine owne sweetnes al the heauens perfuming, And stil increasing as thou art consuming, Shalt spring againe from th j ashes of thy fame ; And mounting vp shalt to the heauens ascend : So maist thou Hue, past world, past fame, past end. Ideas Mirrour Amour 7 STAY, stay, sweet Time ; behold, or ere thou passe From world to world, thou long hast sought to see, That wonder now wherein all wonders be, Where heauen beholds her in a mortall glasse. Nay, looke thee, Time, in this Celesteall glasse, And thy youth past in this faire mirror see : Behold worlds Beautie in her infancie, What shee was then, and thou, or ere shee was. Now passe on, Time : to after-worlds tell this, Tell truelie, Time, what in thy time hath beene, That they may tel more worlds what Time hath seene, And heauen may ioy to think on past worlds blisse. Heere make a Period, Time, and saie for mee, She was the like that neuer was, nor neuer more shalbe. Amour 8 YNTO the World, to Learning, and to Heauen, Three nines there are, to euerie one a nine One number of the earth, the other both diuine, One wonder woman now makes three od numbers euen. Nine orders, first, of Angels be in heauen ; Nine Muses doe with learning still frequent : These with the Gods are euer resident. Nine worthy men vnto the world were giuen. My Worthie one to these nine Worthies addeth, And my faire Muse one Muse vnto the nine And my good Angell, in my soule diuine, With one more order these nine orders gladdeth. My Muse, my Worthy, and my Angell, then, Makes euery one of these three nines a ten. Sonnets 1594 Amour 9 BEAVTY sometime, in all her glory crowned, Passing by that cleere fountain of thine eye, Her sun-shine face there chaunsing to espy, Forgot herselfe, and thought she had been drowned. And thus, whilst Beautie on her beauty gazed, Who then, yet liuing, deemd she had been dying, And yet in death some hope of life espying, At her owne rare perfections so amazed ; Twixt ioy and griefe, yet with a smyling frowning, The glorious sun-beames of her eyes bright shining, And shee, in her owne destiny diuining, Threw in herselfe, to saue herselfe by drowning ; The Well of Nectar, pau'd with pearle and gold, Where shee remaines for all eyes to behold. Amour 10 OFT taking pen in hand, with words to cast my woes, Beginning to account the sum of all my cares, I well perceiue my griefe innumerable growes, And still in reckonings rise more millions of dispayres. And thus, deuiding of my fatail howres, The payments of my loue I read, and reading crosse, And in substracting set my sweets vnto my sowres ; Th' average of my ioyes directs me to my losse. And thus mine eyes, a debtor to thine eye, Who by extortion gaineth all theyr lookes, My hart hath payd such grieuous vsury, That all her wealth lyes in thy Beauties bookes ; And all is thine which hath been due to mee, And I a Banckrupt, quite vndone by thee. Ideas Mirrour Amour n THINE eyes taught mee the Alphabet of loue, To con my Cros-rowe ere I learn'd to spell $ For I was apt, a scholler like to proue, Gaue mee sweet lookes when as I learned well. Vowes were my vowels, when I then begun At my first Lesson in thy sacred name : My consonants the next when I had done, Words consonant, and sounding to thy fame. My liquids then were liquid christall tea res, My cares my mutes, so mute to craue reliefe ; My dolefull Dypthongs were my Hues dispaires, Redoubling sighes the accents of my griefe : My loues Schoole-mistris now hath taught me so, That I can read a story of my woe. Amour 12 SOME Atheist or vile Infidell in loue, When I doe speake of thy diuinitie, May blaspheme thus, and say I flatter thee, And onely write my skill in verse to proue. See myracles, ye vnbeleeuing ! see A dumbe-born Muse made to expresse the mind, A cripple hand to write, yet lame by kind, One by thy name, the other touching thee. Blind were mine eyes, till they were scene of thine, And mine eares deafe by thy fame healed be ; My vices cur'd by vertues sprung from thee, My hopes reuiu'd, which long in graue had lyne : All vncleane thoughts, foule spirits, cast out in mee By thy great power, and by strong fayth in thee. 8 Sonnets 1594 Amour 13 Ankor y on whose siluer-sanded shore soule-shrinde Saint, my faire Idea, lyes; O blessed Brooke ! whose milk-white Swans adore The christall streame refined by her eyes : Where sweet Myrh-breathing Zephyre in the spring Gently distils his Nectar- dropping showers ; Where Nightingales in Arden sit and sing Amongst those dainty dew-empearled flowers. Say thus, fayre Brooke, when thou shalt see thy Queene Loe ! heere thy Shcpheard spent his wandring yeeres, And in these shades (deer Nimphe) he oft hath been, And heere to thee he sacrifiz'd his teares. Fayre Arden^ thou my Tempe art alone, And thou, sweet Ankor^ art my Helicon. Amour 14 T OOKING into the glasse of my youths miseries, I ;I see the vgly face of my deformed cares, With withered browes, all wrinckled with dispaires, That for my mis-spent youth the tears fel from my eyes. Then, in these teares, the mirror of these eyes, Thy fayrest youth and Beautie doe I see Imprinted in my teares by looking still on thee : Thus midst a thousand woes ten thousand ioyes arise. Yet in those ioyes, the shadowes of my good, In this fayre limned ground as white as snow, Paynted the blackest Image of my woe, With murthering hands imbru'd in mine own blood : And in this Image his darke clowdy eyes, My life, my youth, my loue, I heere Anotamize. Ideas Mirrour Amour 15- NOW, Loue, if thou wilt proue a Conqueror, Subdue thys Tyrant euer martyring meej And but appoint me for her Tormentor, Then for a Monarch will I honour thee. My hart shall be the prison for my fayre ; He fetter her in chaines of purest loue, My sighs shall stop the passage of the ayre : This punishment the pittilesse may moue. With teares out of the Channels of mine eyes She'st quench her thirst as duly as they fall : Kinde words vnkindest meate I can deuise, My sweet, my faire, my good, my best of all. lie binde her then with my torne-tressed haire, And racke her with a thousand holy wishes ; Then, on a place prepared for her there, He execute her with a thousand kisses. Thus will I crucifie, my cruell shee; Thus He plague her which hath so plagued mee. Amour 16 T 7" ERTVES Idea in virginitie, V By inspiration, came conceau'd with thought : The time is come deliuered she must be, Where first my loue into the world was brought. Vnhappy borne, of all vnhappy day ! So luckles was my Babes nativity, Saturne chiefe Lord of the Ascendant lay, The wandring Moone in earths triplicitie. Now, or by chaunce or heauens hie prouidence, His Mother died, and by her Legacie (Fearing the stars presaging influence) Bequeath'd his wardship to my soueraignes eye j Where hunger-staruen, wanting lookes to Hue, Still empty gorg'd, with cares consumption pynde, Salt luke-warm teares shee for his drink did giue, And euer-more with sighes he supt and dynde : And thus (poore Orphan) lying in distresse Cryes in his pangs, God helpe the motherlesse. io Sonnets 1594 Amour 17 IF euer wonder could report a wonder, Or tongue of wonder worth could tell a wonder thought, Or euer ioy expresse what perfect ioy hath taught, Then wonder, tongue, then ioy, might wel report a wonder. Could all conceite conclude, which past conceit admireth, Or could mine eye but ayme her obiects past perfection, My words might imitate my deerest thoughts direction, And my soule then obtaine which so my soule desireth. Were not Inuention stauld, treading Inuentions maze, Or my swift-winged Muse tyred by too hie flying ; Did not perfection still on her perfection gaze, Whilst Loue (my Phoenix bird) in her owne flame is dying, Inuention and my Muse, perfection and her loue, Should teach the world to know the wonder that I proue. Amour 18 SOME, when in ryme they of their Loues doe tell, With flames and lightning their exordiums paynt : Some inuocate the Gods, some spirits of Hell, And heauen, and earth doe with their woes acquaint. E/izia is too hie a seate for mee : I wyll not come in Stixe or Phlegiton The Muses nice, the Furies cruell be, I lyke not Lambo^ nor blacke Acheron^ Spightful Erinnis frights mee with her lookes, My manhood dares not with fbule Ate mell : I quake to looke on Hecatf charming bookes, I styll feare bugbeares in Apollos cell. J passe not for Mlnerua nor Astr to know, What perill was approaching. 310 The Queene bound with Loues powerfulst charme Sate with Pigwiggen arme in arme, Her Merry Maydes that thought no harme, About the roome were skipping : A Humble-Bee their Minstrell, playde Vpon his Hoboy ; eu'ry Mayde Fit for this Reuells was arayde, The Hornepype neatly tripping. > In comes Nimphidia, and doth crie, My Soueraigne for your safety flie, 330 For there is danger but too nie, I posted to forewarne you : The King hath sent Hobgoblin out, To seeke you all the Fields about, And of your safety you may doubt, If he but once discerne you. When like an vprore in a Towne, Before them euery thing went downe, Some tore a Ruffe, and some a Gowne, Gainst one another iustling : 34.0 They flewe about like Chaffe i* th winde, For hast some left their Maskes behinde ; Some could not stay their Gloues to finde, There neuer was such bustling. Forth ranne they by a secret way, Into a brake that neere them lay ; Yet much they doubted there to stay, Lest Hot should hap to find them : He had a sharpe and piercing sight, All one to him the day and night, 35-0 And therefore were resolu'd by flight, To leave this place behind them. Nimphidia At length one chanc'd to find a Nut, In th' end of which a hole was cut, Which lay vpon a Hazell roote, There scattered by a Squirill : Which out the kernell gotten had ; When quoth this Fay deare Queene be glad, Let Oberon be ne'r so mad, He set you safe from perill. 360 Come all into this Nut (quoth she) Come closely in be rul'a by me, Each one may here a chuser be, For roome yee need not wrastle : Nor neede yee be together heapt ; So one by one therein they crept, And lying downe they soundly slept, And safe as in a Castle. Nimphidia that this while doth watch, Perceiu'd if Puck the Queene should catch 3 70 That he should be her ouer-match, Of which she well bethought her ; Found it must be some powerfull Char me, The Queene against him that must arme, Or surely he would doe her harme, For throughly he had sought her. And listning if she ought could heare, That her might hinder, or might feare : But finding still the coast was cleare, Nor creature had discride her ; 3 80 Each circumstance and hauing scand, She came thereby to vnderstand, Puck would be with them out of hand When to her Charmes she hide her : And first her Feme seede doth bestowe, The kernell of the Missletowe : And here and there as Puck should goe, With terrour to affright him : The Court of Fayrie She Night-shade strawes to work him ill, Therewith her Veruayne and her Dill, 390 That hindreth Witches of their will, Of purpose to dispight him. Then sprinkles she the iuice of Rue, That groweth vnderneath the Yeu : With nine drops of the midnight dewe, From Lunarie distilling : The Molewarps braine mixt therewithall 5 And with the same the Pismyres gall, For she in nothing short would fall j The Fayrie was so willing. 4.00 Then thrice vnder a Bryer doth creepe, Which at both ends was rooted deepe, And ouer it three times shee leepe 5 Her Magicke much auayling : Then on Proserpyna doth call, And so vpon her spell doth fall, Which here to you repeate I shall, Not in one tittle fayling. By the croking of the Frogge ; By the howling of the Dogge; 410 By the crying of the Hogge, Against the storme arising ; By the Euening Curphewe bell By the dolefull dying knell, let this my direfull Spell, Ho6 9 hinder thy surprising. By the Mandrakes dreadfull groanes ; By the Lubricans sad moans ; By the noyse of dead mens bones, In Charnell houses ratling : 4.10 By the hissing of the Snake, The rustling of the fire-Drake, 1 charge thee thou this place forsake, Nor of Queene Mob be pratling. 136 Nimphidia By the Whirlwindes hollow sound, By the Thunders dreadfull stound, Yells of Spirits vnder ground, I chardge thee not to feare vs : By the Shreech-owles dismall note, By the Blacke Night-Rauens throate, 430 I charge thee Hob to teare thy Coate With thornes if thou come neere vs, Her Spell thus spoke she stept aside, And in a Chincke her selfe doth hide,, To see there of what would betyde, For shee doth onely minde him : When presently shee Puck espies, And well she markt his gloating eyes,. How vnder euery leafe he spies, In seeking still to finde them. 440 But once the Circle got within, The Charmes to worke doe straight begin, And he was caught as in a Gin j For as he thus was busie, A paine he in his Head-peece feeles, Against a stubbed Tree he reeles, And vp went poore Hobgoblins heeles, Alas his braine was dizzie. At length vpon his feete he gets, Hobgoblin fumes, Hobgoblin frets, 4^0 And as againe he forward sets, And through the Bushes scrambles ; A Stump doth trip him in his pace, Down comes poore Hob vpon his face, And lamentably tore his case, Amongst the Bryers and Brambles. A plague vpon Queene Mab, quoth hee, And all her Maydes where ere they be, I thinke the Deuill guided me, To seeke her so prouoked. 460 The Court of Fayrie 137 Where stumbling at a piece of Wood, He fell into a dich of mudd, Where to the very Chin he stood, In danger to be choked. Now worse than e're he was before : Poore Puck doth yell, poore Puck doth rore ; That wak'd Queene Mab who doubted sore Some Treason had been wrought her : Vntill NimphicKa. told the Queene What she had done, what she had scene, 470 Who then had well-neere crack'd her spleene With very extreame laughter. But leaue we Hob to clamber out : Queene Mab and all her Fayrie rout, And come againe to haue about With Qberon yet madding : And with Pigwiggen now distrought, Who much was troubled in his thought, That he so long the Queene had sought, And through the Fields was gadding. 480 And as he runnes he still doth crie > King Oberon I thee defie, And dare thee here in Armes to trie, For my deare Ladies honour : For that she is a Queene right good, In whose defence lie shed my blood, And that thou in this iealous mood Hast lay'd this slander on her. And quickly Armes him for the Field, A little Cockle-shell his Shield, 45)0 Which he could very brauely wield : Yet could it not be pierced : His Speare a Bent both stiffe and strong, And well-neere of two Inches long The Pyle was of a Horse-flyes tongue, Whose sharpnesse nought reuersed. 138 Nimphidia And puts him on a coate of Male, Which was of a Fishes scale, That when his Foe should him assaile. No poynt should be preuayling : His Rapier was a Hornets sting, It was a very dangerous thing: For if he chanc'd to hurt the King, It would be long in healing. His Helmet was a Bettles head, Most horrible and full of dread, That able was to strike one dead, Yet did it well become him : And for a plume, a horses hayre, Which being tossed with the ayre, 510 Had force to strike his Foe with feare, And turne his weapon from him. . Himselfe he on an Earewig set, Yet scarce he on his back could getj So oft and high he did comet, Ere he himselfe could settle : He made him turne, and stop, and bound, To gallop, and to trot the Round, He scarce could stand on any ground, He was so full of mettle. f 10 When soone he met with Tomalin, One that a valiant Knight had bin, And to King Qheron of kin ; Quoth he thou manly Eayrie : Tell Oberon I come prepared, Then bid him stand vpon his Guard ; This hand his basenesse shall reward, Let him be ne'r so wary. Say to him thus, that I defie, His slanders, and his infamie, And as a mortall enemie, Doe publickly proclaime him : The Court of Fayrie 139 Withall, that if I had mine owne, He should not weare the Fayrie Crowne, But with a vengeance should come downe : Nor we a King should name him. This Tomalin could not abide, To heare his Soueraigne vilefide : But to the Fayrie Court him hide j Full furiously he posted, 74.0 With eu'ry thing Pigwiggen sayd : How title to the Crowne he layd, And in what Armes he was aray'd, As how himselfe he boasted. Twixt head and foot, from point to point, He told th'arming of each ioint, In every piece, how neate, and quaint, For Tomalin could doe it : How fayre he sat, how sure he rid, As of the courser he bestrid, How Mannag'd, and how well he did ; The King which listened to it, Quoth he, goe Tomalin with speede, Prouide me Armes, prouide my Steed, And euery thing that I shall neede, By thee I will be guided ; To strait account, call thou thy witt, See there be wanting not a whitt, In euery thing see thou me fitt, Just as my foes prouided. Soone flewe this newes through Fayrie land Which gaue Queen e Mab to vnderstand, The combate that was then in hand, Betwixt those men so mighty : Which greatly she began to rew, Perceuing that all Fayrie knew, The first occasion from her grew, Of these affaires so weighty. I4-O Nimphidia Wherefore attended with her maides, Through fogs, and mists, and dampes she wades, 570 To Proserpine the Queen e of shades To treat, that it would please her, The cause into her hands to take, For ancient loue and friendships sake, And soone therof an end to make, Which of much care would ease her, A While, there let we Mah alone, And come we to King Oberon, Who arm'd to meete his foe is gone,. For Proud Pigwiggen crying : 580 Who sought the Fayrie King as fast, And had so well his iourneyes cast, That he arriued at the last, His puisant foe espying : Stout Tomalin came with the King, Tom Thum doth on Pigwiggen bring, That perfect were in euery thing, To single fights belonging : And therefore they themselues ingage, To see them exercise their rage, ypo With faire and comely equipage, Not one the other wronging. So like in armes, these champions were, As they had bin, a very paire, So that a man would almost sweare, That either, had bin either ; Their furious steedes began to naye That they were heard a mighty way, Their staues vpon their rests they lay j Yet e'r they flew together, 600 Their Seconds minister an oath, Which was indifferent to them both, That on their Knightly faith, and troth, No magicke them supplyed j The Court of Fayrie 141 And sought them that they had no charmes, Wherewith to worke each others harmes, But came with simple open armes, To haue their causes tryed. Together furiously they ran, That to the ground came horse and man, 610 The blood out of their Helmets span, So sharpe were their incounters j And though they to the earth were throwne, Yet quickly they regain'd their owne, Such nimbknesse was neuer showne, They were two Gallant Mounters. When in a second Course againe, They forward came with might and mayne, Yet which had better of the twaine, The Seconds could not iudge yet; 6^o Their shields were into pieces cleft, Their helmets from their heads were reft, And to defend them nothing left, These Champions would not budge yet. Away from them their Staues they threw, Their cruel 1 Swords they quickly drew, And freshly they the fight renew j They euery stroke redoubled : Which made Proserpina take heed, And make to them the greater speed, For fear lest they too much should bleed, Which wondrously her troubled. When to th' infernall Stix she goes, She takes the Fogs from thence that rose, And in a Bagge doth them enclose ; When well she had them blended : She hyes her then to Lethe spring, A Bottell and thereof doth bring, Wherewith she meant to worke the thing, Which onely she intended. 64.0 Nimphidia Now Proserpine with Mah is gone Vnto the place where Qberon And proud Pigwiggen, one to one, Both to be slaine were likely : And there themselues they closely hide, Because they would not be espide j For Proserpine meant to decide The matter very quickly. And suddainly vntyes the Poke, Which out of it sent such a smoke, As ready was them all to choke, So greeuous was the pother ; So that the Knights each other lost, And stood as still as any post, Tom Thum, nor Tomalin could boast Themselues of any other. But when the mist gan somewhat cease, Proserpina commanded peace : And that a while they should release, Each other of their perill : 660 Which here (quoth she) I doe proclaimc To all in dreadfull Plutos name, That as yee will eschewe his blame, You let me heare the quarrell, But here your selues you must engage, Somewhat to coole your spleenish rage : Your greeuous thirst and to asswage, That first you drinke this liquor : Which shall your vnderstanding cleare, As plainely shall to you appeare j 670 Those things from me that you shall heare, Concerning much the quicker. This Lethe water you must knowe, The memory destroyeth so, That of our weale, or of our woe, It all remembrance blotted j The Court of Fayrie 14-3 Of it nor can you euer thinke : For they no sooner tooke this drinke, But nought into their braines could sinke, Of what had them besotted. 680 King Oberon forgotten had, That he for iealousie ranne mad : But of his Queene was wondrous glad, And ask'd how they came thither : Pigtuiggfn likewise doth forget, That he Queene Mal> had euer met ; Or that they were so hard beset, When they were found together. Nor neither of them both had thought, That e'r they had each other sought ; 690 Much lesse that they a Combat fought, But such a dreame were lothing : Tom Thum had got a little sup, And Tomalin scarce kist the Cup, Yet had their braines so sure lockt vp, That they remembred nothing. Queene Mat and her light Maydes the while, Amongst themselues doe closely smile, To see the King caught with this wile, With one another iesting : 700 And to the Fayrie Court they went, With mickle ioy and merriment, Which thing was done with good intent, And thus I left them feasting. FINIS. WHAT time the groues were clad in greene, The Fields drest all in flowers, And that the sleeke-hayred Nimphs were scene, To seeke them Summer Bowers. Forth rou'd I by the sliding 'Rills, To finde where CYNTHIA sat, Whose name so often from the hills, The Ecchos wondred at. When me vpon my Quest to bring, That pleasure might excell, 10 The Birds stroue which should sweetliest sing, The Flowers which sweet'st should smell. Long wand'ring in the Woods (said I) Oh whether's CYNTHIA gone? When soone the Eccho doth reply, To my last word, goe on. At length vpon a lofty Firre, It was my chance to finde, Where that deare name most due to her, Was caru'd vpon the rynde. 2,0 Which whilst with wonder I beheld, The Bees their hony brought, And vp the carued letters fild, As they with gould were wrought. And neere that trees more spacious roote, Then looking on the ground, The shape of her most dainty foot, Imprinted there I found. Which stuck there like a curious scale, As though it should forbid 30 Vs, wretched mortalls, to reueale, What vnder it was hid. The Quest of Cynthia 145- Besides the flowers which it had pres'd, Apeared to my vew, More fresh and louely than the rest, That in the meadowes grew : The cleere drops in the steps that stood, Of that dilicious Girle, The Nimphes amongst their dainty food, Drunke for dissolued pearle. 40 The yeilding sand, where she had troad, Vntutcht yet with the winde, By the faire posture plainely show*d, Where I might Cynthia finde. When on vpon my waylesse walke, As my desires me draw, I like a madman fell to talke, With euery thing I saw : I ask'd some Lillyes why so white, They from their fellowes were ; 50 Who answered me, that Cynthia's sight, Had made them looke so cleare : I ask'd a nodding Violet why, It sadly hung the head, It told me Cynthia late past by, Too soone from it that fled : A bed of Roses saw I there, Bewitching with their grace : Besides so wondrous sweete they were, That they perfum'd the place, , For his Pipe without a Peere, And could tickle Trenchmore vp, As tVould ioy your heart to heare. RALPH as much renown'd for skill, That the Taker touch'd so well ; For his Cittern, little GILL, That all other did excell. 140 ROCK and ROLLO euery way, Who still led the Rusticke Ging, And could troule a Roundelay, That would make the Feilds to ring, COLLIN on his Shalme so cleare, Many a high-pitcht Note that had, And could make the Eechos nere Shout as they were wexen mad. Many a lusty Swaine beside, That for nought but pleasure car'd, I jo Hauing DORILVS espy'd, And with him knew how it far'd. The Shepheards Sirena 15*5- Thought from him they would remoue, This strong melancholy fitt, Or so, should it not behoue, Quite to put him out of 's witt ; Hauing learnt a Song, which he Sometime to Sirena sent, Full of lollity and glee, When the Nimph liu'd neere to Trent 160 They behinde him softly gott, Lying on the earth along, And when he suspected not, Thus the louiall Shepheards song. Neare to the Siluer Trent , Sirena dwelleth : Shee to whom Nature lent All that excelleth : By which the Muses late, And the neate Graces, 170 Haue for their greater state Taken their places : Twisting an Anadem, Wherewith to Crowne her, As it belonged to them Most to renowne her. Cho. On thy Bancke, In a Ranckej Let the Swanes sing her^ And with their Mustek, 1 80 Along let them bring her. Tagus and Pactolus Are to thee Debter, Nor for their gould to vs Are they the better : Henceforth of all the rest, Be thou the Riuer, Which as the daintiest, Puts them downe euer, i $6 The Shepheards Sirena For as my precious one. 190 O'r thee doth trauell, She to Pearl Parragon Turneth thy grauell. Clio. On thy Bancke y In a Rancke, Let thy Swanns sing her^ And with their Muslcke^ Along let them bring her. Our mournefull Philomell, That rarest Tuner, aoo Henceforth in Aperill Shall wake the sooner, And to her shall complaine From the thicke Couer, Redoubling euery straine Ouer and ouer : For when my Loue too long Her Chamber keepeth $ As though it suffered wrong, The Morning weepeth. aio Cho. On thy Bancke, In a Rancke, Let thy Swanes sing her, And with their Mustek , Along let them bring her. Oft have I seene the Sunne To doe her honour. Fix himselfe at his noone, To look vpon her, And hath guilt euery Groue, ^^o Euery Hill neare her, With his flames from aboue, Striuing to cheere her, And when shee from his sight Hath her selfe turned, He as it had beene night, In Cloudes hath mourned. The She f beards Sirena 15-7 Cho. On thy Bancke, In a Ranche, Let thy Siuanns sing her, 130 And with their Musicke, Along let them bring her, The Verdant Meades are scene, When she doth vkw them, In fresh and gallant Greene, Straight to renewe them, And euery little Grasse Broad it selfe spreadeth, Proud that this bonny Lasse Vpon it treadeth : 14.0 Nor flower is so sweete In this large Cincture But it upon her feete Leaueth some Tincture. Cho. On thy Bancke, In a Rancke, Let thy Stuanes sing her, And lulth thy Mustek, Along let them bring her. The Fishes in the Flood, 15-0 When she doth Angle, For the Hooke striue a good Them to intangle ; And leaping on the Land From the cleare water, Their Scales vpon the sand, Lauishly scatter j Therewith to paue the mould Whereon she passes, So her selfe to behold, As in her glasses. Cho. On thy Bancke^ In a Ranke, Let thy Siuanns sing her, And lulth their Musicke, Along let them bring her. 15*8 The Shepheards Sirena When shee lookes out by night, The Starres stand gazing, Like Commets to our sight Fearefully blazing, 270 As wondring at her eyes With their much brightnesse, Which to amaze the skies, Dimming their lightnesse, The raging Tempests are Calme, When shee speaketh, Such most delightsome balme From her lips breaketh. Cho. On thy Banke^ In a Rancke, &C. 180 In all our Brittany, Ther 's not a rayrer, Nor can you fitt any : Should you compare her. Angels her eye-lids keepe All harts surprizing, Which looke whilst she doth sleepe Like the Sunnes rising : She alone of her kinde Knoweth true measure ius with a face of mirth, Had flong abroad his beames, To blanch the bosome of the earth, And glaze the gliding streames. Within a goodly Mertle groue, Vpon that hallowed day The Nimphes to the bright Queene of loue Their vowes were vsde to pay. Faire Rodope and Dorida Met in those sacred shades, 10 Then whom the Sunne in all his way, Nere saw two daintier Maids. And through the thickets thrild his fires, Supposing to haue scene The soueraigne Goddesse of desires, Or loves Emperious Queene : The first Nimphall 16? Both of so wondrous beauties were, In shape both so excell, That to be paraleld elsewhere, No iudging eye could tell. 10 And their affections so surpasse, As well it might be deemd, That th* one of them the other was, And but themselues they seem'd. And whilst the Nimphes that neare this place, Disposed were to play At Barly-breake and Prison-base, Doe passe the time away : This peerlesse payre together set, The other at their sport, 3 o None neare their free discourse to let, Each other thus they court, Dorida. My sweet, my soueraigne Rodope y My deare delight, my loue, That Locke of hayre thou sentst to me, I to this Bracelet woue ; Which brighter euery day doth grow The longer it is worne, As its delicious fellowes doe, Thy Temples that adorne. 40 Rodope. Nay had I thine my Dorida, I would them so bestow, As that the winde vpon my way, Might backward make them flow, So should it in its greatst excesse Turne to becalmed ayre, And quite forget all boistrousnesse To play with euery hayre. Dorida. To me like thine had nature giuen, A Brow, so Archt, so cleere, yo A Front, wherein so much of heauen Doth to each eye appeare, The world should see, I would strike dead The Milky Way that's now, 166 Muses Elizium And say that Nectar Hebe shed Fell all vpon my Brow. Rodope. O had I eyes like Doridaes, I would inchant the day And make the Sunne to stand at gaze, Till he forget his way : 60 And cause his Sister j^ueene of Streamer, When so I list by night ; By her much blushing at my Beames T* eclipse her borrowed light. Dorieta. Had I a Cheeke like Rodopes, In midst of which doth stand, A Groue of Roses, such as these, In such a snowy land : I would then make the Lilly which we now So much for whitenesse name, 70 As drooping downe the head to bow, And die for very shame. Rodope. Had I a bosome like to thine, When I it pleas'd to show, T* what part o' th' Skie I would incline I would make th' Etheriall bowe, My swannish breast brancht all with blew, In brauery like the spring : In Winter to the general! view Full Summer forth should bring. 80 Dorida. Had I a body like my dearc, Were I so straight so tall, O, if so broad my shoulders were, Had I a waste so small ; I would challenge the proud Queene of loue To yeeld to me for shape, Ana I should feare that Mars or love Would venter for my rape. Rodope. Had I a hand like thce my Gerle, (This hand O let me kisse) 90 These Ivory Arrowes pyFd with pearle, Had I a hand like thisj The first Nimphall 167 I would not doubt at all to make, Each finger of my hand To taske swift Mercury to take With his inchanting wand. Dorija. Had I a Theigh like Rodopes ; Which twas my chance to viewe, When lying on yon banck at ease, The wind thy skirt vp blew, too I would say it were a columne wrought To some intent Diuine, And for our chaste Diana sought, A pillar for her shryne. Rodope. Had I a Leg but like to thine That were so neat, so cleane, A swelling Calfe, a. Small so fine, An Ankle, round and leane, I would tell nature she doth misse Her old skill; and maintaine, no She shewd her master peece in this, Not to be done againe. DoriJa. Had I that Foot hid in those shoos, (Proportion'd to my height) Short Heele, thin Instep, euen Toes, A Sole so wondrous straight, The Forresters and Nimphes at this Amazed all should stand, And kneeling downe, should meekely kisse The Print left in the sand. BY this the Nimphes came from their sport, All pleased wondrous well, And to these May dens make report What lately them befell : One said the dainty Lelipa Did all the rest out-goe, Another would a wager lay She would outstrip a Roe ; Sayes one, how like you Florimel There is your dainty face : 130 i68 Muses Elizium A fourth replide, she lik't that well, Yet better lik't her grace, She's counted, I confesse, quoth she, To be our onely Pearle, Yet haue I heard her oft to be A melancholy Gerle. Another said she quite mistoke, That onely was her art, When melancholly had her looke Then mirth was in her heart ; 140 And hath she then that pretty trick Another doth reply, I thought no Nimph could haue bin sick Of that disease but I ; I know you can dissemble well Quoth one to giue you due, But here be some (who He not tell) Can do't as well as you, Who thus replies, I know that too^ We haue it from our Mother, 1 5:0 Yet there be some this thing can doe More cunningly then other : If Maydens but dissemble can Their sorrow and ther ioy, Their pore dissimulation than, Is but a very toy. The second Nimphall LALVS, CLEON, and LIROPE. The Muse new Courtship doth deuise^ By Natures strange Varieties^ Whose Rarieties she here relates, And glues you Pa star all Delicate f. Lalus a lolly youthfull Lad, With Cleon^ no lesse crown'd With vertues ; both their beings had On the Elizian ground. The second Nimphall 169 Both hauing parts so excellent, That it a question was, Which should be the most eminent, Or did in ought surpasse : This Cleon was a Mountaineer, And of the wilder kinde, 10 And from his birth had many a yeere Bin nurst vp by a Hinde. And as the sequell well did show, It very well might be ; For neuer Hart, nor Hare, nor Roe, Were halfe so swift as he. But Lalut in the Vale was bred, Amongst the Sheepe and Neate, And by these Nimphes there choicly fed, With Hony, Milke, and Wheate ; 10 Of Stature goodly, faire of speech, And of behauiour mylde, Like those there in the Valley rich, That bred him of a chyld. Of Falconry they had the skill, Their Halkes to feed and flye, No better Hunters ere dome Hill, Nor hollowed to a Cry : In Dingles deepe, and Mountains hore, Oft with the bearded Speare 30 They cumbated the tusky Boare, And slew the angry Beare. In Musicke they were wondrous quaint, Fine Aers they could deuise ; They very curiously could Paint, And neatly Poetize ; That wagers many time were laid On Questions that arose, Which song the witty La/us made, Which Cleon should compose. 40 The stately Steed they managed well, Of Fence the art they knew, For Dansing they did all excell The Gerles that to them drewj 170 Muses Elizium To throw the Sledge, to pitch the Barre, To wrestle and to Run, They all the Youth exceld so farre, That still the Prize they wonne. These sprightly Gallants lou'd a Lasse, Cald Urope the tright, 5-0 In the whole world there scarcely was So delicate a Wight, There was no Beauty so diuine That euer Nimph did grace, But it beyond it selfe did shine In her more heuenly face : What forme she pleasd each thing would take That ere she did behold, Of Pebbles she could Diamonds make, Grosse Iron turne to Gold : 60 Such power there with her presence came Sterne Tempests she alayd, The cruell Tiger she could tame, She raging Torrents staid, She chid, she cherisht, she gaue life, Againe she made to dye, She raisd a warre, apeasd a Strife, With turning of her eye. Some said a God did her beget, But much deceiu'd were they, 70 Her Father was a Riuelet, Her Mother was a Fay. Her Lineaments so fine that were, She from the Fayrie tooke, Her Beauties and Complection cleere, By nature from the Brooke. These Ryualls wayting for the houre (The weather calme and faire) When as she vs'd to leaue her Bower To take the pleasant ayre 80 Acosting her ; their complement To her their Goddesse done ; By gifts they tempt her to consent, When La/us thus begun. The second Nimphall 171 La/us. Sweet Lirope I haue a Lambe Newly wayned from the Damme, Of the right kinde, it is *notted, * Without Naturally with purple spotted, *". Into laughter it will put you, To see how prettily 'twill But you ; 90 When on sporting it is set, It will beate you a Corvet, And at euery nimble bound Turne it selfe aboue the ground ; When tis hungry it will bleate, From your hand to haue its meate, And when it hath fully fed, It will fetch lumpes aboue your head, As innocently to expresse Its silly sheepish thankfullnesse, 100 When you bid it, it will play, Be it either night or day, This IJrope I haue for thee, So thou alone wilt Uue with me. Cleon. From him O turne thine eare away, And heare me my lou'd Urope, I haue a Kid as white as milke, His skin as soft as Naples silke, His homes in length are wondrous euen, And curiously by nature writhen ; no It is of th' Arcadian kinde, Ther's not the like twixt either Inde If you walke, 'twill walke you by, If you sit downe, it downe will lye, It with gesture will you wooe, And counterfeit those things you doe ; Ore each Hillock it will vault, And nimbly doe the Summer-sault, Upon the hinder Legs 'twill goe, And follow you a furlong so, no And if by chance a Tune you roate, 'Twill foote it finely to your note, Seeke the worlde and you may misse Muses Elizium To finde out such a thing as this j This my loue I haue for thee So thou'lt leaue him and goe with me. Larope. Beleeue me Youths your gifts are rare, And you offer wondrous faire ; Lalttf for Lambe, Clean for Kyd, 'Tis hard to iudge which most doth bid, 130 And haue you two such things in store, And I n'er knew of them before ? Well yet I dare a Wager lay That "Brag my little Dog shall play, As dainty tricks when I shall bid, As Lalus Lambe, or Cleans Kid. But t' may fall out that I may neede them Till when yee may doe well to feed them j Your Goate and Mutton pretty be But Youths these are noe bayts for me, 140 Alasse good men, in vaine ye wooe, 'Tis not your Lambe nor Kid will doe. Laluf. I haue two Sparrowes white as Snow, Whose pretty eyes like sparkes doe show j In her Bosome Venus hatcht them Where her little Cupid watcht them, Till they too fledge their Nests forsooke Themselues and to the Fields betooke, Where by chance a Fowler caught them Of whom I full dearely bought them ; i yo * The ndde fruit They'll fetch you Conserue from the *Hip, of the smooth ^ n( j ] a y ft so fti O n your Lip, Through their nibling bills they'll Chirup And fluttering feed you with the Sirup, And if thence you put them by They to your white necke will flye, And if you expulse them there They'll hang vpon your braded Hayre $ You so long shall see them prattle Till at length they'll fall to battle, 160 And when they haue fought their fill, You will smile to see them bill The second Nimphall 173 These birds my Urofe's shall be So thou'lt leaue him and goe with me. Clem. His Sparrowes are not worth a rush Pie finde as good in euery bush, Of Doues I haue a dainty paire Which when you please to take the Air, About your head shall gently houer You Cleere browe from the Sunne to couer, 170 And with their nimble wings shall fan you, That neither Cold nor Heate shall tan you, And like Vmbrellas with their feathers Sheeld you in all sorts of weathers : They be most dainty Coloured things, They haue Damask backs and Chequerd wings, Their neckes more Various Cullours showe Then there be mixed in the Bowe ; Venus saw the lesser Doue And therewith was far re in Loue, 180 Offering for't her goulden Ball For her Sonne to play withall These my Liropes shall be So shee'll leaue him and goe with me. Lirope. Then for Sparrowes, and for Doues I am fitted twixt my Loues, But La/uty I take no delight In Sparowes, for they'll scratch and bite And though ioynd, they are euer wooing Alwayes billing, if not doeing, Twixt Venus breasts if they haue lyen I much feare they'll infect myne ; Clean your Doues are very dainty, Tame Pidgeons else you know are plenty, These may winne some of your Marrowes I am not caught with Doues, nor Sparrowes, I thanke ye kindly for your Coste, Yet your labour is but loste. Lalus. With full-leau'd Lillies I will stick Thy braded hayre all o'r so thick, aoo 174- Muses Elizium That from it a Light shall throw Like the Sunnes vpon the Saow. Thy Mantle shall be Violet Leaues, With the fin'st the Silkeworme weaues As finely wouen ; whose rich smell The Ayre about thee so shall swell That it shall haue no power to mooue. A Ruffe of Pinkes thy Robe aboue About thy necke so neatly set That Art it cannot counterfet, no Whieh still shall looke so Fresh and new, As if vpon their Roots they grew : And for thy head He haue a Tyer Of netting, made of Strawbery wyer, And in each knot that doth compose A Mesh, shall stick a halfe blowne Rose, Red, damaske, white, in order set About the sides, shall run a Fret Of Primroses, the Tyer throughout With Thrift and Dayses frindgd about ; ^^o All this fa ire Nimph He doe for thee, So thou'lt leaue him and goe with me. Clean. These be but weeds and Trash he brings, lie giue thee solid, costly things, His will wither and be gone Before thou well canst put them on ; With Currall I will haue thee Crown'd, Whose Branches intricatly wound Shall girt thy Temples euery way ; And on the top of euery Spray 130 Shall stick a Pearle orient and great, Which so the wandring Birds shall cheat, That some shall stoope to looke for Cheries, As other for tralucent Berries. And wondering, caught e'r they be ware In the curld Tramels of thy hayre : And for thy necke a Christall Chaine Whose lincks shapt like to drops of Raine, Vpon thy panting Breast depending, The second Nimphall 175- Shall seeme as they were still descending, 14.0 And as thy breath doth come and goe, So seeming still to ebbe and flow : With Amber Bracelets cut like Bees, Whose strange transparancy who sees, With Silke small as the Spiders Twist Doubled so oft about thy Wrist, Would surely thinke aliue they were, From Lillies gathering hony there. Thy Buskins Ivory, caru'd like Shels Of Scallope, which as little Bels a 50 Made hollow, with the Ay re shall Chime, And to thy steps shall keepe the time : Leaue La/us, Lirope for me And these shall thy rich dowry be. Lirope. Lalus for Flowers. Cleon for lemmes, For Garlands and for Diadems, I shall be sped, why this is braue, What Nimph can choicer Presents haue, With dressing, brading, frowncing, flowring, All your lewels on me powring, 160 In this brauery being drest, To the ground I shall be prest, That I doubt the Nimphes will feare me, Nor will venture to come neare me ; Neuer Lady of the May, To this houre was halfe so gay ; All in flowers, all so sweet, From the Crowne, beneath the Feet, Amber, Currall, Ivory, Pearle, If this cannot win a Gerle, 173 Ther's nothing can, and this ye wooe me, Giue me your hands and trust ye to me, (Yet to tell ye I am loth) That He haue neither ot you both ; Lalus. When thou shalt please to stem the flood, As thou art of the watry brood) 'le haue twelve Swannes more white than Snow, 176 Muses Elizium Yokd for the purpose two and two, To drawe thy Barge wrought of fine Reed So well that it nought else shall need, a8o The Traces by which they shall hayle Thy Barge ; shall be the winding trayle Of woodbynd; whose braue Tasseld Flowers (The Sweetnesse of the Woodnimphs Bowres) Shall be the Trappings to adorne, The Swannes, by which thy Barge is borne, Of flowred Flags Tie rob the banke Of water-Cans and King-cups ranck To be the Couering of thy Boate, And on the Streame as thou do'st Floate, 190 The Naiades that haunt the deepe, Themselues about thy Barge shall keepe, Recording most delightfull Layes, By Sea Gods written in thy prayse. And in what place thou hapst to land, There the gentle Siluery sand, Shall soften, curled with the Aier As sensible of thy repayre : This my deare loue Tie doe for thee, So Thou'lt leaue him and goe with me : 300 Clean. Tush Nimphe his Swannes will prove but Geese, His Barge drinke water like a Fleece A Boat is base, Pie thee prouide, A Chariot, wherein loue may ride ; In which when brauely thou art borne, Thou shalt looke like the gloryous morne Vshering the Sunne, and such a one As to this day was neuer none, Of the Rarest Indian Gummes, More pretious then your Balsamummes 310 Which I by Art haue made so hard, That they with Tooles may well be Caru'd To make a Coach of : which shall be Materyalls of this one for thee, And of thy Chariot each small peece Shall inlayd be with Amber Greece, The second Nimphall 177 And guilded with the Yellow ore Produced from Taguf wealthy shore j In which along the pleasant Lawne, With twelue white Stags thou shalt be drawne, 310 Whose brancht palmes of a stately height, With seuerall nosegayes shall be dight j And as thou ryd'st, thy Coach about, For thy strong guard shall runne a Rout, Of Estriges j whose Curled plumes, Sen'sd with thy Chariots rich perfumes, The scent into the Aier shall throw ; Whose naked Thyes shall grace the show ; Whilst the Woodnimphs and those bred Vpon the mountayns, o'r thy head 330 Shall beare a Canopy of flowers, Tinseld with drops of Aprill showers, Which shall make more glorious showes Then spangles, or your siluer Oas ; This bright nimph Tie doe for thee So thou'lt leaue him and goe with me. LJrope. Vie and reuie, like Chapmen proferM, Would't be receaued what you haue offered ; Ye greater honour cannot doe me, If not building Altars to me : 340 Both by Water and by Land, Bardge and Chariot at command ; Swans vpon the Streame to rawe me, Stags vpon the Land to drawe me, In all this Pompe should I be seene, What a pore thing were a Queen e : All delights in such excesse, As but yee, who can expresse : Thus mounted should the Nimphes me see, All the troope would follow me, 35-0 Thinking by this state that I Would asume a Deitie. There be some in loue haue bin, And I may commit that sinne, And if e'r I be in loue, DRAYTON N 178 Muses Elizium With one of you I feare twill proue, But with which I cannot tell, So my gallant Youths farewell. The third Nimphall DORON. DORILVS. NAHS. CLOE. CLORIS. MERTILLA. CLAIA. FLORIMEL. With Nimphes and Forresters. Poetick Raptures, sacred fires ; With which Apollo his inspires. This Nimphall glues you ; and wit hall Obserues the Muses Festivall. Amongst th j Elizians many mirthfull Feasts, At which the Muses are the certaine guests, TV obserue one Day with most Emperiall state, To wise Apollo which they dedicate, The Poets God ; and to his Alters bring Th' enamel'd Brauery of the beauteous spring, And strew their Bowers with euery precious sweet, Which still wax fresh, most trod on with their feet ; With most choice flowers each Nimph doth brade her hayre, And not the mean'st but bauldrick wise doth weare 10 Some goodly Garland, and the most renown'd With curious Roseat Anadems are crown'd. These being come into the place where they Yearely obserue the Orgies to that day, The Muses from their Heliconian spring Their brimfull Mazers to the feasting bring : When with deepe Draughts out of those plenteous Bowles, The iocond Youth haue swild their thirsty soules, They fall enraged with a sacred heat, And when their braines doe once begin to sweat ao They into braue and Stately numbers breake, And not a word that any one doth speake The third Nimphall 179 But tis Prophetick, and so strangely farre In their high fury they transported are, As there 's not one, on any thing can straine, But by another answred is againe In the same Rapture, which all sit to heare ; When as two Youths that soundly liquord were, Dorilus and Doron, two as noble swayns As euer kept on the Elizian playns, 30 First by their signes attention hauing woonne, Thus they the Reuels frolikly begunne. Doron. Come Dorilus, let p in hony rould, More then their thighes can hould, 1 70 Lapt in their liquid gould, Their Treasure vs Bringing. Cloe. To these Rillets purling Vpon the stones Curling, And oft about 'wherling, Dance toitfard their springing. Naijs. The Wood-Nimphes sit singing, Each Groue with notes ringing Whilst fresh Ver is flinging Her Bounties abroad. 1 80 Cloe. So much as the Turtle, Upon the low Mertle^ To the meads fertle^ Her cares doth unload. Naijs. Nay 'tis a 'world to see^ In euery tush and Tree, The Birds 'with mirth and glee } Woo'd as they 'woe. Cloe. The Robin and the Wren y Euery Cocke 'with his Hen, 190 Why should not lue and men^ Doe as they doe. Naijs. The Faires are hopping, The small Flowers cropping. And 'with dew dropping, Skip thoro'w the Greaues. Cloe. At Barly-breake they play Merrily all the day, At night themselues they lay Vpon the soft leaues. aoo Muses Elizium Naijs. The gentle winds sally, Vpon euery Valley, And many times dally And 'wantonly sport. Cloe. About the fields tracing, Each other in chasing, And often imbracing, In amorous sort. Naijs. And Eccho oft doth tell Wondrous things from her Cell, As her 'what chance befell, Learning to prattle. Cloe. And now she sits and mocks The Shepherds and their flocks, And the Heards from the Rocks Keeping their Cattle. When to these Maids the Muses silence cry, For 'twas the opinion of the Company, That were not these two taken of, that they Would in their Conflict wholly spend the day. izo When as the Turne to Florimel next came, A Nimph for Beauty of especiall name, Yet was she not so lolly as the rest : And though she were by her companions prest, Yet she by no intreaty would be wrought To sing, as by th j Elizian Lawes she ought : When two bright Nimphes that her companions were, And of all other onely held her deare, Mild Claris and Mertilla, with faire speech Their most beloued Florimel beseech, 130 T'obserue the Muses, and the more to wooe her, They take their turnes, and thus they sing vnto her. Cloris. Sing, Florimel, O sing, and wee Our whole wealth will giue to thee, We'll rob the brim of euery Fount aine, Strip the sweets from euery Mount aine, We will sweepe the curled valleys, Brush the bancks that mound our allyes, The third Nimphall 185* We will muster natures dainties When she wallowes In her plentyes^ 14.0 The lushyous smell of euery flower New washt by an Aprill shower, The Mlstresse of her store we'' II make thee That she for her selfe shall take thee ; Can there he a dainty thlng^ Thai's not thine If thou wilt sing. Mertilla. When the dew In May dlstllleth^ And the Earths rich bo some fillet h^ And "with dearie embrouds each Meadow , We will make them like a widow ^ And In all their Beauties dresse And of all their spolles possesse With all the bounties Zephyr e brings , Breathing on the yearely springs , The gaudy bloomes of euery Tree In their most beauty when they What Is here that may delight Or to pleasure may excite thee^ Can there be a dainty thing That's not thine If thou wilt sing. 160 But Florimel still sullenly replyes I will not sing at all, let that suffice : When as a Nimph one of the merry ging Seeing she no way could be wonne to sing ; Come, come, quoth she, ye vtterly vndoe her With your intreaties, and your reuerence to her j For praise nor prayers, she careth not a pin They that our froward Florimel would winne, Must worke another way, let me come to her, Either He make her sing, or lie vndoe her. zjo Claia. Florimel I thus conlure Since their gifts cannot alure tkee $ By stampt Garlick^ that doth stink Worse then common Sewer^ or Sink } By Henbane^ Dogsbane^ Woolfsbane^ sweet As any Clownes or Carriers feet , i86 Muses Elizium By stinging Nettles, pricking Teasels Ray sing blisters like the weasels ', By the rough Burbreeding docks, Rancker then the oldest Fox, z8o By filthy Hemblock, poysning more Then any vlcer or old sore, By the Cockle in the corne, That smels farre 'worse then doth burnt home, By Hempe in 'water that hath layne, By -whose stench the Fish are s layne, By Toadflax 'which your Nose may fast. If you haue a minde to cast, May all filthy stinking Weeds That e y r bore leafe, or e'r had seeds, z