Minor Poems of Michael Drayton Part 13

Vppon this sinfull earth If man can happy be, And higher then his birth, (Frend) take him thus from me.

Whome promise not deceiues That he the breach should rue, Nor constant reason leaues Opinion to pursue.

To rayse his mean estate That sooths no wanton's sinne, 10 Doth that preferment hate That virtue doth not winne.

Nor brauery doth admire, Nor doth more loue professe To that he doth desire, Then that he doth possesse.

Loose humor nor to please, That neither spares nor spends, But by discretion weyes What is to needfull ends. 20

To him deseruing not Not yeelding, nor doth hould What is not his, doing what He ought not what he could.

Whome the base tyrants will Soe much could neuer awe As him for good or ill From honesty to drawe.

Whose constancy doth rise 'Boue vndeserued spight 30 Whose valewr's to despise That most doth him delight.

That earely leaue doth take Of th' world though to his payne For virtues onely sake And not till need constrayne.

Noe man can be so free Though in imperiall seate Nor Eminent as he That deemeth nothing greate. 40

_Ode 8_

Singe wee the Rose Then which no flower there growes Is sweeter: And aptly her compare With what in that is rare A parallel none meeter.

Or made poses, Of this that incloses Suche blisses, That naturally flusheth 10 As she blusheth When she is robd of kisses.

Or if strew'd When with the morning dew'd Or stilling, Or howe to sense expos'd All which in her inclos'd, Ech place with sweetnes filling.

That most renown'd By Nature richly crownd 20 With yellow, Of that delitious layre And as pure, her hayre Vnto the same the fellowe,

Fearing of harme Nature that flower doth arme From danger, The touch giues her offence But with reuerence Vnto her selfe a stranger. 30

That redde, or white, Or mixt, the sence delyte Behoulding, In her complexion All which perfection Such harmony infouldinge.

That deuyded Ere it was descided Which most pure, Began the greeuous war 40 Of _York_ and _Lancaster_, That did many yeeres indure.

Conflicts as greate As were in all that heate I sustaine: By her, as many harts As men on either parts That with her eies hath slaine.

The Primrose flower The first of _Flora's_ bower 50 Is placed, Soo is shee first as best Though excellent the rest, All gracing, by none graced.

ELEGIES VPON SVNDRY OCCASIONS

[from the Edition of 1627]

Of his Ladies not Comming _to London_

That ten-yeares-trauell'd _Greeke_ return'd from Sea Ne'r ioyd so much to see his _Ithaca_, As I should you, who are alone to me, More then wide _Greece_ could to that wanderer be.

The winter windes still Easterly doe keepe, And with keene Frosts haue chained vp the deepe, The Sunne's to vs a n.i.g.g.ard of his Rayes, But reuelleth with our _Antipodes_; And seldome to vs when he shewes his head, m.u.f.fled in vapours, he straight hies to bed. 10 In those bleake mountaines can you liue where snowe Maketh the vales vp to the hilles to growe; Whereas mens breathes doe instantly congeale, And attom'd mists turne instantly to hayle; Belike you thinke, from this more temperate cost, My sighes may haue the power to thawe the frost, Which I from hence should swiftly send you thither, Yet not so swift, as you come slowly hither.

How many a time, hath _Phebe_ from her wayne, With _Phbus_ fires fill'd vp her hornes againe; 20 Shee through her Orbe, still on her course doth range, But you keep yours still, nor for me will change.

The Sunne that mounted the sterne Lions back, Shall with the Fishes shortly diue the Brack, But still you keepe your station, which confines You, nor regard him trauelling the signes.

Those ships which when you went, put out to Sea, Both to our _Groenland_, and _Virginia_, Are now return'd, and Custom'd haue their fraught, Yet you arriue not, nor returne me ought. 30 The Thames was not so frozen yet this yeare, As is my bosome, with the chilly feare Of your not comming, which on me doth light, As on those Climes, where halfe the world is night.

Of euery tedious houre you haue made two, All this long Winter here, by missing you: Minutes are months, and when the houre is past, A yeare is ended since the Clocke strooke last, When your Remembrance puts me on the Racke, And I should Swound to see an _Almanacke_, 40 To reade what silent weekes away are slid, Since the dire Fates you from my sight haue hid.

I hate him who the first Deuisor was Of this same foolish thing, the Hower-gla.s.se, And of the Watch, whose dribbling sands and Wheele, With their slow stroakes, make mee too much to feele Your slackenesse hither, O how I doe ban, Him that these Dialls against walles began, Whose Snayly motion of the moouing hand, (Although it goe) yet seeme to me to stand; 50 As though at _Adam_ it had first set out And had been stealing all this while about, And when it backe to the first point should come, It shall be then iust at the generall Doome.

The Seas into themselues retract their flowes.

The changing Winde from euery quarter blowes, Declining Winter in the Spring doth call, The Starrs rise to vs, as from vs they fall; Those Birdes we see, that leaue vs in the Prime, Againe in Autumne re-salute our Clime. 60 Sure, either Nature you from kinde hath made, Or you delight else to be Retrograde.

But I perceiue by your attractiue powers, Like an Inchantresse you haue charm'd the bowers Into short minutes, and haue drawne them back, So that of vs at _London_, you doe lack Almost a yeare, the Spring is scarce begonne There where you liue, and Autumne almost done.

With vs more Eastward, surely you deuise, By your strong Magicke, that the Sunne shall rise 70 Where now it setts, and that in some few yeares You'l alter quite the Motion of the Spheares.

Yes, and you meane, I shall complaine my loue To grauell'd Walkes, or to a stupid Groue, Now your companions; and that you the while (As you are cruell) will sit by and smile, To make me write to these, while Pa.s.sers by, Sleightly looke in your louely face, where I See Beauties heauen, whilst silly blockheads, they Like laden a.s.ses, plod vpon their way, 80 And wonder not, as you should point a Clowne Vp to the _Guards_, or _Ariadnes_ Crowne; Of Constellations, and his dulnesse tell.

Hee'd thinke your words were certainly a Spell; Or him some piece from _Creet_, or _Marcus_ show, In all his life which till that time ne'r saw Painting: except in Alehouse or old Hall Done by some Druzzler, of the Prodigall.

Nay doe, stay still, whilst time away shall steale Your youth, and beautie, and your selfe conceale 90 From me I pray you, you haue now inur'd Me to your absence, and I haue endur'd Your want this long, whilst I haue starued bine For your short Letters, as you helde it sinne To write to me, that to appease my woe, I reade ore those, you writ a yeare agoe, Which are to me, as though they had bin made, Long time before the first _Olympiad_.

For thankes and curt'sies sell your presence then To tatling Women, and to things like men, 100 And be more foolish then the _Indians_ are For Bells, for Kniues, for Gla.s.ses, and such ware, That sell their Pearle and Gold, but here I stay, So I would not haue you but come away.

To Master GEORGE SANDYS

_Treasurer for the English Colony in_ VIRGINIA

Friend, if you thinke my Papers may supplie You, with some strange omitted Noueltie, Which others Letters yet haue left vntould, You take me off, before I can take hould Of you at all; I put not thus to Sea, For two monthes Voyage to _Virginia_, With newes which now, a little something here, But will be nothing ere it can come there.

I feare, as I doe Stabbing; this word, State, I dare not speake of the _Palatinate_, 10 Although some men make it their hourely theame, And talke what's done in _Austria_, and in _Beame_, I may not so; what _Spinola_ intends, Nor with his _Dutch_, which way Prince _Maurice_ bends; To other men, although these things be free, Yet (GEORGE) they must be misteries to mee.

I scarce dare praise a vertuous friend that's dead, Lest for my lines he should be censured; It was my hap before all other men To suffer shipwrack by my forward pen: 20 When King IAMES entred; at which ioyfull time I taught his t.i.tle to this Ile in rime: And to my part did all the Muses win, With high-pitch _Paeans_ to applaud him in: When cowardise had tyed vp euery tongue, And all stood silent, yet for him I sung; And when before by danger I was dar'd, I kick'd her from me, nor a iot I spar'd.

Yet had not my cleere spirit in Fortunes scorne, Me aboue earth and her afflictions borne; 30 He next my G.o.d on whom I built my trust, Had left me troden lower then the dust: But let this pa.s.se; in the extreamest ill, _Apollo's_ brood must be couragious still, Let Pies, and Dawes, sit dumb before their death, Onely the Swan sings at the parting breath.

And (worthy GEORGE) by industry and vse, Let's see what lines _Virginia_ will produce; Goe on with OVID, as you haue begunne, With the first fiue Bookes; let your numbers run 40 Glib as the former, so shall it liue long, And doe much honour to the _English_ tongue: Intice the Muses thither to repaire, Intreat them gently, trayne them to that ayre, For they from hence may thither hap to fly, T'wards the sad time which but to fast doth hie, For Poesie is follow'd with such spight, By groueling drones that neuer raught her height, That she must hence, she may no longer staye: The driery fates prefixed haue the day, 50 Of her departure, which is now come on, And they command her straight wayes to be gon; That b.e.s.t.i.a.ll heard so hotly her pursue, And to her succour, there be very few, Nay none at all, her wrongs that will redresse, But she must wander in the wildernesse, Like to the woman, which that holy IOHN Beheld in _Pathmos_ in his vision.

As th' _English_ now, so did the stiff-neckt _Iewes_, Their n.o.ble Prophets vtterly refuse, 60 And of these men such poore opinions had; They counted _Esay_ and _Ezechiel_ mad; When _Ieremy_ his Lamentations writ, They thought the Wizard quite out of his wit, Such sots they were, as worthily to ly, Lock't in the chaines of their captiuity, Knowledge hath still her Eddy in her Flow, So it hath beene, and it will still be so.

That famous _Greece_ where learning flourisht most, Hath of her muses long since left to boast, 70 Th' vnlettered _Turke_, and rude _Barbarian_ trades, Where HOMER sang his lofty _Iliads_; And this vaste volume of the world hath taught, Much may to pa.s.se in little time be brought.

As if to _Symptoms_ we may credit giue, This very time, wherein we two now liue, Shall in the compa.s.se, wound the Muses more, Then all the old _English_ ignorance before; Base Balatry is so belou'd and sought, And those braue numbers are put by for naught, 80 Which rarely read, were able to awake, Bodyes from graues, and to the ground to shake The wandring clouds, and to our men at armes, 'Gainst pikes and muskets were most powerfull charmes.

That, but I know, insuing ages shall, Raise her againe, who now is in her fall; And out of dust reduce our scattered rimes, Th' reiected iewels of these slothfull times, Who with the Muses would misspend an hower, But let blind Gothish Barbarisme deuoure 90 These feuerous Dogdays, blest by no record, But to be euerlastingly abhord.

If you vouchsafe rescription, stuffe your quill With naturall bountyes, and impart your skill, In the description of the place, that I, May become learned in the soyle thereby; Of n.o.ble _Wyats_ health, and let me heare, The Gouernour; and how our people there, Increase and labour, what supplyes are sent, Which I confesse shall giue me much content; 100 But you may saue your labour if you please, To write to me ought of your Sauages.

As sauage slaues be in great _Britaine_ here, As any one that you can shew me there And though for this, Ile say I doe not thirst, Yet I should like it well to be the first, Whose numbers hence into _Virginia_ flew, So (n.o.ble _Sandis_) for this time adue.

To my n.o.ble friend Master WILLIAM BROWNE, _of the euill time_

Deare friend, be silent and with patience see, What this mad times Catastrophe will be; The worlds first Wis.e.m.e.n certainly mistooke Themselues, and spoke things quite beside the booke, And that which they haue of said of G.o.d, vntrue, Or else expect strange iudgement to insue.

This Isle is a meere Bedlam, and therein, We all lye rauing, mad in euery sinne, And him the wisest most men use to call, Who doth (alone) the maddest thing of all; 10 He whom the master of all wisedome found, For a marckt foole, and so did him propound, The time we liue in, to that pa.s.se is brought, That only he a Censor now is thought; And that base villaine, (not an age yet gone,) Which a good man would not haue look'd vpon; Now like a G.o.d, with diuine worship follow'd, And all his actions are accounted hollow'd.

This world of ours, thus runneth vpon wheeles, Set on the head, bolt vpright with her heeles; 20 Which makes me thinke of what the _Ethnicks_ told Th' opinion, the Pythagorists vphold, Wander That the immortall soule doth transmigrate; From body Then I suppose by the strong power of fate, to body. And since that time now many a lingering yeare, Through fools, and beasts, and lunatiques haue past, Are heere imbodyed in this age at last, And though so long we from that time be gone, Yet taste we still of that confusion.

For certainely there's sca.r.s.e one found that now, 30 Knowes what t' approoue, or what to disallow, All a.r.s.ey va.r.s.ey, nothing is it's owne, But to our prouerbe, all turnd vpside downe; To doe in time, is to doe out of season, And that speeds best, thats done the farth'st from reason, Hee 's high'st that 's low'st, hee 's surest in that 's out, He hits the next way that goes farth'st about, He getteth vp vnlike to rise at all, He slips to ground as much vnlike to fall; Which doth inforce me partly to prefer, 40 _Zeno._ The opinion of that mad Philosopher, Who taught, that those all-framing powers aboue, (As 'tis suppos'd) made man not out of loue To him at all, but only as a thing, To make them sport with, which they vse to bring As men doe munkeys, puppets, and such tooles Of laughter: so men are but the G.o.ds fooles.

Such are by t.i.tles lifted to the sky, As wherefore no man knowes, G.o.d scarcely why; The vertuous man depressed like a stone, 50 For that dull Sot to raise himselfe vpon; He who ne're thing yet worthy man durst doe, Neuer durst looke vpon his countrey's foe, Nor durst attempt that action which might get Him fame with men: or higher might him set Then the base begger (rightly if compar'd;) This Drone yet neuer braue attempt that dar'd, Yet dares be knighted, and from thence dares grow To any t.i.tle Empire can bestow; For this beleeue, that Impudence is now 60 A Cardinall vertue, and men it allow Reuerence, nay more, men study and inuent New wayes, nay, glory to be impudent.

Into the clouds the Deuill lately got, And by the moisture doubting much the rot, A medicine tooke to make him purge and cast; Which in short time began to worke so fast, That he fell too 't, and from his backeside flew, A rout of rascall a rude ribauld crew Of base Plebeians, which no sooner light, 70 Vpon the earth, but with a suddaine flight, They spread this Ile, and as _Deucalion_ once Ouer his shoulder backe, by throwing stones They became men, euen so these beasts became, Owners of t.i.tles from an obscure name.

He that by riot, of a mighty rent, Hath his late goodly Patrimony spent, And into base and wilfull beggery run This man as he some glorious acte had done, With some great pension, or rich guift releeu'd, 80 When he that hath by industry atchieu'd Some n.o.ble thing, contemned and disgrac'd, In the forlorne hope of the times is plac'd, As though that G.o.d had carelessely left all That being hath on this terrestriall ball, To fortunes guiding, nor would haue to doe With man, nor aught that doth belong him to, Or at the least G.o.d hauing giuen more Power to the Deuill, then he did of yore, Ouer this world: the feind as he doth hate 90 The vertuous man; maligning his estate, All n.o.ble things, and would haue by his will, To be d.a.m.n'd with him, vsing all his skill, By his blacke h.e.l.lish ministers to vexe All worthy men, and strangely to perplexe Their constancie, there by them so to fright, That they should yeeld them wholely to his might.

But of these things I vainely doe but tell, Where h.e.l.l is heauen, and heau'n is now turn'd h.e.l.l; Where that which lately blasphemy hath bin, 100 Now G.o.dlinesse, much lesse accounted sin; And a long while I greatly meruail'd why Buffoons and Bawdes should hourely multiply, Till that of late I construed it that they To present thrift had got the perfect way, When I concluded by their odious crimes, It was for vs no thriuing in these times.

As men oft laugh at little Babes, when they Hap to behold some strange thing in their play, To see them on the suddaine strucken sad, 110 As in their fancie some strange formes they had, Which they by pointing with their fingers showe, Angry at our capacities so slowe, That by their countenance we no sooner learne To see the wonder which they so discerne: So the celestiall powers doe sit and smile At innocent and vertuous men the while, They stand amazed at the world ore-gone, So farre beyond imagination, With slauish basenesse, that the silent sit 120 Pointing like children in describing it.

Then n.o.ble friend the next way to controule These worldly crosses, is to arme thy soule With constant patience: and with thoughts as high As these be lowe, and poore, winged to flye To that exalted stand, whether yet they Are got with paine, that sit out of the way Of this ign.o.ble age, which raiseth none But such as thinke their black d.a.m.nation To be a trifle; such, so ill, that when 130 They are aduanc'd, those few poore honest men That yet are liuing, into search doe runne To finde what mischiefe they haue lately done, Which so preferres them; say thou he doth rise, That maketh vertue his chiefe exercise.

And in this base world come what euer shall, Hees worth lamenting, that for her doth fall.