The Principal Navigations, Voyages, Traffiques and Discoveries of the English Nation Volume Vii Part 13

Worlds good is rare, perpetuall is their ill.

Euen as the racket takes the b.a.l.l.s rebound; So doth _Good-fortune_ catch _Ill-fortunes_ proofe, Saying, she wil her in herselfe confound, Making her darts, Agents for her behoofe; Bow but thine eies (quoth she) whence ha'ts abound, And I will show thee vnder heauens roofe Th' vnconquered man whom no mischance importunes.

Crown of my kingdom, deaths man to misfortune.

At this, the casments of the skye broke ope, Discouering all what's girdled in her frame, Whilst _Happy-fortune_ through her eyes large scope Like a Cosmographer comments on the same; Three parts with praise she past and future hope, Then to the fourth, the Westerne world she came, And there, with her eyes festrawe paints a storie, Stranger than strange, more glorified than glorie.

See (sayd _Faire-fortune_, to her soule shapt _Foe_) How on the scourge that beates against the Ile Of _Flores_, whence they curst oblations growe, A winde-taught capring ship which ayre beguiles, (Making poore _Cephalus_ for-lorne with woe, Curse arte, which made arte framed saile such smiles) Richlie imbrodred with the Iems of warre, In thy dispight commaunds a lucky starrye.

In that faire vessel liues my garlands flower.

_Grinuile_, my harts immortall arterie; Of him thy deitie had neuer power, Nor hath hee had of griefe one simpathie; Successe attends him, all good hap doth shower A golden raine of perpetuitie Into his bossome, whete mine Empire stands, Murdring the Agents of thy blacke commands.

Say, and say true, (for what but thou wilt say,) That euer _Grinuils_ fortunes came before thee, Of euer prostrate at thine Altars lay, Or with one wreath of Cipresse did adore thee?

Proue one blacke storme in all his Sommers day, Whose threatening clouds compeld him to implore thee.

Then wil I staine my milkwhite vaile with weeping, And as thine handmaide dye in sorrowes keeping.

As wounds the lightning, yet preserues the skinne, So did these words split _Lucklesse-fortunes_ hart, Her smiling _Superficies_, lockt within A deepe exulcerated festring smart; Heere shee perceiu'd her first disgrace begin, And wordlesse from the heauens takes her depart.

Yet as she flewe her wings in flying cri'd On _Grinuile_ shall my fame and power be tride.

At her departure all the heauens were glad.

Triumphing in _Ill-fortunes_ banishment, _Apollo_ set new _Anthems_ as _Ioue_ bad, Which spheare tunes made more then most excellent; No light in heauen but with new fier was clad, Making next _Ioue, Good-fortune_ president, Enrowling in the Bookes of destenie, This memorable famous victorie.

Only the _Fat's_ su'd for her backe repeale, (For they _Ill-fortune_ lou'd exceeding well) Many her deedes and Tropheis they reueale, And all her liues blacke legend, weeping tell; Yet all they speake, cannot in heauen preuaile, Which seene, in spight they follow her to h.e.l.l, And there inhoused with their mother _Night_, All foure deuise, how heauen and earth to spight.

Hence sprang the loues of _Ioue_, the _Sonnes_ exile, The shame of _Mars_ and _Venus_ in a net; _Iunos_ forsaken bed; Saturns compile Of frantike discontentment, which beset All heauen with armes; _Diana_ hence had while To court her sleeping boy; whilst _Thetis_ let _Phoebus_ imbrace her in her _Neptunes_ stead, Who made complaints, breach of his bridall bed:

Yet not content with these disparagments, Much greater mischiefes issues from their minds, _Grinuile_, thy mountaine honour it augments Within their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, a Meteor like the winds, Which thrall'd in earth, a reeling issue rents With violent motion; and their wills combinds To belch their hat's, vow'd murdrers of thy fame, Which to effect, thus they begin the same.

Fast to _Iberia_ flies vntoward chaunce, _Iberia_, which we vulgar Christen _Spaine_, Vpon whose Sunne-burnt continent doth daunce Westerne _Ducallidon_, the greatest maine, Thither shee packs, _Error_ doth their aduance Her coale-blacke standerd in the hands of paine; And as escapt from rauishment or bale, With false teares, thus shee tunes a falser tale.

Great Empire (said shee) blessed in thy birth, Beautious created for-head of this round, That with thy smiles first lent to heauen mirth, And bout thy temples all perfections woond, Lodgd in th' immagin'd corners of the earth; Thou whom our centers Monarchesse art crownd, Attend my suite, baptisd in mournefull teares, Who but ere while triumphed on the spheares.

Nor for my selfe more then thine owne decay Which blindfold pleasure clouds as they arise, Be gracious, and retort the domefull daye Which thee and me to shame would sacrifice.

Loe, on the great west-walling boisterous sea, Which doth imbrace thy gold-enclosing eyes, Of many sailes one man, of one poor Ile, That will my fame, and all thy faire defile.

His numberlesse great infinits of fame, Haue shut against me heauens great christall dore, The clouds, which once my feets dust had to name, Hang ore my forhead, threatning euermore Death to my praise; life to my infant shame, Whilst I with sighes mediate a new restore.

And in my selfe behold my pleasures past, Swimming amongst the ioyes I cannot tast.

Th' ambrosian Nectar-filled banqueting, No more shall I communicate, or see, Triumphes in heauen, _Ioues_ masks, and reuelling, Are cleene exempt, both from my ioyes and me.

The reason, for my loue to thee I bring, Tr.i.m.m.i.n.g the locks with Iems of dietie, Making the G.o.ds a dread a fatall day, Worse then the Giants warre or Centaurs fray.

Poore G.o.ddesse, rob'd of all eternall power, Whose broken Statues, and down razed Fan's, Neuer warm'd altars, euer forgotten hower Where any memorie of praise is tane, Witnes my fall from great _Olympus_ tower; Prostrate, implore blame for receiued bane, And dyre reuenge gainst heauens impietie, Which els in shame will make thee follow mee.

Behold these robes, maps of my fortunes world, Torne, and distaind with eye-scornd beggerie; These rags deuide the Zones, wherein is hurld My liues distemprate, hote cold miserie; These teares are points, the scale these hairs vncurld, My hands the compa.s.se, woe the emperie: And these my plaints, true and auriculer, Are to my Globe the perpendiculer.

Looke how I am, such art thou like to be If armes preuent not heauens intendiment, _Grinuile_, which now surfeits with dignitie, Burd'ning the Sea with my disparagement; Chiding the wanton winds if greedelie They kisse his sailes; or els too slowlie vent, Like _Ioue_, which bad the day be and it was, So bids he Conquest warre; she brings to pa.s.se.

The sole incouragement he giues his power, Is Prophet-like presaging of thy death, Courage he cries, euen in the dying hower, And with his words, recalls departing breath; O (sayes he to his Mat's) you are my glories tower, Impregnable, wall'd with vnuanquisht faith, You are the hands and agents of my trust, I but the hart reuoluing what we must.

Liue Saints, til we haue ript the wombe of _Spayne_, And wounded _Error_ in the armes of h.e.l.l, Crushing the triple Myter in disdaine, Which on the seauenfold mounted Witch doth dwel, Angells rewards for such dissignes remaine, And on heauens face men shall your stories tell; At this they shoute; as eager of the pray, As Ants in winter of a sunne-shine day.

Thus like triumphant _Caesar_ drawne in Rome, By winged _Valure_, and vnconquered _Chaunce_, He plowes the Sea (o were it made his tombe) Whilst _Happy-fortune_ pypes unto his daunce.

Yet may thy power alternat heauens doome, So pleaseth thee thy forward will t'aduance, And cheare the sinews of thy mighty arme, Whose out-strecht force shall quell his proud alarme.

Then giue newe fuell to his honours fier, Least slight regard wealth-winning _Error_ slay, And so old _Saturns_ happie world retyer, Making _Trueths_ dungion brighter than the day; Was neuer woe could wound thy kingdom nyer, Or of thy borrowed beautie make display, Because this vow in heauens booke doth remaine, That _Errors_ death shall consumate thy raigne.

Now, for my G.o.d-heads remnant liues in thee, Whose lost successe breeds mine eternall end, Take for thine ayde, afflicting _Miserie_, _Woe_, mine attendant, and _Dispayre_ my freend, All three my greatest great _Triumuerie_, Blood bath'd _Carnifici_, which will protend A murdring desolation to that will, Which me in thee, and thee in mee would kill.

Here, with her fixed Comet-blazing eyes, The d.a.m.ned _Augurs_ of vntimely death, Shee ends her tale, whilst from her harts caue flyes A storme of winds, no gentle sighing breath, All which, like euill spirits in disguise, Enter _Iberias_ eares, and to her sayth, That all the substance of this d.a.m.ned storie, Was zealous true, coyned for her _Spanish_ glorie.

Sworne to beleeue, for ill, in ill a.s.sies, _Spayne_ then enamour'd with the _Romane_ trull, Calls all her forces, more then Atomies, And tells _Ill-fortunes_ storie to the full; Many Parenthises shee doth deuise, And frost-relenting words doth choycely cull, Bewitching those whom oft shee had deceiued, With such like Hemlock as her selfe receiued.

The first and greatest one, commaunding all, The soule of mischiefes old created mother, Was _Don Alphonso Ba.s.san_, proud in brall, The Marques _Sancta Cruces_ onely brother; Him shee coniures by typ's emperiall, And all that falshoods seeming trueth could couer, To vndertake this hie (she termed it) act, Which craues a curse of all that reads the fact.

Her selfe (shee said) and all the flowers of _Spayne_, Should vnder his, as heauens Ensigne warre: Thus from her harts foule dunghill flyes amaine Grosse vapours, metamorphosd to a starre; Her words in fumes like prodogies retaine His hart, by her tongues witchcraft bound so farre, And what shee will, that will hee vnder-take, Be it to warre with heauen for her sake.

The seeming Nectar of her poysoning speech, So well shee saw surprise his licoras sence, That for to reare her ill beyonds ills reach, With selfe-like tropes, decks self-like eloquence, Making in _Britain Dona_ such a breach, That her arm'd wits, conqu'ring his best wits sence, He vowes with _Ba.s.san_ to defende the broile, Which men of praise, and earth of fame shal spoile.

To him shee giues the _Biscaynnoys_ for guard, Mechanicall Artificers for death, And those which of affliction neuer hard, She tempers with the hammer of her breath: To euery act shee giues huge lyp-reward, Lauish of oathes, as falshood of her faith; And for the ground of her pretended right, T'is hate, which enuies vertue in a Knight.

These two to her fast bound in va.s.sailage, Vnto the Marques _Arumburch_ shee flyes, Him shee prouokes, him shee finds apt to rage, Imprisoning Pitties teares in flintie eyes; To him the power of _Siuill_ for a gage Shee doth bequeath; bidding his prowesse ryse, And clense his Countries face from widowes tears, To which he posts, like lightning from the sphears.

Lastly, to make vp mischiefes perfect square, To _Luis Cutino_ shee takes her flight, Him shee commaunds, he to her homage sware To guide a Nauie to this d.a.m.ned fight, Of Hulks and Fly-boats such as durst to dare.

Shee giues him soueraine rule, and publique right, And then vniting all foure powers in one, Sends them to sea, to calme _Misfortunes_ mone.

And now behold (diuine for valiancie) Like flying Castells sayle they to this strand, Fiftie three saile, strong in artillarie; Best men of warre knowne in the _Spanish_ land; Fifteene Armados, Kings of soueraigntie, Which led the lesser with a mightie hand: And these in foure battalions. .h.i.ther flie, With whom three dayes I sailed in companie.

Then gentle _Grinuile, Thetis_ parramoure, Dearer than _Venus_, Daughter of the flood, Set sailes to wind, let not neglect deuoure Thy gracious fortunes and thine Angell goode, Cut through the maine, compell thy keele to scoure, No man his ill too timelie hath with-stoode And when _Best-chaunce_ shal haue repaird thy fortune, Time for this flight may iust reuenge importune.

Here _Midelton_ did end the pa.s.sing peale Which gaue the warning to a dismall end, And as his words last knell began to faile, This d.a.m.ned Nauie did a glimmering send, By which _Sir Richard_ might their power reueale, Which seeming conquerlesse did conquests lend; At whose appearance _Midelton_ did cry, See where they come, for fame and pitty flie.

This certaine story, of too certaine ill, Did not extinguish, but gaue honour fier, Th'amazing prodigie, (bane of my quill,) Bred not astonishment, but a strong desier, By which this heauen-adopted Knights strong will, Then hiest height of Fame, flew much more hier: And from the boundlesse greatnes of his minde, Sends back this answer through his lyps refin'd.

Thanks hardie _Midelton_ for thy dilate, Perswasiue presage to auoyde my death, But if thou wed my fortunes with my state, This sauing health shall suffocate my breath, To flye from them that holds my G.o.d in hate, My Mistres, Countrey, me, and my sworne fayth, Were to pull of the load from _Typhons_ back, And crush my selfe, with shame and seruille wrack.

Nor if my hart degenerate should yeeld, To entertaine an amorus thought of life, And so transport mine honour to the field, Where seeming valure dies by cowards knife, Yet zeale and conscience shall new forces build, And others soules, with my soule holdeth strife; For halfe my men, and all that draw sound breath, Are gone on sh.o.r.e, for foode to conquer death.

If I forsake them, certaine is their end, If I obtaine them, doubtfull is our fall, Vpon my flight, shame and their sacks depend, Vpon my stay, hope of good hap doth call, Equall to me, the meanest I commend; Nor will I loose, but by the losse of all: They are the sinewes of my life and fame, Dismembred bodies perish cripple-lame.

This sayd, he sends a c.o.c.k-boate to the sh.o.r.e, To summon backe his men vnto their ship, Who com'd a board, began with some vprore To way their Anchors, and with care to dip Their hie reuolues in doubt, and euermore, To paint deaths visage with a trembling lip, Till he that was all fearelesse, and feare slew, With Nectard words from them all dangers drew.

When _Midelton_ saw _Grinuills_ hie reuolue, Past hope, past thought, past reach of all aspire, Once more to moue him flie he doth resolue, And to that purpose tips his tongue with fier; Fier of sweete words, that easelie might dissolue And moisten flint, though steeld in stiffe attire, Had not desier of wonder praise, and fame, Extinkt the sparks, and still keepe dead the flame.

Greater, and better then inarked he, Which in the worlds huge deluge did suruiue, O let thy wings of magnanimitie, Not vainlie flatter, _Honour_ to acchiue, Gainst all conceit impossibilitie, By which thou murderst _Vertue_, keepe aliue, Nor in thy seeking of diuinitie, Kill not heauens fame by base mortalitie.

O _Grinuile_ thou hast red Philosophy Nature and Arte hath made thee excellent, And what thou read'st, hath grafted this in thee, That to attempt hie dangers euident Without constraint or neede, is infamie, And honor turnes to rashhes in th'euent: And who so darrs, not caring how he darrs, Sells vertues name, to purchase foolish starrs.

Deere Knight, thou art not forst to hazard fame, Heauens haue lent thee meanes to scape thine ill, If thou abide, as true as is thy name, So truly shall thy fault, thy death fulfill: And as to loue the life for vertues flame, Is the iust act of a true n.o.ble will, So to contemne it, and her helps exclude, Is baseness, rashness, and no _Fort.i.tude_.

He that compard mans bodie to an hoast, Sayd that the hands were scouts, discouering harmes, The feete were hors.e.m.e.n, thundring on the coast, The brest, and stomacke, footmen, huge in swarmes.