Minor Poems of Michael Drayton Part 12

The s.h.i.+p full fraught With Gold, farre sought, Though ne'r so wisely helmed, May suffer wracke 10 In sayling backe, By Tempest ouer-whelmed.

But shee, good Sir, Did not preferre You, for that I was ranging; But for that shee Found faith in mee, And she lou'd to be changing.

Therefore boast not Your happy Lot, 20 Be silent now you haue her; The time I knew She slighted you, When I was in her fauour.

None stands so fast, But may be cast By Fortune, and disgraced: Once did I weare Her Garter there, Where you her Gloue haue placed. 30

I had the Vow That thou hast now, And Glances to discouer Her Loue to mee, And she to thee Reades but old Lessons ouer.

She hath no Smile That can beguile, But as my Thought I know it; Yea, to a Hayre, 40 Both when and where, And how she will bestow it.

What now is thine, Was onely mine, And first to me was giuen; Thou laugh'st at mee, I laugh at thee, And thus we two are euen.

But Ile not mourne, But stay my Turne, 50 The Wind may come about, Sir, And once againe May bring me in, And help to beare you out, Sir.

A SKELTONIAD

The Muse should be sprightly, Yet not handling lightly Things graue; as much loath, Things that be slight, to cloath Curiously: To retayne The Comelinesse in meane, Is true Knowledge and Wit.

Not me forc'd Rage doth fit, That I thereto should lacke Tabacco, or need Sacke, 10 Which to the colder Braine Is the true _Hyppocrene_; Nor did I euer care For great Fooles, nor them spare.

Vertue, though neglected, Is not so deiected, As vilely to descend To low Basenesse their end; Neyther each ryming Slaue Deserues the Name to haue 20 Of Poet: so the Rabble Of Fooles, for the Table, That haue their Iests by Heart, As an Actor his Part, Might a.s.sume them Chayres Amongst the Muses Heyres.

_Parna.s.sus_ is not clome By euery such Mome; Vp whose steep side who swerues, It behoues t' haue strong Nerues: 30 My Resolution such, How well, and not how much To write, thus doe I fare, Like some few good that care (The euill sort among) How well to liue, and not how long.

THE CRYER

Good Folke, for Gold or Hyre, But helpe me to a Cryer; For my poore Heart is runne astray After two Eyes, that pa.s.s'd this way.

O yes, O yes, O yes, If there be any Man, In Towne or Countrey, can Bring me my Heart againe, Ile please him for his paine; And by these Marks I will you show, 10 That onely I this Heart doe owe.

It is a wounded Heart, Wherein yet sticks the Dart, Eu'ry piece sore hurt throughout it, Faith, and Troth, writ round about it: It was a tame Heart, and a deare, And neuer vs'd to roame; But hauing got this Haunt, I feare 'Twill hardly stay at home.

For G.o.ds sake, walking by the way, 20 If you my Heart doe see, Either impound it for a Stray, Or send it backe to me.

TO HIS COY LOVE

A CANZONET

I pray thee leaue, loue me no more, Call home the Heart you gaue me, I but in vaine that Saint adore, That can, but will not saue me: These poore halfe Kisses kill me quite; Was euer man thus serued?

Amidst an Ocean of Delight, For Pleasure to be sterued.

Shew me no more those Snowie Brests, With Azure Riuerets branched, 10 Where whilst mine Eye with Plentie feasts, Yet is my Thirst not stanched.

O TANTALVS, thy Paines n'er tell, By me thou art preuented; 'Tis nothing to be plagu'd in h.e.l.l, But thus in Heauen tormented.

Clip me no more in those deare Armes, Nor thy Life's Comfort call me; O, these are but too pow'rfull Charmes, And doe but more inthrall me. 20 But see, how patient I am growne, In all this coyle about thee; Come nice thing, let my Heart alone, I cannot liue without thee.

A HYMNE TO HIS LADIES BIRTH-PLACE

Couentry, that do'st adorne The Countrey wherein I was borne, Yet therein lyes not thy prayse Why I should crowne thy Tow'rs with Bayes: _Couentry finely 'Tis not thy Wall, me to thee weds walled._ Thy Ports, nor thy proud Pyrameds, _The Shoulder-bone Nor thy Trophies of the Bore, of a hare of But that Shee which I adore, mighty bignesse._ Which scarce Goodnesse selfe can payre, First their breathing blest thy Ayre; 10 IDEA, in which Name I hide Her, in my heart Deifi'd, For what good, Man's mind can see, Onely her IDEAS be; She, in whom the Vertues came In Womans shape, and tooke her Name, She so farre past Imitation, As but Nature our Creation Could not alter, she had aymed, More then Woman to haue framed: 20 She, whose truely written Story, To thy poore Name shall adde more glory, Then if it should haue beene thy Chance, T' haue bred our Kings that Conquer'd _France_.

Had She beene borne the former Age, _Two famous That house had beene a Pilgrimage, Pilgrimages, the And reputed more Diuine, one in_ Norfolk, Then _Walsingham_ or BECKETS Shrine.

_the other in_ That Princesse, to whom thou do'st owe Kent. Thy Freedome, whose Cleere blus.h.i.+ng snow, 30 G.o.diua, _Duke_ The enuious Sunne saw, when as she Leofricks _wife, Naked rode to make Thee free, who obtained the Was but her Type, as to foretell, Freedome of the Thou should'st bring forth one, should excell city, of her Her Bounty, by whom thou should'st haue husband, by riding More Honour, then she Freedome gaue; thorow it naked._ And that great Queene, which but of late _Queene_ Rul'd this Land in Peace and State, Elizabeth. Had not beene, but Heauen had sworne, A Maide should raigne, when she was borne. 40 _A noted Streete Of thy Streets, which thou hold'st best, in_ Couentry. And most frequent of the rest, Happy _Mich-Parke_ eu'ry yeere, _His Mistresse On the fourth of _August_ there, birth-day._ Let thy Maides from FLORA'S bowers, With their Choyce and daintiest flowers Decke Thee vp, and from their store, With braue Garlands crowne that dore.

The old Man pa.s.sing by that way, To his Sonne in time shall say, 50 There was that Lady borne, which long To after-Ages shall be sung; Who vnawares being pa.s.sed by, Back to that House shall cast his Eye, Speaking my Verses as he goes, And with a Sigh shut eu'ry Close.

Deare Citie, trauelling by thee, When thy rising Spyres I see, Destined her place of Birth; Yet me thinkes the very Earth 60 Hallowed is, so farre as I Can thee possibly descry: Then thou dwelling in this place, Hearing some rude Hinde disgrace Thy Citie with some scuruy thing, Which some Iester forth did bring, Speake these Lines where thou do'st come, And strike the Slaue for euer dumbe.

TO THE CAMBRO-BRITANS and their Harpe, his Ballad of AGINCOVRT

Faire stood the Wind for _France_, When we our Sayles aduance, Nor now to proue our chance, Longer will tarry; But putting to the Mayne, At _Kaux_, the Mouth of _Sene_, With all his Martiall Trayne, Landed King HARRY.

And taking many a Fort, Furnish'd in Warlike sort, 10 Marcheth tow'rds _Agincourt_, In happy howre; Skirmis.h.i.+ng day by day, With those that stop'd his way, Where the _French_ Gen'rall lay, With all his Power.

Which in his Hight of Pride, King HENRY to deride, His Ransome to prouide To the King sending. 20 Which he neglects the while, As from a Nation vile, Yet with an angry smile, Their fall portending.

And turning to his Men, Quoth our braue HENRY then, Though they to one be ten, Be not amazed.

Yet haue we well begunne, Battels so brauely wonne, 30 Haue euer to the Sonne, By Fame beene raysed.

And, for my Selfe (quoth he), This my full rest shall be, _England_ ne'r mourne for Me, Nor more esteeme me.

Victor I will remaine, Or on this Earth lie slaine, Neuer shall Shee sustaine, Losse to redeeme me. 40

_Poiters_ and _Cressy_ tell, When most their Pride did swell, Vnder our Swords they fell, No lesse our skill is, Than when our Grandsire Great, Clayming the Regall Seate, By many a Warlike feate, Lop'd the _French_ Lillies.

The Duke of _Yorke_ so dread, The eager Vaward led; 50 With the maine, HENRY sped, Among'st his Hench-men.

EXCESTER had the Rere, A Brauer man not there, O Lord, how hot they were, On the false _French-men_!

They now to fight are gone, Armour on Armour shone, Drumme now to Drumme did grone, To heare, was wonder; 60 That with the Cryes they make, The very Earth did shake, Trumpet to Trumpet spake, Thunder to Thunder.

Well it thine Age became, O n.o.ble ERPINGHAM, Which didst the Signall ayme, To our hid Forces; When from a Medow by, Like a Storme suddenly, 70 The _English_ Archery Stuck the _French_ Horses,

With _Spanish_ Ewgh so strong, Arrowes a Cloth-yard long, That like to Serpents stung, Piercing the Weather; None from his fellow starts, But playing Manly parts, And like true _English_ hearts, Stuck close together. 80

When downe their Bowes they threw, And forth their Bilbowes drew, And on the French they flew, Not one was tardie; Armes were from shoulders sent, Scalpes to the Teeth were rent, Downe the _French_ Pesants went, Our Men were hardie.

This while our n.o.ble King, His broad Sword brandis.h.i.+ng, 90 Downe the _French_ Hoast did ding, As to o'r-whelme it; And many a deepe Wound lent, His Armes with Bloud besprent, And many a cruell Dent Bruised his Helmet.

GLOSTER, that Duke so good, Next of the Royall Blood, For famous _England_ stood, With his braue Brother; 100 CLARENCE, in Steele so bright, Though but a Maiden Knight, Yet in that furious Fight, Scarce such another,

WARWICK in Bloud did wade, OXFORD the Foe inuade, And cruell slaughter made, Still as they ran vp; SVFFOLKE his Axe did ply, BEAVMONT and WILLOVGHBY 110 Bare them right doughtily, FERRERS and FANHOPE.

Vpon Saint CRISPIN'S day Fought was this n.o.ble Fray, Which Fame did not delay, To _England_ to carry; O, when shall _English_ Men With such Acts fill a Pen, Or _England_ breed againe, Such a King HARRY? 120

[from the Edition of 1606]

_Ode 4_

_To my worthy frend, Master John Sauage of the Inner Temple_