the heart to die remedâ—…esse And such a death as liueth to beholde Ten thousand torments more then can be tolde Yet though my penne can neuer halfe expresse The hiâ—…eous torments of my heauie heart Let me set downe some touch of my distresse That some poore soule may helpe to beare a part That in extremities when we are wo begon vs The worlde may weepe to sit and looke vpon vs. Nature and Art are got about his graue And there sit wailing of each others losse Hard by the tombe sittes Sorrow in her caue Cutting her heart to thinke on honours crosse And Wisedome weeping wringing of her hands To see the worlde in what a case it stands In this darke hole of death and heauinesse Sits wofull Bewtie with her blubbred eyes By her sits Loue with Care all comfortlesse Recording of his mothers miseries Among the rest that wailes the losse of friends Sits Patience pricking of her fingers ends From Pities face doo fall the trickling teares Of torments such as teare the heart of Loue The Muses sit and rend their shriueled heares To see the paine that Loue and Bewtie proue Among them all howe I am torne in sunder And yet do liue confesse it is a wonder I liue oh liue alas I liue indeede But such a life was neuer such a death While fainting heart is but constrainde to feede Upon the care of a consuming breath O my sweete Muse that knowest howe I am vexed Paint but one passion how I am perplexed I call for death but yet he will not heare me I read my death and rue my destinie I see my death but he will not come neare me I feele my death but yet I cannot die But where nor death will kill nor griefe be cured Thinke what a death of deathes I haue endured Yet while I liue in all this miserie Let me go quarrell with this cruell fate Why death should do so great an iniurâ—… Unto the stay of such a happie state At liuing things to make his leuell so To kill a Phoenix when there were no mo Oh cruell Death what led thy hand awrâ—…e To take the best and leaue the worst behind To youth thou art vntimely destinie Thou mightest haue bene a comfort to the blind And end the aged of their wearie time And not a youth in pride of all his prime Thou monghtest haue shot at such a wretched thought As had past ouer all his pleasant yeares And killed the heart that is consumed to nought Which being â—…angled â—…n these worldly briers But Bewties loue and Honors hart to bleed Fie ou thee death it is too fowle a deed But well the world will curse thee to thy face Bewtie and Loue will to thy teeth deâ—…e thee Honor and Learning draw thee in disgrace Where no good thought shall euer once come nie thee And for my selfe to see thee wo begone thee Will pray to God all plagues may light vpon thee For I haue lost the honour of my loue My loue hath lost the honour of my life My life and loue doth such a passion proue As in the world was neuer such a strife Where secret death and sorow are consented To see the terror of a heart tormented Thou camst too soone but now thon comst too late Thy force too great but now it is too small Halfe had in loue but wholy now in hate Destred of some but cursed now of all Oft I confesse that I haue quakte before thee But do thy worst death now I care not for thee But dost thou thinke thou canst thy selfe excuse To say alas thou hast but done thine office Unhappie hand whom so the heauens dost vse On such a Saint to execute thy seruice But since it was the will of God to do it His will be done I can but yeeld vnto it Yet for the care that Vertue hath conceyued For losse of him that was his dearest loue And for the death that Honour hath receyued Where pacience doth the deadly passions proue I cannot thuse although my hart would hide it To shew my griefe so great I cannot bide it Oh that I had but so diuine a head As could bewray the sorrowes of my breast Or from the graue to raise againe the dead And not offend my God in my request Or by a prayer I might the grace obtaine To see the face of my desire againe But all in vaine my wishes not â—…uaile My wordes are winde and carrie none effect And with my griefe I feele my senses faile That Fortune thus should crosse me in affect As by the losse of one sweet heauenly friend My heart should die and yet no dolor end End no God wot there is no end of griefe Where sad conceit will neuer out of minde And bootlesse hope to harpe vpon reliefe Where Care may seeke and neuer Comfort finâ—… For in the worâ—…d I had no ioy bâ—…t one And all but death nowe he is dead and gone Gone is my ioy alas and well-away What shall I doo nowe all my loue is gone All my delight is falne vnto decay Onely but heauen I haue to hope vpon Oh heauenly powers take pitie of my crie Let me not liâ—…e and see my Louer die Oh my loue ah my loue all my loue gone Out alas sillie wretch well-aday wo is me Of a friend euer friend such a friend none In the worlde through the worlde may the worlde see Holy Saints higher powers heauens looke vpon me Pitie me comfort me thus wo begone me My heauenly Loue heauens lou'd as well as I Heauen was his care and heauen was his content In heauen he liues in heauen he cannot die From heauen he came and to the heauens he went Oh heauenly Loue heauens will I looke for neuer Till in the heauens I may beholde thee euer But what me thinks I see a sudden chaunge The worlde dooth seeme to alter nature much The state of things is to my reason straunge And sorrowes such as there were neuer such Such lacke of loue such mourning for a friend Such world of woes as if the world should end Me thinkes I see the Queene of kinde affect Sighing and sobbing with such inward griefe As he that could consider the effect Might see a heart lie dead without reliefe And â—…n conceite so ouercome with care It killes my heart to see her heauie fare Me thinkes I see a sight of armed horse Led in by boyes as if the men were dead Me thinkes I heare men murmure of a corse And gallant youthes go hanging of the head Me thinkes I heare a thunder in the aire Bids fare well Hope looke vpou Dispaire Me thinkes I heare the trumpet drum and fife Sound all a mort as if the world were done Me thinkes I see the'nd of vnhappie life Or second ioy since latter age begâ—…ne Me thinkes I heare the horâ—…or of the crie As if the day were come that all should die Oh what I heare oh what I feele and see
Hold hart helpe heauens how can I longer liue But in the heauens there is no helpe for me Not all the world can any comfort giue When death doth of my dearest friend depriue me What can remaine in comfort to reuiue me Yet for the world shall witnesse what thou art Which in the world did leaue no like behinde I will set downe though short of thy desart The happie honour of thy heauenly minde And on thy tombe I wil with teares engraue The death of life that for thy lacke I haue Looke on the hils how all the Shepheards sit Heauie to thinke vpon their honest friend How Phillis sits as one besides her wit To see the sorrow of her Shepheards end Harke how the lambs go blaying vp downe To see their Shepheards caried to the towne Looke how the flock begin to leaue their feeding While cruell beasts breake iâ—… among the sheepe See how the heart of loue â—…ooth lie a bleeding That Mars was slaiâ—…e while Venus was a sleepe See how the earth is bare in euerie place To see that death hath done the worlde disgrace And Corridon poore sillie wretched swaine Dooth make such moâ—…e as if he should go mad All in dispaire to see good dayes againe To loose the ioy that on the earth he had Who since the time he heard but of the wound Liu'de like a ghost that goes vpon the ground And so forlorne abandonde all content Keepes in the Caues where comfort is vnknowne Borne but to liue and onely to lament The dolefull life that by his death hath growne Who in his life would let him know no care But by his death all griefes that euer are Pan in a rage hath broken all his pipes Pallas alas sits poaring on a booke Her weeping eyes see howe Diana wipes And poore Apollo casts a piteous looke The Nymphes come in with such a wofull crying As if that Loue or Venus lay a dying The Nightingale is stopped in her throte And shriking Owles do make a fearefull noise The dolefull Rauens sing a deadly note And little Wrennes the end of Eagles ioyes The Phoenix droopes and Falcons beate their wings To heare how Swans of death and sorrow sings The trees are blasted and the leaues do wither The daintie greene is turnde to duskie gray The gallant Uines are shrunke and gone togither And all the flowers doo fade and fall away The springs are dried and all the fish scale beaten And all good fruite the earth it selfe hath eaten Oh what a wo it is to see the woes Where nought but wo is left to looke vpon A griefe too great for Reason to disclose And in effect a death to studie on Where man and beasts birds fishes flowers and trees Do halfe the hope of all their comfort leese When on the earth was euer such a sight Hardly the world can such a sorrow haue Neuer did death more seaze vpon delight Then when this knight was caried to his graue Which when I sawe so neere my heart I set As while I liue I neuer can forget First comes the brother all in mourning blacke Mourning in deede in bodie and in minde Foulding his armes as if his heart would cracke Feeling the death that Loue and Nature finde Looking upon the last of his delight Oh heauenly God it was a pitious sight The Scholers come with Lachrimis Amoris As though their hearts were hopelesse of reliefe The Souldiers come with Tonitrâ—… Clamoris To make the heauens acquainted with their griefe The noble Peeres in Ciuitatis portis In hearts engrauen come in with Dolor mortis The straungers come with Oh che male sorte The seruants come with Morte dila vita The secret friends with Morte pui che morte And all with these Felicâ—…ta finita Nowe for my selfe Oh dolor infernale Da videre morte non da viuere tale Now if the griefe of all the world be great How great is his that is the griefe of all Who doth in thoughts more deadly pangs repeate Then euer did to all the world befall Whose paines and passions onely do approue The onely true Anotamie of loue But since I see there is no remedie What God will haue must neuer be withstoode And Male-content is but a maladie That may consume but can doe little good I will to God referre my whole reliefe In heauenly care of my vnhappie griefe And on my knees beseech his holy will To cast on me those sweete and louing eyes That heale the heart of euery hatefull griefe And giue the life where comfort neuer dyes And where my heart is gone my hope may thether That faith and loue may liue in heauen together But till my soule may see that heauenly sweete Where Vertue dooth her dearest loue embrace Where Comfort Care and Kinde affect mâ—…y meete And haue the ioy to see each others face Upon thy Tombe I will these wordes set downe That all the warld may read of thy renowme FINIS Poems and Sonets A pleasant Poem A Angels haue not their honour for their 〈◊〉 N No bewtie like the vertue of the minde N No life to loue that cannot proue vntrue E Esteeme the comfort of the highest kinde P Pure is the minde that cannot meane amisse A And sweete the life that is maintainde by loue R Rare is the heart where such affection is K Kinde the conceipt that dooth such honour proue E Excellens rare that wit and reason winneth R Read but each letter as the line beginneth A. P. Finis Another T Time made a stay when highest powers wrought R Regard of loue where vertue had her grace E Excellence rare of euerie beautie sought N Notes of the heart where honour had her place T Tried by the touch of most approued truth A A worthie Saint to serue a heauenly Queene M More faire then she that was the fame of youth E Except but one the like was neuer seene Trentame Finis Another G Good is the best the most can say no more A And yet is good and better and the best R Reason requires the best be set before R Regard of loue findes reason in the rest E Except the best in euerie good excepted T Though better serue the good may be accepted Garet Finis A sweete Pastorall GOod Muse rocke me asseepe with some sweet harmonie This weary eie is not to keepe thy warie companie Sweet Loue be gone a while thou knowst my heauines Bewtie is borne but to beguile my heart of happines See how my litle slocke that lou'd to feed on hie Do head-long â—…umble downe the rocke in the vally die The bushes and the trees that weare so fresh and greene Do all their daintie colours leese and not a leafe is seene The Black-bird the Thrush that made the woods to ring With all the rest are now at hush not a note they sing Sweet Philomele the bird that hath the heauenly throte Doth now alas not once afoord recording of a note
Whose yeres with cares whose eies with teares beswolne That in each part all parts of griefes doth find To grace his ill send such a man to me That am more haplesse then himselfe can be For good desart that is vnkindly vsed For seruice loue and faith that â—…indeth hate Who in his Mistresse eyes is most refused Whose comforts falle whose 〈◊〉 come too late If that man liue that in his 〈◊〉 findes this Know hee my 〈◊〉 for my haâ—… hardâ—… is If daâ—…ming vowes be but as dreames regarded And constant thoughts as shewes of custome taken If any man for loue be thus rewarded And hath his hopes for these vnrights forsaken Let him see me whose like hath neuer beene Kilde by these wrongs and yet by death vnseene Then by this riuall of my such dispise With much desire shall seeke my name to know Tell him my lines Strange things may well suffice For him to beare for me to seeke them so And t'was inough that I did finde such euils And t'were too much that Angels should be diueâ—…s His complaint against Loue and Fortune IF heauen and earth were both not fullie bent To plague a wretch with an infernall paine To robbe the heart of all his high content And leaue a wound that should not heale againe If cruell Fortune did not seeke to kill The carefull spirit of my kinde affect And care did not so crucifie me still That Loue had left no hope of his effect If she whom most my heart hath euer loued Were not vnkinde in care of my distresse And she by whom my griefe might be remoued Did not holde backe the meane of my redresse If all these thoughts and many thousands mo Too long to tell too deadly to endure Did not consume my heart in sorrow so That care hath left no hope of any cure Then might I yet amid mâ—… greatest griefe Perswade my pacience with some heauenly power That when I most despaire of my reliefe My hopelesse heart might find some happie hower But since that Fortune so doth frowne vpon me That care hath thus of comfort all berest me Thinke it not strange to see me wo begone me Where no good hope of no good hap is left me And since I see all kindnesse so vnkinde And friendship growne to such contrarie thought â—… And such a thought the torment of the minde That care and sorrow hath consumed to nought I will resolue though paâ—…ience be perforce To sit me downe and thus in secret â—…rie Dead is my heart oâ—… earth receiue my corse Heauen be my life for in the world I die In the praise of his Penelope WHen authors write god knowes what thing is true Old Homer wrote of fine Vlysses wit And Ouid wrote of Venus heauenly hue And Ariosto of Orlandos fit One wrote his pleasure of Caliope I am to write of sweete Penelope And where each one did shewe a secret vaine And whether that Vlysses were or not And though that Ouid did but onely faiâ—…e And Ariosto set downe many a blot And some wrote loudly of Caliope I write but truth of sweete Penelope And if I had Vlysses skilfull sconce With Homers pen and Ouids heauenly voice I would set downe a wonder for the nouce To set them all a newe to worke againe And he that wrote of his Caliope Should hush to heare of this Penelope As true as she that was Vlysses wife As â—…aire as she whom some a Goodesse faine A Saint of shape and of more vertuous life Then she for whom Orlandos knight was slaine In euerie thing aboue Caliope There is none such as sweete Penelope And for this time go looke the world that will For constant faire for vertue and good grace For euery part in whom no part is ill For perfect shape and for a heauenly face Angellica Venus Caliope All are but blows vnto Penelope A Poem LOoke not too long vpoÌ„ those looks y â— blinds the ouerlooker sore if you speak speak not to much lest speaking once y â— speak no more think not but what it is to think to reach beyoÌ„d the reach of thought And if you do do what you can when you haue don you can do nought But if you see against your will looke but away and be not slaine And if a worde go vnawares with care it may be calde againe And for a thought it is not hurt except it grow vnto a thing But to vndo that hath bene done is onely conquest of a king But since in thee O silly wretch both sight speach thought and deed By reason of a wrong conceit do but thine owne confusion breed Shut vp thy eies seale vp thy tongue lock vp thy thought lay downe thy head And let thy mistres see by this how loue hath strock her seruant dead And that but in her heauenly eye her worde her thought and onely will Doth rest the dead to kill the quite or else to cure thee of this ill A Poem POwre downe poore eies the teares of true distresse Heare but oh heauens the horror of my crie Iudge of the care that can haue no redrresse Let me not liue to see my louer diâ—… In sorrowes rules like sorrow neuer read Phillip sweet-knight sweete Phillip Sidney dead Paine more then art or Nature can expresse Hell to the world to loose a heauenly friend Ioy is become but sorrow and distresse Life with my Loue let death and dolor end In bitter teares hath hart of honor blead Past hope of helpe to see perfection dead A Poem PEace all the world your weeping is but vaine Heauen hath the hâ—…pe of honor all away Ioy but in heauen to meet that hope againe Lincke with the life that neuer can decay In this alone all hope of comfort lies Perfection onely liues in Paradice A Poem PErfection â—…eereles Uertue without pride Honor and learning linckt with highest Loue Ioy of the thought in true discretion tride Loue of the life that highest honors proue In Angels armes with heauenly hands embraced Paradice pleased and all the world disgraced Seeke all the world oh seeke and neuer finde In earthly mould the mount of such a minde Diuinest gifts that God on man bestoweth No glory such as of such glory groweth End of the ioyes that hath all griefe begun Yet let me weepe when all the world is done Vpon a scoffing laughter giuen by a Gentlewoman LAugh not too much perhaps you are deceyued All are not fooles that haue but simple faces Mists are abroad things may be misconceyued Frumps and disdaines are fauours in disgraces Now if you do not know what meane these speeches Fooles haue long cotes and Monkies haue no breeches Tâ—…hee againe why what a grace is this Laugh a man out before he can get in Fortune so crosse and fauour so amis Doomsday at hand before the world begin Marie sir then but if the weather holde Bewtie may laugh and Loue may be a colde Yet leaue betimes your laughing
BRITTONS BOWRE OF Delights CONTAYNING Many most delectable and fine deuices of rare Epitaphes pleasant Poems Pastorals and Sonets By N. B. Gent. Imprinted at London by Richard Ihones at the Rose and Crowne neere Holborne Bridge 1591. To the Gentlemen Readers GENTLEMEN I present you here in the Authours absence with sundrie fine Deuices and rare conceytes in English verse by the names of Epitaphes Poems Pastorals and Sonets some of worthines and some of wantonnes yet all in my poore censure wittie pleasant commendable It any like you as I hope they wil partly for the well penning of them but specially for the Subiet and worthinesse of the persons they doo concerne though happly you esteeme the rest of lesse regard I then haue my desire and count my labour and charges well bestowed I am onely the Printer of them chiefly to pleasure you and partly to profit my selfe if they prooue to your good liking if otherwise my hope is frustrate my labour lost and all my cost is cast away Pardon mee good Gentlemen of my presumption protect me I pray you against those Caâ—…ellers and findfaults that neuer like of any thing that they see printed though it be neuer so wel compiled And where you happen to find any fault impute it to bee committed by the Printers negligence then otherwise by any ignorance in the Author and especially in A 3 about the middest of the page for lime or lead I pray you read it line or lead So shall your poore Printer haue iust cause hereafter to be more carefull and acknowledge himselfe most bounden at all times to do you seruice to the vtmost of his power Yours R. I. Printer Amoris Lachrimae A most singular and sweete Discourse of the life and death of S. P. S. Knight AMong the woes of those vnhappie wights That haue set downe the sorrowes of their time Whose liues are most deuoid of al delights And passe in griefe the pleasures of their prime Let me discourse the secrets of my care More then conceyte or sorrow can declare Some loose their wealth it is a slender losse My life hath lost the treasure of my trust Some loose their health alas a common crosse My lifes delight is buried in the dust Some loose their friendes it is no one mans woe I lost a friend such one there are no moe Some loose their loue a sorrow neere the heart In kinde affect the crosse of onely crosses Some loose their liues where sorrowes neuer part Some loose themselues in thinking of their lossess More then my selfe is such a friend bereft me All wealth nor health nor loue nor life hath left me And shall I tell what kinde of man he was Whome thus I lou'de and neuer creature hated Imagine first it dooth my reason passe To write of him whome hiest power created For euerie part that vertue had desired 〈◊〉 of the heauens and of the world admired Yet as my heart for griefe and sorrow can I will describe the substance of his state In childish yeares he was esteemd a man And halfe a man more halfe a magistrate On whome the Arts and Muses so attended As all in all for all he was commended Whose wisdome was not seene in wanton toies And though a wanton yet not deuoid of wit Of worldly ieasts he neuer made his toies Although sometimes he had a taste of it For let the best that liues do what he can In some things yet he shewes himself a man But if on earth there were a man diuine For Natures gifts and Vertues secret grace Then giue me leaue to say this loue of mine Was here too good to haue a dwelling place But liues in heauen in some high Angels office Where God himselfe dooth vse him in his seruice To say yet more what in effect he was Let this suffice in summe he was a man Whose heauenly wisedome found the way to passe More then the power of Wit and Reason can In whose attempts the world thus well did know him Nothing but death could euer ouerthrow him Comely of shape and of a manly face Noble in birth and of a princely minde Kinde in effect and of a courtly grace Courteous to all and carefull of the kinde Valure and Vertue Learning Bountie Loue These were the parts that did his honour proue Whose full perfection thus hath wisedome peased His wordes were substance and his deeds diuine Reason the ground whereon his hope were raysed Labour his life and Learning was his line Truth was his loue and Triall his intent Care his couceipt and Honour his content He spake no worde but carried full his waight He nothing did that euer tooke disgrace He had no minde to muse vpon deceyte He built in heauen his onely byding place He lou'd the Church where Saints do build the steepls And sought the worlde where Angels are the people He trauaild farre when he was neerest home Where was no earth he could behold a land He sawe a house without eare lime or lome And saild the seas where there was neuer sand He sounded depths without eare lime or lead And found out life where other meÌ„ were dead He fearde no foe nor euer sought a friend He knew no want and made no care of wealth He nought begun but had a care to end And neuer lou'd the honour had in stealth By fire and sword he wonne his worthy fame That hath aduaunc'd the honour of his name In all the skie he honoured but a starre That was his course of all his kind affection Whose flame was nere although the fire a farre Gaue him the light of loues direction He was so kind and constant where he loued As once resolu'd he could not he remoued His hands was free to helpe the needie hart His heart was franke to fill the emptie hand His most desire was to reward desart And holde vp state where honour could not stande His onely iâ—…y was honour of the stelde To conquere men and make the Captaines yeelde Much was his care and of his Countrey most Little his ioy and in himselfe the least All for his friend did seeme but little cost Yet to himselfe a little was a feast High was their happe that might but be about him Death is their life that mourne to be without him Nowe iudge the life in leauing such a ioy The death in losse of such a daintie friend What may remoue the roote of this annoy Or howe this griefe may euer haue an ende And if it be a care incurable Thinke of the death where it is â—…urable To liue in death is but a dying life To die in life is but a liuing death Betwixt these two is such a deadly strife As make me draw this melancholike breath Wherein conceite dooth liue so discontented As neuer heart was euer so tormented A torment onely made but for the minde A minde ordainde but onely to distresse And such distresse as can no comfort finde But leaues
feed this heart that onely liues vpon them Ah of these hands what humors do arise To blind these eies that liue by looking on them But heart must faint that must be going froÌ„ you And eies must weepe that in you lose their seeing Heauens be your place where Angels better knowe you And earth is too base for such a Goddesse beeing Yet where you come among those hiest powers Craue pardon then for all these great offences That when you dwelt among those harts of ours Your only eies did blind our wits and senses New if you see my will aboue my wit Think of the good that all your graces yeeld you A mazed Muse must haue a madding fit Who is but mad that euer hath beheld you A Sonet THose eies that hold the hand of euery heare That hand that holds the heart of euery eye That wit that goes beyond all Natures art The sence too deepe for Wisedome to discrie That eye that hand that wit that heauenly sence Doth shew my onely mistresse excellence Oh eyes that pearce into the purest heart Oh hands that hold the highest thoughts in thrall Oh wit that weyes the depth of all desart Oh sence that shewe the secret sweete of all The heaueÌ„ of heaueÌ„s with heauenly powers preserue thee Loue but thy selfe and giue me leaue to serue thee To serue to liue to looke vpon those eyes To looke to liue to kisse that heauenly hand To sound that wit that doth amaze the minde To know that sence no sence can vnderstand To vnderstand that all the world may know Such wit such sence eyes hands there are no moe A pastorall of Phillis and Coridon ON a hill there growes a flower Faire befall the daintie sweete By that flower there is a bower Where the heauenly Muses meete In that Bower there is a Chaire Fringed all about with golde Where doth sit the fairest faire That did euer eye beholde It is Phyllis faire and bright She that is the shepheards ioy She that Venus did dispight And did blind her little boy This is she the wise the rich And the world desires to see This is Ipsa quae the which There is none but onely shee Who would not this fact admire Who would not this Saint adore Who would not this sight desire Though he thought to see no more Oh faire eyes yet let me see One good looke and I am gonâ—… Looke on me for I am hee Thy poore sillie Corridon Thou that art the shepheards Queene Looke vpon thy sillie Swaine By tâ—…y comfort haue beene seene Dead men brought to life againe The complaint of a forsaken Louer LEt me go seeke some solitarie place In craggie rocks where coÌ„fort is vnknowne Where I may sit and waile my heauy case And make the heaueÌ„s acquainted with my moâ—…e Where onely Eccho with her hollow voice May sound the sorrow of my hidden sence And cruell chance the crosse of sweetest choise Doth breed the paine of this experience In mourning thoughts let me my mind attire And clad my care in weedes of deadly wo And make Disgrace the graue of my desire Which tooke his death wherby his life did grow And ere I die engraue vpon my â—…ombe Take heed of Loue for this is louers doome A prettie Fancie VVHo takes a friend and trusâ—…s him not Who hopes of good and hath it not Who hath a Item and keepes it not Who keepes a Ioy and loues it not The first wants wit the second will Carelesse the third the fourth dooth ill An Epitaph on the death of a noble Gentleman SOrrow come sit thee downe and sigh and sob thy fill And let these bleeding bitter teares be witnesse of thine ill See see how Vertue sits what passions she doth proue To thinke vpon the losse of him that was her dearest loue Come Pallas carefull Queene let all thy Muses waite About the graue where buried is the grace of your conceite Poets lay downe your pennes or if you needes will write Confesse the onely day of loue hath lost her dawning light And you that know the Court and what beseemes the place With griefe engraue vpoÌ„ his tombe he gaue al Courts a grace And you that keepe the fields and knowe what valure is Say all too soone was seene in this vntimely death of his Oh that he liud in earth that could but halfe conceiue The honour that his rarest heart was worthie to receiue Whose wisdome farre aboue the rule of Natures reach Whose workes are extant to the worlde that all the world may teach Whose wit the wonder-stone that did true wisdome tutch And such a sounder of conceipt as few or neuer sutch Whose vertues did exceede in Natures highest vaine Whose life a lanthorne of the loue that surely liues againe Whose friendship faith so fast as nothing could remoue him Whose honourable courtesie made all the world to loue him What language but he spake what rule but he had read What thought so high what sense so deep but he had in his head A Phoenix of the world whom fame doth thus commend Vertue his life Valor his loue and Honor was his end Upon whose tombe be writ that may with teares be red Here lies the flower of chiualrie that euer England bred Oh heauens vpon the earth was neuer such a day That all conceits of all contents should all consume away Me thinkes I see a Queene omâ—…e couerâ—… with a vasse The Court all stricken in a dumpe tâ—…e 〈◊〉 weene 〈◊〉 The knights in carefull sighs bewaile their secret losse And he that best conceales his griefe bâ—…wrayes â—…e hath a crosse Come scholers bring your bookes let reason haue his right Do reuerence vnto the corse in honour of the knight Come souldiers see the knight that left his life so neere ye Giue him a volley of your harts that all the world may heare ye And ye that liue at home and passe your time in peace To helpe ye sing his 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 let sorrow neuer cease Oh could I mouâ—… 〈◊〉 that all the world may see The griefe of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 â—… losse as greater cannot bee Our Court hath 〈◊〉 a 〈◊〉 our Countrey such a knight As with the torment of the thought hath turned day to nighâ—… A man so rare a man did neuer England breed So excellent in euery thing that all men did exceed So full of all effects that wit and since may scan As in his heart did want no part to make a perfâ—…ct man Perfection faâ—…e aboue the rule of humaine sence Whose heart was euely set on heauen and had his honor thence Whose marke of hiest aime was honour of the minde Who both at once did worldly fame and heauenly fancur finde Whom Uertue so did loue and learning so adore As commendation of a man was neuer man had more Whom wise men did admire whom good men did affect Whom honest men did loue and serue and all men did respect Whose care his Countries loue whose loue his Countries
tootoo mutch Or find the Foxe and then begin the chase Shut not a Rat within a sugar hutch And thinke you haue a Squirrell in the place But when you laugh let this go for a iest Seeke not a Woodcocke in a Swallowes nest A sweete contention betweene Loue his Mistresse and Bewtie LOue my Mistres were at strife who had the greater power on me Betwixt them both oh what a life nay what a death is this to be She said she did it with her eie◅he said he did it with his dart Betwixt them both a sillie wretch t'is I that haue the wounded hart She said she only spake the word that did enchant my pearing sence He said he onely gaue the sound that entred hart without defence She said they were her onely heares on which the daintie Muses waite He said he was the onely meane that entred Muses in conceite She said her Bewtie was the marke that did amaze the highest mind He said he onely made the mist whereby the sences grew so blind She said that onely for her sake the best would venture life and lim He said she was too much deceiu'd they honoured her because of him Long while alas she would not yeeld but it was she that rul'de the rost Untill by proofe she did confesse if he were gone her ioy was lost And then she cried oh daintie Loue I now do find it is for thee That I am lou'd and honored both thou hast power to conquer me But when I heard her yeeld to Loue oh how my hart did leape for ioy That now I had some little hope to haue an end of mine annoy For though that Fancie Bewtie found a power all to pitilesse Yet Loue would neuer haue the hart to leaue his seruant comfortles But as too soone before the field the ◅pet sounds the ouerthrow So all too soone I ioyed too much for I awaked and nothing so A Sonet to the tune of a hone a hone COme solemne Muse and helpe me ◅ing A dolefull note a dying song What wretched cares my heart do wring To see howe death hath done me wrong For I haue lost oh deadly wo My iem my ioy my life my loue And in the world their is no mo Can heale the paine that I do proue My sweete affections all are fled Desires delights and all are gone My heart is sicke my hope is dead And onely death to looke vpon These secrete cares so kill my heart With inward gripes of endlesse griefe That how can sorrow euer part Where is no hope to haue reliefe But helpelesse hopelesse still I lie consuming so in secret care That who doth liue and would not die To looke vpon my heauie farr But all in vaine I make this mone Where nothing can my griefe release For I am onely left alone To sorrow still and neuer cease But sorrow now euen do thy wurst For death in fine will be a friend For I do know my heart will burst And then thy force will haue an end In commendation of the maides of Honour FAire is to base for Natures excellence Rich all too meane for such a mind of treasure All but too few to do her reuerence Uertue her selfe doth loue her out of measure No earthly coast containeth such a creature Those by the heauens to shew the earth a wonder Ioy of the earth the miracle of Nature Sent to the wise to set all wits asunder How farre she is aboue all humane sence Aske of the Gods for men cannot discerne When such I find her secret excellence As wit and reason are too weake to learne Rare is the worke that Nature thus hath ended Daintie the end that cannot be amended Diana virgin her complaint to the Goddesse Diana OH sweet Diana that dwelst amōg the nimphs In whom the fire of Nature hath no force Whose heauenly eye beholds those silly imps Whose ruthfull harts do sue for thy remorce Uouchsafe oh saint from that pure hand of thine Some pities helpe to this poore hart of mine Was it my fault that Cupid found the meane First to creepe in into thy quiet Court My hope was cleare my comfort had bene cleane From any hap of such vnhappie hurt But well I see amid the greatest cares A sudden heart may slippe in vnawares Alas alas full little did I thinke The little thing had had so great a power I thought him blind when he did onely winke And sweet his thoughts that fall out deadly sower But since I was thus trapped in this traine Once set my heart at libertie againe But Ladie say is Loue of such a force That onely death must heale the desperate wound◅ In heauenly thoughts hath Reason no remorce In cure of loue was neuer comfort found Hath Cupid force to come and coniure thee Oh no alas it is to conquer mee T'was I t'was I that onely had the hap To take the hurt the wretched Traitor wrought T'was onely I that caught the secret clap While carefull faith with cruell fancie fought T'was I Diana and t'is onely I Whom thou must helpe or els I yeeld to die Brittons vision of Cupids complaint against his fowle father Vulcan for begetting him WIthin the thicke of most vnquiet thoughts Where Wit and Will had long each other lost With carefull sence of sweete desire I sought Which was the way that Fancie followed most And passing on the path that they did proue Plodding along I met with pitious Loue. Wholy disarmde and hanging downe the head Blinded oh no but all with blubbred eyes Falue in the face with colour pale and dead Wringing his hands in such a wofull wise That when I saw how he had wept and cried Truely I thought the wretch would there haue died But when I sawe the little thing alone Farre from himselfe thus wander too and fro And when I heard howe he did still bemoue Some hidden cause that I desirde to know Close in conceite I hid my selfe to heare What was the cause of this his heauie cheare Thus as I sat close hidden from his sight Of lucklesse Loue lamenting of his losse This sillie wretch in this most sorrowed plight With sighes and sobs and grieuous grones God wote Cursing and banning Bewties generation Thus did begin his wofull lamentation Oh haplesse hower when first my mother made The cursed match with that vncomely Smith Whose smokie forge hath made her beautie fade As farre vnfit for her to meddle with Whose filthie face doth set foorth such a feature As hell it selfe hath scarce so fowle a creature But what conceite her frantike fancie fead To match with him that was so fowle a match Alas alas was Mercurie so dead So great a prince to looke on such a patch Needes must she thinke as she did after proue Vulcan was not a man for Venus loue Oh smokie fowle ill fauoured filthie theefe Howe could thy mind so high a matter moue Howe could thy heart haue hope to find releese Looke on thy selfe
The flowers haue had a frost each hearbe hath lost her sauor And Phillida the faire hath lost the comfort of her fauor Now all these carefull sights so kill me in conceit That how to hope vpon delights it is but meere deceit And therefore my sweet Muse that knowst what help is best Do now thy heauenly cunning vse to set my heart at rest And in a dreame bewray what fate shall be my friend Whether my life shall still decay or when my sorow end A Sonet THe prettie Turtle-doue that with no little mone When she hath lost her louing mate sits mourning all alone The Swan that alwaies sings an houre before hir death Whose deadly gripes do giue the grones y t draw away hir breath The Pellican that pecks the blood out of hir brest And by her death doth only feed her yong ones in the nest The Hart imparked close within a plot of ground Who dare not ouer-looke the pale for feare of huÌ„ters 〈◊〉 The Hound in kenell tied that heares the chase go by And boâ—…tles wishing foot abrode in vaine doth howle cry The Tree with withered â—…op that hath his branches dead And haÌ„geth down his hiest bowes while other hold vp head Endure not halfe the death the sorow nor disgrace That my poore wretched mind abides where none caÌ„ wail my case For truth hath lost his trust more deare then Turtle-doue And what a death to such a life that such a pain doth proue The Swan for sorrow sings to see her death so â—…e I die because I see my death and yet I cannot die The Pellican doth feed their yong ones with their blood I bleed to death to feed desires that neuer do me good My heart imparked round within the ground of griefe Is to beset with hounds of hate it lookes for no reliefe And sweet desire my dogge is clogged so with care He cries and dies to heare delights come not where they are My tree of true delight is sabd with sorrow so As but the heauens do sooner helpe will be his ouerthrow In summe my dole my death and my disgrace is such As neuer man that euer liu'd knew euer halfe so much A Poem GO Muse vnto the Bower whereas my mistres dwels And tell her of her seruaÌ„ts loue but tel her nothing els And speake but in her eare that none may heare but she That if she not the sooner helpe there is no helpe for me Not that I â—…eare to speake but it is strange to heare That shee will neuer looke on him that holds her loue so deare Perhaps she knowes it not or if she do she will not Yet let her kindnes haue a care that though she hurt she kil not And though it be to strange yet let her this beleue me That dead meÌ„ liue yet I am dead yet liue if she releue me For yet are not so colde the coales of kinde desire But in the ashes liues a sparke to kindle loue a fire Which fier his fuell hath but from those fairest eies Where faith doth burne fancie flame fauor neuer dies A Poem PUre of the faire that neuer fadeth hue Exceeding sweet that euery sweet exceedeth Neere to the heauens where highest glaces growe ' Excellent fruit that such a fancie feedeth Loue in the eyes and honour in the heart O Princes Angelles Goddesse heauenly feature Perfection farre aboue all natures arte Exception none was euer such a creature Rich vertuous wise faire courteous comely kinde Ioy to the hearts of all that doo beholde her Courtly of grace and of a princely minde High in the heauens the Angels haue enrolde her A Pastorall MIne eyes haue seene the Idoll of my heart Mine eyes haue heard the wonder of the wise Mine heart hath toucht the comfort of mine eyes Nowe handes be true vnto your happie heart Tongue say thy heart shall all in silence serue Heart to thy head doo not thy thoughts impart Eyes see the sight that doth your sight preserue And nowe thou eye thou tongue thou hand and heart But looke or speake or touch or turne awrie The heauens pronounce the due of your desart Be true and liue but if a Traitor die A Poem LIke to an Hermit poore in place obscure I meane to spende my dayes in endlesse doubt To waile such woes as time cannot recure Where none but loue shall euer finde me out My foode shall be of care and sorrow made My drinke nought else but teares falne from mine eyes And for my light in such obscured shade The flames shall scrue that from my heart arise A gowne of griefe my bodie shall attire And broken hope the staffe of all my stay Of late repentance linkt with long desire The Couch is made whereon my bones to lay And at my gate Dispaire shall linger still To let in Death when Loue and Fortune will Of his Mistresse loue TO trie whose art and strength did most excell My Mistresse Loue and faire Diana met The Ladies three forthwith to shooting fell And for the prize the richest Iewell set Sweete Loue did both her bowe and arrowes gage Diana did her bewtie rare lay downe My Mistresse pawnde her crueltie and rage And she that wanne had all for her renowne It fell out thus when as the match was done My Mistresse gat the bewtie and the bowe And streight to trie the weapons she had wonne Upon my heart she did a shaft bestow By Bewtie bound by Loue and Uigor slaine The losse is mine where hers was all the gaine Of a discontented minde POets come all and each one take a penne Let all the heads that euer did indite Let Sorrow rise out of her darkest denne And helpe an heart an heauie tale to write And if all these or any one can touch The smallest part of my tormenting paine Then will I thinke my griefe is not so much But that in time it may be healde againe But if no one can once come neare the thought Of that I feele and no man else can finde Then let him say that deare his cunning bought There is no death to discontented minde Of his Mistresse beautie WHat ailes mine eies or are my wits distraught Do I not see or know not what I see No maruell though to see that wonder wrought That on the earth an other cannot be What ment the gods when first they did creat you To make a face to mocke all other features Angels in heauen will surely deadly hate you To leaue the world so full of foolish creatures Cheeks that enâ—…haine the highest harts in thrall Is it set downe such faire shall neuer fade you Hands that the harts of highest thoughts appall Was not Minerua mad when she had made you Faire looks on you and fate well Bewties grace Wise why your wits the wisest doth abash Sweet where is sweet but in your sweetest face Rich to your will all treasure is but trash Oh how these hands are catching at those eyes To