Some Monkish pen hath given thy fame more blows,
Than all the Saxons could thy body lend:
The hand a sacrifice to Vulcan owes,
That kill'd the truth by forgeries it pen'd.
When truth and falsehood interlaced lie,
All are thought falsehoods by posterity.
And to invite great men from foreign parts
(Guests worthy of this table) he did add
Rich salaries to sublimate their hearts
For high designs: some guerdon must be had
To raise a great, and a dejected soul:
Virtue steers bravely where there's such a pole.
Antiquity the Arts so flourishing saw,
Cheer'd by their patron's sweet and temperate air:
"Twas hope of meed that made Apelles draw
Such an unvalued piece of Philip's heir:
And well he might rewards not only can
Draw such a picture, but make such a man.
Philip well knowing this association
Was of high consequence, and great import, A table did erect in imitation,
Where Almains and Italians should resort.
He writ by Edward's copy: in all schools
Examples may instruct, as well as rules.
Yet in the reign of this first son of Mars,
All is not sternly rugged; some delights,
Some amorous sports to sweeten tarter wars,
And then a dance begun the Garter Knights.
They swell with love, that are with valour fill'd,
And Venus' doves may in a head-piece build.
As Sarum's beauteous Countess in a dance
Her loosen'd garter unawares let fall, Renowned Edward took it up by chance, Which gave that order first original,
Thus saying to the wond'ring standers by,
There shall be honour to this silken tye.
From that light act this ORDER to begin,
May seem derogatory from its worth:
And yet small things have directories been,
Actions of veneration to bring forth.
That accident might the original prove:
Nobility lies couching under love.
At least the MOTT retorted on the Queen,
And smiling courtiers might from hence proceed.
Something like that of Philip's having seen
The regiment of lovers that lay dead
At Cheronea. May Destruction fall
On them, who these think any ill at all.
Some the beginning from first Richard bring, (Counting too meanly of this pedigree)
When he at Acon tied a leather string
Might stir their valour up. But choose you whether
You'll Edward's silk prefer, or Richard's leather.
But they take not a scruple of delight,
More than's by nature given to relish pain,
At once, you're welcome pleasure, and good night,
Before 'tis settled, 'tis expell'd again.
As dogs of Nilus drink a snatch, and gone;
Sweets must be tasted, and not glutted on.
By this time France is rank; her veins are full
And ripe to be let blood; death's instruments
Are now keen-edged, which before were dull,
And fit to execute the mind's intents,
The furies roused from their loathed shelves,
For former fastings now may feast themselves.
This truce was not to famish them, but get
Them better stomachs when they next shall feed;
The fight, and not the war was ended yet,
War by peace only is determined;
Truce but suspends a war, makes it not cease,
For there's no medium between war and peace.
Th' act of hostility, and the exercise
Of war hath stoppage, but the war is still:
As when victorious sleep doth win my eyes,
And captivate my senses; yet none will
Say I have lost my sense: thus truces are
But the mere sleeps, and holidays of war."
Of Thomas May I feel impelled to give a longer specimen.
"Description of Henry the Second's Coronation of his Son at Westminster. By Thomas May. From his Reign of Henry the Second. Book II.
"How ill Imperial Majesty can brook
A sharer, seek not far; nor need you look
Stories, whose credit time has ruin'd quite;
Nor need you read, what old tragedians write
Of this sad theme, or cast your pitying eyes
Upon the Theban brothers' tragedies,
Or brother's blood, that Rome's first voice did stain,
The spacious heavens (as poets wisely feign)
Brook'd not old Saturn and his Jupiter.
By every age, and dire example near
To us, how oft has this sad truth been prov'd?
How many sons and fathers have been mov'd
To parricide, to set themselves but free
From that, which Henry makes himself to be,
Rival'd in reign? But if he still retain
Full regal powers, what more dost thou obtain
By this thy fat' er's kind donation,
Young King, than title and a fruitless throne?
How vain thy sceptre is, when thou shalt see
The power divided from the dignity?
Yet do not so mistake thy fate; no less,
Nay greater far esteem thy happiness
Than if thou now wert seiz'd of all alone;
The cares and dangers waiting on a crown
Have made some fear the burden, or despise
That sacred jewel of unvalued price.
A prudent King, when he awhile survey'd
The glittering splendour that his crown display'd,
Was sighing heard to say, if those that view
Far off thy flattering glories only, knew
How many cares and griefs in thee are found,
They would be loth to take thee up from ground.
This wisest monarch, if he now should see
Thy royal state, young King, would envy thee;
And count thee happy sure, that dost alone
Wear, without cares, the glories of a crown;
That from the burden of a King art free,
Invested only with the dignity.
Yet this prerogative brings no content
To thee, that seem'st to want th' accomplishment
Of royalty, the power and regal sway.
Nothing, alas, this coronation day
Has brought thee to, but to a nearer sight
Of what thou hast not, nor is yet thy right.
Thy stirring mind meets torture with a throne,
But tantalized in dominion.
The cause, alas, of woes that must ensue,
And thy great father too too soon shall rue.
That day's solemnity in truest state
The court of England strove to celebrate,
And with such great magnificence, as might
The majesty of that high presence fit;
When all at once two Kings, three Queens, were met,
Besides so many high-born princes, great
In fame and wealth. The feasting boards were fill'd
With what this island or rich France could yield.
Such cates as those, with which old poets feign'd
In Thessaly the gods were entertain'd
At silver-footed Thetis' bridal feast,
Where Jove himself vouchsaf'd to be a guest;
Where aged Chiron waited at the board,
And brought what air, earth, waters could afford,
When all rich Tempe, and th' adjoining seas
Were search'd, besides what then the Naiades,
What young Palamon, Glaucus, and the green
Sea-nymphs had brought to grace their beauteous Queen.
The choicest wines that France or Spain could yield
In cups of gold, studded with gems, were fill'd,
And antique goblets, where the carver strove
To equal Nature's skill; beasts seem'd to move,
And precious birds their glistening wings display'd.
The fair and massy vessels that convey'd
The feast to them, did far in their high rates
Exceed the value of those sumptuous cates.
King Henry, wanton with excess of joy,
Which now he thought no fortune could destroy
(How soon deceiv'd! how soon enforc'd to find
The error in his ill-presaging mind!)
To testify a great affection,
And grace
the state of his young-crowned son,
Himself, as sewer, will vouchsafe to wait
Upon his son; who sits in regal state,
And to his table the first dish present;
The Lords and Princes all with one consent
Applaud the King's great love, but secretly
Are struck with wonder these strange rites to see.
Some seek examples for it; some within
Themselves do sadly from that sight divine;
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