Thus I alone, where all my fredome grewe,
In prison pine with bondage and restrainte,
And with remembrance of the greater greefe,
To banish the lesse, I find my chief releefe.
A PRAISE OF HIS LOUE, WHEREIN HE REPROUETH THEM THAT COMPARE THEIR LADIES WITH HIS.
GEVE place, ye louers, here before,
That spent your bostes and bragges in vain,
My ladies beawty passeth more
The best of yours, I dare well sayen,
Then doth the sunne the candle light;
Or brightest day the darkest night,
And therto hath a troth as just,
As had Penelope the faire,
For what she sayth, ye may it trust,
As by it writing sealed were:
And virtues hath she many moe,
Than I with pen have skill to showe.
I could reherse if that I would,
The whole effect of Natures plaint,
When she had lost the perfite mould,
The like to whome she could not paint :
With wringyng hands, how she did cry,
And what she said, I know it, I.
I knowe she swore with raging minde
Her kingdome onely set apart;
There was no losse, by lawe of kinde,
That could haue gone so nere her hart;
And this was chefely all her paine,
She could not make the like againe.
Sith Nature thus gaue her the praise, To be the chefest worke she wrought; In faith me thinke some better wayes, On your behalfe might well be sought, Then to compare (as you haue done) To matche the candle withe the sunne.
THE LOUER DESCRIBES HIS RESTLESSE STATE.
As oft as I behold and see
The soueraigne beautie that me bound,
The nier my comfort is to me,
Alas! the fresher is my wound.
As flame doth quench by rage of fire,
And running stremes consume by raine;
So doth the sight, that I desire,
Appease my grief and deadly paine.
First when I saw those christal streames,
Whose beauty made my mortall wounde,
I little thought within her beames,
So swete a venom to haue found.
But wilfull will did pricke me forth,
And blinde Cupide did whippe and guide;
Force made me take my griefe in worth:
My fruteless hope my harme did hide,
As cruel waves full oft be found,
Against the rockes to rore and cry;
So doth my hart full oft rebound,
Agaynst my brest full bitterly.
I fall and se mine own decay,
As one, that beares flame in his brest;
Forgets in paine to put away,
The thinge that bredith mine unrest.
OF THE DEATH OF THE SAME SIR T. W.
DIVERS thy death do diversly bemone,
Some that in presence of thy livelyhed
Lurked, whose brestes envy with hate had swolne,
Yeld Ceasars teares upon Pompius hed.
Some that watched with the murdrers knife,
With eger thirst to drinke thy giltlesse blood,
Whose practise brake by happy end of life,
With envious teares to heare thy fame so good.
But I, that knewe what harbred in that hed,
What vertues rare were tempred in that brest,
Honour the place that such a jewel bred,
And kisse the ground wheras the corse doth rest, With vapord eyes, from whence such streames avail,
As Pyramus did on Thisbes brest bewail.
WYAT resteth here, that quick could never rest,
Whose heavenly giftes encreaseth by disdain,
And vertue sank the deper in his brest,
Such profit he by enuy could obtain.
A hed, where wisdom misteries did frame, Whose hammers bet still in that liuely braine, As on a stythe; where that some worke of fame Was dayly wrought, to turne to Britaines gaine.
A visage, sterne, and milde; where both did growe,
Vice to contemne, in vertue to rejoyce :
Amid great stormes, whom grace assured so,
To liue vpright, and smile at fortunes choyce.
A hand that taught what might be said in rime; That reft Chaucer the glory of his wit.
A mark, the which (vnparfited, for time)
Some may approach, but neuer none shall hit.
A tong, that serued in forein realmes his king;
Whose courteous talke to vertue did enflame
Eche noble hart; a worthy guide to bring
Our English youth, by trauail vnto fame.
An eye, whose judgment none affect could blinde, Frendes to allure, and foes to reconcile; Whose persing looke did represent a minde With vertue fraught, reposed, voyd of gile.
A hart, where dreade was neuer so imprest, To hide the thought, that might the trouth auance; In neyther fortnne loft, nor yet represt,
To swel in welth, or yield vnto mischance.
A valiant corps, where force and beauty met, Happy, alas! to happy, but for foes;
Liued, and ran the race that nature set;
Of manhodes shape, where she the mold did lose.
But to the heavens that simple soule is fled;
Which left with such, as couet Christ to know,
Witness of faith, that neuer shal be ded;
Sent for our helth, but not receiued so.
Thus for our gilt, this jewel haue we lost;
The earth his bones, the heavens possesse his
ghost.
FROM A TRANSLATION OF THE FIRST ENEID
With furious minde while I did argue thus,
My blessed mother then appeard to me,
Whom erst so bright mine eyes had neuer seen,
And with pure light she glistred in the night,
Disclosing her in forme a Goddesse like,
As she doth seme to such as dwell in heuen.
My right hand then she toke, and held it fast,
And with her rosie lips thus did she say:
Son, what furie hath thus prouoked thee
To such vntamed wrath? why ragest thow?
Or where is now become the care of vs ?
Wilt thou not first go see where thou hast left
Anchises thy father fordone with age?
Doth Creusa liue, and Ascanius thy son?
Whom now the Grekish bands haue round beset, And, were they not defensed by my care,
Flame had them raught and enmies swerd ere this.
Not helens beautie hatefull vnto thee,
Nor blamed Paris yet, but the Gods wrath
Reft yow this wealth, and ouerthrew your town.
Behold (and I shall now the cloude remoue,
Which ouercast thy mortal sight doth dim:
Whoes moisture doth obscure all thinges about:
And fere not thow to do thy mothers will,
Nor her aduise refuse thow to performe)
Here where thow seest the turrets ouerthrown,
Stone bet from stone, smoke rising mixt with dust,
Neptunus there shakes with his mace the walles,
And eke the loose foundations of the same,
And ouerwhelms the whole town from his seat:
And cruell Iuno with the formest here
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