Michael Drayton- Collected Poetical Works

by Michael Drayton

  Wisely consulting, warily they tride 1040

  The circumstance of every secret sin;

  Thus they return’d and brought their verdict in:

  Cast is the Cuckow, guilty of the deed,

  And for a fine, for his deserved meed,

  Allowes to Mistris Titmouse for her charge, 1045

  That shee shall after have her tayle at large:

  And when she revells, as she did before,

  T’exclude the Cuckow freely out of dore:

  And such offenders as they could present,

  Likewise adjudg’d deserved punishment. 1050

  The Ring-Dove, plagu’d with maggots in the maw,

  The Woodcocke gets the swelling of the craw.

  The Crow, with dropsie (whil’st yet living) rots:

  The Quaile, a leaper fill’d with lothsome spots.

  The Buzzard, of the lethargie is sicke, 1055

  The Kyte, with fevers falleth lunaticke.

  The epilepsy grew upon the Jay,

  And of a sweat the Bunting drops away.

  But how about my fantasie it brought;

  Now know not I: but suddenly me thought, 1060

  The princely Eagle out of sight was gone,

  And left the wise and honest bird alone,

  To governe things, both for his proper heale,

  And for the great good of the publique weale.

  When more the Owle that with a vigilant eye, 1065

  All these demensions perfectly could try,

  Fore-saw the perill threatned unto all,

  Apt by their loose credulitie to fall,

  And whose prevention if he did fore-slow,

  Their utter spoyle immediately should grow. 1070

  My friends (quoth he) looke warily about,

  Many the dangers which you are to doubt;

  This gallant oke wherein so oft you play,

  Perhaps (at length) your safetie may betray.

  And though his shade be delicate and sweet, 1075

  His trunke beares lyme that may intrap your feet.

  If, fearing what is requisite and fit,

  You like my judgement, and allow my wit;

  Yours is the good: but if you fondly deeme,

  Things be within, as outwardly they seeme; 1080

  Head-long runne on, and fall into the snare,

  And say, A friend once warn’d you to beware.

  Thus spake the Owle, whose talke could not be heard.

  ‘So little, fooles good counsell doe regard.

  But thinking, frensie him his wits beguilde, 1085

  The honest bird despightfully revilde.

  But marke their end, who set advice at nought,

  ‘Fooles still too deare have sound experience bought;

  The husband-man surveying of his ground,

  ‘Mongst all the trees this oke had quickly found:

  And by all signes and likelyhood of trade, 1091

  The birds therein their nightly roosting made.

  And by the lyme that issued from the tree,

  They all intangled easily might bee.

  Taking the same, he spreads it on the sprayes, 1095

  And through the thicket closely creeps his wayes.

  When the sad arndern shutting in the light,

  Wan-sighted Cynthia (lady of the night)

  Proudly ascending the aetheriall state,

  Whence the bright Phoebus but dismounted late,

  The dull-ey’d evening his moist vapours threw, 1101

  Strewing the still earth with sweet showres of dew;

  When every bird replenished with food,

  Came on his stretch’t wings lively from the wood,

  And on each small branch of this large-limb’d oke,

  Their pretty lodgings carelesly they tooke, 1106

  No ill suspecting, fondly unawares,

  Were all intangled in the fowlers snares.

  Whose mournefull chirping, and their chattering cryes,

  Incites the Owle before his houre to rise. 1110

  And hearing from his melancholy seate,

  The birds themselves thus wofully to beate,

  (The deed discovered with the mornings light)

  Flew from his pearch: though grieved at the sight,

  Yet with a smile, his wisedome that became, 1115

  Which mock’d their folly, though bemoan’d their shame,

  Quoth he, you foolish burgers of the field,

  That in contempt my counsailes lewdly held,

  That, whereat late you did but laugh and jeere,

  Now to your ruine plainly doth appeere, 1120

  The greatest thing you lightly are to lose,

  Onely your plumes that fortune can dispose.

  “Tis yet a comfort in the depth of smart;

  ‘Envy but seyzeth on the outward part.

  ‘But present perill in a thing of price, 1125

  ‘Rather craves action, then doth stay advice.

  Therefore to helpe you, Ile my power assay:

  Wherewith his wing doth presently display,

  And with his clawes, the birds of every kind

  Plucks from the lime, which left their plumes behind.

  The little Robin featherlesse and free, 1131

  Regreets the Owle with many a cap and knee.

  The warbling Mavis mirthfull peans sung,

  The Nightingale with her melodious tongue,

  Gave him such musike (to declare their thanks) 1135

  That springs and rivers danc’d above their banks:

  That (with the repercussion of the aire)

  Shooke the great Eagle sitting in his chaire:

  Which from the mountayne (with a radiant eye)

  Brav’d the bright cressit of the glorious skie; 1140

  Mooving his princely majestie to see,

  Whence this applause so suddenly should bee,

  Whose sinewed wings (in their resistlesse course)

  Beat the thin ayre, with such a violent force,

  That the light birds dropt head-long from the skyes,

  The rocks and forrests trembling with the noyse, 1146

  Somewhat amaz’d at this un-usuall sight,

  To see his people in this pitious plight:

  His soveraignes eare doth presently addresse,

  Willing to heare the cause of their distresse: 1150

  To whom the poore Owle (his obedience done)

  Thus to his liege Lord, reverently begun:

  Monarch of all that beate the ayre with wings,

  Thou bird of Jove, beloved amongst kings:

  Here stands an oke well timbred, largely spred, 1155

  That many a day hath borne his curled head,

  Above his fellowes dwelling farre and neere,

  That in the forrest never found his peere;

  Whose roote well fastned in the fruitfull ground,

  His barke so lovely and his heart so sound, 1160

  (Through his great wealth) grew insolent and proud,

  Because the birds that in his boughs did shrowd,

  To his high prayse continually did sing,

  Anf kept their vigils to th’enamoured spring.

  The virgin-huntresse sworne to Dian’s bow, 1165

  Here in this shade her quarries did bestow,

  And for their nymphals, building amorous bowers,

  Oft drest this tree with anadems of flowers;

  And Flora chose her nurcery here to shield,

  Her tender buds the infants of the field. 1170

  By which, this tree grew arrogant in time,

  And in his ranke sap bred a lothsome slime,

  Whose nature and vile qualitie is such,

  Strongly to hold what ever it doth tuch;

  And not content to minister this meane, 1175

  Which in short time might have undone us cleane;

  But even his boughs the birds have honoured so,

  He hath imploy’d unto their generall we,

 
That when thy subjects dreading no deceit,

  Came to this tree, as to their safe retreit, 1180

  They were betray’d, and he that sped the best,

  Hardly escap’t, with feathers at the least.

  Those that I could, as I had power and might,

  Though with much payne, I lastly did acquight.

  The rest, whose freedome doth exceed my reach,

  O King of Birds, I humbly thee beseech 1186

  In mercy, let thy mightinesse purvay,

  To ransome from this eminent decay.

  When now the Eagle cutting off his tale,

  And even for sorrow waxing wan and pale; 1190

  At which sad sight, this poore implumed crue,

  Stand faintly trembling in their soveraignes view;

  And having stretcht his lordly tallon forth,

  To shew th’acceptance of this deed of worth;

  You silly birds, you wretched fowles (quoth he) 1195

  Henceforth let this a friendly warning be.

  Had you (as nature and our lawes admit)

  Built where your noble ancestors did sit,

  Wisely providing to maintayne their state,

  Whose names and freedomes you participate, 1200

  You had not thus beene spoyled of your goods,

  For, subtiltie now dwelleth in the woods.

  For if too high and haughtily you soare,

  Those see your falls that hover neere the shore.

  If in the cedar you your nests dispose,

  The dreadfull lightning ever threatneth those.

  If in the low earth (in the flattering shade)

  The fowlers snares there secretly are laid.

  Then, my deare subjects, as you wish my good,

  Or have respect to your succeeding brood, 1210

  Let your wise fathers an example give,

  And by their rules learne thriftily to live.

  Let those weake birds, that want wherewith to fight,

  Submit to those that are of grip and might.

  Let those of power, the weaker still protect, 1215

  So none shall neede his safety to suspect;

  Suppressing those enormities that are,

  Whose cure belongs unto our soveraigne care.

  For when wealth growes into a few mens hands,

  And to the great, the poore in many bands; 1220

  The pride in court doth make the country leane,

  The abject rich hold ancient honour meane.

  Mens wits employ’d to base and servile shifts,

  And lay-men taught, by learn’d mens subtill drifts,

  Ill with this state ‘t must incidently fare. 1225

  For even as from th’infection of the ayre,

  Sundry contagious sicknesses proceed,

  These mischiefes more continually doe breed.

  Shun beastly lust (you young well-feathered fowle)

  That wounds the body, and confounds the soule;

  That as the subtill’st of the Syrens brood, 1231

  Binds all the spirits, and over-comes the blood;

  Darkning the purenesse of the inward light,

  Weakneth the sense and murd’reth reason quite.

  And you that sit as judges of the law, 1235

  Let not vile gayne your equall ballance draw.

  O! still retayne the Ethiopians guise,

  (As just and upright, as select and wise)

  That in their judgements (sacred and profound)

  Dispos’d them ever meekely on the ground; 1240

  To shew the angels (sitting over head)

  Them were to judge, as they had censured.

  Thus spake the Eagle, when with mutt’ring noyse,

  The rest attentive to his powerfull voyce,

  Giving a signall of their admiration, 1245

  The Owle this while in serious contemplation

  Softly replyes, O mightie soveraigne!

  With all the synod of thy winged traine,

  Th’abundant joyes that in my heart doe throng,

  Require more organs then the onely tongue. 1250

  O blessed birds! how sweet is your subjection,

  Under the safe and absolute protection?

  Of so exact and excellent a king,

  So sole and perfect in his governing:

  The reason this (my grave selected peeres) 1255

  Because ’tis knowne, that in these latter yeeres,

  The peacefull state prepost’rously disturb’d,

  By such, whose power the great have hardly curb’d.

  The jocund Throstle, for his varying note,

  Clad by the Eagle in a speckled cote; 1260

  Because his voyce had judgement for the palme,

  Suppos’d himselfe sole patrone of our calme.

  All say, for singing he had never peere:

  But there were some that did his vertue feare.

  Why should’st thou then ambitiously despise 1265

  The manly Falcon? on whose courage lyes

  The kingdomes safetie, which abroad doth roame,

  By forraigne warres to keepe us safe at home.

  I know, the strayne of an alluring tongue

  Can tye the full eare, and detayne it long, 1270

  But other fortunes, and the altred place,

  Crave new directions, and an active grace.

  The former vertue may consist alone,

  But better two (if firmely joyn’d in one)

  Experience once (by service in the warres) 1275

  Did quote his strong authorities in scarres;

  But in this latter time, it hath beene said,

  The tongue doth all, contemning th’others aid.

  Vertue, whose chiefe prayse in the act doth stand,

  Could wish the tongue still coupled with the hand.

  But in the Cocke which death untimely wrackt, 1281

  In him was both the elegance and act.

  O! when that bird was ravish’d from our sight,

  (Intombing him) the world intomb’d delight,

  Let never mournefull accent passe my pen, 1285

  That leaves his fame un-registred to men.

  The Muses vailed with sad cypres tree,

  Upon his grave, shall powre their teares with mee.

  O! if the world can weepe so many teares

  As his losse craves, or if in heaven appeares 1290

  More plentious sorrow; let them both agree,

  T’lament that houre that reft the earth of thee.

  O! thought I not some spirit could give thee more

  Then this small portion of my scantled store!

  I would not leave (I first would leave to live) 1295

  To give thee fame: O who can greater give?

  This said, he sunke, as growing faint with speaking,

  Sighing withall, as though his heart were breaking,

  The princely Eagle pitying of his plight,

  To cheere the poore Owle doing all he might; 1300

  The birds applauding with a free consent,

  Followed the Eagle (with devout intent)

  To the great mountayne, to have all amended:

  Thus I awak’t, and here my dreame was ended.

  A PAEAN TRIUMPHALL

  COMPOSED FOR THE SOCIETIE OF THE GOLDSMITHS OF LONDON: CONGRATULATING HIS HIGHNES MAGNIFICENT ENTRING THE CITIE. TO THE MAIESTIE OF THE KING.

  A PAEAN TRIUMPHALL.

  TO the vaste skies whilst shoutes and cries rebound,

  And buildings eccho with reuerberate sound,

  Strugling to thrust out of the peopled throng,

  Panting for breath flies our elaborate song.

  That time the day brake from her wonted guise,

  The Sunne in haste before his houre did rise,

  And draue the fleet-foote posting houres so fast,

  Which were afeard young Phaeton that was cast

  From his Siers Chariot, reobtain’d the Carre,

  To set the neighboring Elements a
t warre.

  But whilst sweete Zephyre gently spreads his wings,

  Curles the sleeke bosomes of th’enamoured springs.

  With Baulmie spices so perfumes each place,

  Breathing such odors in the mornings face,

  That the day seem’d all former daies to scorne,

  And (to compare it) euer should be borne.

  Saturne whose grim face clad in Icie haire,

  Thrust his bleake visage through the Northerne aire,

  That long had low’rd vpon the drouping spring,

  With Frosts, Hailes, Snowes and Tempests minacing,

  Suddenly calm’d, and his harsh rage resignes

  To smooth Fauonius and milde Libick windes,

  Whil’st Temples stand euen trembling as afeard,

  To see proud Pageants on their Arches reard

  Aboue their Turrets, whilest the concourse meete,

  Like boysterous tides in euery publike streete.

  Windowes of eyes, the houses scorn’d their glasse,

  On euery side their Maiesties should passe:

  Roomes with rich beauties furnished about,

  Arras but serues to hang the walles without.

  Who lou’d in works of ancient times to prie,

  Hangings compleate with curious Imagrie,

  Glutting his eyes here liuely might behold,

  Faces whose numbers figures neuer told,

  Walling the houses, in whose seuerall eyes

  Ioye shewes it selfe in more varieties,

  Then be their mindes, the obiects that they see,

  Which are as various as their features bee.

  The hie-reard spires shake with the peoples crie,

  Bending their tops seeme wondring to espie

  Streets pau’d with heads, for such the numbers bee,

  The loftiest Tower no ground at all can see.

  Banners, Flags, Streamers, in such numbers borne,

  And stood so thick that one might soone haue sworne,

  Nature of late some noueltie had brought,

  Groaues leau’d with silke in curious manner wrought,

  Bearing such fruite th’ Atlantides did keepe,

  By that fierce Dragon that did neuer sleepe.

  When now approched glorious Maiestie,

  Vnder a gold-wrought sumptuous Canopie.

  Before him went his goodly glittering traine,

  Which though as late wash’d in a golden raine.

  All so embraudered that to those behold,

  Horses as men, seem’d to be made of Gold:

  With the faire Prince, in whom appear’d in glory,

  As in th’abridgement of some famous story,

  Eu’ry rare vertue of each famous King

  Since Norman Williams happie conquering:

  Where might be seene in his fresh blooming hopes,