Michael Drayton- Collected Poetical Works

by Michael Drayton

  Vpon a thousand Swannes the naked Sea-Nymphes ride

  Within the ouzie Pooles, replenisht euery Tide:

  Which running on, the Ile of Portland pointeth out;

  Vpon whose moisted skirt with sea-weed fring’d about,

  The bastard Corall breeds, that drawne out of the brack,

  A brittle stalke becomes, from greenish turn’d to black:

  Which th’Ancients, for the loue that they to Isis bare

  (Their Goddesse most ador’d) haue sacred for her haire.

  Of which the Naides, and the blew Nereides make

  Them Taudries for their necks: when sporting in the Lake,

  They to their secrete Bowres the Sea-gods entertaine.

  Where Portland from her top doth ouer-peere the Maine;

  Her rugged front empal’d (on euery part) with rocks,

  Though indigent of wood, yetsraught with woolly flocks:

  Most famous for her folke, excelling with the sling,

  Of any other heere this Land inhabiting;

  That there-with they in warre offensiuelie might wound,

  If yet the vse of shot Invention had not found.

  Where, from the neighbouring hills her passage Wey doth path:

  Whose hauen, not our least that watch the mid-day, hath

  The glories that belong vnto a complete Port;

  Though Wey the least of all the Naides that resort

  To the Dorsetian sands, from off the higher shore.

  Then Frome (a nobler flood) the Muses doth implore

  Her mother Blackmores state they sadly would bewaile;

  Whose bigge and lordlie Oakes once bore as braue a saile

  As they themselues that thought the largest shades to spred:

  But mans deuouring hand, with all the earth not fed,

  Hath hew’d her Timber downe. Which wounded, when it fell,

  By the great noise it made, the workmen seem’d to tell

  The losse that to the Land would shortlie come thereby,

  Where no man euer plants to our posteritie:

  That when sharp Winter shoots her sleet and hardned haile,

  Or suddaine gusts from Sea, the harmlesse Deere assaile,

  The shrubs are not of power to sheeld them from the wind.

  Deere Mother, quoth the Froome, too late (alas) we find

  The softness of thy sward continued through thy soile,

  To be the onely cause of vnrecouer’d spoile:

  When scarce the British ground a finer grasse doth beare;

  And wish I could, quoth shee, (if wishes helpfull were)

  Thou neuer by that name of White-hart hadst been known,

  But stiled Blackmore still, which rightly was thine owne.

  For why, that change foretold the ruine of thy state:

  Lo, thus the world may see what tis to innovate.

  By this, her owne nam’d Towne the wandring Froome had past:

  And quitting in her course old Dorcester at last,

  Approaching neere the Poole, at Warham on her way,

  As easelie shee doth fall into the peacefull Bay,

  Vpon her nobler side, and to the South-ward neere,

  Faire Purbeck shee beholds, which no where hath her peere:

  So pleasantlie in-Il’d on mightie Neptunes marge,

  A Forest-Nymph, and one of chaste Dianas charge,

  Imploy’d in Woods and Launds her Deere to feed and kill:

  On whom the watrie God would oft haue had his will,

  And often her hath woo’d, which neuer would be wonne;

  But, Purbeck (as profest a Huntresse and a Nunne)

  The wide and wealthy Sea, nor all his power respects:

  Her Marble-minded breast, impregnable, reiects

  The vglie Orks, that for their Lord the Ocean wooe.

  Whilst Froome was troubled thus where nought shee hath to doe,

  The Piddle, that this while bestird her nimble feet,

  In falling to the Poole her sister Froome to meet,

  And hauing in her traine two little slender rills

  (Besides her proper Spring) where-with her banks shee fills,

  To whom since first the world this later name her lent,

  Who ancientlie was knowne to be instiled Trent,

  Her small assistant Brookes her second name haue gain’d.

  Whilst Piddle and the Froome each other entertain’d,

  Oft praysing louely Poole, their best-beloued Bay,

  Thus Piddle her bespake, to passe the time away;

  When Poole (quoth shee) was young, a lustie Sea-borne Lass,

  Great Albyon to this Nymph an earnest suter was;

  And bare himselfe so well, and so in fauour came,

  That he in little time, vpon this louelie Dame

  Begot three mayden Iles, his darlings and delight:

  The eldest, Brunksey call’d; the second, Fursey hight;

  The youngest and the last, and lesser then the other,

  Saint Hellens name doth beare, the dilling of her Mother.

  And, for the goodlie Poole was one of Thet is traine,

  Who scorn’d a Nymph of hers, her Virgin-band should staine,

  Great Albyon (that fore-thought, the angrie Goddesse would

  Both on the Dam and brats take what reuenge shee could)

  I’th bosome of the Poole his little children plac’t:

  First, Brunksey; Fursey next; and little Hellen last;

  Then, with his mightie armes doth clip the Poole about,

  To keepe the angrie Queene, fierce Amphitrite out.

  Against whose lordlie might shee musters vp her waues;

  And strongly thence repulst (with madness) scoulds and raues.

  When now, from Poole, the Muse (vp to her pitch to get)

  Her selfe in such a place from sight doth almost set,

  As by the actiue power of her commanding wings,

  She (Falcon-like) from farre doth fetch those plentious Springs.

  Where Stour receiues her strength fro sixe cleere Fountaines fed;

  Which gathering to one streame from euery seuerall head,

  Her new-beginning banke her water scarcely weelds;

  And fairelie entreth first on the Dorsetian feelds:

  Where Gillingham with gifts that for a God were meet

  (Enameld paths, rich wreaths, and euery soueraine sweet

  The earth and ayre can yeeld, with many a pleasure mixt)

  Receiues her. Whilst there past great kindness them betwixt,

  The Forrest her bespoke; How happie floods are yee,

  From our predestin’d plagues that priuiledged bee;

  Which onelie with the fish which in your banks doe breed,

  And dailie there increase, mans gurmandize can feed?

  But had this wretched Age such vses to imploy

  Your waters, as the woods we latelie did enioy,

  Your chanels they would leaue as barren by their spoile,

  As they of all our trees haue lastlie lest our soile.

  Insatiable Time thus all things doth deuour:

  What euer saw the sunne, that is not in Times power?

  Yee fleeting Streames last long, out-liuing manie a day:

  But, on more stedfast things Time makes the strongest pray.

  Now tow’rds the Solent sea as Stour her way doth ply,

  On Shaftsbury (by chance) shee cast her crystall eye,

  From whose foundation first, such strange reports arise

  As brought into her mind the Eagles prophecies;

  Of that so dreadfull plague, which all great Britaine swept,

  From that which highest flew, to that which lowest crept,

  Before the Saxon thence the Britaine should expell,

  And all that there-vpon successiuely befell.

  How then the bloodie Dane subdu’d the Saxon race;

  And, next, the Norman tooke possession of the place:

  Those ages, once expir’d, the Fates to bring ab
out,

  The British Line restor’d; the Norman linage out.

  Then, those prodigious signes to ponder shee began,

  Which afterward againe the Britans wrack fore-ran;

  How here the Owle at noone in publique streets was seene,

  As though the peopled Townes had way-less Deserts been.

  And whilst the loathly Toad out of his hole doth crall,

  And makes his fulsome stoole amid the Princes hall,

  The crystall fountaine turn’d into a gory wound,

  And bloodie issues brake (like vlcers) from the ground;

  The Seas against their course with double Tides returne,

  And oft were seene by night like boyling pitch to burne.

  Thus thinking, liuelie Stour bestirres her tow’rds the Maine;

  Which Lidden leadeth out: then Dulas beares her traine

  From Blackmore, that at once their warry tribute bring:

  When, like some childish wench, shee looselie wantoning,

  With cricks and giddie turnes seemes to in-Ile the shore.

  Betwixt her fifhfull banks, then forward shee doth scowre,

  Vntill shee lastlie reach cleere Alen in her race:

  Which calmlie commeth downe from her deere mother Chase,

  Of Cranburn that is call’d; who greatly ioyes to see

  A Riueret borne of her, for Stours should reckned bee,

  Of that renowned flood, a fauourite highlie grac’t.

  Whilst Cranburn, for her child so fortunatelie plac’t,

  With Ecchoes euerie way applauds her Alens state,

  A suddaine noise from Holt seems to congratulate

  With Cranburn for her Brooke so happily bestow’d:

  Where, to her neighboring Chase, the curteous Forrest show’d

  So iust conceiued ioy, that from each rising hurst,

  Where many a goodlie Oake had carefullie been nurst,

  The Syluans in their songs their mirthfull meeting tell;

  And Satyres, that in slades and gloomy dimbles dwell,

  Runne whooting to the hills to elappe their ruder hands.

  As Holt had done before, so Canfords goodlie Launds

  (Which leane vpon the Poole) enricht with Coppras vaines,

  Reioyce to see them ioyn’d. When downe from Sarum Plaines

  Cleere Auon comming in her sister Stour doth call,

  And at New-forrests foote into the Sea doe fall,

  Which euery day bewaile that deed so full of dred

  Whereby shee (now so proud) became first Forrested:

  Shee now who for her site euen boundless seem’d to lie,

  Her beeing that receiu’d by Williams tyrannie;

  Prouiding Lawes to keepe those Beasts heere planted then,

  Whose lawless will from hence before had driuen men;

  That where the harth was warm’d with Winters feasting fiers,

  The melancholie Hare is form’d in brakes and briers:

  The aged ranpick trunk where Plow-men cast their seed,

  And Churches ouer-whelm’d with nettles, ferne and weed,

  By Conquering William first cut off from euery trade,

  That heere the Norman still might enter to invade;

  That on this vacant place, and vnfrequented shore,

  New forces still might land, to ayde those heere before.

  But shee, as by a King and Conqueror made so great,

  By whom shee was allow’d and limited her seat,

  Into her owne-selfe praise most insolently brake,

  And her lesse fellow Nymphs, New-forrest, thus bespake:

  Thou Buckholt, bow to mee, so let thy sister Bere;

  Chute, kneele thou at my name on this side of the Shiere:

  Where, for their Goddesse, mee the Driads shall adore,

  With Waltham, and the Bere, that on the Sea-worne shore

  See at the Southerne Iles the Tides at tilt to runne;

  And Woolmer, placed hence vpon the rising sunne,

  With Ashholt thine Allie (my Wood-Nymphs) and with you,

  Proud Pamber tow’rds the North, ascribe me worship due.

  Before my Princelie State let your poore greatness fall:

  And vaile your tops to mee, the Soueraigne of you all.

  Amongst the Riuers, so, great discontent there fell.

  Th’efficient cause thereof (as loud report doth tell)

  Was, that the sprightly Test arising vp in Chute,

  To Itchin, her Allie, great weakeness should impute,

  That shee, to her owne wrong, and euery others griefe,

  Would needs be telling things exceeding all beliefe:

  For, she had giuen it out South-hampton should not loose

  Her famous Beuis so, wer’t in her power to choose;

  And, for great Arthurs seat, her Winchester preferres,

  Whose old Round-table, yet she vaunteth to be hers:

  And swore, th’inglorious time should not bereaue her right;

  But what it could obscure, she would reduce to light.

  For, from that wondrous Pond, whence shee deriues her head,

  And places by the way, by which shee’s honored

  (Old Winchester, that stands neere in her middle way,

  And Hampton, at her fall into the Solent Sea)

  Shee thinks in all the Ile not any such as shee,

  And for a Demy-god she would related bee.

  Sweet sister mine (quoth Test) advise you what you doe;

  Thinke this; For each of vs, the Forests heere are two:

  Who, if you speake a thing whereof they hold can take,

  Bee’t little, or bee’t much, they double will it make:

  Whom Hamble helpeth out; a handsome proper flood,

  In curtesie well skild, and one that knew her good.

  Consider, quoth this Nymph, the times be curious now,

  And nothing of that kind will any way allow.

  Besides, the Muse hath, next, the British cause in hand,

  About things later done that now shee cannot stand.

  The more they her perswade, the more shee doth persist;

  Let them say what they will, shee will doe what shee list.

  Shee stiles her selfe their Chiefe, and sweares shee will command;

  And, what-so-ere shee saith, for Oracles must stand.

  Which when the Riuers heard, they further speech forbare.

  And shee (to please her selfe that onely seem’d to care)

  To sing th’atchieuement great of Beuis thus began;

  Redoubted Knight (quoth shee) ô most renowned man!

  Who, when thou wert but young, thy Mother durst reproue

  (Most wickedly seduc’t by the vnlawfull loue

  Of Mordure, at that time the Almain Emperors sonne)

  That shee thy Sire to death disioyally had done:

  Each circumstance whereof shee largelie did relate;

  Then, in her song pursu’d his Mothers deadlie hare;

  And how (by Sabers hand) when shee suppos’d him dead,

  Where long vpon the Downes a Shepheards life hee led;

  Till by the great recourse, he came at length to knowe

  The Country there-about could hardly hold the showe

  His Mothers mariage feast to faire South-hampton drue,

  Be’ing wedded to that Lord who late her husband slue:

  Into his noble breast which pierc’t so wondrous deepe,

  That (in the poore attire he vs’d to tend the sheepe,

  And in his hand his hooke) vnto the Towne hee went;

  As hauing in his heart a resolute intent

  Or manfullie to die, or to reuenge his wrong:

  Where pressing at the gate the multitude among,

  The Porter to that place his entrance that forbad

  (Supposing him some swaine, some boy strous Country-lad)

  Vpon the head hee lent so violent a stroke,

  That the poore emptie skull, like some thin potsheard broke,

/>   The braines and mingled blood, were spertled on the wall

  Then hasting on he came into the vpper Hall,

  Where murderous Mordure sate imbraced by his Bride:

  Who (guiltie in himselfe) had hee not Beuis spide,

  His boanes had with a blowe been shattred: but, by chance

  (He shifting from the place, whilst Beuis did aduance

  His hand, with greater strength his deadly foe to hit,

  And missing him) his chaire hee all to shiuers split:

  Which strooke his Mothers breast with strange and sundry feares,

  That Beuis beeing then but of so tender yeares

  Durst yet attempt a thing so full of death and doubt.

  And, once before deceiu’d, shee newlie cast about

  To rid him out of sight; and, with a mighty wage,

  Wonne such, themselues by oath as deeplie durst ingage,

  To execute her will: who shipping him away

  (And making forth their course into the Mid-land sea)

  As they had got before, so now againe for gold

  To an Armenian there that young Alcides sold:

  Of all his gotten prize, who (as the worthiest thing,

  And fittest where-withall to gratifie his King)

  Presented that braue youth; the splendor of whose eye

  A wondrous mixture shew’d of grace and maiestie:

  Whose more then man-like shape, and matchlesse stature, tooke

  The King; that often vs’d with great delight to looke

  Vpon that English Earle. But though the loue he bore

  To Beuis might be much, his daughter tenne times more

  Admir’d the god-like man: who, from the howre that first

  His beautie shee beheld, felt her soft bosome pierst

  With Cupids deadliest shaft; that Iosian, to her guest,

  Alreadie had resign’d possession of her breast.

  Then sang shee, in the fields how as hee went to sport,

  And those damn’d Panims heard, who in despightfull sort

  Derided Christ the Lord; for his Redeemers sake

  He on those heathen hounds did there such slaughter make,

  That whilst in their black mouthes their blasphemies they drue,

  They headlong went to hell. As also how hee slue

  That cruell Boare, whose tusks turn’d vp whole fields of graine

  (And, wrooting, raised hills vpon the leuell Plaine;

  Digd Cauerns in the earth, so darke and wondrous deepe

  As that, into whose mouth the desperate Roman leepe):

  And cutting off his head, a Trophy thence to beare;

  The Forresters that came to intercept it there,

  How he their scalps and trunks in chips and peeces cleft,