Whence storming, all the vast Deucalidon hee threts,
And beares his boystrous waues into the narrower mouth
Of the Vergiuian Sea: where meeting, from the South,
Great Neptunes surlier tides, with their robustious shocks,
Each other shoulder vp against the griesly Rocks;
As strong men when they meet, contending for the path:
But, comming neere the Coast where Cluyd her dwelling hath,
The North-wind (calme become) forgets his Ire to wreake,
And the delicious Vale thus mildly doth bespeake;
Deere Cluyd, th’aboundant sweets, that from thy bosome flowe,
When with my actiue wings into the ayre I throwe,
Those Hills whose hoarie heads seeme in the clouds to dwell,
Of aged become young, enamor’d with the smell
Of th’odoriferous flowers in thy most precious lap:
Within whose veluit leaues, when I my selfe enwrap,
They suffocare with sents; that (from my natiue kind)
I seeme some slowe perfume, and not the swiftest wind.
With ioy, my Dyffren Cluyd, I see thee brauely spred,
Survaying euery part, from foote vp to thy head;
Thy full and youthfull breasts, which in their meadowy pride,
Are brancht with riuery veines, Meander-like that glide.
I further note in thee, more excellent then these
(Were there a thing that more the amorous eye might please)
Thy plumpe and swelling wombe, whose mellowy gleabe doth beare
The yellow ripened sheafe, that bendeth with the eare.
Whilst in this sort his sute he amorously preferd,
Moylvennill neere at hand, the North-wind ouer-heard:
And, vexed at the hart, that he a Mountaine great,
Which long time in his breast had felt loues kindly heat,
As one whom crystall Cluyd had with her beauty caught,
Is for that Riuers sake neere of his wits distraught,
With inly rage to heare that Valley so extold;
And yet that Brooke whose course so batfull makes her mould,
And one that lends that Vale her most renowned name,
Should of her meaner farre, be ouer-gone in fame.
Wherefore, Moylevennill will’d his Cluyd her selfe to showe:
Who, from her natiue Fount, as proudly shee doth flowe,
Her hand-maids Manian hath, and Hespin, her to bring
To Ruthin. Whose faire seate first kindly visiting,
To lead her thence in state, Lewenny lends her sourse:
That when Moylvennill sees his Riuers great recourse,
From his intrenched top is pleas’d with her supplies.
Claweddock commeth in, and Istrad likewise hies
Vnto the Queene-like Cluyd, as shee to Denbigh drawes:
And on the other side, from whence the Morning dawes,
Downe from the Flintian hills, comes Wheler, her to
To sacred Asaph’s See, his hallowed Temple; where
Faire Elwy hauing wonne her sister Aleds power,
They entertaine their Cluyd neere mighty Neptunes bower:
Who likewise is sustain’d by Senion, last that falls,
And from the Virgins Well doth wash old Ruthlands walls.
Moylvennill with her sight that neuer is suffic’d,
Now with excessiue ioy so strongly is surpriz’d,
That thus he proudly spake; On the Gwynethian ground
(And looke from East to West) what Country is there crown’d
As thou Tegeniae art? that, with a Vale so rich
(Cut thorough with the Cluyd, whose graces me bewitch)
The fruitfulst of all Wales, so long hast honor’d bin:
As also by thy Spring, such wonder who dost win,
That naturally remote, sixe British miles from Sea,
And rising on the Firme, yet in the naturall day
Twice falling, twice doth fill, in most admired wise.
When Cynthia from the East vnto the South doth rise,
That mighty Neptune flowes, then strangly ebs thy Well:
And when againe he sinks, as strangely shee doth swell;
Yet to the sacred fount of Winifrid giues place;
Of all the Springs of such especiall grace,
That oft the Deuian Nymphs, as also those that keepe
Amongst the Corall-Groues in the Vergiuian Deepe,
Haue left their watry bowers, their secret safe Retire,
To her whom report so greatly should admire
(Whose waters to this day as perfect are and cleere,
As her delightfull eyes in their full beauties were,
A virgin while she liu’d) chaste : who chose
Before her mayden-gem she forcibly would lose,
To haue her harmlesse life by the leud Rapter spilt:
For which, still more and more to aggrauate his guilt,
The liuelesse teares shee shed, into a Fountaine turne.
And, that for her alone the water should not mourne,
The pure vermillion bloud, that issu’d from her vaines,
Vnto this very day the pearly Grauell staines;
As erst the white and red were mixed in her .
And, that one part of her might be the other like,
Her haire was turn’d to mosse; whose sweetnesse doth declare,
In liuelinesse of youth the naturall sweets she bare:
And of her holy life the innocence to show,
What-euer liuing thing into this Well you throwe,
Shee strongly beares it vp, not suffring it to sinke.
Besides, the wholesome vse in bathing, or in drinke
Doth the diseased cure, as thereto shee did leaue
Her vertue with her name, that time should not bereaue.
Scarce of this tedious tale Moylevennill made an end,
But that the higher Yale, whose beeing doth ascend
Into the pleasant East, his loftier head aduanc’t.
This Region, as a man that long had been intranc’t
(Whilst thus himselfe to please, the mightie Mountaine tells
Such farlies of his Cluyd, and of his wondrous Wells)
Stood thinking what to doe: least faire Tegenia, plac’t
So admirably well, might hold her selfe disgrac’t
By his so barren site, be’ing Mountainous and cold,
To nothing more vnlike then Dyffren’s batfull mould;
And in respect of her, to be accounted rude.
Yale, for he would not be confounded quite by Cluyd
(And for his common want, to coyne some poore excuse)
Vnto his proper praise, discreetly doth produce
A Valley, for a Vale, of her peculiar kind;
In goodnesse, breadth, and length, though Dyffren farre behind:
On this yet dare he stand, that for the naturall frame,
That figure of the Crosse, of which it takes the name,
Is equall with the best, which else excell it farre:
And by the power of that most sacred Character,
Respect beyond the rest vnto herselfe doth win.
When now the sterner Dee doth instantly begin
His ampler selfe to showe, that (downe the verdant Dale)
Straines, in his nobler course along the rougher Yale,
T’invite his fauouring Brookes: where from that spacious Lin
Through which he comes vnmixt, first Alwin falleth in:
And going on along, still gathering vp his force,
Gets Gerrow to his ayde, to hasten on his course.
With Christioneth next, comes Keriog in apace.
Out of the leaden Mines, then with her sullied face
Claweddock casts about where Gwenrow shee may greet,
Till like two louing friends they vnder Wrexam meet.
Then Alen makes approach (to Dee mostinly deere)
Taking Tegid
dog in; who, earnest to be there,
For haste, twice vnder earth her crystall head doth runne:
When instantly againe, Dee’s holinesse begun,
By his contracted front and sterner waues, to show
That he had things to speake, might profit them to know;
A Brooke, that was suppos’d much business to haue seene,
Which had an ancient bound twixt Wales and England been,
And noted was by both to be an ominous Flood,
That changing of his Foards, the future ill, or good,
Of either Country told; of eithers warre, or peace,
The sicknes, or the health, the dearth, or the increase:
And that of all the Floods of Britaine, he might boast
His streame in former times to haue been honor’d most,
When as at Chester once king Edgar held his Court,
To whom eight lesser Kings with homage did resort:
That mightie Mercian Lord, him in his Barge bestow’d,
And was by all those Kings about the Riuer row’d.
For which, the hallowed Dee so much vpon him tooke.
And now the time was come, that this imperious Brooke,
The long traduced Brute determin’d to awake,
And in the Britains right thus boldly to them spake;
O yee the ancient race of famous Brute that bee,
And thou the Queene of Iles, great Britaine; why doe yee
Your Grand-sires God-like name (with a neglectfull eare)
In so reproachfull tearmes and ignominy heare,
By euery one of late contemptuouslie disgra’ct;
That he whom Time so long, and strongly hath imbrac’t,
Should be reiected quite? The reason vrged why,
Is by the generall foe thus answer’d by and by:
That Brutus, as you say, by Sea who hither came,
From whom you would suppose this Ile first tooke the name,
Mecrelie fictitious is; nor could the Romans heare
(Most studious of the truth, and those times that were)
Of any such as hee: nay, they who most doe striue,
From that great stock of Troy their linage to deriue,
In all the large descent of Iulus, neuer found
That Brute, on whom wee might our first beginning ground.
To this Assertion, thus I faithfully reply;
And as a friend to Truth, doe constant lie denie
Antiquitie to them, as neerer to those times;
Their writings to precede our ancient British Rimes:
But that our noble Bards which so diuinely sung
That remnant of old Troy, of which the Britaines sprung,
Before those Romans were, as proofe we can produce;
And learning, long with vs, eret’was with them in vse.
And they but idly talke, vpbrayding vs with lies.
That Geffray Monmouth, first, our Brutus did deuise,
Not heard of till his time our Aduersary saies:
When pregnantlie wee proue, ere that Historians dayes,
A thousand ling’ring yeeres, our Prophets cleerely song
The Britaine-founding Brute, most frequent them among.
From Taliessen wise (approued so with vs,
That what he spake, was held to be oraculous,
So true his writings were) and such immortall men
As this now-waning world shall hardly heare agen
In our owne genuine tongue, that natiues were of Wales
Our Geffray had his Brute. Nor were these idle tales
(As he may find, the truth of our descents that seekes)
Nor fabulous, like those deuised by the Greeks:
But from the first of Time, by Iudges still were heard,
Discreetlie euery yeere correcting where they err’d.
And that whereon our Foe his greatest hold doth take,
Against the handled Cause and most doth seeme to make,
Is, that we shewe no Booke our Brutus to approue;
But that our idle Bards, as their fond rage did moue,
Sang what their fancies pleas’d. Thus doe I answere these;
That th’ancient British Priests, the fearlesse Druides,
That ministred the lawes, and were so trulie wise,
That they determin’d states, attending sacrifice,
To letters neuer would their mysteries commit,
For which the breasts of men they deem’d to be more fit.
Which questionlesse should seeme from iudgement to proceed.
For, when of Ages past wee looke in bookes to read,
Wee retchlesly discharge our memory of those.
So when iniurious Time, such Monuments doth lose
(As what so great a Work, by Time that is not wrackt?)
Wee vtterly forgoe that memorable act:
But when we lay it vp within the minds of men,
They leaue it their next Age; that, leaues it hers agen:
So strongly which (me thinks) doth for Tradition make,
As if you from the world it altogether take,
You vtterly subuert Antiquitie thereby.
For though Time well may proue that often shee doth lie,
Posteritie by her yet many things hath known,
That ere men learn’d to write, could no way haue been shown:
For, if the spirit of God, did not our faith assure
The Scriptures be from heauen, like heauen, diuinely pure,
Of Moses mightie works, I reuerently may say
(I speake with godlie feare) Tradition put away,
In power of humane wit it easely doth not lie
To proue before the Flood the Genealogie.
Nor any thing there is that kindlier doth agree
With our descent from Troy (if things compar’d may be)
Then peopling of this place, neere to those Ages, when
Exiled by the Greeks, those poore world-wandring men
(Of all hope to returne into their Country reft)
Sought shores whereon to set that little them was left:
From some such God-like race we questionlesse did spring,
Who soone became so great heere once inhabiting.
So barbarous nor were wee as manie haue vs made,
And Coesars envious pen would all the world perswade,
His owne ambitious ends in seeking to aduance,
When with his Roman power arriuing heere from France,
If hee the Britains found experienc’t so in warre,
That they with such great skill could weeld their armed Carre;
And, as he still came on, his skilfull march to let,
Cut downe their aged Oakes, and in the Riuers set
The sharpe steele-poynted stakes, as hee the Foards should pass;
I faine would vnderstand how this that Nation was
So ignorant hee would make, and yet so knowing warre.
But, in things past so long (for all the world) we are
Like to a man embarqu’t, and trauelling the Deepe:
Who sayling by some hill, or promontory steepe
Which iuts into the Sea, with an amazed eye
Beholds the Cleeues thrust vp into the lofty skie.
And th’more that hee doth looke, the more it drawes his sight;
Now at the craggy front, then at the wondrous weight:
But, from the passed shore still as the swelling saile
(Thrust forward by the wind) the floating Barque doth haile,
The mightie Giant-heape, so lesse and lesser still
Appeareth to the eye, vntill the monstrous hill
At length shewes like a cloud; and further beeing cast,
Is out of kenning quite: So, of the Ages past;
Those things that in their Age much to be wondred were,
Still as wing-footed Time them farther off doth beare,
Doe lessen euery howre. When now the mighty prease,
Impatient of his
speech, intreat the Flood to cease,
And cry with one consent, the Saxon state to showe,
As angry with the Muse such labour to bestowe
On Wales, but England still neglected thus to be.
And hauing past the time, the honorable Dee
At Chester was arriu’d, and bad them all adieu:
When our intended course, with England we pursue.
POLY-OLBION: THE ELEVENTH SONG
The Argument
The Muse, her natiue earth to see,
Returnes to England ouer Dee;
Visits st out Cheshire, and there showes
To her and hers, what England owes;
And of the Nymphets sporting there
In Wyrrall, and in Delamere.
Weeuer, the great deuotion sings
Of the religious Saxon Kings;
Those Riuerets doth together call,
That into him, and Mersey fall;
Thence bearing to the side of Peake,
This zealous Canto off doth breake.
WITH as vnwearied wings, and in as high a gate
As when we first set forth, obseruing euery state,
The Muse fro Cambria comes, with pinions summ’d and sound:
And hauing put her selfe vpo the English ground,
First seiseth in her course the noblest Cestrian shore;
Of our great English bloods as carefull heere of yore,
As Cambria of her Brutes, now is, or could be then;
For which, our prouerbe calls her, Cheshire, chiefe of men.
And of our Countries, place of Palatine doth hold,
And thereto hath her high Regalities enrold:
Besides, in many Fields since Conquering William came,
Her people shee hath prou’d, to her eternall fame.
All, children of her owne, the Leader and the Led,
The mightiest men of boane, in her full bosome bred:
And neither of them such as cold penurious need
Spurs to each rash attempt; but such as soundly feed,
Clad in warme English cloth; and maym’d should they returne
(Whom this false ruthless world else fro their doores would spurne)
Haue liuelihood of their owne, their ages to sustaine.
Nor did the Tenants pay, the Land-lords charge maintaine:
But as abroad in warre, he spent of his estate;
Returning to his home, his hospitable gate
The richer and the poore stood open to receaue.
They, Of all England, most to ancient customes cleaue,
Their Yeomanry and still to vphold.
For rightly whilst her selfe braue England was of old,
And our courageous Kings vs forth to conquests led,
Michael Drayton- Collected Poetical Works Page 93
