Michael Drayton- Collected Poetical Works

by Michael Drayton

  Euen rent the hollow Woods, and shook the queachy ground.

  So that the trembling Nymphs, opprest through gastly feare,

  Ran madding to the Downes, with loose dishev’ld hayre.

  The Syluans that about the neighbouring woods did dwell,

  Both in the tufty Frith and in the mossy Fell,

  Forsook their gloomy Bowres, and wandred farre abroad,

  Expeld their quiet seats, and place of their abode,

  When labouring carts they saw to hold their dayly trade,

  Where they in summer wont to sport them in the shade.

  Could we, say they, suppose, that any would vs cherish,

  Which suffer (euery day) the holiest things to perish?

  Or to our daily want to minister supply?

  These yron times breed none, that minde posteritie.

  Tis but in vaine to tell, what we before haue been,

  Or changes of the world, that we in time haue seen;

  When, not deuising how to spend our wealth with waste,

  We to the sauage swine, let fall our larding mast.

  But now, alas, our selues we haue not to sustaine,

  Nor can our tops suffice to shield our Roots from raine.

  Ioues Oke, the warlike Ash, veyn’d Elme, the softer Beech,

  Short Hazell, Maple plaine, light Aspe, the bending Wych,

  Tough Holly, and smooth Birch, must altogether burne:

  What should the Builder serue, supplies the Forgers turne;

  When vnder publike good, base priuate gaine takes holde,

  And we poore woefull Woods, to ruine lastly solde.

  This vttered they with griefe: and more they would haue spoke,

  But that the enuious Downes, int’open laughter broke;

  As ioying in those wants, which Nature them had giuen,

  Sith to as great distresse the Forrests should be driuen.

  Like him that long time hath anothers state enuy’d,

  And sees a following Ebbe, vnto his former Tide;

  The more he is deprest, and bruiz’d with fortunes might,

  The larger Reane his foe doth giue to his despight:

  So did the enuious Downes; but that againe the Floods

  (Their fountaines that deriue, from those vnpittied Woods,

  And so much grace thy Downes, as through their Dales they creep,

  Their glories to conuay vnto the Celtick deep)

  It very hardly tooke, much murmuring at their pride.

  Cleere Lauant, that doth keep the Southamptonian side

  (Diuiding it well-neere from the Sussexian lands

  That Selsey doth suruay, and Solents troubled sands)

  To Chichester their wrongs impatiently doth tell:

  And Arun (which doth name the beautious Arundell)

  As on her course she came, it to her Forrest tolde.

  Which, nettled with the newes, had not the power to hold:

  But breaking into rage, wisht Tempests them might riue;

  And on their barren scalps, still flint and chauke might thriue,

  The braue and nobler Woods which basely thus vpbraid.

  And Adur comming on, to Shoreham softly said,

  The Downes did very ill, poore Woods so to debase.

  But now, the Ouse, a Nymph of very scornefull grace,

  So touchy waxt therewith, and was so squeamish growne,

  That her old name she scorn’d should publiquely be knowne.

  Whose hauen out of mind when as it almost grew,

  The lately passed times denominate, the New.

  So Cucmer with the rest put to her vtmost might:

  As Ashburne vndertakes to doc the Forrests right

  (At Pemsey, where she powres her soft and gentler Flood)

  And Asten once distain’d with natiue English blood:

  (Whose Soyle, when yet but wet with any little raine,

  Doth blush; as put in mind of those there sadly slaine,

  When Hastings harbour gaue vnto the Norman powers;

  Whose name and honors now are denizend for ours)

  That boding ominous Brook, it through the Forrests rung:

  Which ecchoing it againe the mighty Weald along,

  Great ftirre was like to grow; but that the Muse did charme

  Their furies, and her selfe for nobler things did arme.

  POLY-OLBION: THE EIGHTEENTH SONG

  The Argument

  The Rother through the Weald doth raue,

  Till he with Oxney fall in loue:

  Rumney, would with her wealth beguile,

  And winne the Riuer from the Ile.

  Medway, with her attending Streames,

  Goes forth to meet her Lord great Tames:

  And where in bredth she her disperses,

  Our Famous Captaines she rehearses,

  With many of their valiant deeds.

  Then with Kents praise the Muse proceeds.

  And telles when Albion o’re Sea road,

  How he his daughter-Iles bestow’d;

  And how grim Good win fomes and frets:

  Where to this Song, an end she sets.

  OVR Argas scarcely yet deliuered of her sonne,

  When as the Riuer downe, through Andredsweald dooth run:

  Nor can the aged Hill haue comfort of her childe.

  For, liuing in the Woods, her Rother waxed wilde;

  His Banks with aged Okes, and Bushes ouer-growne,

  That from the Syluans kinde, he hardly could be knowne:

  Yea, many a time the Nymphes, which hapt this Flood to see,

  Fled from him, whom they sure a Satyre thought to be;

  As Satyre-like he held all pleasures in disdaine,

  And would not once vouchsafe, to look vpon a Plaine;

  Till chancing in his course he to view a goodly plot,

  Which Albion in his youth, vpon a Sea Nymph got,

  For Oxney’s loue he pines: who being wildly chaste,

  And neuer woo’d before, was coy to be imbrac’t.

  But, what obdurate heart, was euer so peruerse,

  Whom yet a louers plaints, with patience, could not pearce?

  For, in this conflict she being lastly ouerthrowne,

  In-Iled in his Armes, he clips her for his owne,

  Who being grosse and black, she lik’t the Riuer well.

  Of Rothers happy match, when Rumney Marsh heard tell,

  Whyi’st in his youthfull course himselfe he doth apply,

  And falleth in her sight into the Sea at Rye,

  She thinketh with her selfe, how she a way might finde

  To put the homely Ile quite out of Rothers minde;

  Appearing to the Flood, most brauely like a Queene,

  Clad (all) from head to foot, in gaudy Summers green;

  Her mantle richly wrought, with sundry flowers and weeds;

  Her moystfull temples bound, with wreaths of quiuering reeds:

  Which loosely flowing downe, vpon her lusty thighes,

  Most strongly seeme to tempt the Riuers amorous eyes.

  And on her loynes a frock, with many a swelling pleate,

  Embost with well-spread Horse, large Sheepe, and full-fed Neate.

  Some wallowing in the grasse, there lie a while to batten;

  Some sent away to kill; some thither brought to fatten;

  With Villages amongst, oft powthred heere and there;

  And (that the same more like to Landskip should appeare)

  With Lakes and lesser Foards, to mitigate the heate

  (In Summer when the Fly doth prick the gadding Neate,

  Forc’t from the Brakes, where late they brouz’d the veluet buds)

  In which, they lick their Hides, and chew their sauoury Cuds.

  Of these her amourous toyes, when Oxney came to knowe,

  Suspecting least in time her riuall she might growe,

  Th’allu’rments of the Marsh, the icalous Ile do moue,

  That to a constant course, she thus perswa
des her Loue:

  With Rumney, though for dower I stand in no degree;

  In this, to be belou’d yet liker farre then she:

  Though I be browne, in me there doth no fauour lack.

  The foule is said deform’d: and she, extreamely black.

  And though her rich attire, so curious be and rare,

  From her there yet proceeds vnwholsome putrid aire:

  Where my complexion more sutes with the higher ground,

  Vpon the lusty Weald, where strength doth still abound.

  The Wood-gods I refus’d, that su’d to me sor grace,

  Me in thy watry Armes, thee suffring to imbrace;

  Where, to great Neptune she may one day be a pray:

  The Sea-gods in her lap lie wallowing euery day.

  And what, though of her strength she seem to make no doubt?

  Yet put vnto the proofe shee’ll hardly hold him out.

  With this perswasiue speech which Oxney lately vs’d,

  With strange and sundry doubts, whilst Rother stood confus’d,

  Old Andredsweald at length doth take her time to tell

  The changes of the world, that since her youth befell,

  When yet vpon her soyle, scarce humane foote had trode;

  A place where only then, the Syluans made abode.

  Where, feareless of the Hunt, the Hart securely stood,

  And euery where walkt free, a Burgesse of the Wood;

  Vntill those Danish routs, whom hunger-staru’d at home,

  (Like Woolues pursuing prey) about the world did roame.

  And stemming the rude streame diuiding vs from France,

  Into the spacious mouth of Rother fell (by chance)

  That Lymen then was nam’d, when (with most irksome care)

  The heauy Danish yoke, the seruile English bare.

  And when at last she found, there was no way to leaue

  Those, whom she had at first been forced to receiue;

  And by her great resort, she was through very need,

  Constrained to prouide her peopled Townes to feed.

  She learn’d the churlish axe and twybill to prepare,

  To steele the coulters edge, and sharpe the furrowing share:

  And more industrious still, and only hating sloth,

  A huswife she became, most skild in making cloth.

  That now the Draper comes from London euery yeare,

  And of the Kentish sorts, make his prouision there.

  Whose skirts (tis said) at first that fiftie furlongs went,

  Haue lost their ancient bounds, now limited in Kent.

  Which strongly to approue, she Medway forth did bring,

  From Sussex who (tis knowne) receiues her siluer Spring.

  Who towar’ds the lordly Tames, as she along doth straine,

  Where Teise, cleere Beule, and Len, beare vp her limber traine

  As she remoues in state: so for her more renowne,

  Her only name she leaues, t’her only christned Towne;

  And Rochester doth reach, in entring to the Bowre

  Of that most matchless Tames, her princely Paramoure.

  Whose bosome doth so please her Soueraigne (with her pride)

  Whereas the royall Fleet continually doth ride,

  That where she told her Tames, she did intend to sing

  What to the English Name immortall praise should bring;

  To grace his goodly Queen, Tames presently proclaimes,

  That all the Kentish Floods, resigning him their names,

  Should presently repaire vnto his mighty Hall,

  And by the posting Tides, towards London sends to call

  Cleere Rauensburne (though small, remembred them among)

  At Detford entring. Whence as down she comes along,

  She Darent thither warnes: who calles her sister Cray,

  Which hasten to the Court with all the speed they may.

  And but that Medway then of Tames obtain’d such grace,

  Except her country Nymphs, that none should be in place,

  More Riuers from each part, had instantly been there,

  Then at their marriage, first, by Spenser numbred were.

  This Medway still had nurst those nauies in her Road,

  Our Armies that had oft to conquest borne abroad;

  And not a man of ours, for Armes hath famous been,

  Whom she not going out, or comming in hath seen:

  Or by some passing Ship, hath newes to her been brought,

  What braue exploits they did; as where, and how, they fought.

  Wherefore, for audience now, she to th’assembly calls,

  The Captains to recite when seriously she fals.

  Of noble warriors now, saith she, shall be my Song;

  Of those renowned spirits, that from the Conquest sprong,

  Of th’English Norman blood: which, matchless for their might,

  Haue with their flaming swords, in many a dreadfull fight,

  Illustrated this Ile, and bore her fame so farre;

  Our Heroes, which the first wanne, in that Holy warre,

  Such feare from euery foe, and made the East more red,

  With splendor of their Armes, then when from Tithons bed

  The blushing Dawne doth break; towards which our fame begon,

  By Robert (Curt-hose call’d) the Conquerours eldest sonne,

  Who with great Godfrey and that holy Hermit went

  The Sepulcher to free, with most deuout intent.

  And to that title which the Norman William got,

  When in our Conquest heere, he stroue t’include the Scot,

  The Generall of our power, that stout and warlike Earle,

  Who English being borne, was stil’d of Aubemerle;

  Those Lacyes then no lesse courageous, which had there

  The leading of the day, all, braue Commanders were.

  Sir Walter Especk, matcht with Peuerell, which as farre

  Aduentur’d for our fame: who in that Bishops warre,

  Immortall honour got to Stephens troubled raigne:

  That day ten thousand Scots vpon the field were slaine.

  The Earle of Strigule then our Strong-bowe, first that wonne

  Wilde Ireland with the sword (which, to the glorious sunne,

  Lifts vp his nobler name) amongst the rest may stand.

  In Cure de Lyon’s charge vnto the Holy-land,

  Our Earle of Lester, next, to rank with them we bring:

  And Turnham, he that took th’impost’rous Ciprian King.

  Strong Tuchet chose to weeld the English standard there;

  Poole, Gourney, Neuill, Gray, Lyle, Ferres, Mortimer:

  And more, for want of pens whose deeds not brought to light,

  It grieues my zealous soule, I can not do them right.

  The noble Penbrooke then, who Strong-bowe did succeed,

  Like his braue Grand-sire, made th’reuolting Irish bleed,

  When yeelding oft, they oft their due subiection broke;

  And when the Britans scorn’d, to beare the English yoke,

  Lewellin Prince of Wales in Battell ouerthrewe,

  Nine thousand valiant Welsh and either took or slew.

  Earle Richard, his braue sonne, of Strong-bowes matchless straine,

  As he a Marshall was, did in himselfe retaine

  The nature of that word, being Martiall, like his name:

  Who, as his valiant Sire, the Irish oft did tame.

  With him we may compare Marisco (King of Men)

  That Lord chiefe Iustice was of Ireland, whereas then

  Those two braue Burrowes, Iohn, and Richard, had their place,

  Which through the bloodied Bogs, those Irish oft did chase;

  Whose deeds may with the best deseruedly be read.

  As those two Lacyes then, our English Powers that led:

  Which twenty thousand, there, did in one Battell quell,

  Amongst whome (troden down) the King of Conaugh fell.


  Then Richard, that lov’d Earle of Cornwall, here we set:

  Who, rightly of the race of great Plantaginet,

  Our English Armies shipt, to gaine that hallowed ground,

  With Long-sword the braue sonne of beautious Rosamond:

  The Pagans through the breasts, like thunderbolts that shot;

  And in the vtmost East such admiration got,

  That the shril-sounding blast, and terrour of our fame

  Hath often conquered, where, our swords yet neuer came:

  As Gifford, not forgot, their stout associate there.

  So in the warres with Wales, of ours as famous here,

  Guy Beuchamp, that great Earle of Warwick, place shall haue:

  From whom, the Cambrian Hils the Welsh-men could not saue;

  Whom he, their generall plague, impetuously pursu’d,

  And in the British gore his slaughtering sword imbru’d.

  In order as they rise (next Beuchamp) we preferre

  The Lord Iohn Gifford, matcht with Edmond Mortimer;

  Men rightly moulded vp, for high aduentrous deeds.

  In this renowned rank of warriors then succeeds

  Walwin, who with such skill our Armies oft did guide;

  In many a dangerous straight, that had his knowledge tride.

  And in that fierce assault, which caus’d the fatall flight,

  Where the distressed Welsh resign’d their Ancient right,

  Stout Frampton: by whose hand, their Prince Lewellin fell.

  Then followeth (as the first who haue deserued as well)

  Great Saint-Iohn; from the French, which twice recouered Guyne:

  And he, all him before that cleerely did out-shine,

  Warren, the puissant Earle of Surrey, which led forth

  Our English Armyes oft into our vtmost North;

  And oft of his approach made Scotland quake to heare,

  When Tweed hath sunk downe flat, within her Banks for feare.

  On him there shall attend, that most aduenturous Twhing,

  That at Scambekin fight, the English off did bring

  Before the furious Scot, that else werelike to fall.

  As Basset, last of these, yet not the least of all

  Those most renowned spirits that Fowkerk brauely fought;

  Where Long-shanks, to our lore, Albania lastly brought.

  As, when our Edward first his title did aduance,

  And led his English hence, to winne his right in France,

  That most deseruing Earle of Darby we preferre,

  Henries third valiant sonne, the Earle of Lancaster,

  That only Mars of Men; who (as a generall seurge,

  Sent by iust-iudging Heauen, outrageous France to purge)