Then Gysors he againe, then did Saint Denise, raze.
His Parallel, with him, the valiant Scales we praise;
Which oft put sword to sword, and foot to foot did set:
And that the first alone the Garland might not get,
With him hath hand in hand leapt into Dangers iawes;
And oft would forward put, where Talbot stood to pause:
Equalitie in fame, which with an equall lot,
Both at Saint Denise siege, and batt’red Guysors got.
Before Pont-Orsons walls, who, when great Warwick lay
(And he with souldiers sent a forraging for pray)
Six thousand French or’e-threw with halfe their numbred powers,
And absolutely made both Main and Aniou ours.
To Willoughby the next, the place by turne doth fall;
Whose courage likely was to beare it from them all:
With admiration oft on whom they stood to looke,
Saint Valeries proud gates that off the hindges shooke:
In Burgondy that forc’t the recreant French to flie,
And beat the Rebells downe disordering Normandy:
That Amiens neere layd waste (whose strengths her could not saue)
And the perfidious French out of the Country draue.
With these, another troupe of noble spirits there sprong,
That with the formost preast into the warlike throng.
The first of whom we place that stout Sir Phillip Hall,
So famous in the fight against the Count S. Paul,
That Crotoy vs regain’d: and in the conflict twixt
The English and the French, that with the Scot were mixt,
On proud Charles Cleremont won that admirable day.
Strong Fastolph with this man compare we iustly may,
By Salsbury who oft beeing seriously imploy’d
In many a braue attempt, the generall Foe annoy’d;
With excellent successe in Main and Aniou fought:
And many a Bulwarke there into our keeping brought;
And, chosen to goe forth with Vadamont in warre,
Most resolutely tooke proud Renate, Duke of Barre.
The valiant Draytons then, Sir Richard, and Sir Iohn,
By any English spirits yet hardly ouer-gone;
The fame they got in France, with costly wounds that bought:
In Gascony and Guyne, who oft and stoutly fought.
Then, valiant Mathew Gough: for whom the English were
Much bound to noble Wales in all our Battels there,
Or sieging or besieg’d that neuer fayl’d our force,
Oft hazarding his blood in many a desperate course.
Hee beat the Bastard Balme with his selected band,
And at his Castle-gate surpriz’d him hand to hand,
And spight of all his power away him prisoner bare,
Our hardy Burdet then with him we will compare,
Besieg’d within Saint Iames de Beneon, ifsuing out,
Crying Salsbury, S. George, with such a horrid shout,
That cleft the wandring clowds; and with his valiant crew
Vpon the envied French like hungry Lyons flew,
And Arthur Earle of Eure and Richmont tooke in fight:
Then following them (in heat) the Armie put to flight:
The Britan, French, and Scot, receiu’d a generall fack,
As, flying, one fell still vpon anothers back;
Where our sixe hundred slew so many thousands more.
At our so good successe that once a French-man swore
That God was wholly turn’d vnto the English side,
And to asist the French, the diuell had deny’d.
Then heere our Kerrill claimes his roome amongst the rest,
Who iustly if compar’d might match our very best.
Hee in our warres in France with our great Talbot oft,
With Willoughby and Scales, now downe, and then aloft,
Endur’d the sundry turnes of often varying Fate;
At Cleremont seiz’d the Earle before his Citty gate,
Eight hundred faithlesse French who tooke or put to sword;
And, by his valour, twice to Artoyse vs restor’d.
In this our service then great Arondell doth ensue,
The Marshall Bousack who in Beuvoys ouerthrew;
And, in despight of France and all her power, did win
The Castles Darle, Nellay, S. Lawrence, Bomelin;
Tooke Silly, and Count Lore at Sellerin subdu’d,
Where with her owners blood, her buildings hee imbru’d:
Revolted Loveers sackt, and manfully supprest
Those Rebells, that so oft did Normandy molest.
As Poynings, such high prayse in Gelderland that got,
On the Savoyan side, that with our English shot
Strooke warlike Aiske, and Straule, when Flanders shooke with feare.
As Howard, by whose hand we so renowned were:
Whose great successe at Sea, much fam’d our English Fleet:
That in a navall fight the Scottish Barton beet;
And setting foote in France, her horribly did fright:
(As if great Chandos ghost, or feared Talbots spright
Had com’n to be their scourge, their fame againe to earne)
Who hauing stoutly sack’t both Narbin and Deverne,
The Castles of De Boyes, of Fringes, tooke vs there,
Of Columburge, of Rewe, of Dorlans, and Daveere;
In Scotland, and againe the Marches East to West,
Did with invasiue warre most terribly infest.
A nobler of that name, the Earle of Surry then,
That famous Heroe fit both for the Speare and Pen
(From Floddens doubtfull fight, that forward Scottish King
In his victorious troupe who home with him did bring)
Rebellious Ireland scourg’d, in Britany and wan
Vs Morles. Happy time, that bredst so braue a man!
To Cobham, next, the place deseruedly doth fall:
In France who then imploy’d with our great Admirall,
In his succesfull Road blew Sellois vp in fire,
Tooke Bottingham and Bruce, with Samkerke and Mansier.
Our Peachy, nor our Carre, nor Thomas, shall be hid,
That at the Field of Spurres by Tirwyn stoutly did.
Sands, Guyldford, Palmer, Lyle, Fitzwilliams, and with them,
Braue Dacres, Musgraue, Bray, Coe, Wharton, Ierningham,
Great Martialists, and men that were renowned farre
At Sea; some in the French, some in the Scottish warre.
Courageous Randolph then, that seru’d with great Command,
Before Newhauen first, and then in Ireland.
The long-renown’d Lord Gray, whose spirit we oft did try;
A man that with drad Mars stood in account most hie.
Sir Thomas Morgan then, much fame to vs that wan,
When in our Maiden raigne the Belgique warre began:
Who with our friends the Dutch, for England stoutly stood,
When Netherland first learn’d to lauish gold and blood.
Sir Roger Williams next (of both which, Wales might vaunt)
His marshall Compere then, and braue Commilitant:
Whose conflicts, with the French and Spanish manly fought,
Much honor to their names, and to the Britaines brought.
Th’Lord Willoughby may well be reccond with the rest,
Inferiour not a whit to any of our best;
A man so made for warre, as though from Pallas sprong.
Sir Richard Bingham then our valiant men among,
Himselfe in Belgia well, and Ireland, who did beare;
Our onely Schooles of Warre this later time that were.
As, Stanly, whose braue act at Zutphens seruice done,
Much glory to the day, and him his Knighthood wonne.
Our noblest Norrice next, whose fame s
hall neuer die
Whilst Belgia shall be knowne; or there’s a Britany:
In whose braue height of spirit, Time seem’d as to restore
Those, who to th’English name such honor gayn’d of yore.
Great Essex, of our Peeres the last that ere we knew;
Th’old worlds Heroës lyues who likely’st did renew;
The souldiers onely hope, who stoutly seru’d in France;
And on the Towers of Cales as proudly did advance
Our English Ensignes then, and made Iberia quake,
When as our warlike road on the surging Lake,
T’receiue that Citties spoyle, which set her batter’d gate
Wide ope, t’affrighted Spayne to see her wretched state.
Next, Charles, Lord Mountioy, sent to Ireland to suppresse
The envious Rebell there; by whose most faire successe,
The Irish led by their vniust Tyrone,
And the proud Spanish force, were iustly ouerthrowne.
That still Kinsall shall keepe and faithfull record beare,
What by the English prowesse was executed there.
Then liu’d those valiant Veres, both men of great Command
In our imployments long: whose either Marshall hand
Reacht at the highest wreath, it from the top to get,
Which on the proudest head, Fame yet had euer set.
Our Dokwray,Morgan next, Sir Samuell Bagnall, then
Stout Lambert, such as well deserue a liuing pen;
True Martialists and Knights, of noble spirit and wit.
The valiant Cicill, last, for great imployment fit,
Deseruedly in warre the lat’st of ours that rose:
Whose honor euery howre, and fame still greater growes.
When now the Kentish Nymphs doe interrupt her Song,
By letting Medway knowe shee tarried had too long
Vpon this warlike troupe, and all vpon them layd,
Yet for their nobler Kent shee nought or little said.
When as the pliant Muse, straight turning her about,
And comming to the Land as Medway goeth out,
Saluting the deare soyle, ô famous Kent, quoth shee,
What Country hath this Ile that can compare with thee,
Which hast within thy selfe as much as thou canst wish?
Thy Conyes, Venson, Fruit; thy sorts of Fowle and Fish:
As what with strength comports, thy Hay, thy Corne, thy Wood:
Nor any thing doth want, that any where is good.
Where Thames-ward to the shore, which shoots vpon the rise,
Rich Tenham vndertakes thy Closets to suffize
With Cherries, which weesay, the Sommer in doth bring,
Wherewith Pomona crownes the plump and lustfull Spring;
From whose deepe ruddy , sweet Zephyre kisses steales,
With their delicious touch his loue-sicke hart that heales.
Whose golden Gardens seeme th’Hesperides to mock:
Nor there the Damzon wants, nor daintie Abricock,
Nor Pippin, which we hold of kernell-fruits the king,
The Apple-Orendge; then the sauory Russetting:
The Peare-maine, which to France long ere to vs was knowne,
Which carefull Frut’rers now haue denizend our owne.
The Renat: which though first it from the Pippin came,
Growne through his pureness nice, assumes that curious name,
Vpon the Pippin stock, the Pippin beeing set;
As on the Gentle, when the Gentle doth beget
(Both by the Sire and Dame beeing anciently descended)
The issue borne of them, his blood hath much amended.
The Sweeting, for whose sake the Plow-boyes oft make warre:
The Wilding, Costard, then the wel-known Pomwater,
And sundry other fruits, of good, yet seuerall taste,
That haue their sundry names in sundry Countries plac’t:
Vnto whose deare increase the Gardiner spends his life,
With Percer, Wimble, Sawe, his Mallet, and his Knife;
Oft couereth, oft doth bare the dry and moystned root,
As faintly they mislike, or as they kindly sute:
And their selected plants doth workman-like bestowe,
That in true order they conueniently may growe.
And kils the slimie Snayle, the Worme, and labouring Ant,
Which many times annoy the graft and tender Plant:
Or else maintaines the plot much starued with the wet,
Wherein his daintiest fruits in kernels he doth set:
Or scrapeth off the mosse, the Trees that oft annoy.
But, with these try fling things why idly doe I toy,
Who any way the time intend not to prolong?
To those Thamisian Iles now nimbly my Song,
Faire Shepey and the Greane sufficiently supply’d,
To beautifie the place where showes her pride.
But Greane seemes most of all the Medway to adore,
And Tenet, standing forth to the Rhutupian shore,
By mightie Albion plac’t till his returne againe
From Gaul; where, after, he by Hercules was slaine.
For, Earth-borne Albion then great Neptunes eldest sonne,
Ambicious of the fame by sterne Alcides wonne,
Would ouer (needs) to Gaul, with him to hazard fight,
Twelue Labors which before accomplisht by his might;
His Daughters then but young (on whom was all his care)
Which Doris, Thet is Nymph, vnto the Gyant bare:
With whom those Iles he left; and will’d her for his sake,
That in their Grandsires Court shee much of them would make:
But Tenet, th’eldst of three, when Albion was to goe,
Which lou’d her Father best, and loth to leaue him so,
There at the Giant raught; which was perceiu’d by chance:
This louing Ile would else haue followed him to France;
To make the chanell wide that then he forced was,
Whereas (some say) before he vs’d on foot to passe.
Thus Tenet being stay’d, and surely setled there,
Who nothing lesse then want and idlenes could beare,
Doth onely giue her selfe to tillage of the ground.
With sundry sorts of Graine whilst thus shee doth abound,
She falls in loue with Stour, which comming downe by Wye,
And towards the goodly Ile, his feet doth nimbly ply.
To Canterbury then as kindly he resorts,
His famous Country thus he gloriously reports;
O noble Kent, quoth he, this praise doth thee belong,
The hard’st to be controld, impatientest of wrong.
Who, when the Norman first with pride and horror sway’d,
Threw’st off the seruile yoke vpon the English lay’d;
And with a high resolue, most brauely didst restore
That libertie so long enioy’d by thee before.
Not suffring forraine Lawes should thy free Customes bind,
Then onely showd’st thy selfe of th’ancient Saxon kind.
Of all the English Shires be thou surnam’d the Free,
And formost euer plac’t, when they shall reckned bee.
And let this Towne, which Chiefe of thy rich Country is,
Of all the British Sees be still Metropolis.
Which hauing said, the Stour to Tenet him doth hie,
Her in his louing armes imbracing by and by,
Into the mouth of Tames one arme that forth doth lay,
The other thrusting out into the Celtique Sea.
Grym Goodwin all this while seems grieuously to lowre,
Nor cares he of a strawe for Tennet, nor her Stour;
Still bearing in his mind a mortall hate to France
Since mighty Albions fall by warres incertaine chance.
Who, since his wisht reuenge not all this while is had,
Twixt very griefe and rage is fall’n extreamly mad;
That when the rouling Tyde doth stirre him with her waues,
Straight foming at the mouth, impatiently he raues,
And striues to swallow vp the Sea-marks in his Deepe,
That warne the wandring ships out of his iawes to keepe.
The Surgions of the Sea doe all their skill apply,
If possibly, to cure his greeuous maladie:
As Amphitrites Nymphs their very vtmost proue,
By all the meanes they could, his madnes to remoue.
From Greenwich to these Sands, some doe bring,
That inwardly apply’d’s a wondrous soueraigne thing.
From Shepey, Sea-mosse some, to coole his boyling blood;
Some, his ill-seasond mouth that wisely vnderstood,
Rob Dovers neighboring Cleeues of Sampyre, to excite
His dull and sickly taste, and stirre vp appetite.
Now, Shepey, when shee found shee could no further wade
After her mightie Sire, betakes her to his trade,
With Sheephooke in her hand, her goodly flocks to heed,
And cherisheth the kind of those choice Kentish breed.
Of Villages shee holds as husbandly a port,
As any British Ile that neighboreth Neptunes Court.
But Greane, as much as shee her Father that did loue
(And, then the Inner Land, no further could remoue)
In such continuall griefe for Albion doth abide,
That almost vnder-stood shee weepeth euery Tide.
POLY-OLBION: THE NINETEENTH SONG
The Argument
THE Muse, now over Thames makes forth,
Upon her progresse to the north,
From Cauney with a full carrere,
Shee up against the streame doth beare;
Where Waltham forrests pride exprest, 5
Shee poynts directly to the east,
And shewes how all those rivers straine
Through Essex, to the German mayne;
When Stoure, with Orwels ayd prefers,
Our Brittish brave sea-voyagers; 10
Halfe Suffolke in with them shee takes,
Where of this song an end shee makes.
BEARE bravely up my Muse, the way thou went’st before,
And crosse the kingly Thames to the Essexian shore,
Stem up his tyde-full streame, upon that side to rise,
When Cauney, Albions child in-iled richly lyes,
Which, though her lower scite doth make her seeme but meane, 5
Of him as dearly lov’d as Shepey is or Greane,
And him as dearly lov’d: for when he would depart,
With Hercules to fight, she tooke it so to heart,
Michael Drayton- Collected Poetical Works Page 106
