Collected Works of Michael Drayton

by Michael Drayton

  When the proud French fell on that conquered land,

  As the full Corne before the labourers hand.

  Vshering so bright and Angellike a Queene,

  Whose gallant carridge had but Cynthia seene,

  She might haue learnd her siluer brow to beare,

  And to haue shin’d and sparckl’d in her spheare,

  Leading her Ladies on their milkie Steedes,

  With such aspect that each beholder feedes,

  As though the lights and beauties of the skies,

  Transcending dwelt and twinckled in their eies.

  Here might you see what passion wonder wrought,

  As it inuades the temper of the thought:

  One weepes for ioy, he laughs and claps his hands,

  Another still and looking sadly stands:

  Others that seemed to be moued lesse,

  Shew’d more then these in action could expresse.

  None ther’s could iudge a witnesse of this sight,

  Whether of two did take the more delight,

  They that in triumph rode or they that stand,

  To view the pompe and glorie of the land,

  Each vnto other such reflection sent,

  Either so sumptuous, so magnificent:

  Nor are the duties that thy subiects owe,

  Only compriz’d in this externall show.

  For harts are heap’d with those innumered hoords,

  That tongues by vttrance cannot vent in words:

  Nor is it all Inuention here deuises,

  That thy hie worth and Maiestie comprizes,

  And we not last of those glad harts that proue,

  To shew our Soueraigne our vnspotted loue.

  The first a Maiors name worthely did grace,

  Marrying that title and Pretorian place,

  Was of our freedome, purchasing thereby

  That primate honor to our Liuery.

  Natiue our loue as needfull is our trade,

  By which no kingdome euer was decaide,

  To bring sleight gauds and womanish deuices,

  Of little vse and of excessiue prices,

  Good home-made things with trifles to suppresse,

  To feede luxurious riot, and excesse,

  Sound-Bullion is our subiect, whose sure rate

  Scal’d by his selfeworth, such the Goldsmiths state,

  Which peace and happie gouernment doth nourish,

  And with a kingdome doth both fade and florish.

  Natures perfection, that great wonder Gold,

  Of which the first note of our name we hold,

  Phoebus his God that triply doth implie,

  To medicen, Musicke, and sweete Poesie,

  To vs his hie diuinitie imparts,

  As he is knowne and glorified in Arts:

  For that inuention studie doth befit,

  That is the crowne and puritie of wit,

  What doth belong and’s proper to the muse,

  We of all other mysteries doe vse,

  Moulds and insculpturs framing by the head,

  Formes and proportions strangely varied.

  The lumpe as likes the workman best to frame,

  To wedge, to ingot, or what other name,

  That by the sight and knowledge of our trade,

  Into rich Plate, and Vtensils is made

  Within thy land, for ornament doth stay,

  Angels haue wings and fleeting still away,

  And by eschanging virtuously doth flie

  That cankerd, base, and idle Vsurie:

  For when the banck once subtilie is plac’d,

  Th’exacted vse comes hourely in so fast,

  That whil’st the lender on the borrower praies,

  Good and industrious facultie decaies.

  Foule Auarice that triple Dog of Hell,

  That when Ioues sonne emperiously did quell,

  And from his hand receiu’d that fatall wound,

  His poysoned foame he driu’ld on the ground,

  From which they say as in the earths despite,

  Did spring that black and poysoned Aconite:

  For they by fire that mettals vse to trie,

  And finde wise Natures secresies thereby,

  When they prepare industriously to shed

  Siluer, dispos’d adulteratly with lead,

  Proue this base Courser from the other fine,

  Being so cleere and aptly femenine,

  Steales from her purenes in his boystrous fixure,

  By the corruption of his earthly mixure,

  Which if Gold helping her infeebled might,

  As a kind brother in his sisters right,

  By him her spirit is perfect and compacted,

  Which that grosse body enuiously detracted.

  Conscience like Gold which Hell cannot intice,

  Nor winne from weake man by his auarice:

  Which if infus’d such vertue doth impart,

  As doth conforme and rectifie the hart.

  For as the Indians by experience know,

  That like a Tree it in the ground doth grow,

  And as it still approcheth to the day,

  His curled branches brauely doth display,

  Then in the bulke and body of the mine,

  More neat, contracted, rarifi’d, and fine:

  So truth from darknes spreading doth appeare,

  And shewes it selfe more luculent and cleere.

  Dunstan our Patron that religious man,

  (That great and famous Metropolitan,

  That in his time ascended by degrees,

  To Worster, London, Canturburies Sees,

  That was in ancient Glastenbury bred,

  Foure Saxons raignes that liuing flourished,

  Whose deeds the world vnto this time containeth,

  And sainted in our Kalenders remaineth

  Gaue) what not time our Brotherhood denies,

  Ancient endowments and immunities:

  And for our station and our generall heape,

  Recides in Lombard or in goodly Cheape.

  We haue an Adage which though very old,

  Tis not the worse that it hath oft been told,

  (Though the despising ancient things and holie,

  Too much betraies our ignorance and follie)

  That England yeelds to goodly London this,

  That she her chiefe and soueraine Citie is:

  •ondon will graunt her goodly Cheape the grace,

  •o be her first and and absolutest place:

  •are I proclaime then with a constant hand,

  •heape is the Starre and Iewell of thy land.

  The Trophie that we reare vnto thy praise,

  This gold-drop’d Lawrell, this life-giuing bayes,

  No power lends immortalitie to men,

  •ike the hie spirit of an industrious pen,

  Which stems times tumults with a full-spread saile,

  When proud reard piles and monuments doe faile,

  And in their cinders when great Courts doe lie,

  That shall confront and iustle with the skie:

  Liue euer mightie, happely, and long,

  Liuing admir’d, and dead be highly song.

  FINIS.

  THE MAN IN THE MOON

  THE MAN IN THE MOON

  OF all the tales that ever have been told,

  By homely shepherds lately, or of old,

  The Mooned-man, although the last in place,

  Is not the least; and thus befel the case.

  It was the time when (for their good estate)

  The thankful shepherds yearly celebrate

  A feast, and bonefires on the vigils keep,

  To the great Pan, preserver of their sheep:

  Which whilst in high solemnity they spend,

  Lastly the long day grew unto an end:

  When as by night, with a devout intent,

  About the field religiously they went,

  With hollowing charms the warwolf thence to
fray,

  That them and theirs awaited to betray.

  And now the Sun near half his course had run

  Under the Earth, when coming everyone

  Back to the place where usually they met,

  And on the ground together being set:

  It was agreed, to pass away the time,

  That some one shepherd should rehearse some rhyme

  Long as they could their drooping hearts to glad,

  Blame not poor swains, tho’ inly they were sad;

  For some amongst them perfectly there knew,

  That the sad times were shortly to ensue,

  When they of all the sorts of men neglected,

  In barren fields should wander unrespected.

  For careful shepherds that do watch by night,

  In the Vast air see many a fearful sight:

  From whose observance they do wisely gather

  The change of times, as well as of the weather*

  But whilst they strove this story who should tell,

  Amongst the rest to Rowland’s lot it fell,

  By general voice, in time that then was grown

  So excellent, that scarce there had been known

  Him that excel I’d in piping or in song:

  When not a map the company among

  That was not silent. Now the goodly Moon

  Was in the full, and at her nighted noon,

  Show’d her great glory, shining now so bright,

  Quoth Rowland, “She that gently lends us light,

  Shall be our subject, and her love alone,

  Borne to a shepherd, wise Endymion,

  Sometime on Latmus’ that his flock did keep,

  Rapted that was in admiration deep

  Of her perfections, that he us’d to lie,

  All the long night contemplating the sky,

  At her high beauties: often of his store,

  As to the god be only did adore,

  And sacrific’d: she perfect in his love,

  For the high gods enthronized above

  From their clear mansions plainly do behold

  All that frail man doth in this grosser mould:

  For whom bright Cynthia gliding from her sphere,

  Used oft-times to recreate her there:

  That oft her want unto the world was strange,

  Fearing that Heaven the wonted course would change,

  And Phoebus, her oft missing did inquire,

  If that elsewhere she borrow’d other tire:

  But let them do to cross her what they could,

  Down unto Latmus every month she would.

  So that in Heaven about it there was odds,

  And as a question troubled all the gods,

  Whether, without their general consent,

  She might depart: but nath’less to prevent

  Her lawless course, they labour’d all in vain,

  Nor could their laws her liberty restrain:

  For of the seven, since she the lowest was,

  Unto the Earth nought hinder’d her to pass:

  Before the rest of which she had the charge,

  No less her power was in the waters large,

  From her deriving naturally their source:

  Besides, she being swiftest in her course

  Of all the planets, therefore him defies,

  That her, her ancient liberty denies.

  That many a time, apparelled in green,

  Arm’d with her dart, she huntress-like was seen:

  Her hair tuck’d up in many a curious plait,

  Sometimes in fields found feeding of her neat;

  A country maiden, then amongst the swains,

  A shepherdess, she kept upon the plains;

  Yet no disguise her deity could smother,

  So far in beauty she excelled other:

  Such was the virtue of the world, that then

  The gods did use t’ accompany with men

  In human shapes, descending from their powers,

  Often were seen in homely shepherds’ bowers.

  But he her course that studied still to know,

  Muse not though oft he malcontent did go,

  Seldom in one state that her ever found,

  Horned sometime, now half fac’d and then round;

  Shining on that part, then another more,

  Then there most darken’d, where most light before;

  Now all night shining, now a piece, and then

  Observes the day, and in her course agen;

  Sometime to south, then northward she doth stir,

  Him so amazing, he supposed her

  Vain and inconstant, now herself to attire.

  And help her beauties with her brother’s fire,

  When most of all accomplish’d is her face,

  A sudden darkness doth her quite disgrace.

  For that the Earth, by nature cold and dry,

  By the much grossness and obscurity,

  Whose globe exceeds her Compass being fist,

  Her surface and her brother’s beams betwixt:

  Within whose shadow when she baps to fall,

  Forceth her darkness to be general;

  That be resolv’d she ever would be strange;

  Yet marking well, he found upon her change,

  If that her brow with bloody red were stain’d,

  Tempests soon after; and if black, it rain’d:

  By his observance that he well discern’d,

  That from her course things greater might be learn’d.

  “Whilst that his brain he busied yet doth keep,

  Now from the spleen the melancholy deep

  Pierceth the veins, and like a raging flood,

  Rudely itself extending through the blood,

  Appals the spirits, denying their defence

  Unto the organs, when as every sense

  Ceaseth the office, then the labouring mind,

  Strongest in that which all the powers doth bind,

  Strives to high knowledge, being in this plight,’

  Now the Sun’s sister, mistress of the night,

  His sad desires long languishing to cheer,

  Thus at the last on Latmus doth appear,

  Her brother’s beams enforc’d to lay aside,

  Herself for his sake seeming to divide.

  For had she come apparell’d in her light,

  Then should the swain have perish’d in her sight.

  Upon a bull as white as milk she rode,

  Which like a huntress bravely she bestrode,

  Her brow with beauty gloriously replete,

  Her count’nance lovely; with a swelling teat

  Gracing her broad breast, curiously enchas’d

  With branched veins, all bared to the waist.

  Over the same she wore a vapour thin,

  Thorow the which her clear and dainty skin

  To the beholder amiably did show,

  Like damask roses lightly clad in snow.

  Her bow and quiver at her back behind,

  That eas’Iy moving with the wanton wind,

  Made a soft rastling, such as you do hear

  Amongst the reeds some eliding river near,

  When the fierce Boreas thorow them doth ride,

  Against whose rage the hollow canes do chide;

  Which breath “her mantle’ amorously did swell.

  From her straight shoulders carelessly that fell.

  Now here, now there, now up and down that flew,

  Of sundry colours, wherein you might view

  A sea, that somewhat strait’ned by the land,

  Two furious tides raise their ambitions hand.

  One ‘gainst the other, warring in their

  Like two fond worldlings that themselves diride

  For some slight trifle, opposite in all,

  Till both together ruined, they fall.

  Some coming in, some out again doth go,

  And the same way, and the same wind doth blow,

&nb
sp; Both sails their coarse each labouring to prefer,

  By th’ hand of either’s helpful mariner:

  Outragious tempest, shipwrecks overspread

  All the rude Neptune, whilst that pale-fac’d dread

  Seizeth the ship-boy, that his strength doth put

  The anchor’d cable presently to cut

  All above board, the sturdy AEolus casts

  Into the wide seas, whilst on planks and masts

  Some ‘say to swim: and there you might behold,

  Whilst the rude waters enviously did scold,

  Others upon a promontory high,

  Thrusting his blue top through the bluer sky,

  Looking upon those lost upon the seas;

  Like worldly rich men that do sit at ease,

  Whilst in this vain world others live in strife,

  Warring with sorrow every where so rife:

  And oft amongst the monsters of the main,

  Their horrid foreheads through the billows strain,

  Into the vast air driving on their breasts

  The troubled water, that so ill digests

  Their away, that it them enviously assails,

  Hanging with white jaws on their marble scales;

  And in another inland part agen,

  Where springs, lakes, rivers, marishes and fen,

  Wherein all kinds of water-fowl did won,

  Each in their colours excellently done,

  The greedy sea-maw fishing for the fry;

  The hungry shell-fowl, from whose rape doth fly

  Th’ unnumber’d shoals; the mallard there did feed;

  The teal and morecoot raking in the weed;

  And in a creek where waters least did stir,

  Set from the rest the nimble divedopper,

  That comes and goes so quickly and so oft,

  As seems at once both under and aloft:

  The jealous swan, there swimming In his pride,

  With his arch’d breast the waters did divide,

  His saily wings him forward strongly pushing,

  Against the billows with such fury rushing,

  As from the same, a foam so white arose,

  As seem’d to mock the breast that them oppose:

  And here and there the wand’ring eye to feed,

  Of scatter’d tufts of bullrushes and reed,

  Sedges, tong-leav’d willow, on whose bending spray,

  The py’d king’sfisher, having got his prey,

  Sat with the small breath of the water shaken,

  Till he devour’d the fish that he had taken.

  The long-neck’d hern, there watching by the brim,

  And in a gutter, near again to him,

  The bidling suite, the plover on the moor,

  The curlew, scratching in the ouse and ore:

  And there a fowler set his lime and gin.

  Watching the birds unto the same to win;