Collected Works of Michael Drayton

by Michael Drayton

After embraces and a floud of woes,

  (Which when one ceas’d the other tooke his turne)

  From eithers eyes that on the other flowes.

  Now at the last point, at the gaspe of death.

  He whom the whole world hath but such another,

  Giues vp his latest, his most blessed breath,

  In the deare armes of his beloued Brother.

  So wisely worketh that eternall Being

  By the still changes of their varying state,

  (As to the end through the beginging seeing)

  To build the frame of vnauoyded Fate.

  When those giuen vp to their lasciuious wils,

  Themselues in Midian wantonnesse that waste,

  Whose fleshly knowledge sip’d those sugred ills,

  Twenty foure thousand slaughtered at the last.

  Of all those that in Sina numbred are,

  I’th plaines of Moab mustered then againe,

  Wasted by time, fire, pestilence, and warre,

  Those promis’d two and Moyses did remaine.

  The time expird that they for Aaron mourn’d,

  New conquest now, new comfort them doth bring,

  Their former hope successiuely return’d,

  That seem’d before so sadly languishing.

  When they the glorious victorie obtai e

  The Plaines of Horma scattered all with shields,

  Where Arad and his Cananites are slaine,

  Not the least fight of many glorious fields.

  With Schon’s slaughter seconded againe,

  And Ogs great fall of a Giganticke strength,

  Whose bed of iron fash’on’d to containe

  In breadth foure Cubits, doubling it in length:

  The liuing temnant of the mighty race,

  Of big-bon’d Anack terrible and dred,

  Which long time batning in that place,

  Grew like the fat soile wherein they were bred.

  Not Poets fictions of the Phlagrian fields,

  Whereas the Giants vp to Heauen would clime,

  Heaping on mountaines not such wonder yeelds,

  As did the men that liued in that time.

  And fiue proud Kings fell in their recreant flight,

  Before arm’d Israel on the Midian plame,

  Zur, Hur, and Eui, men of wondrous might,

  Reba and Rikem valiantly slaine.

  And as his strength crush’d mighty Kings to dust,

  And cleft the helmes that thunder proofe were thought.

  That hand that help’d them, seourg’d their impious lust,

  When his high iudgement to peruert they sought.

  And sent those Serpents (with their fiery stings,)

  With in flammations that their flesh did swell,

  Sharpely toscourge their trustlesse murmurings,

  That still in infidelity did dwell.

  Rare in this creature was his wondrous might,

  That should effect the nature of the fire,

  Yet to recure the sorance by the sight,

  Sicknesse might seeme the remedie t’admire.

  Onely by mettall miracles to worke,

  That Scrpents shape, the Serpents hurt should heale,

  To shew in him the mysteries that lurke.

  And being so strange, as strangely doth reueale.

  That the forg’d figure of so vile a thing

  Should the disease so presently remoue,

  Onely by th’ eye a remedy to bring,

  Deepe searching Magicke leaueth to approue,

  As Balaams beast did hast delay,

  And the full purpose of the Prophet brake,

  When he beheld the Angell by the way,

  Burst out from beast, and to his Master spake:

  Whose execration able to astound

  The sunne, when he his Sommers height did boast,

  And with a word could instantly confound

  The world, were it a congregated host.

  He whose wife lips could Oracles compile,

  And iudgements irreuocable did

  Should be confounded by the thing most

  By that base creature, the dull worthlesse Asse,

  Ruling his mouth as with a Riders bit,

  Bidden by Balaack to denounce their fall:

  Doth all his dreadfull Minaces acquit,

  Sounding their blessing and their enemies fall.

  When this milde man that onely did remaine,

  Of those from Egipt that the Lord did bring,

  Which he in Iustice sundry wayes had flaine,

  For their false worship and their murmuring.

  Since he remisse at Meriba was prou’d,

  And there his zeale not ardently exprest,

  The Lord did sweare (though him he dearely lou’d)

  He should not come to Canaan as the rest.

  And now approaching Abaris (the place)

  From whence he might that promis’d Country see,

  (So much the Lord good Moyses pleas’d to grace)

  But there his dayes must consummated be.

  When this great Prophet had bless’d,

  Each seu’rall Tribe with a particular good,

  Whose parting, them with sorrow so oppress’d,

  That shedding teares, their eyes shed drops of blood.

  To Nebo scared admitably

  (The Spirit prepares him safely to retire)

  Which thrusts his head into the cloudie

  Pisga so proudly thither dare aspire.

  Pisga the height of Abaris, and this

  The height of Pisga ouer all doth stand,

  That as the eye of mighty Abaris

  Suruayeth the imparallelled Land.

  Where goodly Gilead vnto him he showes

  As farre as euer he could looke to Dan,

  The length and breadth how euery way it goes,

  Till her brow kisse the calme Mediteran.

  Where the sweet South layes forth her swelling brest,

  With a pleas’d eye he silently suruay’d,

  To that faire Citie whose high Towers doe rest

  Vnder the Palmetrees most delicious shade.

  When this meeke man approaching to his death,

  In death eu’n pleas’d faire Canaan to behold,

  Whilst he had vse of his expiring breath,

  Thus his last farewell mildly doth enfolde.

  Israel (quoth he) deare Israel, now adue,

  Moyses no more is, that your Leader was,

  Iosua and none but onely you,

  Of the last age must ouer Iordan passe.

  Th’ Egyptian horrours yet ’twas I did see,

  And through those strange calamities did wade,

  And Israels charge imposed was on mee,

  When they (but then) had scarcely learn’d to dade.

  Forty two iourneyes haue I straitly past

  Since first this glorious Pilgrimage begun,

  In wrath or mercy where as first or last,

  Some wondrous thing hath happily beene done:

  M’immortall Maker that so oft haue seene

  (That God of wonder:) these complaints not boot,

  In yonder fields so delicate and greene,

  That may not set my miserable foot.

  Thus leaning backe against the rising Clieue,

  Raising his saint hands to the hopefull skies,

  Meeke as the morning neuer seene to striue,

  Great’st of the Prophets the good Moyses dies,

  An hundred twenty hardly passed yeares,

  His naturall vigour no did

  His eye as bright his body appeares,

  As in the height and Summer of his

  Who being dissolu’d the Angels did interre

  Neere to Bethpeor in the vallied ground,

  But yet so secret kept his Sepulcher

  That it by mortall neuer should be found.

  Lest that his people (if the place were knowne)

  (Seeing by him the miracles were don
e,

  That euer to Idolatrie were prone,)

  Vnto his bones a worshipping should runne.

  One that God grac’d so many sundry wayes,

  No former age hath mentioned to bee,

  Ariued at the period of his dayes

  The future time in Israel shalll not see.

  THE MUSES’ ELIZIUM

  CONTENTS

  THE DESCRIPTION OF ELIZIUM

  THE FIRST NIMPHALL

  THE SECOND NIMPHALL

  THE THIRD NIMPHALL

  THE FOURTH NIMPHALL

  THE FIFT NIMPHALL

  THE SIXT NIMPHALL

  THE SEUENTH NIMPHALL

  THE EIGHT NIMPHALL

  THE NINTH NIMPHALL

  THE TENTH NIMPHALL

  THE DESCRIPTION OF ELIZIUM

  A Paradice on earth is found,

  Though farre from vulgar sight,

  Which with those pleasures doth abound

  That it Elizium hight.

  Where, in Delights that neuer fade,

  The Muses lulled be,

  And sit at pleasure in the shade

  Of many a stately tree,

  Which no rough Tempest makes to reele

  Nor their straight bodies bowes, 10

  Their lofty tops doe neuer feele

  The weight of winters snowes;

  In Groues that euermore are greene,

  No falling leafe is there,

  But Philomel (of birds the Queene)

  In Musicke spends the yeare.

  The Merle vpon her mertle Perch,

  There to the Mavis sings,

  Who from the top of some curld Berch

  Those notes redoubled rings; 20

  There Daysyes damaske euery place

  Nor once their beauties lose,

  That when proud Phœbus hides his face

  Themselues they scorne to close.

  The Pansy and the Violet here,

  As seeming to descend,

  Both from one Root, a very payre,

  For sweetnesse yet contend,

  And pointing to a Pinke to tell

  Which beares it, it is loath, 30

  To iudge it; but replyes for smell

  That it excels them both.

  Wherewith displeasde they hang their heads

  So angry soone they grow

  And from their odoriferous beds

  Their sweets at it they throw.

  The winter here a Summer is,

  No waste is made by time,

  Nor doth the Autumne euer misse

  The blossomes of the Prime. 40

  The flower that Iuly forth doth bring

  In Aprill here is seene,

  The Primrose that puts on the Spring

  In Iuly decks each Greene.

  The sweets for soueraignty contend

  And so abundant be,

  That to the very Earth they lend

  And Barke of euery Tree:

  Rills rising out of euery Banck,

  In wild Meanders strayne, 50

  And playing many a wanton pranck

  Vpon the speckled plaine,

  In Gambols and lascivious Gyres

  Their time they still bestow

  Nor to their Fountaines none retyres,

  Nor on their course will goe.

  Those Brooks with Lillies brauely deckt,

  So proud and wanton made,

  That they their courses quite neglect:

  And seeme as though they stayde, 60

  Faire Flora in her state to viewe

  Which through those Lillies looks,

  Or as those Lillies leand to shew

  Their beauties to the brooks.

  That Phœbusin his lofty race,

  Oft layes aside his beames

  And comes to coole his glowing face

  In these delicious streames;

  Oft spreading Vines clime vp the Cleeues,

  Whose ripned clusters there, 70

  Their liquid purple drop, which driues

  A Vintage through the yeere.

  Those Cleeues whose craggy sides are clad

  With Trees of sundry sutes,

  Which make continuall summer glad,

  Euen bending with their fruits,

  Some ripening, ready some to fall,

  Some blossom’d, some to bloome,

  Like gorgeous hangings on the wall

  Of some rich princely Roome: 80

  Pomegranates, Lymons, Cytrons, so

  Their laded branches bow,

  Their leaues in number that outgoe

  Nor roomth will them alow.

  There in perpetuall Summers shade,

  Apolloes Prophets sit,

  Among the flowres that neuer fade,

  But flowrish like their wit;

  To whom the Nimphes vpon their Lyres,

  Tune many a curious lay, 90

  And with their most melodious Quires

  Make short the longest day.

  The thrice three Virgins heavenly Cleere,

  Their trembling Timbrels sound,

  Whilst the three comely Graces there

  Dance many a dainty Round,

  Decay nor Age there nothing knowes,

  There is continuall Youth,

  As Time on plant or creatures growes,

  So still their strength renewth. 100

  The Poets Paradice this is,

  To which but few can come;

  The Muses onely bower of blisse

  Their Deare Elizium.

  Here happy soules, (their blessed bowers,

  Free from the rude resort

  Of beastly people) spend the houres,

  In harmelesse mirth and sport,

  Then on to the Elizian plaines

  Apollo doth invite you 110

  Where he prouides with pastorall straines,

  In Nimphals to delight you.

  THE FIRST NIMPHALL

  RODOPE and DORIDA.

  This Nimphall of delights doth treat,

  Choice beauties, and proportions neat,

  Of curious shapes, and dainty features

  Describd in two most perfect creatures.

  When Phœbus with a face of mirth,

  Had flong abroad his beames,

  To blanch the bosome of the earth,

  And glaze the gliding streames.

  Within a goodly Mertle groue,

  Vpon that hallowed day

  The Nimphes to the bright Queene of loue

  Their vowes were vsde to pay.

  Faire Rodope and Dorida

  Met in those sacred shades, 10

  Then whom the Sunne in all his way,

  Nere saw two daintier Maids.

  And through the thickets thrild his fires,

  Supposing to haue seene

  The soueraigne Goddesse of desires,

  Or Ioves Emperious Queene:

  Both of so wondrous beauties were,

  In shape both so excell,

  That to be paraleld elsewhere,

  No iudging eye could tell. 20

  And their affections so surpasse,

  As well it might be deemd,

  That th’ one of them the other was,

  And but themselues they seem’d.

  And whilst the Nimphes that neare this place,

  Disposed were to play

  At Barly-breake and Prison-base,

  Doe passe the time away:

  This peerlesse payre together set,

  The other at their sport, 30

  None neare their free discourse to let,

  Each other thus they court,

  Dorida. My sweet, my soueraigne Rodope,

  My deare delight, my loue,

  That Locke of hayre thou sentst to me,

  I to this Bracelet woue;

  Which brighter euery day doth grow

  The longer it is worne,

  As its delicious fellowes doe,

  Thy Temples that adorne. 40

  Rodope. Nay had I thine my Dorida,


  I would them so bestow,

  As that the winde vpon my way,

  Might backward make them flow,

  So should it in its greatst excesse

  Turne to becalmed ayre,

  And quite forget all boistrousnesse

  To play with euery hayre.

  Dorida. To me like thine had nature giuen,

  A Brow, so Archt, so cleere, 50

  A Front, wherein so much of heauen

  Doth to each eye appeare,

  The world should see, I would strike dead

  The Milky Way that’s now,

  And say that Nectar Hebe shed

  Fell all vpon my Brow.

  Rodope. O had I eyes like Doridaes,

  I would inchant the day

  And make the Sunne to stand at gaze,

  Till he forget his way: 60

  And cause his Sister Queene of Streames,

  When so I list by night;

  By her much blushing at my Beames

  T’ eclipse her borrowed light.

  Dorida. Had I a Cheeke like Rodopes,

  In midst of which doth stand,

  A Groue of Roses, such as these,

  In such a snowy land:

  I would then make the Lilly which we now

  So much for whitenesse name, 70

  As drooping downe the head to bow,

  And die for very shame.

  Rodope. Had I a bosome like to thine,

  When I it pleas’d to show,

  T’ what part o’ th’ Skie I would incline

  I would make th’ Etheriall bowe,

  My swannish breast brancht all with blew,

  In brauery like the spring:

  In Winter to the generall view

  Full Summer forth should bring. 80

  Dorida. Had I a body like my deare,

  Were I so straight so tall,

  O, if so broad my shoulders were,

  Had I a waste so small;

  I would challenge the proud Queene of loue

  To yeeld to me for shape,

  And I should feare that Mars or Iove

  Would venter for my rape.

  Rodope. Had I a hand like thee my Gerle,

  (This hand O let me kisse) 90

  These Ivory Arrowes pyl’d with pearle,

  Had I a hand like this;

  I would not doubt at all to make,

  Each finger of my hand

  To taske swift Mercury to take

  With his inchanting wand.

  Dorida. Had I a Theigh like Rodopes;

  Which twas my chance to viewe,

  When lying on yon banck at ease,

  The wind thy skirt vp blew, 100

  I would say it were a columne wrought

  To some intent Diuine,

  And for our chaste Diana sought,

  A pillar for her shryne.

  Rodope. Had I a Leg but like to thine

  That were so neat, so cleane,

  A swelling Calfe, a Small so fine,

  An Ankle, round and leane,