Commendatory Verses
A VISION UPON THIS CONCEIPT OF THE FAERY QUEENE
Me thought I saw the grave where Laura lay,
Within that temple where the vestall flame
Was wont to burne; and passing by that way,
To see that buried dust of living fame,
Whose tumbe faire Love, and fairer Vertue kept,
All suddeinly I saw the Faery Queene:
At whose approch the soule of Petrarke wept,
And from thenceforth those graces were not seene.
For they this Queene attended; in whose steed
Oblivion laid him downe on Lauras herse:
Hereat the hardest stones were seene to bleed,
And grones of buried ghostes the heavens did perse:
?Where Homers spright did tremble all for griefe,
?And curst th' accesse of that celestiall theife.
ANOTHER OF THE SAME
The prayse of meaner wits this worke like profit brings,
As doth the Cuckoes song delight when Philumena sings.
If thou hast formed right true Vertues face herein,
Vertue her selfe can best discerne, to whom they written bin.
If thou hast Beauty praysd, let her sole lookes divine
Judge if ought therein be amis, and mend it by her eine.
If Chastitie want ought, or Temperaunce her dew,
Behold her princely mind aright, and write thy Queene anew.
Meane while she shall perceive, how far her vertues sore
Above the reach of all that live, or such as wrote of yore:
And thereby will excuse and favour thy good will:
Whose vertue can not be exprest, but by an angels quill.
Of me no lines are lov'd, nor letters are of price,
Of all which speak our English tongue, but those of thy device
TO THE LEARNED SHEPEHEARD
Collyn, I see by thy new taken taske,
?Some sacred fury hath enricht thy braynes,
That leades thy Muse in haughty verse to maske,
?And loath the layes that longs to lowly swaynes;
That lifts thy notes from shepheardes unto kinges,
So like the lively Larke that mounting singes.
Thy lovely Rosolinde seemes now forlorne,
?And all thy gentle flockes forgotten quight;
Thy chaunged hart now holdes thy pypes in scorne,
?Those prety pypes that did thy mates delight,
Those trusty mates, that loved thee so well,
Whom thou gav'st mirth, as they gave thee the bell.
Yet, as thou earst, with thy sweete roundelayes,
?Didst stirre to glee our laddes in homely bowers,
So moughtst thou now in these refyned layes
?Delight the daintie eares of higher powers:
And so mought they, in their deepe skanning skill,
Alow and grace our Collyns flowing quyll
And faire befall that Faery Queene of thine,
?In whose faire eyes Love linckt with Vertue sittes:
Enfusing, by those bewties fyers devyne,
?Such high conceites into thy humble wittes,
As raised hath poore pastors oaten reede,
From rustick tunes, to chaunt heroique deedes.
So mought thy Redcrosse Knight with happy hand
?Victorious be in that faire Ilands right,
Which thou dost vayle in type of Faery Land,
?Elizas blessed field, that Albion hight:
That shieldes her friendes, and warres her mightie foes,
Yet! still with people, peace, and plentie flowes
But (jolly shepheard) though with pleasing style
?Thou feast the humour of the courtly trayne,
Let not conceipt thy setled sence beguile,
?Ne daunted be through envy or disdaine
Subject thy dome to her empyring spright,
From whence thy Muse, and all the world, takes light.
Fayre Thamis streame, that from Ludds stately towne
Runst paying tribute to the ocean seas,
Let all thy nymphes and syrens of renowne
Be silent, whyle this Bryttane Orpheus playes:
Nere thy sweet bankes, there lives that sacred Crowne,
Whose hand strowes palme and never-dying bayes:
Let all at once, with thy soft murmuring sowne,
Present her with this worthy poets prayes:
For he hath taught hye drifts in shepeherdes weedes,
And deepe conceites now singes in Faeries deedes
Grave Muses, march in triumph and with prayses;
Our Goddesse here hath given you leave to land,
And biddes this rare dispenser of your graces
Bow downe his brow unto her sacred hand.
Desertes findes dew in that most princely doome,
In whose sweete brest are all the Muses bredde:
So did that great Augustus erst in Roome
With leaves of fame adorne his poets hedde.
Faire be the guerdon of your Faery Queene ,
Even of the fairest that the world hath seene.
W HEN stout Achilles heard of Helens rape
And what revenge the states of Greece devisd:
Thinking by sleight the fatall warres to scape,
In womans weedes him selfe he then disguisde:
But this devise Ulysses soone did spy,
And brought him forth, the chaunce of warre to try.
When Spencer saw the fame was spredd so large,
Through Faery Land, of their renowned Queene,
Loth that his Muse should take so great a charge,
As in such haughty matter to be seene,
To seeme a shepeheard then he made his choice;
But Sydney heard him sing, and knew his voice.
And as Ulysses brought faire Thetis sonne
From his retyred life to menage armes,
So Spencer was by Sidneys speaches wonne
To blaze her fame, not fearing future harmes:
For well he knew, his Muse would soone be tyred
In her high praise, that all the world admired.
Yet as Achilles, in those warlike frayes,
Did win the palme from all the Grecian peeres,
So Spencer now, to his immortall prayse,
Hath wonne the laurell quite from all his feres.
What though his taske exceed a humaine witt?
He is excus'd, sith Sidney thought it fitt.
To looke upon a worke of rare devise
The which a workman setteth out to view,
And not to yield it the deserved prise
That unto such a workmanship is dew,
?Doth either prove the judgement to be naught,
?Or els doth shew a mind with envy fraught.
To labour to commend a peece of worke
Which no man goes about to discommend,
Would raise a jealous doubt, that there did lurke
Some secret doubt, whereto the prayse did tend:
?For when men know the goodnes of the wyne,
?'Tis needlesse for the hoast to have a sygne.
Thus then, to shew my judgement to be such
As can discerne of colours blacke and white,
As alls to free my minde from envies tuch,
That never gives to any man his right,
?I here pronounce this workmanship is such,
?As that no pen can set it forth too much.
And thus I hang a garland at the dore,
Not for to shew the goodnes of the ware,
But such hath beene the custome heretofore,
And customes very hardly broken are.
?And when your tast shall tell you this is trew,
?Then looke you give your hoast his utmost dew.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON, LORD HIGH CHAUNCELOR OF ENGLAND, &C.
Those prudent heads, that with their counsels wise
?Whylom the pillours of th' earth did sustaine,
?And taught ambitious Rome to tyrannise,
?And in the neck of all the world to rayne,
Oft from those grave affaires were wont abstaine,
?With the sweet Lady Muses for to play:
?So Ennius the elder Africane,
?So Maro oft did Cæsars cares allay.
So you, great Lord, that with your counsell sway
?The burdeine of this kingdom mightily,
?With like delightes sometimes may eke delay
?The rugged brow of carefull Policy;
And to these ydle rymes lend litle space,
Which for their titles sake may find more grace.
TO THE MOST HONOURABLE AND EXCELLENT LORD THE EARLE OF ESSEX. GREAT MAISTER OF THE HORSE TO HER HIGHNESSE, AND KNIGHT OF THE NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER, &C.
Magnificke Lord, whose vertues excellent
?Doe merit a most famous poets witt,
?To be thy living praises instrument,
?Yet doe not sdeigne to let thy name be writt
In this base poeme, for thee far unfitt:
?Nought is thy worth disparaged thereby
?But when my Muse, whose fethers, nothing flitt,
?Doe yet but flagg, and lowly learne to fly,
With bolder wing shall dare alofte to sty
?To the last praises of this Faery Queene,
?Then shall it make more famous memory
?Of thine heroicke parts, such as they beene.
Till then vouchsafe thy noble countenaunce,
To these first labours needed furtheraunce
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARLE OF OXENFORD, LORD HIGH CHAMBERLAYNE OF ENGLAND, &C
Receive, most noble Lord, in gentle gree
?The unripe fruit of an unready wit,
?Which by thy countenaunce doth crave to bee
?Defended from foule Envies poisnous bit:
Which so to doe may thee right well befit,
?Sith th' antique glory of thine auncestry
?Under a shady vele is therein writ,
?And eke thine owne long living memory,
Succeeding them in true nobility;
?And also for the love which thou doest beare
?To th' Heliconian ymps, and they to thee,
?They unto thee, and thou to them, most deare
Deare as thou art unto thy selfe, so love
That loves and honours thee, as doth behove.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARLE OF NORTHUMBERLAND
The sacred Muses have made alwaies clame
?To be the nourses of nobility,
?And registres of everlasting fame,
?To all that armes professe and chevalry.
Then, by like right, the noble progeny,
?Which them succeed in fame and worth, are tyde
?T'embrace the service of sweete poetry,
?By whose endevours they are glorifide;
And eke from all of whom it is envide
?To patronize the authour of their praise,
?Which gives them life, that els would soone have dide,
?And crownes their ashes with immortall baies.
To thee, therefore, right noble Lord, I send
This present of my paines, it to defend.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARLE OF ORMOND AND OSSORY
Receive, most noble Lord, a simple taste
?Of the wilde fruit which salvage soyl hath bred,
?Which, being through long wars left almost waste,
?With brutish barbarisme is overspredd:
And in so faire a land as may be redd,
?Not one Parnassus nor one Helicone
?Left for sweete Muses to be harboured,
?But where thy selfe hast thy brave mansione:
There in deede dwel faire Graces many one,
?And gentle nymphes, delights of learned wits,
?And in thy person without paragone
?All goodly bountie and true honour sits.
Such, therefore, as that wasted soyl doth yield,
Receive, dear Lord, in worth, the fruit of barren field.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD CH. HOWARD, LORD HIGH ADMIRAL OF ENGLAND, KNIGHT OF THE NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER, AND ONE OF HER MAJESTIES PRIVIE COUNSEL, &C .
And ye, brave Lord, whose goodly person age
?And noble deeds, each other garnishing,
?Make you ensample to the present age
?Of th' old heroes, whose famous ofspring
The antique poets wont so much to sing,
?In this same pageaunt have a worthy place,
?Sith those huge castles of Castilian king,
?That vainly threatned kingdomes to displace,
Like flying doves ye did before you chace,
?And that proud people, woxen insolent
?Through many victories, didst first deface:
?Thy praises everlasting monument
Is in this verse engraven semblably,
That it may live to all posterity.
TO THE MOST RENOWMED AND VALIANT LORD, THE LORD GREY OF WILTON, KNIGHT OF THE NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER, &C .
Most noble Lord, the pillor of my life,
?And patrone of my Muses pupillage,
?Through whose large bountie, poured on me rife,
?In the first season of my feeble age,
I now doe live, bound yours by vassalage:
?Sith nothing ever may redeeme, nor reave
?Out of your endlesse debt so sure a gage,
?Vouchsafe in worth this small guift to receave;
Which in your noble hands for pledge I leave
?Of all the rest that I am tyde t' account:
?Rude rymes, the which a rustick Muse did weave
?In savadge soyle, far from Parnasso mount,
And roughly wrought in an unlearned loome:
The which vouchsafe, dear Lord, your favorable doome.
TO THE RIGHT NOBLE AND VALOROUS KNIGHT, SIR WALTER RALEIGH, LORD WARDEIN OF THE STANNERYES, AND LIEFTENAUNT OF CORNEWAILE
To thee that art the sommers Nightingale,
?Thy soveraine Goddesses most deare delight,
?Why doe I send this rusticke madrigale,
?That may thy tunefull eare unseason quite?
Thou onely fit this argument to write,
?In whose high thoughts Pleasure hath built her bowre,
?And dainty Love learnd sweetly to endite.
?My rimes I know unsavory and sowre,
To tast the streames, that like a golden showre
?Flow from thy fruitfull head, of thy loves praise;
?Fitter perhaps to thonder martiall stowre,
?When so thee list thy lofty Muse to raise:
Yet till that thou thy poeme wilt make knowne,
Let thy faire Cinthias praises bee thus rudely showne.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD BURLEIGH, LORD HIGH THREASURER OF ENGLAND
To you, right noble Lord, whose carefull brest
?To menage of most grave affaires is bent,
?And on whose mightie shoulders most doth rest
?The burdein of this kingdomes governement,
As the wide compasse of the firmament
?On Atlas mighty shoulders is upstayd,
?Unfitly I these ydle rimes present,
?The labor of lost time, and wit unstayd:
Yet if their deeper sence be inly wayd,
?And the dim vele, with which from comune vew
?Their fairer parts are hid, aside be layd,
?Perhaps not vaine they may appeare to you
Such as they be, vouchsafe them to receave,
And wipe their faults out of your censure grave.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARLE OF CUMBERLAND
Redoubted Lord, in whose corageous mind
?The flowre of chevalry, now bloosming faire,
?Doth promise fruite worthy the noble kind
?Which of their praises have left you the haire;
To you this humble present I prepare,
?For love of vertue and of martiall praise;
?To which though nobly ye inclined are,
?As goodlie well ye shew'd in late assaies,
Yet brave ensample of long passed daies,
?In which trew honor yee may fashioned see,
?To like desire of honor may ye raise,
?And fill your mind with magnanimitee.
Receive it, Lord, therefore, as it was ment,
For honor of your name and high descent.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD OF HUNSDON, HIGH CHAMBERLAINE TO HER MAJESTY
Renowmed Lord, that for your worthinesse
?And noble deeds, have your deserved place
?High in the favour of that Emperesse,
?The worlds sole glory and her sexes grace;
Here eke of right have you a worthie place,
?Both for your nearnes to that Faerie Queene,
?And for your owne high merit in like cace,
?Of which apparaunt proofe was to be seene,
When that tumultuous rage and fearfull deene
?Of Northerne rebels ye did pacify,
?And their disloiall powre defaced clene,
?The record of enduring memory.
Live, Lord, for ever in this lasting verse,
That all posteritie thy honor may reherse.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD OF BUCKHURST, ONE OF HER MAJESTIES PRIVIE COUNSELL
In vain I thinke, right honourable Lord,
?By this rude rime to memorize thy name,
?Whose learned Muse hath writ her owne record
?In golden verse, worthy immortal fame:
Thou much more fit (were leasure to the same)
?Thy gracious Soverains praises to compile,
?And her imperiall majestie to frame
?In loftie numbers and heroicke stile.
But sith thou maist not so, give leave a while
?To baser wit his power therein to spend,
?Whose grosse defaults thy daintie pen may file,
?And unadvised oversights amend.
But evermore vouchsafe it to maintaine
Against vile Zoilus backbitings vaine.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR FR WALSINGHAM, KNIGHT, PRINCIPALL SECRETARY TO HER MAJESTY AND OF HER HONOURABLE PRIVY COUNSELL
That Mantuane poetes incompared spirit,
?Whose girland now is set in highest place,
?Had not Mecænas, for his worthy merit,
?It first advaunst to great Augustus grace,
Might long, perhaps, have lien in silence bace,
?Ne bene so much admir'd of later age.
?This lowly Muse, that learns like steps to trace,
?Flies for like aide unto your patronage;
That are the great Mecenas of this age,
?As wel to al that civil artes professe,
?As those that are inspir'd with martial rage,
?And craves protection of her feeblenesse:
Which if ye yield, perhaps ye may her rayse
In bigger tunes to sound your living prayse.
TO THE RIGHT NOBLE LORD AND MOST VALIAUNT CAPTAINE, SIR JOHN NORRIS, KNIGHT, LORD PRESIDENT OF MOUNSTER
Who ever gave more honourable prize
?To the sweet Muse then did the martiall crew,
?That their brave deeds she might immortalize
?In her shril tromp, and sound their praises dew?
Who then ought more to favour her then you,
?Moste noble Lord, the honor of this age,
?And precedent of all that armes ensue?
?Whose warlike prowesse and manly courage,
Tempred wit
Me thought I saw the grave where Laura lay,
Within that temple where the vestall flame
Was wont to burne; and passing by that way,
To see that buried dust of living fame,
Whose tumbe faire Love, and fairer Vertue kept,
All suddeinly I saw the Faery Queene:
At whose approch the soule of Petrarke wept,
And from thenceforth those graces were not seene.
For they this Queene attended; in whose steed
Oblivion laid him downe on Lauras herse:
Hereat the hardest stones were seene to bleed,
And grones of buried ghostes the heavens did perse:
?Where Homers spright did tremble all for griefe,
?And curst th' accesse of that celestiall theife.
ANOTHER OF THE SAME
The prayse of meaner wits this worke like profit brings,
As doth the Cuckoes song delight when Philumena sings.
If thou hast formed right true Vertues face herein,
Vertue her selfe can best discerne, to whom they written bin.
If thou hast Beauty praysd, let her sole lookes divine
Judge if ought therein be amis, and mend it by her eine.
If Chastitie want ought, or Temperaunce her dew,
Behold her princely mind aright, and write thy Queene anew.
Meane while she shall perceive, how far her vertues sore
Above the reach of all that live, or such as wrote of yore:
And thereby will excuse and favour thy good will:
Whose vertue can not be exprest, but by an angels quill.
Of me no lines are lov'd, nor letters are of price,
Of all which speak our English tongue, but those of thy device
TO THE LEARNED SHEPEHEARD
Collyn, I see by thy new taken taske,
?Some sacred fury hath enricht thy braynes,
That leades thy Muse in haughty verse to maske,
?And loath the layes that longs to lowly swaynes;
That lifts thy notes from shepheardes unto kinges,
So like the lively Larke that mounting singes.
Thy lovely Rosolinde seemes now forlorne,
?And all thy gentle flockes forgotten quight;
Thy chaunged hart now holdes thy pypes in scorne,
?Those prety pypes that did thy mates delight,
Those trusty mates, that loved thee so well,
Whom thou gav'st mirth, as they gave thee the bell.
Yet, as thou earst, with thy sweete roundelayes,
?Didst stirre to glee our laddes in homely bowers,
So moughtst thou now in these refyned layes
?Delight the daintie eares of higher powers:
And so mought they, in their deepe skanning skill,
Alow and grace our Collyns flowing quyll
And faire befall that Faery Queene of thine,
?In whose faire eyes Love linckt with Vertue sittes:
Enfusing, by those bewties fyers devyne,
?Such high conceites into thy humble wittes,
As raised hath poore pastors oaten reede,
From rustick tunes, to chaunt heroique deedes.
So mought thy Redcrosse Knight with happy hand
?Victorious be in that faire Ilands right,
Which thou dost vayle in type of Faery Land,
?Elizas blessed field, that Albion hight:
That shieldes her friendes, and warres her mightie foes,
Yet! still with people, peace, and plentie flowes
But (jolly shepheard) though with pleasing style
?Thou feast the humour of the courtly trayne,
Let not conceipt thy setled sence beguile,
?Ne daunted be through envy or disdaine
Subject thy dome to her empyring spright,
From whence thy Muse, and all the world, takes light.
Fayre Thamis streame, that from Ludds stately towne
Runst paying tribute to the ocean seas,
Let all thy nymphes and syrens of renowne
Be silent, whyle this Bryttane Orpheus playes:
Nere thy sweet bankes, there lives that sacred Crowne,
Whose hand strowes palme and never-dying bayes:
Let all at once, with thy soft murmuring sowne,
Present her with this worthy poets prayes:
For he hath taught hye drifts in shepeherdes weedes,
And deepe conceites now singes in Faeries deedes
Grave Muses, march in triumph and with prayses;
Our Goddesse here hath given you leave to land,
And biddes this rare dispenser of your graces
Bow downe his brow unto her sacred hand.
Desertes findes dew in that most princely doome,
In whose sweete brest are all the Muses bredde:
So did that great Augustus erst in Roome
With leaves of fame adorne his poets hedde.
Faire be the guerdon of your Faery Queene ,
Even of the fairest that the world hath seene.
W HEN stout Achilles heard of Helens rape
And what revenge the states of Greece devisd:
Thinking by sleight the fatall warres to scape,
In womans weedes him selfe he then disguisde:
But this devise Ulysses soone did spy,
And brought him forth, the chaunce of warre to try.
When Spencer saw the fame was spredd so large,
Through Faery Land, of their renowned Queene,
Loth that his Muse should take so great a charge,
As in such haughty matter to be seene,
To seeme a shepeheard then he made his choice;
But Sydney heard him sing, and knew his voice.
And as Ulysses brought faire Thetis sonne
From his retyred life to menage armes,
So Spencer was by Sidneys speaches wonne
To blaze her fame, not fearing future harmes:
For well he knew, his Muse would soone be tyred
In her high praise, that all the world admired.
Yet as Achilles, in those warlike frayes,
Did win the palme from all the Grecian peeres,
So Spencer now, to his immortall prayse,
Hath wonne the laurell quite from all his feres.
What though his taske exceed a humaine witt?
He is excus'd, sith Sidney thought it fitt.
To looke upon a worke of rare devise
The which a workman setteth out to view,
And not to yield it the deserved prise
That unto such a workmanship is dew,
?Doth either prove the judgement to be naught,
?Or els doth shew a mind with envy fraught.
To labour to commend a peece of worke
Which no man goes about to discommend,
Would raise a jealous doubt, that there did lurke
Some secret doubt, whereto the prayse did tend:
?For when men know the goodnes of the wyne,
?'Tis needlesse for the hoast to have a sygne.
Thus then, to shew my judgement to be such
As can discerne of colours blacke and white,
As alls to free my minde from envies tuch,
That never gives to any man his right,
?I here pronounce this workmanship is such,
?As that no pen can set it forth too much.
And thus I hang a garland at the dore,
Not for to shew the goodnes of the ware,
But such hath beene the custome heretofore,
And customes very hardly broken are.
?And when your tast shall tell you this is trew,
?Then looke you give your hoast his utmost dew.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR CHRISTOPHER HATTON, LORD HIGH CHAUNCELOR OF ENGLAND, &C.
Those prudent heads, that with their counsels wise
?Whylom the pillours of th' earth did sustaine,
?And taught ambitious Rome to tyrannise,
?And in the neck of all the world to rayne,
Oft from those grave affaires were wont abstaine,
?With the sweet Lady Muses for to play:
?So Ennius the elder Africane,
?So Maro oft did Cæsars cares allay.
So you, great Lord, that with your counsell sway
?The burdeine of this kingdom mightily,
?With like delightes sometimes may eke delay
?The rugged brow of carefull Policy;
And to these ydle rymes lend litle space,
Which for their titles sake may find more grace.
TO THE MOST HONOURABLE AND EXCELLENT LORD THE EARLE OF ESSEX. GREAT MAISTER OF THE HORSE TO HER HIGHNESSE, AND KNIGHT OF THE NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER, &C.
Magnificke Lord, whose vertues excellent
?Doe merit a most famous poets witt,
?To be thy living praises instrument,
?Yet doe not sdeigne to let thy name be writt
In this base poeme, for thee far unfitt:
?Nought is thy worth disparaged thereby
?But when my Muse, whose fethers, nothing flitt,
?Doe yet but flagg, and lowly learne to fly,
With bolder wing shall dare alofte to sty
?To the last praises of this Faery Queene,
?Then shall it make more famous memory
?Of thine heroicke parts, such as they beene.
Till then vouchsafe thy noble countenaunce,
To these first labours needed furtheraunce
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARLE OF OXENFORD, LORD HIGH CHAMBERLAYNE OF ENGLAND, &C
Receive, most noble Lord, in gentle gree
?The unripe fruit of an unready wit,
?Which by thy countenaunce doth crave to bee
?Defended from foule Envies poisnous bit:
Which so to doe may thee right well befit,
?Sith th' antique glory of thine auncestry
?Under a shady vele is therein writ,
?And eke thine owne long living memory,
Succeeding them in true nobility;
?And also for the love which thou doest beare
?To th' Heliconian ymps, and they to thee,
?They unto thee, and thou to them, most deare
Deare as thou art unto thy selfe, so love
That loves and honours thee, as doth behove.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARLE OF NORTHUMBERLAND
The sacred Muses have made alwaies clame
?To be the nourses of nobility,
?And registres of everlasting fame,
?To all that armes professe and chevalry.
Then, by like right, the noble progeny,
?Which them succeed in fame and worth, are tyde
?T'embrace the service of sweete poetry,
?By whose endevours they are glorifide;
And eke from all of whom it is envide
?To patronize the authour of their praise,
?Which gives them life, that els would soone have dide,
?And crownes their ashes with immortall baies.
To thee, therefore, right noble Lord, I send
This present of my paines, it to defend.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARLE OF ORMOND AND OSSORY
Receive, most noble Lord, a simple taste
?Of the wilde fruit which salvage soyl hath bred,
?Which, being through long wars left almost waste,
?With brutish barbarisme is overspredd:
And in so faire a land as may be redd,
?Not one Parnassus nor one Helicone
?Left for sweete Muses to be harboured,
?But where thy selfe hast thy brave mansione:
There in deede dwel faire Graces many one,
?And gentle nymphes, delights of learned wits,
?And in thy person without paragone
?All goodly bountie and true honour sits.
Such, therefore, as that wasted soyl doth yield,
Receive, dear Lord, in worth, the fruit of barren field.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD CH. HOWARD, LORD HIGH ADMIRAL OF ENGLAND, KNIGHT OF THE NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER, AND ONE OF HER MAJESTIES PRIVIE COUNSEL, &C .
And ye, brave Lord, whose goodly person age
?And noble deeds, each other garnishing,
?Make you ensample to the present age
?Of th' old heroes, whose famous ofspring
The antique poets wont so much to sing,
?In this same pageaunt have a worthy place,
?Sith those huge castles of Castilian king,
?That vainly threatned kingdomes to displace,
Like flying doves ye did before you chace,
?And that proud people, woxen insolent
?Through many victories, didst first deface:
?Thy praises everlasting monument
Is in this verse engraven semblably,
That it may live to all posterity.
TO THE MOST RENOWMED AND VALIANT LORD, THE LORD GREY OF WILTON, KNIGHT OF THE NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER, &C .
Most noble Lord, the pillor of my life,
?And patrone of my Muses pupillage,
?Through whose large bountie, poured on me rife,
?In the first season of my feeble age,
I now doe live, bound yours by vassalage:
?Sith nothing ever may redeeme, nor reave
?Out of your endlesse debt so sure a gage,
?Vouchsafe in worth this small guift to receave;
Which in your noble hands for pledge I leave
?Of all the rest that I am tyde t' account:
?Rude rymes, the which a rustick Muse did weave
?In savadge soyle, far from Parnasso mount,
And roughly wrought in an unlearned loome:
The which vouchsafe, dear Lord, your favorable doome.
TO THE RIGHT NOBLE AND VALOROUS KNIGHT, SIR WALTER RALEIGH, LORD WARDEIN OF THE STANNERYES, AND LIEFTENAUNT OF CORNEWAILE
To thee that art the sommers Nightingale,
?Thy soveraine Goddesses most deare delight,
?Why doe I send this rusticke madrigale,
?That may thy tunefull eare unseason quite?
Thou onely fit this argument to write,
?In whose high thoughts Pleasure hath built her bowre,
?And dainty Love learnd sweetly to endite.
?My rimes I know unsavory and sowre,
To tast the streames, that like a golden showre
?Flow from thy fruitfull head, of thy loves praise;
?Fitter perhaps to thonder martiall stowre,
?When so thee list thy lofty Muse to raise:
Yet till that thou thy poeme wilt make knowne,
Let thy faire Cinthias praises bee thus rudely showne.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD BURLEIGH, LORD HIGH THREASURER OF ENGLAND
To you, right noble Lord, whose carefull brest
?To menage of most grave affaires is bent,
?And on whose mightie shoulders most doth rest
?The burdein of this kingdomes governement,
As the wide compasse of the firmament
?On Atlas mighty shoulders is upstayd,
?Unfitly I these ydle rimes present,
?The labor of lost time, and wit unstayd:
Yet if their deeper sence be inly wayd,
?And the dim vele, with which from comune vew
?Their fairer parts are hid, aside be layd,
?Perhaps not vaine they may appeare to you
Such as they be, vouchsafe them to receave,
And wipe their faults out of your censure grave.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARLE OF CUMBERLAND
Redoubted Lord, in whose corageous mind
?The flowre of chevalry, now bloosming faire,
?Doth promise fruite worthy the noble kind
?Which of their praises have left you the haire;
To you this humble present I prepare,
?For love of vertue and of martiall praise;
?To which though nobly ye inclined are,
?As goodlie well ye shew'd in late assaies,
Yet brave ensample of long passed daies,
?In which trew honor yee may fashioned see,
?To like desire of honor may ye raise,
?And fill your mind with magnanimitee.
Receive it, Lord, therefore, as it was ment,
For honor of your name and high descent.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD OF HUNSDON, HIGH CHAMBERLAINE TO HER MAJESTY
Renowmed Lord, that for your worthinesse
?And noble deeds, have your deserved place
?High in the favour of that Emperesse,
?The worlds sole glory and her sexes grace;
Here eke of right have you a worthie place,
?Both for your nearnes to that Faerie Queene,
?And for your owne high merit in like cace,
?Of which apparaunt proofe was to be seene,
When that tumultuous rage and fearfull deene
?Of Northerne rebels ye did pacify,
?And their disloiall powre defaced clene,
?The record of enduring memory.
Live, Lord, for ever in this lasting verse,
That all posteritie thy honor may reherse.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD OF BUCKHURST, ONE OF HER MAJESTIES PRIVIE COUNSELL
In vain I thinke, right honourable Lord,
?By this rude rime to memorize thy name,
?Whose learned Muse hath writ her owne record
?In golden verse, worthy immortal fame:
Thou much more fit (were leasure to the same)
?Thy gracious Soverains praises to compile,
?And her imperiall majestie to frame
?In loftie numbers and heroicke stile.
But sith thou maist not so, give leave a while
?To baser wit his power therein to spend,
?Whose grosse defaults thy daintie pen may file,
?And unadvised oversights amend.
But evermore vouchsafe it to maintaine
Against vile Zoilus backbitings vaine.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR FR WALSINGHAM, KNIGHT, PRINCIPALL SECRETARY TO HER MAJESTY AND OF HER HONOURABLE PRIVY COUNSELL
That Mantuane poetes incompared spirit,
?Whose girland now is set in highest place,
?Had not Mecænas, for his worthy merit,
?It first advaunst to great Augustus grace,
Might long, perhaps, have lien in silence bace,
?Ne bene so much admir'd of later age.
?This lowly Muse, that learns like steps to trace,
?Flies for like aide unto your patronage;
That are the great Mecenas of this age,
?As wel to al that civil artes professe,
?As those that are inspir'd with martial rage,
?And craves protection of her feeblenesse:
Which if ye yield, perhaps ye may her rayse
In bigger tunes to sound your living prayse.
TO THE RIGHT NOBLE LORD AND MOST VALIAUNT CAPTAINE, SIR JOHN NORRIS, KNIGHT, LORD PRESIDENT OF MOUNSTER
Who ever gave more honourable prize
?To the sweet Muse then did the martiall crew,
?That their brave deeds she might immortalize
?In her shril tromp, and sound their praises dew?
Who then ought more to favour her then you,
?Moste noble Lord, the honor of this age,
?And precedent of all that armes ensue?
?Whose warlike prowesse and manly courage,
Tempred wit
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