Classic Poem

Countesse of Bedford.

Ghough vertue be the same when low she stands,
In th'humble shadowes of obscuritie,
As when she either sweats in martiall bands,
Or sits in Court clad with authoritie;
Yet, Madam, doth the strictnesse of her roome
Greatly detract from her abilitie:
For as in-wall'd within a liuing tombe,
Her hands and armes of action, labour not;
Her thoughts, as if abortiue from the wombe,
Come neuer borne, though happily begot,
But where she hath mounted in open sight
An eminent and spacious dwelling got
Where shee may stirre at will, and vse her might,
There is she more her selfe, and more her owne;
There in the faire attire of honor dight,
She fits at ease and makes her glory knowne:
Applause attends her hands, her deeds haue grace,
Her worth new-borne is strait as if full growne.
With such a godly and respected face
Doth vertue looke, that's set to looke from hie;
And such a faire aduantage by her place
Hath state and greatnesse to doe worthily.
And therefore well did your high fortunes meet
With her, that gracing you, comes grac't thereby:
And well was let into a house so sweet,
So good, so faire, so faire so good a guest;
Who now remaines as blessed in her seat,
As you are with her residencie blest.
And this faire course of knowledge whereunto
Your studies, learned Lady, are addrest,
Is th'only certaine way that you can go
Vnto true glory, to true happinesse:
All passages on earth besides, are so
Incumbred with such vaine disturbances;
As still we lose our rest in seeking it,
Being but deluded with apparances;
And no key had you else that was so fit
T'vnlocke that prison of your sex, as this,
To let you out of weaknesse, and admit
Your powers into the freedome of that blisse
That sets you there where you may ouer-see
This rowling world, and view it as it is;
And apprehend how th'outsides doe agree
With th'inward, being of the things we deeme
And hold in our ill-cast accounts, to be
Of highest value and of best esteeme;
Since all the good we haue rests in the minde,
By whose proportions onely we redeeme
Our thoughts from out confusion, and doe finde
The measure of our selues, and of our pow'rs;
And that all happinesse remaines confinde
Within the Kingdome of this breast of ours:
Without whose boundes all that we looke on lies
In others iurisdictions, others pow'rs,
Out of the circuit of our liberties
All glory, honor, fame, applause, renowne,
Are not belonging to our royalties,
But t'others wils, wherein th'are onely growne:
And that vnlesse we find vs all within,
We neuer can without vs be our owne,
Nor call it right our life that we liue in:
But a possession held for others vse,
That seeme to haue most int'rest therein;
Which we doe so disseuer, part, traduce,
Let out to custome, fashion, and to shew,
As we enjoy but onely the abuse,
And haue no other deed at all to shew
How oft are we constrained to appeare
With other countenance then that we owe,
And be our selues farre off, when we are neere!
How oft are we forc't on a cloudie hart
To set a shining face, and make it cleere;
Seeming content to put our selues apart,
To beare a part of others weaknesses!
As if we onely were compos'd by Art,
Not Nature, and did all our deeds addresse
T'opinion, not t'a conscience, what is right:
As fram'd b'example, not aduisednesse,
Into those formes that entertaine our sight.
And though books, Madam, cannot make this minde
Which we must bring apt to be set aright,
Yet doe they rectifie it in that kinde,
And touch it so, as that it turnes that way
Where iudgement lies: and though we cannot find
The certaine place of truth, yet doe they stay
And entertaine vs neere about the same;
And giue the soule the best delight that may
Encheere it most, and most our spirits inflame
To thoughts of glory, and to worthy ends:
And therefore in a course that best became
The cleerenesse of your heart, and best commends
Your worthy pow'rs, you run the rightest way
That is on earth, that can true glory giue;
By which when all consumes, your fame shal liue.