To the Angel Spirit of the most excellent SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.
To thee, pure fpir't, to thee alone addreft Is this joint work, by double int'reft thine: Thine by thine own, and what is done of mine Infpir'd by thee, thy fecret pow'r impreft. My mufe with thine itself dar'd to combine, As mortal staff with that which is divine: Let thy fair beams give luftre to the reft. That Ifrael's king may deign his own transform'd In fubftance no, but fuperficial tire; And English guis'd in some fort may aspire, 'To better grace thee what the vulgar form'd. His facred tunes age after age admire; Nations grow great in pride and pure defire, So to excel in holy rites perform'd.
O had that soul, which honour brought to reft Too foon, not left, and reft the world of all What man could shew, which we perfection call! This precious piece had forted with the best. But ah! wide fefter'd wounds (that never shall, Nor must be clos'd) unto fresh bleeding fall. Ah memory! what needs this new artist?
Yet bleffed grief, that fweetnefs can impart, Since thou art bleft-Wrongly do I complain; Whatever weights my heavy thoughts sustain, Dear feels my foul for thee-I know my part. Nor be my weakness to thy rites a stain; Rites to aright, life, blood would not refrain. Aflift me then, that life what thine did part. Time may bring forth what time had yet fup- preft,
In whom thy lofs hath laid to utter wafte The wreck of time, untimely all defac'd, Remaining as the tomb of life deceast: Where in my heart the highest room thou haft; There, truly there, thy earthly being is plac'd: Triumph of death!-In earth how more than bleft Behold (O that thou were now to behold!) This finifh'd long perfection's part begun; The reft but piec'd, as left by thee undone. Pardon, bleft foul, prefumption over bold:
Pay to their fea their tributary fee) Do ftrive, yet have no means to quit nor free That mighty debt of infinites I owe.
To thy great worth, which time to times enrol, Wonder of men fole born! foul of thy kind! Complete in all-But heav'nly was thy mind, For wisdom, goodness, sweetnefs, fairest foul! Too good to wifh; too fair for earth; refin'd For heav'n, where all true glory refts confin'd And where but there no life without controul?
O when from this account, this caft-up fum, This reck'ning made the audit of my woe: Some time of race my fwelling paffions know How work my thoughts! My fenfe is ftricken dumb,
That would thee more than words could ever fhew; [know, Which all fall fhort. Who knew thee best to There lives no wit that may thy prayer become:
And rest fair monuments of thy fair fame, Though not complete. Nor can we reach in thought, What on that goodly piece time would have wrought:
Had divers fo fpar'd that life (but life) to frame The reft: alas fuch lofs! the world hath nought Can equal it—Nor (0) more grievance brought! Yet what remains, muft ever crown thy name.
Receive these hints; thefe obfequies receive; (If any mark of thy fecret spirit thou bear) Made only thine, and no name elfe must wear. I can no more, dear foul; I take my leave: My forrow strives to mount the highest sphere.
To the Right Reverend Father in God,
Lord Bishop of Winchester, Dean of the Chapel, and one of his Majefty's most honourable Privy Council.
ALTHOUGH you have, out of your proper store, The best munition that may fortify
A noble heart; as no man may have more, Against the batt'ries of mortality:
Yet, rev'rend lord, vouchfafe me leave to bring One weapon more unto your furnishment, That you th' affaults of this clofe vanquishing, And fecret wafting fickness may prevent : For that myself have struggled with it too, And know the worst of all that it can do. And let me tell you this, you never could Have found a gentler warring enemy, And one that with more fair proceeding would. Encounter you without extremity; Nor give more time to make refiftances, And to repair your breaches, than will this. For whereas other ficknesses surprise Our fpir'ts at unawares, difweep'ning suddenly All fenfe of understanding in fuch wife, As that they lay us dead before we die, Or fire us out of our enflamed fort, With raving frenfies in a fearful fort:
This comes and fteals us by degrees away; And yet not that without our privity, They rap us hence, as vultures do their prey, Confounding us with tortures inftantly. This fairly kills, they foully murder us, Trip up our heels before we can difcern. This gives us time of treaty, to discuss Our fuff'ring, and the cause thereof to learn.
Befides, therewith we oftentimes have truce For many months; fometimes for many years; And are permitted to enjoy the use
Of ftudy: And although our body wears, Our wit remains; our fpeech, our memory Fail not, or come before ourselves to die. We par together, and we take our leave Of friends, of kindred: we difpofe our state, And yield up fairly what we did receive, And all our bus'neffes accommodate.
So that we cannot fay we were thrust out, But we depart from hence in quiet fort; The foe with whom we have the battle fought, Hath not fubdued us, but got our fort. And this disease is held most incident To the belt natures, and most innocent.
And therefore, rev'rend lord, there cannot be A gentler paffage, than there is hereby Unto that port, wherein we fhall be free From all the ftorms of worldly misery. And though it fhew us daily in our glass, Our fading leaf turn'd to a yellow hue; And how it withers as the fap doth pafs, And what we may expect is to enfue.
Yet that I know difquiets not your mind, Who knows the brittle metal of mankind; And have all comforts virtue can beget, And moft the confcience of well acted days: Which all those monuments which you have fet On holy ground, to your perpetual praise, (As things best set) must ever testify And fhew the worth of noble Montague: And so long as the walls of piety
Stand, fo long fhall ftand the memory of you. And Bath and Wells, and Winchefter fhali fhew Their fair repairs to all posterity;
And how much bleft and fortunate they were, That ever-gracious hand did plant you there. Besides, you have not only built up walls, But alfo (worthier edifices) men;
By whom you fhall have the memorials, And everlasting honour of the pen. That whenfoever you fhall come to make Your exit from this fcene, wherein you have Perform'd fo noble parts; you then shall take Your leave with honour, have a glorious grave "For when can men go better to their reft, "Than when they are esteem'd and loved beft?"
To you mot hopeful prince, not as you are, But as you may be, do I give these lines: That when your judgment fhall arrive fo far, As t'oerlook th' intricate defigns
Of uncontented man; you may behold With what encounters greatest fortunes close, What dangers, what attempts, what manifold Incumbrances ambition undergoes, How hardly men digeft felicity; How to th' intemperate, to the prodigal, To wantonnefs, and unto luxury, Many things want, but to ambition all. And you fhall find the greatest enemy That man can have, is his profperity.
Here fhall you fee how men difguife their ends. And plant bad courfes under pleafing fhews, How well prefumptions broken ways defends, Which clear-eyed judgment gravely doth difclofe. Here fhall you fee how th' eafy multitude Tranfported, take the party of distress; And only out of paffions do conclude, Not out of judgment, of mens practices; How pow'rs are thought to wrong, that wrongs debar,
And kings not held in danger, though they are. Thefe ancient reprefentments of times paft Tell us that men have, do, and always run The felf fame line of action, and do caft Their courfe alike, and nothing can be done, Whilft they, their ends, and nature are the fame : But will be wrought upon the felf fame frame.
This benefit, moft noble prince, doth yield The fure records of books, in which we find The tenure of our flate, how it was held By all our ancestors, and in what kind We hold the fame, and likewife how in the end
This frail poffeffion of felicity, Shall to our late pofterity defcend By the fame patent of like deftiny. In them we find that nothing can accrue To man, and his condition that is new. Which images here figured in this wife I leave unto your more mature furvey, Amongst the vowes that others facrifice Unto the hope of you, that you one day Will give this grace to this kind of harmony. For know, great prince, when you fhall come to know
How that it is the fairest ornament
Of worthy times, to have those which may fhew The deeds of power, and lively reprefent The actions of a glorious government.
And is no leffer honour to a crown, T' have writers then have actors of renown.
And though you have a fwannet of your own, Within the banks of Douen meditates Sweet notes to you, and unto your renown The glory of his music dedicates, And in a lofty tune is fet to found The deep reports of fullen tragedies: Yet may this laft of me be likewife found Amongst the vows that others facrifice Unto the hope of you, that you one day May grace this now neglected harmony, Which fet unto your glorious actions, may Record the fame to all pofterity.
Though I the remnant of another time Am never like to fee that happiness, Yet for the zeal that I have borne to rhyme And to the mufes, with that good fucceís To others travel, that in better place, And better comfort, they may be incheer'd
Who fhall deferve, and who shall have the grace To have a mufe held worthy to be heard. And know, fweet prince, when you fhall come to know,
That 'tis not in the pow'r of kings to raise A fpirit for verfe that is not born thereto, Nor are they born in every princes days: For late Eliza's reign gave birth to more Then all the kings of England did before.
And it may be, the genius of that time Would leave to her the glory in that kind, And that the utmost powers of English rhyme Should be within her peaceful reign confin'd; For fince that time our fongs could never thrive, But lain as if forlorn; though in the prime Of this new raising season, we did strive To bring the best we could unto the time. And I although among the latter train, And leaft of thofe that fung unto this land, Have borne my part, though in an humble strain, And pleas'd the gentler that did understand :- And never had my harmless pen at all Diftain'd with any loofe immodefty, Nor ever noted to be touch'd with gall, To aggravate the worst man's infamy. But ftill have done the faireft offices
To virtue and the time, yet nought prevails, And all our labours are without fuccefs, For either favour or our virtue fails. And therefore fince I have out-liv'd the date Of former grace, acceptance and delight, I would my lines late-born beyond the fate Of her spent line, had never come to light So had I not been tax'd for wishing well, Nor now mistaken by the cenfuring stage, Nor in my fame and reputation feil, Which I esteem more than what all the age Or th' earth can give. But years hath done this wrong,
To make me write too much, and live too long. And yet I grieve for that unfinish'd frame, Which thou dear mufe didst vow to facrifice, Unto the bed of peace, and in the fame Defign our happiness to memorife, Muft, as it is, remain, though as it is : It fhall to after-times relate my zeal To kings and unto right. to quietness, And to the union of the commonweal. But this may now seem a fuperfluous vow, We have this peace; and thou haft fung enow, And more then will be heard, and then as good As not to write, as not to be understood.
To the Right Honourable, the Lady Mary, COUNTESS OF PEMBROK E.
Lo! here the labour which the did impofe, Whofe influence did predominate my mufe: The ftar of wonder my defires first chofe To guide their travels in the course I use : She, whose clear brightness had the power t' infuse Strength to my thoughts, from whence these mo- tions came,
Call'd up my fpirits from out their low repose, To fing of ftate, and tragic notes to frame.
1, who (contending with an humble fong) Made mufic to myfelf that pleas'd me beft, And only told of Delia, and her wrong, [reft: And prais'd her eyes, and 'plain'd mine own un-
(A text from whence my muse had not digreft) Madam, had not thy well grac'd Antony; (Who all alone, having remained long) Requir'd his Cleopatra's company.
Who if the here do fo appear in act, That he can scarce difcern her for his queen, Finding how much she of herself hath lackt, And mifs'd that grace wherein the fhould be feen,
Her worth obfcur'd, her fpirit embased clean, Yet lightning thou by thy fweet cheerfulness, My dark defects, which from her powers de tract,
He may her guess by fome resemblances. Piiij
And I hereafter in another kind,
More fuiting to the nature of my vain, May peradventure raise my humble mind To other mufic in this higher strain ;
Since I perceive the world and thou doft deign To countenance my fong, and cherish me, 1 muft fo work pofterity may find, My love to verse, my gratitude to thee.
Now when so many pens (like fpears) are charg'd, To chafe away this tyrant of the north; Grofs barbarism, whofe power grown far enlarg'd Was lately by the valiant brothers worth Firft found, encountred, and provoked forth: Whofe onfet made the reft audacious, Whereby they likewife have fo well discharg'd Upon that hideous beast encroaching thus,
And now muft I with that poor ftrength I have, Refift fo foul a foc in what I may : And arm against oblivion and the grave, 'That elfe in darkness carries all away, And makes of all an universal prey; So that if by my pen procure I shall But to defend me, and my name to fave, Then though I die, I cannot yet die all;
But ftill the better part of me will live, And in that part will live thy reverend name, Although thyfelf doft far more glory give Unto thyfelf, than I can by the fame. Who doft with thine own hand a bulwark frame Against these monsters, (enemics of honour) Which evermore shall fo defend thy fame, As time, or they, fhall never prey upon her.
Here thou furviv'st thyself, here thou art found Of late fucceeding ages, fresh in fame: This monument cannot be overthrown, Where, in eternal brafs remains thy name.
O that the ocean did not bound our style Within these strict and narrow limits fo; But that the melody of our sweet isle, Might now be heard to Tiber, Arne, and Po: That they may know how far Thames doth outgo
The mufic of declined Italy;
And lift'ning to our fongs another while, Might learn of thee their notes to purify.
O why may not fome after coming hand Unlock thefe limits, open our confines, And break afunder this imprifoning band, T'enlarge our fpirits, and publish our designs; Planting our rofes on the Apennines? And to teach Rhyne, to Loire, and Rhodanus. Our accents, and the wonders of our land, That they might all admire and honour us.
Whereby great Sidney and our Spenfer might, With thofe Po fingers being equalled, Enchant the world with such a sweet delight, That their eternal fongs (for ever read) May fhew what great Eliza's reign hath bred, What mufic in the kingdom of her peace Hath now been made to her, and by her might, Whereby her glorious fame fhall never cease.
But if that fortune doth deny us this, Then Neptune, lock up with th' ocean's key This treasure to ourselves, and let them mifs
Thofe hymns which thou doft confecrate to Of fo fweet riches: as unworthy they heaven,
To taste the great delights that we enjoy. And let our harmony fo pleafing grown, Content ourselves, whofe error ever is Strange notes to like, and disesteem our own.
But, whither do my vows transport me now, Without the compass of my course enjoin'd? Alas! what honour can a voice fo low As this of mine, expect hereby to find? But (madam) this doth animate my mind, That yet I fhall be read among the reft, And though I do not to perfection grow, Yet fomething fhall I be, though not the beft.
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