Sir Francis Drake his honorable lifes commendation, and his tragicall deathes lamentation.

Sir Francis Drake his honorable lifes commendation, and his tragicall deathes lamentation.

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Title page

TO THE BEAVTEOVS, AND vertuous Lady ELIZABETH, late wife unto the highlie renowmed SIR FRANCIS DRAKE deceased.

To the Authour.

To C. F.

To the Authour.

SIR FRANCIS DRAKE HIS HONORABLE LIFES commendation, and his tragicall deathes lamentation. *⁎*

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SIR FRANCIS DRAKE HIS HONORABLE LIFES commendation, and his tragicall deathes lamentation. *⁎*

DARKE night, the sov'raigne of Cymmerian black,

Th' inhabitant of pitchie Acheron,

Mounted upon Alastors snaky backe,

From Taenarus (her blacke pavilion)

Rides through the world in sad progression;

Dew-dropping mists, and darkenesse duskie bloome

Attende, as Heraulds, to proclaime her roome.

Blinde Vesperugo, cloath'd in sable shade

(Night's cloudie harbinger, colde Hesperus)

Runs on before to see that way be made;

And being authorized her Prodromus,

Rides on the Vulture-bearing Caucasus,

Vailing the golden tapers of the light,

And bids Olympus entertaine the night.

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Shee bristling up her leaden-plated crest

Of feathers, broader then the dragons wings,

Whose space disioines the Lycaonian beast

From Cynosure, whose praise the sea-man sings,

That shee as patronesse directs his rings;

Enclaspeth with her winged eminence

The worlds orbicular circumference.

Now only is shee earth's high Monarchesse,

And tirannizeth ore this massie rounde;

For hee, whose puissance quel'd her monstrousnesse,

Enchaining her beneath the waightie grounde,

By deaths fierce Heben trident hath his wounde,

Repaying unto greedie destinie,

The int'rest of his life-lent usurie.

Drownd is the day-star in th' Hesperian deepes,

The radiant Eos of white Albion:

Tithonus love-lasse, faire Aurora, weepes,

And day-reducing Phosphorus doth mone,

That he unto the other world is gone;

Denying them the traffique of his sight,

From whose faire lustre they deriv'd their light.

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See how Apollo tasks his wearied teames

Vnto the Occidentall Ax [...]ltree,

Making th' Horizon maske in sable seames,

Abandoning the earth from mirth and glee,

Swearing it never more his lamps shall see,

But meanes (except the fates his wrath appease)

To live immur'd amonge th' Antipodes.

As when he left th' Olympique starrie rocks,

Living an exile long in Thessalie;

And neere Amphrysus fed Admetus flocks,

Onlie accompaned with Mercurie:

Or when for Phäetons sad tragedie,

Enrag'd with passionate woe he fell at ods

With thundring Jove, and all the minor-Gods.

But now nor Clymenes audacious boy

Torne by the morning-breathing horses rage;

Nor Amyclaean Hyacinth's annoy

Cause this his griefe, impatient of asswage;

These woes long since gave place to time and age:

The paines that now exagitate his soule,

Time cannot tame, nor swan-white age controule.

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He, from whose sunne the sunne deriv'd his shine,

(As doth his sister-planet from his light)

Whilome than cristall far more cristalline,

Now is opprest with deaths eternall night,

Exempt from intercourse of Phoebus sight;

Who wailes his losse, but sollaced in this,

That his immortall soule survives in blisse.

The Gods Pandora, heavens bright firmament,

Faire Albions bulwarke, castle of defence,

The worldes rare wonder, th' earths rich ornament,

Harts adamant, mindes sacred excellence,

Wisedomes grave Delphos, vertues quintessence,

Right perfect workmanship of skilfull nature,

Some semi-God, more then a mortall creature.

Great God of prowesse, thunderbolt of war,

Belionae's darling, Mars of chivalrie,

Bloudy Enyo's champion, foe-mens feare,

Fames stately Pharus, map of dignitie,

Joves pearle, pearls pride, prides foe, foes enemie:

Spaine-shaking feaver, regent of wars thunder,

Vndaunted DRAKE, a name importing wonder.

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All this, yea thrise a thousand times and more

Than this untold, though Angels eloquence,

Though all the soules of Poets heretofore,

And moderne Muses made their residence

In mortall mould to pen his excellence;

More then all arts Arithmetique can summe,

Ay me! are now enclos'd in DRAKES rich tombe.

Tombe? ah no tombe, but Neptunes froathing waves:

Waves? ah no waves, but billow-rouling seas:

Seas? ah no seas, but honour's hallowed graves:

Graves? ah no graves, but bones eternall ease:

Ease? ah no ease, but rest borne to displease:

What ere it be where worthy DRAKE doth lie,

That sacred shrine entombes a Deitie.

If Deitie in earth can be enrold,

Or maie participate with brickle claie,

Or can be compas'd with so fraile a mould,

Or be invested in so base aray.

As transitorie flesh borne to decay;

Then wheresoere it be that DRAKE doth lie,

That sacred shrine entombes a Deitie.

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If Deitie maie be a thing created,

The quaintest workemanship of skilfull nature;

Or by a parliament of Gods enacted,

Or be appropriated to a creature,

Omnipotent Joves richest architecture:

Then wheresoere it be that DRAKE doth lie,

That sacred shrine entombes a Deitie.

But if mans soule his Deitie define;

Which is an essence metaphysicall,

Immortall, heaven-infused, and divine;

And flesh be but a prison temporall,

That for a season holdes the soule in thrall:

Then in DRAKES tombe doth this his prison lie,

But heavens bright shrine containes his Deitie.

O who will leade me to that two top't mountaine,

The Heliconian Muses laureat hill?

Who will conduct me to that sacred fountaine,

Whence soule-infusing Nectar doth distill,

That Poets sp'rites with winged furies fill:

Where naked Graces use to bathe and swim,

While Nymphs and Fairies daunce about the brim?

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Where no Actaeon stragling through the fields

Defiles those Dian's with polluted eyes;

No Pyrenëus this chast forrest yelds,

Whose sugred words and soothing flatteries

Ioyn'd with constraint would cause them wantonize:

No such polluted pessaunts haunt these places;

For lust is sacriledge unto the Graces.

Phoebus faire wel-springs, fountaines cristall bright,

Oile of invention, Poets paradise,

Impressures of conceite, sap of delight,

Soules sweete Emplastrum, unguent of the eies,

Drops, making men with Gods to sympathize,

Baths of the Muses, Hebes sugred wine,

Pure Helicon, the very name divine.

Mount me, faire ofspring of Mnemosyne,

Vpon Bellerophon's winde-winged steede;

Lift up my leaden sp'rite, Euphrosyne,

Above the pitch of pastors rurall reede:

For he that sings of matchlesse DRAKE, had neede

To have all Helicon within his braine,

Who in his hart did all heavens worth containe.

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No common theame is subiect of my verse,

One Muse cannot suffice to pen this storie:

He that intends DRAKES merites to rehearse▪

And pen the processe of his famous glorie,

Should in his hart all Muses spirites carrie:

Yet all inferiour to his worthines,

Whose soule did all the Worthies sp'rites possesse.

Audacious infant, proud presumpteous boye,

That dares presume to name with faltring tongue,

And voice vntaught to tune an humble laye,

A name which thundring Zephyrus hath songe,

And thousand Echo's through the world have tonge▪

With fames triumphant trumpet often spred,

From th' Artique to th' Antartique famosed.

None but old Atlas heauen-up-holding armes▪

Or greate Alcides adamantine brest,

To whose exploites all Poets singe alarmes,

Should under-prop the Axel of the west,

And wield the heavē that DRAKES name hath addrest,

Whose waight will bruise the shoulders of the weake;

Let children cease of such exploites to speake.

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Yet may we weepe, although we cannot singe,

And with sad passions volley forth our feares;

While others accentes in the aire doe ringe,

Our Anthems may detaine the vulgar eares,

And what we want in words, supplie in teares▪

While Philomela tunes sweete melodie,

Progne may weepe her dismall tragedie,

Then you, sweete-singing Sirens of these times,

Deere darlings of the Delian Deitie,

That with your Angels-soule inchauntinge times

Transport Pernassus into Britanie,

With learnings garland crowninge Poesie;

Sdaine not that our harsh plaints shoulde beate your cares:

Arts want may stop our tongues, but not our teares.

SPENSER, whose hart inharbours Homers soule,

If Samian Axioms be autenticall:

DANIEL, who well mayst Maro's text controule

With proud Plus ultra true note marginall:

And golden-mouthed DRAYTON musicall,

Into whose soule sweete SIDNEY did infuse

The essence of his Phoenix-feather'd Muse:

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Types of true honour, Phoebus Tripodes,

Hell-charminge Orphêi, Syrens of the sence,

Wits substance, Joves braine-borne Pallades,

Soules Manna, heavens Ambrosian influence,

True centers of renownes circumference,

The gracefull Graces faire triplicitie,

Of moderne Poets rarest trinarie.

Imbath your Angel-feathers loftie quill

In fluent amber-dropping Castalie.

That liquid gold may from your pen distill,

Encarving characters of memorie,

In brasen-leav'd bookes of eternitie:

Be DRAKES worth royalized by your wits,

That DRAKES high name may coronize your writs.

Let famous RED CROSSE yeld to famous DRAKE,

And good Sir GVION give to him his launce;

Let all the MORTIMERS surrender make

To one that higher did his fame advance;

Cease LANCASTERS, & YORKES iars to enhaunce;

Sing all, and all to few to sing DRAKES fame;

Your Poems neede no laurell save his name.

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Had he beene borne in Agamemnons age,

Whē stout Achilles launce scourg'd Troies proud towres:

When men gainst mē, and Gods gainst Gods did rage,

Aenaeas, Achilles, nor Vlisses powres,

Had beene so famous in this age of ours:

All Poets would have written in his praise

Their Aeneads, Iliads, and Odysses.

But now (o shame!) the vertuous are forgotten,

Th' Heröes are contemn'd and Neroes told:

The auncient orders all are dead and rotten;

Gone is the puritie of Poets old,

And now eternitie is bought and sold:

Free Poesie is made a marchandize,

Onlie to flatter is to Poetize.

Wel-worth Augustus laurel crowned times,

Pure Halcion houres, Saturnus golden dayes,

When worthies patronized Poets times,

And Poets times did onlie worthies praise,

Sdaining base Plutus groomes with fame to raise:

When now, save mercenaryes, few do write,

And be a Poet is be a Parasite.

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But you (sweete soules) the Graces trinarie,

Straine up your tunes with notes angelicall;

From heavens faire house (ô Fames Trium-viri)

Fetch Orpheus harpe with strings harmonicall;

And musicke from the Spheares melodicall;

And with sweete quires of Swans, and Nightingals,

Sing dolefull ditties at DRAKES funerals.

My Muse all mantled in death's livorie gowne

Shall mourne before his hearse in sad araie,

With sable Cyparissus hanging downe

Her mornefull brest, whole boughes shall fan awaie

Titans bright beames, bedarkning all the daie:

And while with teares you sit melodying,

Shee shall weepe with you, though shee cannot sing.

Even as the Larke, when winters wast drawes neere,

Mounteth her basinetted head on high,

And through the aire doth tune her trebles cleere

Quav'ring full quaintlie forth her Tireli,

Beyond the ken of any piercing eie;

While as the Red-brest on an humble thorne,

With weeping notes the summers lost doth mourne.

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Yee that attend on Cytherea's traine,

And feede her silver-feathered turtle-doves,

Which in their golden-wired cage remaine,

Whether at Paphos shrine or Cnydus groves;

Whose livet-laps do swell with full-vain'd loves,

While damosell Ladies doe imparadize

Your thoughts within the Eden of their eies.

Whose Muse is so inravish'd with the lookes

Which from your Mistresse ivorie browes do fall.

As makes you fill the largest volum'd bookes

With soule-perswasive songs patheticall,

And minde-alluring speech methodicall;

Tasking your pens to pen a womans praise,

And shee the actresse of your owne disease.

O let your Muse make an Apostrophe

From Venus courts unto Bellona's camps;

Give but a glance on DRAKES high dignitie,

Imprest with magnanimities true stampes:

And when your sence is lightned with these lamps,

Solemnize to the world his funerals,

In all your sonnets and your Madrigals.

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Cease (fondlings) henceforth to idolatrize

With Venus, your Carpathean-sea-borne Queene;

And to heroique DRAKE do sacrifice

Of expiation for your former sinne,

Erect his statue whereas hers hath beene;

Make DRAKE your Saint, and make the shrine, his hearse;

Your selves the Priests, the sacrifice your verse.

O you the quaint tragedians of our times,

Whose statelie shanks embuskind by the Muses,

Draw all the world to wonder at your rimes;

Whose sad Melpomene robs Euripides,

And wins the palme and price from Sophocles:

While Poe and Seine are sick to thinke upon▪

How Thames doth ebbe and flowe pure Helicon.

Who at your pleasures drawe, or else let downe

The floud-hatches of all spectators eies;

Whose ful-braind temples deck't with laurell crowne,

Ore worlds of harts with words do tirannize;

To whome all Theaters sing Plaudities:

While you with golden chaines of wel-tun'd songes.

Linke all mens eares and teares unto your tongues.

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Cease to eternize in your marble verse

The fals of fortune-tossed Venerists;

And straine your tragicke Muses to rehearse

The high exploites of Iove- borne Martialists,

Where smoakie gun-shot clouds the aire with mists;

Where groves of speares pitch'd ready for to fight,

Dampe up the element from Eagles flight.

What neede you summon from the silent hell

The soules of Hector and of Priamus,

And thousand others that beneath us dwell,

Wafted long since through Styx to Erebus,

Or to th' Elysian Tempe glorious?

Whose acts by auncients often have beene told,

And all love novels, few like that is old.

Loe heere a moderne subiect for your wits,

But loftier than anie heeretofore

Eternized by former Poets writs;

Whose worth their sacred Muses did adore,

And he scarse entred yet th' Elysian dore;

Whom dead, yet all mens thoughts alive doe make:

For who wold think that death could cōquere Drake▪

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Heere Poets, spend your wits chiefe quintessence,

And bandie verses with the God of verse,

Imbalme him with your wits best influence,

All intellectual powres his praise rehearse,

And with your poems bewtisie his hearse:

Feare neither Theons tooth, nor Critique lookes,

DRAKES onlie name shall patronize your bookes▪

Be DRAKES heroique deedes the argument,

His name the prologue of your tragedie,

The acts and scenes, his acts all excellent,

Himselfe chiefe actor of Spaines misery,

His launce the Scorpion-scourge of Hesperie;

Fettring with golden chaines their principates,

And leading captive Spaines chiefe potentates.

The Muses hill shalbe the Theatre,

And all the world spectators of the showes,

A quire of Angels shall the Chorus beare,

The massacre shalbe of Englandes foes,

And such as thinke to worke Eliza's woes:

And when DRAKES death ends the Catastrophe,

Heaven shall clap handes, and give the Plaudite.

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But ah! our daies are stampt in envi's mint,

And this our age cast in the yron mould,

Our hearts are hew'd out of Caucasean flint,

And two-leav'd plates of brasse our breasts enfold;

Hate waxeth yong, the world thus waxing old:

And best wee like them that doe love us least,

And least we love them whome we should like best.

Impietie of times, vertues cheefe hater,

The dying worlds twise-infant-waxen dotage,

Worth's cankar-worme, desert's ingrate abater,

Hard yron-ages death-declining sottage,

Foule serpent-eating envi's loathsome cottage:

Poyson-tooth'd viper, impiously that bites

The wombe of those who are her favorites.

False touch-stone, not discerning gold from brasse,

False sooth-sayer, divining alway lies,

False clocke, not telling how the day doth passe,

False friend, forsaking in adversities,

False pilot, leading through extremities,

False in election, false in amitie,

And only true in infidelitie.

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Such is the worlde, as one that dotes with yeares,

Loathinge things present, though of greater price,

Liking that which is past and not appeares,

And saies, the elder age was far more wise,

Of higher worth, and of more sound advise:

All that it sees, it think's not worth the sight,

But what it wants, it craves with maine and might,

Bleare-eyed elde, not seeinge dark from day,

Blinde with affection, ignorant of truthe,

Vnwain'd from selfe-love, never at a staye,

Leaning upon the crabbed staffe of ruthe;

Vntoward to forecast for that ensueth,

Iniurious to those that most befriend it,

Obsequious to those that most offend it.

The auncient nobles are most noble deem'd,

And in Fames calender Saints registred,

While present worthies vassals are esteem'd,

Though worthier to be canonized

Than those that are in Legendaries red:

Nor Hercules, nor Mars were Gods accounted,

Before they died, and unto heaven were mounted.

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What marvell then though some base humorists,

Foule whelps of fierce Hyrcanean tygars seedes,

Extenuate the worth of lovialists,

And such as merite heaven by famous deedes,

Returning base disdaine for worthy meedes:

Oule-sighted eies, that dazled are with light,

But see acutelie in the darkesome night.

Some such there are, (ô shame! too great a summe!)

Who would impeach the worth of worthy DRAKE,

With wrongfull obloquies sinister doome,

And eagerly their serpent-tongues they shake,

And sith they cannot sting, a hissing make:

But he, who made all Spaine quake with his fame,

Shall quell such mush-rumps onlie with his name.

Monsters of nature, Nile-bred Crocodiles,

Sight-slaying Basilisks, poyson-swolne toades,

Fame-fretting cankers, shames infectious biles,

Earth-gaping Chasma's, that mishap aboades,

Presumpteous gyants, waging war with Gods:

Aire-putrifying Harpyes loathsome broode,

Echidna's ofspring, sworne foes to the good.

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These serpents mouths with tongues & teeth are filled,

With tongues they sting, with teeth they fiercely bite;

By stinging, mindes; by biting, hearts are killed;

The mindes with griefe, the hearts with deadly spighte:

This spighte kils ioie, this griefe doth slay delight.

O what fierce hell begot this monstrous kinde,

Whose toūg, whose teeth, kils, slaies, the hart, the mind?

Their brest, the harbour of an envious hart;

Their heart, the store-house of a pois'ned hate;

Their hate, the quiver holding slanders dart;

That dart they shoote at men of highest state;

That state, that soone is subiect to debate:

And that debate breeding dissention,

Procures all common-wealth's destruction.

Their heades lay complots, strife how to procure:

Their hands do practise what their heades desire:

Their hearts approove what hands have put in ure:

Their mindes in mischiefe with their harts conspire:

Their soules consent to that their mindes require:

Who will not saie they are spronge from the devill.

Whose heads, hands, harts, whose minds, whose soules are evill?

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Celestiall Goddesse, eviternall Fame

Minerva's daughter by faire Maia's sonne,

Of all th' inhabitants of heavens faire frame

Most highlie honord since the world begonne,

And shalbe, till the fatall Glasse be runne;

Soules sweete receipt, the health's restorative,

Hearts cordiall, the mindes preservative:

Goddesse of thoughts, Muse animating spirite,

Aulter of honour, temple of renowne,

Shrine of devotion yeelding art her merite,

Lifes richest treasure, vertues gorgeous gowne,

Heavens best habilement, Ariadne's crowne;

The Cynosura of the purest thought,

Faire Helice, by whom the heart is taught:

Send honour downe (ô chiefe of Goddesses,)

Honour thy royall persons messenger,

To ravish DRAKE from earth's unworthines,

(As Jupiter once sent his armour-bearer

To transport Ganimed from Ida thither:)

And as that boy was honoured of Jove,

So honour DRAKE, and let him be thy love.

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Daughter of time, sincere Posteritie,

Alwaie new borne, yet no man knowes thy birth,

The arbitresse of pure sinceritie,

Yet changeable (like Proteus) on the earth,

Sometime in plentie, sometime ioyn'd with dearth:

Alwaie to come, yet alwaie present heere,

Whom all runne after, none come ever neere:

Vnpartiall Iudge of all, save present state,

Truth's Idioma of the things are past,

But still pursuing present things with hate,

And more iniurious at the first than last,

Preserving others, while thine owne doe wast:

True treasurer of all antiquitie,

Whom all desire, yet never one could see:

Be thou religious to renowned DRAKE,

And place him in thy catalogue of saints;

In steede of Neptune, God of sea him make,

Either to loose, or binde the windes restraints;

Let sea-men offer him their vowes and plaintes:

Envie lives with us, while our selves survive,

But when we die, it is no more alive.

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And you, eternall Joves high progenie,

Whom at your birth the Gods, your parents, blest,

To consecrate unto eternitie

In never-dying registers of rest

Your selves, and others that deserve it best;

To whom they seal'd this chartar at your birth,

Your souls should live in heaven, your fames on earth:

Joves deerest darlings, Gods best favorites,

Saints paragons, of purest earth refinde,

Scorn'd of the world, because heavens chiefe delightes,

Inheritours of Paradise by kinde,

Which was to you before your birth assign'd:

The golden rings where honours iewels shines,

Whose sun is Fame, heaven Zodiake, you the Signes:

Imbathe your Phoenix quils in Nectar streames

Of milken showrs, that Juno's breasts did raine,

Let DRAKES high excellence be all your theames,

Whereon to spend the chiefest of your braine,

His worth in honours purest dye engraine;

That after-ages maie him deifie

In holie heavens celestiall Hierarchie.

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GRINVIL, a name that made Iberia tremble,

Whom Jove would make the Atlas of the west,

(So well he did his Hercules resemble)

Had not a waightier charge his minde possest;

For having plac'd him in Elysian rest,

In heavens star-chamber held a Parliament,

And made him Prorex of his regiment.

Well hath his Poet royaliz'd his acts,

And curiouslie describ'd his tragedie;

Quaintlie he hath eternized his facts

In lasting registers of memorie,

Even coëternall with eternitie:

So that the world envies his happie state,

That he should live when it is ruinate.

Some fierie Muse with heavenly heate enflam'd,

Mount DRAKE likewise above the azur'd skie;

Be not the Eagle Joves thunder-bearer nam'd,

Let DRAKE possesse that glorious dignitie,

Or rather let himselfe the thund'rer bee,

And make the world his maiestie to wonder:

For who more fit then DRAKE to rule the thunder?

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Hee rul'd earth's thunder while he did survive,

Which, when he list, could make great Neptune quake,

Angrie with Jove that anie man alive

Should terrifie, and make his kingdome shake;

But when he heard it was renowned DRAKE,

He gave to him his trident, and his mace,

As one more fit to rule that stormy place.

Spaine trembled at the thunder of his name,

And when those Gyants proudlie did rebell,

No thunder-bolt had needed but his fame,

Their hawtie-minded forces for to quell,

And send them by whole Myriads unto hell;

That Charon curs'd their comming on so fast,

And knew not how so many could be past.

The proud Tartessian Caligula feares,

And hides his doating head for very horrour,

If but DRAKES name doe thunder in his eares:

And lies astonish'd with an uncouth terrour,

Exhaling forth his gasping breath with dolour,

While DRAKE (our new Alcides) vanquished

This Spanish Hydra's ever-growing head.

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The Pyrenean cloudie-topped mountaines,

At his approach, with mists their faces vail'd,

The hills shed teares, and made encrease of fountaines,

Still fleeting downe the clifts, and never fail'd,

When through the Ocean waves his navie sail'd:

And if cleere waters in the fleete were scant,

He made his foe-mens teares supplye the want.

Oft did the sourges, plow'd vp by his ship,

Seeme to ore-whelme the Cassiterides;

While the Cantabrian-Ocean sea-nymphs skip,

Together with the faire Nerëides,

And all the lovelie Oceanitides,

Dauncing about to have a sight of DRAKE,

Or of his ship a lovelie kisse to take.

As oft as neere the Gades both he sail'd,

And by Cape-Sacers sky-top'd promontory,

Their heades (like dappers) under waves they vail'd,

Th' Herculean maine it selfe seem'd to be sorry

Grieving it should such pondrous forces carrie;

For though it could beare him who bare the skye,

It could not DRAKE, for DRAKE was more thē he.

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The Baleares wisht them-selves unknowne

Or ioyn'd in league unto the Brittish maine,

Dreading they should by DRAKE be overthrowne,

And ravish'd from their neighbour-bordring Spaine,

Whose weakned powrs it selfe could not maintaine:

They wisht some God would metamorphose them

To sea-nymphs, that they might be safe from him.

Toledo's towres, and Compostella's Saint

Kept not Hesperia secure from dreade;

The towres declind, the Saint with feare was faint,

Faint Saint, for feare that durst not shew his heade,

Dreading least greater dangers followed:

Alas! what could such fearefull Saints prevaile,

Where such great Joves, as DRAKE, meant to assaile?

Iberus river in Cantabria

Oft wisht he had still kept him under grounde;

His head-spring neere to Juliobrica

Thrise hid himselfe, and could no where be founde,

Thrise overwhelming, all the land was drown'd,

For hearing that the conqu'ring DRAKE came by,

Poore coward river knew not where to flie.

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What profited th' Herculean Calpe now,

That Titan in the Occidentall line

Trav'ling unto th' Antipodes belowe.

Daynes to salute him with his radiant shine,

As to the other world he doth decline?

One meanes to dispossesse him of his might,

Who dispossessed Titan of his light.

Tagus, thy gold could not redeeme thy feare,

Nor all thy sands thy griefe could countervaile;

DRAKE comes, and leades with him the Gods to war,

With victorie displaied on his sayle:

What can thy gold and water now availe?

Thy precious water shall his thirst alaie,

Thy gold shall serve to give his souldiers pay.

Spaine annuallie prepar'd a royall fleete,

To sweepe the seas unto the Indian coast.

That comming home they might our Dragon meete,

And pay him tribute at their proper cost;

England, thou had'st the gaine, and Spaine the lost:

Had he surviv'd, Tempe had beene our land,

And Thames had stream'd with Tagus golden sand.

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Such as the Hyperborean Dragon, was,

That bare th' inchaunting daughter of the sunne

On scaled crest of triple-plated brasse,

When through Campania's coast he us'd to runne,

And ceas'd not ranging till his course were done;

But with irrefragable force and might

Made obstant lets give waie unto his flight.

Such was our Dragon when he list to soare

And circuit Amphitrite's watrie bowre:

The rampant lyon, and the tusked boare,

The ravenous tigar borne still to devoure,

To barre him passage never had the powre:

Whole heards and hoasts could never make him stay,

His onlie sight suffic'd to make him way.

Forth of his nostrils burning flakes of fire

(As from an ovens gaping mouth) did flame,

Wherewith he wasted in his raging ire

All that oppos'd themselves against the same;

All the sea-monsters trembled at his name:

And when it pleas'd him progresse through the sea,

His fame was herauld to proclaime him way.

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O what an heavenly sight it were to view,

And with the eie survey him on the maine,

Incountring with a prowd Tartessian crew,

The choysest Martialists of war-like Spaine,

And swarthy Moores, and Indian slavish traine,

Mantling all Tethys with their Argos eies

With high-topt masts included in the skies.

Their gallies fraughted full with men of war,

Whose oares plow'd furrowes in the swelling waves

Than towred whales, or dolphins, larger far,

Of sise sufficient to be gyants graves,

Row'd with an hundred Indian captive slaves;

Made glaucie Nereûs groane, and seeme to shrinke,

Who often wisht to see their navie sinke.

Sea-castles, which they Galeazos nam'd,

Garded (like bul-warks) all the mightie fleete,

Whose masts of seaven conioyned oakes were fram'd

By skilfull architecture made to meete,

Whose tops might seeme the element to greete:

Hoysed aloft their sailes display'd on high,

As though they ment to vaile the shining skie.

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Who so beholding from the bordring shoare,

Had view'd their navie floating on the maine,

Would sweare they were no ships, that Neptune bore,

But woods of cedars growing on a plaine,

Whose tops above the region of the raine,

Were damp'd with circumfused clouds from sight,

Which no transpiercinge eye could ken aright.

Neptune encircled in his watry armes

His silver-shining darling Albion,

And in his bosome shielded her from harmes,

That might endanger his chiefe paragon,

Fearing of nothing save his louelie one:

And like as Perseus kept Andromeda,

So kept he her from monsters of the sea.

Now had our Dragon rous'd him from his cave,

Against his foe-men bending forth his flight:

All the sea-sourges passage to him gave,

Vntill he had his enemies in sight,

Gainst whome he bended all his force and might:

And in approch the adversarie deem'd

That all heavens hoast to march against them seem'd.

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Who so had ever seene in Arcadye

The Molorchean Lion, through the feilde

Whole heards of beasts pursuing eagerlie,

That none escape but such as meeklye yeld,

Vntill desire of praie be largely fild:

He might have iudged how our Dragon rag'd,

Till full reveng his thirst had quite asswag'd.

On some he breath'd a fatall-burning fire,

That blew them up in ashes to the skye:

Others agast, dreadinge his wrathfull ire,

Duck'd downe their fearefull heades immediatlie

Vnder the waves to save themselves thereby:

So that their fleete invincible by fame,

Christninge anew he gave an other name.

As on Vlisses Circe did bestowe

A blather, where the windes imboweld were,

That at his pleasure he might let them blowe,

Or keepe them in when danger did appeare:

So DRAKE about him still the windes did beare:

And if misfortune forc'd some ships to fall

Jove into sea-nimphs did transforme them all.

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If fates had fram'd him in the Gyants age,

When [...]erra's highe discent made heaven to tremble,

And Titans broode against the Gods did rage,

Whose trumpets (that did thunders noyse resemble)

Whole myriads of monsters did assemble;

Whose coale-black ensignes in the sky displayed,

Out-bearded Jove, and made the Gods dismayed.

When Phloegra's feilds and proud Pellene's coast

Swarmed with troupes of gastlie Gyants bands;

Where sturdie Typhon generall of the hoast,

Summon'd his kinsmen with the hundred hands

To come and fight with Jupiter for lands,

Vnder the conducte of great Briareûs,

With Gya [...], Caeus, and Halcyoneûs.

Their pondrous waight did make their mother grone,

Dreading she should be pressed downe to hell▪

Their father Titan seemd him-selfe to mone,

As oft as from their mouths and nostrels fell

(Broade, like Abyssus gulfe where divels doe dwell)

Forth issued mightie clouds of mistye smoake,

Whose duskie fogs his fierie beames did choake.

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Ossa they pressed downe with Pelions waight,

And on them both impos'd Olympus hill;

Vpon whose crooked top (by strength made straite)

Black pitch'd pavilions all the space did spill,

The which before the subtile ayre did fill:

Which beinge exiled from his proper place,

Wandred, and could not finde a vacant space.

Porphyrio, Crius, and Enceladus,

With Ephialtes, and Polybotes,

Pallas, Lapetus, Clytius, Euritus,

Gration, Agrius, and Argyropes,

With millians moe as big and large as these;

Followed the colours of Typhoeus bands,

Swearing to batter heaven with their hands.

They wore no harnesse to defend their brest,

But marched naked gainst their foe-mens face;

They thought their skin was armour of the best,

To shield them woundlesse in the eager chase:

Such was the proofe thereof in everie place,

As scarce a thunder-bolt could enter in

But was rebated with the verye skin.

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Typhon, whose ribs resembled cedar trees,

A quiver full of mountaines by his side

In-steede of darts did beare, and at his knees

Two dragons heads in knotted ioyntes were ti'd,

Which in their mouths two fierie tongues did hide:

Against whose sting no plaister could prevaile,

Nor Moly, nor Dictamnum once could heale.

In steede of trumpet, Briareûs did roare,

And straind his high-resounding voice aloude;

Whose ougly note a base so gastly bore,

As when amid the aire some uncouth cloude

Meetes with an other, and together croude

With such a deadlie-sounding fearefull voice,

As heaven and earth doe tremble at the noise▪

Heaven hid his heade, and seem'd to flye for feare,

The dastard Gods betooke themselves to flight,

And vnto Aegypt forth-with made repaire,

Not daring to encounter them by might,

But trusting more to flight than vnto fight:

Neere unto Nilus (hoping so to scape)

Each one of them resum'd a divers shape.

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Iove (like a ram) did weare both hornes & wooll,

(A livorie which of late he gave to manye)

Hence Ammon yet doth beare a horned scull:

Juno became a cow unknowen to anye,

To save her from the Gyants tirany:

Men to themselves their wives enioyned now,

While he did playe the sheepe, and she the cow.

Swift-footed Mercurye his talars chaunged

Into the serpent-slayeinge Ibis winge:

Venus (turn'd to a fish) the seaes now raunged,

Supposing that, which first her life did bringe,

Should save her life againe from perishing:

Phoebe did play the cat, Phoebus the crowe,

Bacchus disguised like a goate did goe.

O had victorious DRAKE among them then

In heaven (as now he is) beene deifi'd,

They needed not have dreaded mortall men,

Nor for a world of Gyants have deni'd,

Their God-heads, and, like cowards, in caves abide.

DRAKE shold have pierc'd thē with his burning darts,

Though all their thunder could not wound their harts.

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Not to a fearefull ramme, or feeble cow,

But to a dragon DRAKE himselfe should turne;

From whose fierce nostrils flakes of fire should flow,

That in a moment all their tents should burne,

And headlong from their mountaines overturne

Their big bon'd carcasses to Orcus evils,

And bid them there wage battaile with the devils.

O where is now that cunning Tarentine

Archytas, far renowned for his skill,

That could Arts purest quintessence refine,

And in faire Practiques limbecke at his will

The purest iuyce of Theoriques flowrs distill;

And by proportion Geometrical,

Make wodden doves to flie, and not to fall?

Where is that cunning man of Syracuse,

The first inventour of our Globes and Spheares,

So deepelie skild in Mathematiques use,

As that whole armies onlie one man feares,

Whose skilfull stratagems their might impaires;

And what a thousand could not doe by fight,

One could atchive by arts celestiall might?

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Such as were they, such was our worthy DRAKE,

Whose head a store-house was of pollicies,

That (like his valour) forc'd his foes to quake,

Making their hulkes to caper in the skies,

And quaver in the aire their Argos-eies:

So by a proper sleight he knew full well,

To send their ships to heaven, their soules to hell.

Sometime, when number vertue did surprise,

(As vertue sometime is surpris'd by number)

His pollicie could soone a waie devise,

To flie their forces that might bring him under;

And how he could escape, it made them wonder:

For of their Indian gold he made him wings,

And (like a Phoenix) safelie from them flings.

Thinke howe the Eagle, armourer to Jove,

Espying Ganimede on Ida's plaines,

Intended to convey him to his love;

Which being noted by the Phrygian traines,

And other sturdie rutters, Troian swaines:

They flocke togither with confused cries,

To rescue from the bird his lovelie prize:

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An hundred yron-pointed darts they fling,

An hundred stones flie whistling by his eares,

An hundred deadlie-dinted staves they bring,

Yet neither darts, nor stones, nor staves he feares;

But through the aire his plumed crest he reares:

And in derision safelie scapes awaie,

Presenting unto Jove his long-lov'd praie.

So DRAKE (divine ELISA's champion)

Ceazing upon a praie of Indian gold,

Meaning to ship it home to Albion,

Ballasts his barke with treasures manifold;

Which when the griev'd Iberians doe behold,

They swarme in troupes to take his prize awaie,

And to disrob him of his gained praie:

A thousand hel-mouth'd canons deadly shot,

A thousand ratling muskets hayle-stones flie,

Yet thousand deadlie canons hurt him not,

Nor thousand ratling muskets reckneth he,

But still rebeates them all as eagerlie;

And, maugre all their beards, brings home the spoile,

Ritching ELISA, and ELISA's soile.

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Those peereles Peeres, that through the world have spred

Their predecessours vertues, and their owne,

And both with honour have enobeled;

Who to nobilities chiefe point are growne,

The sage attendants on ELISA's crowne;

Desir'd to venture on the foe with DRAKE,

And with his fortunes good or ill partake.

When forth they march'd against their eager foe,

HOPE, and REVENGE did beare them out to war;

Garded with NON-PERILLE did they goe,

While BONADVENTVRE still their ensigne bare,

And cowardise by DREAD-NOVGHT bandon'd far:

SWIFT-SVRE their race, though swift, yet alway sure▪

And good FORE-SIGHT to HOPE-WEL did allure.

Watchfull ADVISE did march in equipage

Togither with her sister PROVIDENCE;

RELIEFE with AYDE, and AYDE with high Courage,

Courage was guided with Experience,

And both did guide and garde their high pretence:

Where all such worthie vertues captaines were,

What coward would not be a conquerer?

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The souldiers followed eager for the fight,

Knowne to the foe by face, not by the backe▪

Skilfull in fight, but ignorant in flight,

Swift in assault, but in retiring slacke;

Never returning but with foe-mens wracke:

Who would not be a souldier in that band,

Which, ere it fought, held VICTORIE in hand?

Art-tamed TYGARS made waie with their pawes,

The VNICORN's sharpe horne the foe did goare,

The ravenous BEARE with blood imbru'd his iawes,

The LYONS with their tailes did hurt them soare,

And cut them short for comming once a shoare:

And he that went out WHITE against his foe,

Returnes home RED, for blood imbrued him so.

A silver GRAYHOVND led a GOLDEN-HINDE,

Now reconciled to his utter foe:

A ROE-BVCKE that did beare a lions minde,

Togither with DIANA still did goe,

And dreaded not her darts and murth'ring bowe:

The PHOENIX in his fleete her nest did make,

And HERCVLES himselfe attended DRAKE.

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GODS-GIFT he had, and God his gift did SPEEDE,

No misadventure cros'd, where God did guide,

Where GOD did SAVE, none other salve did neede,

He sped the iournie, he did give the tide,

He sav'd the fleete from foes insulting pride:

How could the enterprise ill issue have,

Where GOD himselfe did guide, did Speed, did Save?

FORTVNE her selfe was present in the fleete▪

But stoode not on her fickle-rowling wheele;

Constant stabilitie ballassed her feete,

And being constant knew not how to reele,

But rul'd the rudder and direct'd the keele:

How could mischance unto that ship betide,

Where FORTVNE was the pilot, and the guide?

Garded with these associats royall traine,

Forth marched valiant DRAKE to martiall armes,

And makes an earth-quake through the coasts of Spaine,

When as his thundring drumme resoundes alarmes,

And roaring trumpets vollie forth their harmes:

HOPE and REVENGE to warre conducted DRAKE,

And VICTORIE & TRIVMPH brought him backe.

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Such were magnanimous DRAKES accomplices

Not of the vulgar, base, inglorious sort,

But such did follow warres as rul'd in peace,

Whose very names their fortunes did import:

Such rare adherents did to DRAKE resort,

As he that but their ominous names once heard,

Did either vanquisht yeeld, or flie affeard.

Neither in wars his worth was only knowne,

(Although his worth was chieflie knowne in warres)

But all as well at home in peace was showne,

In moderating publique wealth's affaires,

As quieting his foes tumultuous iars:

And as the Lawrell crown'd him conquerour,

So did the Olive shew him counselour.

Like as abroade with unresisted armes

He tam'd his foes prowde insultations;

Even so at home with lenitie he charmes

His iarring friendes discordant passions,

Rescu'ing the poore from prowd vexations:

So all his life he made a warfare longe,

Abroade gainst enimies, at home gainst wronge.

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In warre he strove (and striving still did gaine)

To vanquish all with never daunted might:

In peace he sought (and seeking did obtaine)

All to excell in equity and right:

A iusticer in peace, in warre a knight:

Though hard it were for him that might take ease,

Scipio to be in war, Cato in peace.

The mighty sonne of more than mightie Jove,

Heaven-bearing Hercules, most famosed

For twelve atchivements, and disaster love

Of Deianira being captived,

After so many monsters vanquished,

Having subdu'd all monsters saving one,

(Woman) ordain'd to master him alone.

Heaven-honor'd Poets in eternall verse,

Among his many brave atchivements done,

As not the last, nor least acte do rehearse

His faire fame (though by filthy service wonne)

Making th' Augaean Oxe-stall shine as sunne;

(Which more then thirty yeares vnclens'd had bin)

By forcing of Alpheus river in.

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Equall with Hercules in al, save vice,

DRAKE of his country hath deserved grace,

Who by his industrie and quaint devise

Enforc'd a river leave his former place,

Teaching his streames to runne an uncouth race:

How could a simple current him withstand,

Who all the mightie Ocean did command?

Now Plymmouth (great in nothing, save renowne,

And therein greater far, because of DRAKE)

Seemes to disdaine the title of a towne,

And lookes that men for cittie should her take;

So prowd her patrons favour doth her make:

As those, whom princes patronage extold,

Forget themselves, and what they were of old.

Her now-bright face, once loathsomly defilde.

He purg'd and clensed with a wholesome river:

Her, whom her sister-citties late revilde,

Vp-brayding her with her unsavory savor,

DRAKE of this opproby doth now deliver:

That if all Poets pens conceald his name,

The waters glide should still record the same.

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Now Fame, the Queene of immortalitie,

Sommons my Muse from home-atchieved praise,

(Abandoning all partialitie,

A fatall sinne to Poets now adaies)

Her leaden-winged crest aloft to raise,

And soare, in famous DRAKES memoriall,

About the compasse of this earthly ball.

Honour enmoves her to attempt the flight,

And wave her feathers (unneath taught to flie)

But faint despaire doth urge her feeble might

(That durst not yet her home-bred nest out-prie)

About the world to soare audaciouslie:

Honour replies, that if shee chance to faile,

The brave attempt the shame shall countervaile.

Bound on an high adventure shee intends

To tell the world that all the world can tell,

How all the triple earth's unbounded ends,

And landes where no inhabitants do dwell,

Where darke obscuritie still keepes his cell,

Whereas the sunne dares scarce appearance make,

Have heard, and seene the fame of famous DRAKE.

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Whose heaven-affecting thoughts could not remaine

Confin'd within the confines of the earth,

But still contended higher to attaine,

Since that the stars portended at his birth,

His praises plentie neu'r should feele a dearth,

But growe to that high exaltation

Of all the worlds peregrination.

A GOLDEN-HYNDE, led by his art and might,

Bare him about the earth's sea-walled round,

With un-resisted Roe-out-running flight,

While Fame (the harbinger) a trumpe did sound,

That heaven and earth with echo's did abound;

Echo's of DRAKES high praise, praise of his name,

Name royalis'd by worth, worth rais'd by fame.

Heart-stealing Homer, marrow of the Muses,

Chiefe grace of Greece, best pearle of poetrie.

Drowner of soules with arts ore-whelming sluces,

Embellished with Phoebes lunary,

Deck't with the Graces rich embroyderie,

Sweete hony-suckle, whence all Poets sp'rites,

Sucke the sweete honie of divine delightes:

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Cease to solemnize Anticleas son,

That famous Ithacensian roavers praise,

(Who greate Achilles armes from Aiax won)

His hard adventures, and his weary waies,

His wandring pilgrimages through the seas:

His dangerous travels, and his ten yeeres toyles,

Discovering new-found lands, and vncoth soyles.

First, how he bare himselfe ten yeeres at Troie,

And slew by skill the two Dardanian spyes;

How from his foes he ravished with ioy

Their tall Palladium by quaint pollicies,

(Where Priams hart, and hope, and helpe relyes:)

Then, how he spent ten other yeeres at sea,

Before to Ithaca he found the waie.

Rase forth his name out of the Odysses,

Be hee no more the subiect of thy verse;

But let thy Muse record DRAKES worthines,

And in Vlysses lieu his fame rehearse,

That far beyond Vlysses fame did pearse:

Searching the confines of this earthy round,

And provinces, that carst were never found.

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Tell how he bare the round world in a ship,

A ship, which round about the world he bare,

Whose saile did winged Eurus flight out-strip,

Scorning tempestuous Bore as stormy dare,

Discrying uncouth coasts, and countries rare:

And people, which no eie had ever seene,

Save Daies faire goldē Eie, & Nights bright Queene.

Tell how he hath escaped warilie

Loud-barking Sylla's ever-howling dogs,

And seal'd his eares, and lips up charilie

Gaynst Syrens songs, and Circes poisned drugs,

That metamorphose men to uglie hogs:

Nor Syrens songs, nor Circes drugs he feares,

Vertue had lock'd his lips, art seal'd his eares.

Tell how he pass'd Charybdis whirle-poole waves,

Whereas two mightie roaring chanels meere,

To swallow ships, and make their wombe their graves,

And cause their high-top't masts the gravell greete;

Tell how Caphareûs could not hurt his fleete:

Neither the straights, nor quick-sands him amated,

Nor waves, nor windes his valour once abated.

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Homer tell how; but ah, how canst thou tell

Homer, how DRAKE to purchase glorye wonted,

Since that sweete sp'rite that in thy soule did dwell,

And that sweete soule, sweete above all soules counted,

Longe since to soules sweete paradise is mounted;

Wher thou with DRAKE to saints dost sing DRAKES praise,

Heere we bewaile his losse, our deepe disease.

O thou so high renowned for thy art,

In memorizinge base atchivements don

By one that bare a fearefull hares faint hart,

While subtle foxes heade his credit won;

O had thy Muse once shin'd with DRAKES bright sun,

Or had thy golden verse his praise recounted,

Homer himselfe had Homer far surmounted.

Thy glorie, DRAKE would more have glorified,

His travell eased thee, that eased it,

In him thy selfe thou hadst historified,

His fame would raise thy Muse, that raised it,

His name would praise thy verse, that praised it,

That after-ages should a question make,

Wheth'r DRAKE grac'd Homer more, or Homer DRAKE.

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Marke how a civet-smellinge damaske rose,

In laurel-leaved garland quaintlie placed,

Yelds bewtie to the baie, where best it shoes,

And nether by the other is defaced,

But graceth that wherewith it selfe is graced:

So each the other should more famous make,

DRAKE Homer should adorne, and Homer DRAKE.

The fierie-sparkling precious Chrysolite,

Spangled with gold, doth most transplendent shine:

The pearle grac'd by the ring, the ring by it,

The one the others bewtie doth refine,

And both together bewties both combine,

The iewell decks the golden haire that weares it.

Honour decks learning that with honour rears it.

Valour, and art are both the sonnes of Jove,

Both brethren by the father, not the mother,

Both peeres without compare, both like in love,

But art doth seeme to be the elder brother,

Because he first gave life unto the other:

Who afterward gave life to him againe,

Thus each by other doth his life retaine.

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Art is nobilities true register,

Nobilitie arts champion still is sayde;

Learning is fortitudes right calender,

And fortitude is learnings Saint & ayde:

Thus if the ballances twixt both be way'd,

Honour shields learning from all iniurie,

And learning honour from blacke infamy.

Why should Vlysses be oppos'd to DRAKE?

DRAKE, that Vlysses worth exceld so farre,

As Hyperion's golden chariots slacke

Surmounts his silver sisters two-wheel'd carre;

Or as her planet doth the smallest starre:

DRAKE did Vlysses worth exceede so farre,

As sun exceedes the moone, the moone each starre▪

Vlysses was constrain'd to go to Troye,

DRAKE unconstrain'd, except constrain'd by fame:

Vlysses fayning fury fayne would staye,

A heavenly fury DRAKES minde did inflame,

To purchase glory to Elysa's name:

He mad among his friends, milde with his foes;

But DRAKE was mild to them, and mad with those.

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Both left their ladyes, fayre, & chast: (a wonder:)

O who could leave a ladye chast and fayre!

But fortune for a while their loves did sunder;

That sundred love could never love impayre:

Vlysses left a ladie with an heyre:

DRAKE left a ladie bounteous, fayre, and wise,

For whose sweete love the Gods would leave the skies.

Vlysses did the innocent betraye,

And in extreames forsooke his aged frinde;

No such defaults did ever DRAKE bewraye:

This difference betweene them both I finde,

Wherein greate DRAKE Vlysses came behinde;

Vlysses Homer had to pen his storie,

DRAKE hath no Homer to emblaze his glorie.

Envie her selfe is forc'd to say the truth,

(And yet the truth doth envie seldome say)

Since Brute train'd hither first the Troian youth,

(If ever Brute train'd hither youth of Troye)

The small remaynder of the Greekes destroye,

Noblye discended from a vertuous line:

Noble discents make vertue more divine.

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How still the silver rockes of Albion,

Lightned translucent lustre from the shoare,

(Like to the carbuncles that shine upon

The faire sunnes golden pallace ivorie dore)

Whose radiant splendour, and whose beauties lore,

Vpon the world's extreamest wals reflect,

Dazling the eies that gaze on such aspect.

How that their loftie mindes could not be bounded

Within the cancels, that the world doe bound;

How that the deepest seas they search'd, and sounded,

Beyonde all landes that ever have beene found,

Making the farmost seas our praise resounde:

And nations, which not Fame her selfe had seene,

To carrol Englands fame, and fames rare Queene.

How they have travers'd sundrie forraine lands,

Lands, all inviron'd with the swelling seas,

Seas, ignorant of endes, devoide of bands,

Bands, that might yeelde some harbour to their ease,

Ease, to refresh them in their wearie waies:

Lands, bands, seas, waies their mindes amated not,

By lands, bands, seas, and waies they honour got.

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Vnto the confines of Assyria

Honour led princely EDWARD, (HENRIES sonne,

The third that did the English scepter sway)

Whose brave atchievements both in Acra donne,

And Galile, when Nazareth was wonne,

Inroles in ancient recordes of renowne,

The tributorie fame to Englands crowne.

Rich hart of Lyon, RICHARD Lyon-hart,

Twise match'd by name, but never in renowne:

Two more in RICHARDS title bare a part,

But none save hee (that wore the English crowne)

The name of Lyon-hart claim'd as his owne:

His hart was richest, that a lyons was,

Save her rich hart, whose hart all harts doth passe.

Tancred can tell, and all Sicilia,

But most Messana his great victories,

The coastes of Palestine and Syria,

And Cyprus captivated Emprour's eies,

Sawe him attir'd in triumphs iollities:

And on the Pagans, in defence of Syon,

His launce bare witnes, that he was a Lyon.

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Clio her selfe (I feare) would be offended,

And whip me downe with laurell from her mount,

If WILLIAM Peregrine be not commended,

If I should not that pilgrims praise recount

In verse, who did in verse so far surmount:

Since thou wert that I am not, but would bee,

How can I not (sweete Poet) write of thee?

Brave LONG-SWORD in the coastes of Asia,

Displai'd the ensigne of the English fame;

And neere Nile-bord'ring Alexandria,

Engrav'd with steeled sword faire Albions name

In characters, which valours art did frame;

Where gainst the Saracens (who Christ defied)

He boldly dying fought, and fighting died.

Renowned MADOCKE, Princes sonne of Wales,

Brave Cambro-britton uncontrol'd by might,

Blowne by successfull fortunes prosperous gales,

In discontentment (most victorious knight)

Left his rich Princedome, left to him by right,

Betweene his brethren in dissention:

A crowne twixt brethren breedes contention.

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Before COLVMBVS ere set foote in Inde,

He did discover Nov' Hispania;

Before VESPVCIVS liv'd, did MADOCKE finde

The world, cald after him America;

He saw the famous Terra Florida:

Little regarding all their gaine and store,

Honour he gain'd, and MADOCKE sought no more.

What coast or countrie knowes not MANDEVIL,

His pilgrimage of three and thirtie yeeres,

A vowed votarie to honour still,

Vnequaliz'd by valours chiefest peeres?

Whose travels legend whosoever heares,

May doubt (if men for merites sainted bee)

Which should be Albons saint, ALBANE or hee.

Couragious CABOT, brave Venetian borne,

Fostred with honour-breathing English aire,

Victorious, HENRIES name the more t'adorne,

And to emblazon Troynovant the faire,

Vnto the farmost climates made repaire;

And by the Southern and Septentrion,

Measur'd the fame of famous Albion.

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Light-lesse and name-lesse Prima-vista laie,

Till from his eies it borrowed name and light;

Flora did never Florida aray,

Roses, nor lillyes shew'd their shining sp'rite,

Till it was ros'd and lilied with his sight:

Thrise happy sight that verdant spring composes,

By strewing lands with lillyes, and with roses.

By Labradars high Promontorie Cape,

Beyond the Iles of Cuba, CABOT sayl'd,

Discovering Baccalaos uncouth shape;

The mightie Silver-river not conceal'd,

His tributorie sandes to him reveal'd;

Nor sdained it to be a tributour,

Vnto the Oceans mightie Emperour.

Honour of England, brave SEBASTIAN,

Mirrour of Brittan magnanimitie,

Although by birth a right Venetian,

Yet for thy valour, art, and constancie,

Due unto England from thy infancie:

Venice, thou claim'dst his birth, England his art,

Now iudge thy selfe which hath the better part.

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WYNDAM, although thy rash temeritie,

Hastning to rendlesse gaine, gain'd hastned end;

And though improvident celeritie,

Too soone accelerated death did send:

Yet since so far thy valour did extend,

And death for rashnes made full satisfaction,

Why should not fame advance thy valorous action?

When valours fire enflam'd young Isadas,

Rashlie to venture battaile unregarded;

His rashnes by a mulct corrected was,

But with a crowne his valour was rewarded,

Because his prowesse had the Spartans guarded:

For if by rashnesse valour have got honour,

We blame the rashnes, but rewarde the valour.

Then WYNDAM, though thy high-resolved thought,

A hare-brain'd hardiment had ill prevented;

Yet since so deere thou hast this rashnes bought,

Which at the fatall rate of death was rented,

Let envie with misfortune be contented:

Had'st thou Vlysses head to Hectors hart,

The world a braver peere could not impart.

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With like misfortune (though unlike advise)

Did fame-enobled WILLOVGHBY intend

A famous actions haplesse enterprise;

Arzina saw his lamentable end,

Which her eternal-winters frost did send:

Though freezing cold benum'd his vitall flame,

Heate shall not hurt, nor cold consume his Fame.

Fortune not alwaie good, nor alwaie ill,

Willing to shew her mercie with her powre,

Feasted on others falles (as seem'd) her fill,

Smil'd with a mild aspect on CHAVNCELOVR,

Making herselfe his dailie oratour:

Heereby (quoth shee) the world shall know my powrs,

How Fortune sometime laughes, as well as lowres.

Forth-with for him a barke her selfe shee fram'd,

Inchaunting it with an almightie charme;

Which shee the blis-full Bon-adventure nam'd,

Which winde, nor wave, nor heat, nor cold could harme,

While her omnipotence the same did arme,

Guiding it safelie to Moscovia,

Safelie reducing it from Russia.

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Bold with successe, and prowd on fortunes favour,

Againe his loftie sailes he doth advaunce,

Allur'd by silvers soule-attractive savour:

But fortune (like the moone in change and chaunce,

That never twise doth shew like countenaunce)

At Pettislego drench'd him in the seaes:

Thus most she hurts, when most she seemes to please.

O tempt not Fortune, shee will not be tempted,

Her thunder followes, when her lightning's donne;

Her dangers are fore-seene, but not prevented;

When shee doth frowne, thinke shee will smile anone;

And when shee smiles, thinke not her frownes are gone:

What doth her laughter but her lowr's importune?

Misfortune followes him that tempteth fortune.

Aske the Wingandicoa savages

They can relate of GRINVILE, and his deedes▪

The Iles of Flores, and Azores, these

Extol his valour and victorious meedes;

While Spaines grip't hart fresh streams of anguish bleeds:

His worth withall the world his praise made even,

But he scorn'd earth, and therefore went to heaven.

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What time out-sliding thought so far could flie,

As did heroique CAVENDISH drive his sailes?

The great Magores kingdome did he see,

Where freezing Boreas rings his northern peales,

Gainst whose benumming blast no heate availes:

His prowesse hath beene knowne to Mallaca,

And to her neighbour-bord'ring Bengala.

Knighted by honour in deserts faire field,

Death-scorning GILBERT, chronicled by fame,

To Englands Monarchesse did force to yeeld

The savage lande (that New-found now we name)

Making wilde people milde, submisse, and tame.

O were mens lives unto their praises tied!

Then, noble GILBERT, never hadst thou died.

But cursed fates did crosse brave CHIDLIES thought,

(O that brave thoughts by fates still cross'd should be!)

Nothing but worth his hungrie humour sought,

Nothing but honours Nectar thirsted hee,

When death untimely did exact his fee:

But CHIDLIE, that which death took frō thy daies,

Honour shall adde to thine immortall praise.

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If searching labyrinths inextricable,

By hard adventures, and ambiguous waies,

To purchase glorie, and renowne be able,

And meritorious of eternall praise;

Then FROBISHER out-lives the Sybils daies:

What death tooke from his life, this gives his name:

Death hath no dart to slaie deserved fame.

Out of the concave cavern's of the earth,

Her golden-oared entrals he descri'd,

Exiling famine, povertie, and dearth,

These precious bowels having once espi'd,

Where massie gold ingorged did abide:

He recompensed natures iniurie,

That gives earth gold, and leaves men povertie.

Rich China, and faire Met' Incognita,

Admir'd his valour, and extold his fame,

Cathaia, and the great America,

The dangerous straights that yet doe bear his name,

Are monumentall annals of the same;

Annals, wherein posteritie shall reade,

How fame the living salves, revives the dead.

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Now drop my pen in inke of drery teares,

A name of late of laughter, and of ioye;

But now (ô death, the agent of our feares!)

A name of dolour and of dire annoye,

The sad memoriall of the fates destroye;

HAVVKINS (ô now my hart cleave thou a sunder!)

In naming him (me seemes) I name a wonder.

Epitome of Gods, heavens conterfaire,

Fames Pyramis, honours imagerye,

Highe throne, wherein all vertues made their seate,

True prospective of immortalitie,

Faire mirrour of celestiall maiestie:

White palme, whose silver boughes inharbour'd rest,

Snowe-feath'red swan, the Nestor of the West.

Nestor in wisedome, art, and pollicie,

Nestor in knowledge, skyll and prudencie;

Nestor in counsell, and in gravitie,

Nestor in wit, fore-sight, and modestie,

Nestor in might, and magnanimitie:

O would he had (as he had Nestors haires)

Enioyed Nestors age, and Nestors yeares!

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A mortall man more then a man of late,

(If mortall man more then a man maie be)

Since his lifes calender is out of date,

And deaths new-yeare exactes his custom'd fee,

No more a man, nor mortall now is hee:

No more a man, because of breath bereaven,

Mortall no more, because a saint in heaven.

CLIFFORD, a name that still was ominous,

Prefiguring an high-resolved minde,

Victorious, vent'rous, vertuous, valorous,

Eternall adiunctes to that noble kinde,

By natures secret influence assign'd;

Who can denie that names are ominous?

For CLIFFORDS name hath still beene valorous.

O had he perish'd in his enterprise,

(As did th' inventour of that brasen beast)

Who first that fatall engin did devise

The dismall Gunne, the actour of unrest,

Whose thunder-bolts do pearce the strongest brest:

O had he perish'd in his mothers wombe,

And that which gave him life, had beene his tombe!

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Now is the consummation of your griefe,

The fates have set full period to your paine▪

He, who on earth was all your hearts reliefe,

Whose absence you in heaven it selfe did plaine,

(If plaints attach them that in heaven remaine)

In heaven is now associate of your ioie,

Your glad, our griefe; your pleasure, our annoie.

You, whose exploites the world it selfe admired,

Admire the strange exploites of peereles DRAKE;

And you whom nether lands nor sea's have tired,

Have tir'd your tongues when they rehearsall make

What hard adventures he did undertake;

Then if that such Atlantes are too weake,

What marvell, if this waight our shoulders breake?

O you once matchlesse monarches of the seas,

But now advanced to an higher place,

Invested Vice-roy's and high Satrapes,

In that faire palace neere the milken race;

O thinke not that his praise doth yours deface:

If he be iustlie prais'd, you iustlie graced,

Your graces by his praise are not defaced.

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What though his worth above yours is extold?

Yet thereby is not yours extenuated:

What though your neighbours iewels dearer sold,

Than for the price whereat your gemme is rated;

What thereby is your Diamond abated?

Wherefore to give both him and you your due▪

I saie he was the best, the next were you.

Like as some travel-tired passenger,

By silent-sliding Thames rose-shadow'd side

(Poore care-accloyed pilgrime traveler,)

Sits downe to view the sight-reviving slide,

The wanton-bubling waters gentle glide;

Smiling to see the rivers quav'ring flankes,

Dallie upon the daysie-diap'red bankes.

Thus while he feasteth both his eies and eares

With native musicke sweeter then a mans,

(Like to a showre of silver snowe) appeares

A flight of alabaster-feath'red swans;

Whose number while his sence amasing scans,

Forth-with an other flight his minde doth comber,

And thus doth number bring him out of number.

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So in the May-tide of his sommer age.

Valour enmov'd the minde of ventious DRAKE,

To lay his life with winds and waves in gage,

And bold and hard adventures t' undertake,

Leaving his countrie for his countr [...]'s sake;

Loathinge the life that cowardise doth staine,

Preferting death, if death might honour gaine.

At Cuba silver, at Coquimbo gold,

At China cloth and precious silkes he found,

Pearle at the Pearled Iles he did behold;

Rich Couchanelo hoarded did abound,

Imbosom'd in Tichamachalco's ground:

Thus his industrious labour still did raise

The publique profite, and his private praise.

As Nilus with his inundation

Vpon all Aegypt fertile fat lesse showrs;

Or as Euphrates on the Chaldee nation

An over-flowing floud of plentie powrs,

And graceth all the continent with flowrs:

So DRAKE his countrie fil'd with store & plentie,

And filling it, himselfe was almost emptie.

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Whereas the night can never finde a place

The suns eternall shining to asswage;

Whereas the sun durst never shew his face,

For feare of icye winters choaking rage;

Nations unknown unto the antique age:

There hath he bene, and made eternall light,

Where, but for him, had bene eternall night.

Plung'd in the Ocean of perplexities,

With waves of death, and windes of black despaire,

Amid the Scyllas of uncertainties,

With sourges of sad death and drery feare,

Which to the skies their billowes oft did reare:

Scorne-fortune DRAKE by fortunes rage was borne,

The more she rag'd, the more he did her scorne.

Where dismall dread, and agonizinge deathe

Hovers about them with their hellish wings,

Still threatning to intoxicate their breath,

And stop the conduicts of the vitall springs,

That nutrimentall spirites to them brings;

Even in the laws of death did valor beare him,

That death himself might know DRAKE did not fear him.

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O heavens, why take you that which late you gave?

O seas, why hold you him that once held you?

O earth, how hast thou miss'd that thou did'st crave?

O England, how art thou bereft thy due?

O unto whom wilt thou for comfort sue?

To earth? why that's partaker of thy mone:

To heavens? ah they with-hold that is thine owne?

O now descend my ever-mourning Muse

Downe from the by-cliffe of thy sisters mount;

Forsake Cytheron, nor frequent the use

Of th' amber weeping Pegase-hoofe-made fount,

Now prune thy wings, aloft thou maist not mount:

Sighe forth the humble modell of thy woe;

For ioie ascends, but sorrow sings below.

Now chaunge thy winter-scorning lawrell boughes,

That made thy temples swell with mounting braine:

And with sad cypresse all begirt thy browes,

The drerie ensignes of ensuing paine,

Sad presentations of a tragicke vaine;

In whose broade leaves spectatours cies maie see,

The deepe-grav'd characters of extasie.

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Now leave Pernassus heaven-aspiring mountaine,

For sad Avernus hel-depressed plaines:

Leave Aganippes hony-bubling fountaine,

Whereby the Muses Chorus still remaines,

And to the waters warble forth their straines:

Leave Aganippe for the Stygian lake,

And for the fiendes the Muses songs forsake.

In steede of Helicons greene-varnisht grove

Walke in the silent shade of Erebus:

In steede of Ida (where the ladies strove,

Before the braine-sicke sonne of Priamus)

Frequent the bloomy walkes of Taenarus:

Weare sable Heben for the springing bay,

Chaunge ioies aucoutrements for griefes aray.

Sorrow be thou my Muse, sadnesse my song,

And death the subiect that I versifie:

The destinies despight, and fortunes wronge,

Is that which now I must historifie,

In silent cell of sad Melancholie:

My Heben pen shall poure out ynkie teares,

That he maie weepe that reades, he sigh that heares.

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But that which Jove and destinie hath don,

Men may lament, but never disanull:

And they that checke me for presumption,

(When love constrain'd me write, though I were dull)

Blaming presumption, must praise love at full:

And easilie the fault may be redressed,

Where love and dutie only have transgressed.

Now was the mon'the that olde Sextilis name

Chaung'd by the Roman Senates sage decree:

And gloryinge so to innovate the same,

To have himselfe new-christ'ned did agree,

Proud, that Augustus god-father should bee:

While Ceres clad him in a mantle fayre

Of bearded corne still quavering with the ayre:

When as a royall fleete, with ioyfull mindes,

(O how mishap is neerest still to ioy!)

Daringe their hopes, and lives to sea, and windes,

(Two trustlesse treasurers, full of annoye)

Did toward the westerne Indes their course imploy:

Whose guide to DRAKE, & HAWKINS was assign'd,

When they went forth, ô who would stay behinde?

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Whether to win from Spaine that was not Spaines,

Or to acquite us of sustained wronge,

Or intercept their Indian hoped gaines,

Thereby to weaken them, and make us stronge;

Heere to discusse, to me doth not belong:

Yet if griefe maie saie truth by natures lawes,

Ill was th' effect, how good so-ere the cause.

Now are they on the seas, resolv'd to proove

The mercie of a mercie-wanting wave:

England behinde them lies, there lies their love;

Before them, and about them aire they have,

And sometime foggie mists their sight bereave:

Beneath them, seas; above them, skies they finde:

Seas full of waves, skies threatning stormes & winde.

O Neptune, never like thy selfe in shew,

Inconstant, variable, mutable,

How dost thou Proteus-like thy forme renew?

O whereto is thy change imputable?

O whereunto art thou best suteable?

Rightly the moone predominateth thee,

For thou art all as changeable as shee.

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Thus still ambiguous twixt feare and hope,

Feare in the stormes, and hope in calmer tide;

Passing saint Michaels promontorie toppe,

At length the bay of Portingale they spi'de,

Where not determining long time t' abide,

Againe they venter on their daungers source,

And to the Grand Canaries bend their course.

Now passe in silence, ô my drouping pen,

So manie famous townes and ports past by.

Some tooke, some burnt, some unassaulted then,

As that Port Rico, place of miserie,

Where (ô!) great HAWKINS, & brave CLIFFORD lie;

The taking of the citty Hatch conceale,

Nor many other brave attempts reveale:

Only two base ignoble places tell,

Famous for nothing, but for death and dreade:

Where (ô!) that, which my Muse lamentes, befell,

The stages where our tragedie was plaide,

Th' one Scudo, th' other Portabella saide:

Both to be rased out of memorie,

But for memoriall of this tragedie.

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O wherefore should so manie famous places,

Worthie eternall memorie and fame,

Be heere conceal'd, unworthy such disgraces,

And these two should be registred by name,

Though meritorious of eternall blame?

But some are sometime named to their shames,

And therefore must I tell these places names.

Whether of both was in the greatest fault,

I know not, nor I care not much to knowe:

(Far deeper passions now my minde assault:)

Thus much I know (ô that I knew not so!)

Both iointlie ioin'd to aggravate our woe;

Since he on whom his countries hope relied,

At Scudo sickned, at Portbella died.

Accursed Ile, whose life-impoys'ning aire,

Intoxicates his sanctified breath!

But most accursed port that did impaire

That flesh, compacted of the purest earth,

And made the same a sacrifice to death!

O let them languish in eternall night,

That did extinguish earths faire-shining light!

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O let these places be earth's dismall hell,

Th' inhabitants eternall-tortur'd ghosts,

The snaky-hayred Furies loathsome cell,

Swarming with fiends and damned spirites hoasts,

And palpable thick fogs infect the coasts:

And bee this never-ending purgatorie

A place of pennance for DRAKES wofull story.

O soule, exhale out of thy deepest center

The sorrow-sobbing sighes of extasie;

O let thy voice heavens territories enter,

Breathe forth into the aires concavitie

The dismall accents of thy tragedie:

Call heaven and earth to witnesse of thy woe,

How that thy griefe doth heaven and earth oreflowe.

O let our clamours to the skies repaire;

O let our smoake-exhalinge breaths enfold

A mightie cloud of sighes amid the aire,

Like vapours in the element enrold

By Sol's attractive powre expellinge cold;

Till being dissolv'd, they shal on earth againe

Powre downe a deluge of teare-showring raine.

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Now dusky clouds have overcast the sunne,

That latelie bright translucent splendour shed

In radiant rayes, that from his beames did runne

Into earth's eyes, with darknesse dazeled,

Since first these clouds his face incurtained:

A darke eclipse obscures his shining light,

That latelie made cleare day in darkest night.

Behold the loftie Cedars statelie toppe,

Whilome attir'd in summers riche aray,

That in the skies his prowd heade did enwrap,

Now are his greene-silke leaves gon to decay,

His tufted boughes, and braunches falne awaie:

And since his nutrimentall sap is perisht,

He falling breakes the trees he latelie cherisht.

He, that the bravest Champion was accounted

Boldlie t' incounter with the proudest foe;

Now from his statelie courser is dismounted,

And hath by death receiv'd an overthrowe,

Vnto the worlds inconsolable woe:

The tournament turn'd to lamenting feares,

And all the triumphs into ruthfull teares.

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A sacred Temple edifi'd to Fame,

Where honour annuallie did sacrifice

An holy Hecatombe to her name,

Now, level'd with the earth, everted lies:

This onlie comfort have the votaries;

That though the temple thus be over-blowne,

The sacred saint shall nere be overthrowne.

The vulture anguish [...]ireth on my mawe,

Sorrow hath ceazed on my grieved hart:

There doth he without intermission gnawe,

From hence the other never can depart,

But still begins, and never endes my smart:

And thus poore I, twixt sorrow and twixt anguish,

Doe neither live nor die, but alwaie languish.

Ay me! what shall I doe this griefe t' alaie?

Shall I with fained smiles my smart conceale?

Ah no! like fire, it will it selfe bewraie:

Or shall I sue to heaven his backe repeale?

Ah no! such sutes with heaven can nere prevaile:

What therefore shall I doe this griefe t' alaie?

Still grieve, till Death take griefe and life awaie.

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O Death inhous'd in hells profundities,

Now excercise on mee thy tyranie:

Anatomize me into atomies,

Set period to my full falne extasie,

Prolong no longer this long tragedie:

O Death some ease unto my sorrow send:

For Death, they say, doth griefe and sorrow end.

What say they? Death doth griefe and sorrow end?

O how they are deceav'd in saying so!

Death onlie did this griefe and sorrow send:

Death was the onlie agent of our woe,

Death was our drerie and our dismall foe:

For had not Death himselfe subdued DRAKE.

The world beside could not him captive make.

This onelie comfort is unto us left,

(O simple comfort in so great distresse!)

That no prowd Spaniard hath his life bereft,

No man may boast he caus'd our wretchednesse,

Nor triumph he subdued earths worthinesse:

But onlie Death our treasure hath bereaven,

And that was due to earth, he gave to heaven.

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To heaven? ah why is heaven covetous?

Why are the Gods (ô pardon griefe) so greedie,

To ravish from the earth, the precious,

And leave to us th' unworthie, base, and needie?

O heavens, what can our harmes and losses steed yee?

Ah Jove! if thou beest rightly term'd a giver,

Why dost thou take from earth that shoulde relieve her?

An high disdaine enrag'd the Macedon,

And gall did grate against his eager brest,

Dreading, his father all the world had won,

And measur'd with his sword from east to west,

And he should languish in ignoble rest:

Wherefore he often wisht, two worldes had bin,

One for his father, one for him to win.

As great as Alexander in renowne,

In vertue greater farre then ever hee,

Great DRAKE on nature sometime seem'd to frowne,

That but one world, and that all knowne should be;

Wherefore he sought some other world to see:

Vntill at length so heaven he did attaine,

And finding heaven scorn'd to returne againe.

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As one, that vowes a solemne pilgrimage

To some canoniz'd Saints religious shrine,

Doth leave his solitarie hermitage,

And with a new-incensed zeale divine,

Vnto devotion doth his minde incline:

Passing the way and day in meditation,

Beguiling both with holy contemplation:

At length with often-tired tedious race,

Alwaie invoking Saints successive aide,

Arriveth at the sanctified place,

Where after all his orisons are saide,

And due oblations to his Saint are paide;

Ravisht in spirite with devoted zeale,

Becomes a Priest, and will not home repeale.

So DRAKE, the pilgrime of the world, intending

A vowed voyage unto Honours shrine,

At length his pilgrimage in heaven had ending,

Where ravisht with the ioies more than divine,

That in the temple of the Gods doe shine:

There did a never-dying life renew,

Bidding base earth, and all the world, adewe.

[Page]

Intending for to worke his countries pleasure.

O cruell chance! he wrought his countries paine:

And minding to augment faire Englands treasure,

(Alasse!) he drowned in the Ocean maine

The richest treasure England did containe,

Save one rare iewell, whose rich price is such,

As none can either prize, or praise too much.

What treasure was it then that DRAKE hath lost?

It was not silver, silver yeeldes to gold:

It was not gold, pearle is of greater cost:

Nor pearle, for precious stones are dearer sold:

Yet precious stones this treasure did not hold:

O no! it was himselfe, more worth alone

Then silver, gold, or pearle, or precious stone.

O dire mischance! ô lamentable losse!

Impov'rishing the riches of our Ile,

O wherefore should sinister dest'nie crosse,

And with her frowne incurtaine fortunes smile?

O now I see she smiles but to beguile!

O Fortune alwaie to deserts unkinde!

That England lost, not all the world can finde.

[Page]

O let us loose our sight with shedding teares,

And with eternall weeping loose our eies,

Loose breath with sighes, loose minde with drerie feares,

Loose sence with terror, and loose voice with cries,

Still meditating on our miseries:

Since we have found his losse, he lost his breath,

Since we haue lost his helpe, he found his death.

But oh! why doe we breake our hearts with griefe,

And to the sencelesse aire sigh forth our grones?

Sith all in vaine, heavens send us no reliefe,

But stop their eares against our piteous mones;

Our sighes as soone maie penetrate the stones,

As heavens hard eares: ô therefore doe we plaine,

And therefore weepe, because we weepe in vaine.

We weepe in vaine, because for him we weepe,

Since he with saints in thought-surmounting ioie▪

At Joves great festivall doth revell keepe,

Where neither scarsitie doth him annoie,

Nor loath'd satietie his minde accloy:

O since that he from us is gone to blisse,

We doe lament our owne mishap, not his.

[Page]

The fairest plot in all th' Elisian field,

By Joves commaund, is unto him assign'd;

And heavens eternall Summer-house doth yeeld,

A paradise unto his soule refin'd,

For sacred contemplation of the minde:

And as of men to Gods he was the neerest,

So now to Jove of Gods he is the deerest.

And if his death be rightfully respected,

Some ioie it hath to mitigate our woe;

For that which for our country is effected,

Is good, though death with these effectes doth goe,

And well he dies, that dies gainst countries foe:

Therefore though death unto him did betide,

(O ioyfull end!) DRAKE for his countrie di'd.

DRAKE for his country di'd, ô ioyfull end!

This ioyfull ende beganne his countries woe:

His glorious death his country did defend,

And yet his death did grieve his country so,

As flouds of sorrow doe her overflowe:

Well did he die, that for his country died,

Had not his countries death to his beene tied.

[Page]

This end began our woe, ended our pleasure,

This end did end our weale, began our paine,

This end began our losse, ended our treasure,

This end did end our mirth, began our plaine,

This end began our griefe, ended our gaine,

This end did end reliefe, began annoy;

O then no ioyfull end, but end of ioy!

Spaine, clap thy hands, while we our hands do wringe,

And while wee weepe, laughe thou at our distresse,

While wee doe sob and sighe, sit thou and singe,

Smile thou, while wee lament with heavinesse,

While wee our griefe, do thou thy ioy expresse:

Since hee, who made us triumph, and thee quake,

Hath ceas'd to live; ô most victorious DRAKE.

Proud Spaine, although our Dragon be bereft vs,

Wee rampant Lions have enowe for thee:

Magnanimous ESSEX (heav'ns delight) is left vs,

And ô long may the heavens let him be!

Greate COMBERLAND and HOWARD yet have we;

And ô long may wee have them, and enioy

These worthies to our wealth, and thine annoy.

[Page]

These yet survive (o may they so for ever!)

To make eternall thunder in thine eares

With their hart-daunting names, and (like a fever)

To make thee tremble all distraught with feares,

When thou th' alarume of their trumpets heares:

ELISA lives, and while ELISA raignes

One England neede not feare an hundred Spaines.

And that deare bodie held in Neptunes wombe,

By Jove shalbe translated to the skie:

The sea no more, heaven then shall be his tombe,

Where he a new-made star eternallie

Shall shine, transparent to spectatours eie:

A fearefull comet in the sight of Spaine,

But shall to us a radiant light remaine.

He, who alive to them a Dragon was,

Shalbe a Dragon unto them againe,

For with his death his terrour shall not passe,

But still amid the aire he shall remaine

A dreadfull Meteor in the eie of Spaine:

And as a fierie Dragon, shall portend

Englandes successe, and Spaines disaster end.

[Page]

Knowne to the heavens by honour long before,

Now by the presence of th'immortall soule,

O new-made saint, (for now a man no more)

Admit my tender infant Muse t' inroule

Thy name in honours everlasting scroule:

What though thy prayses cannot live by me?

Yet may I hope to live by praysing thee.

And may thy prayses live a while by me,

Though praysing thus I doe but staine thy praise:

And I awhile may live by praysing thee:

Vntill some heavenlie Muse begin to rayse

Thy fame from grave to live eternall dayes:

If ominous birds beguile not with their song,

I augurize, this shall be done ere long.

Phoebus himselfe shall chronicle thy fame,

And of a radiant sunne-beame make the pen;

The inke, the milke whence Via Lactea came;

Th' empyrean he aven, the volume shalbe then;

To register this miracle of men:

The sunne and moone, the letters capitall;

The stars, the commas and the periods all.

[Page]

Joves silver foote-stoole shall be librarie

That shall these Actes and Monuments containe;

Which that they maie to after ages tarie,

And as a true memoriall still remaine,

Eternitie is th' adamantine chaine:

And that the heavēs stil on DRAKES praise may look,

The Gods shall reade, and Saintes peruse the booke.

Quis Martem tunica tectum adamantina Dignè scripserit?

FINIS.

[Page]

§

§

[Page]

[Page]

SIR FRANCIS DRAKE, His Honorable lifes commendation, and his Tragicall Deathes lamentation. *⁎*

Conamur tenues grandia.

AT OXFORD, Printed by Ioseph Barnes, and are to bee solde in Pauls Church-yard at the signe of the Bible. 1596.

TO THE BEAVTEOVS, AND vertuous Lady ELIZABETH, late wife unto the highlie renowmed SIR FRANCIS DRAKE deceased.

[Page]

[Page]

DIvorc'd by Death, but wedded still by love,

(For love by Death can never be divorced)

Loe Englands Dragon, thy true turtle Dove,

To seeke her make is now againe enforced.

Like as the Sparrow from the Castrels ire

Made his Asylum in the wise-mans fist:

So he, and I his tongues-man, doe require

Thy sanctuarie, Envie to resist.

So may heroique DRAKE, whose worth gave wings

Vnto my Muse that nere before could flie,

And taught her tune these harsh discordant strings,

A note above her rurall minstralsie,

Live in himselfe, and I in him may live,

Thine eies to both vitalitie shall give.

Your Ladiships vertues devoted, CHARLES FITZ-GEFFREY,

To the Authour.

[Page]

[Page]

ONce dead, and twise alive, thrise worthie DRAKE,

And worthie thou by whome he lives againe:

O would that thou who him alive dost make,

A life unto thy selfe by him might'st gaine!

But if thou canst not get this for thy paine,

Yet will I offer heart and pen to thee,

And if one faile, the other thine shalbe.

Sure one will faile; the other thine shalbe,

Admitting thee into her chiefest part;

Wishing that art with nature would agree,

To ioine an able pen with loving hart,

That to the world shee might her minde impart:

So hart imagine should, and art indite,

And art and hart should both thy praises write.

But now let DRAKE, unto whose shrine thou singest

These lamentable accents on his tombe,

Retribute part to thee of that thou bringest,

And make thee famous, though himselfe be dumbe;

So by thy praising, shall thy prayses come:

Then let thy swan-sweet verse sing to a DRAKE,

And that which makes him, shall thee famous make.

R. R.

To C. F.

[Page]

VVHen to the bankes of sweete Elysium

Came worthy DRAKE, to get his passage there▪

The ferriman denied his ghost to come,

Before his exequies solemniz'd were:

But none t' adorne his funerall hearse did prove:

And long he sate vpon the hoplesse shoare.

Vntill thy Muse (whome pittie still did move)

Helpt thee to rise, and him to rest no more:

And sent her mournefull teares unto his ghost,

And sweete (though sad) complaintes as exequies,

Passing him to those fields which long he lost,

And won his soule the ioy, thy pen the prise:

So still thy funeralles shall adorne his name,

And [...]ll his funeralles shall enlarge thy fame.

F. R.

To the Authour.

[Page]

ENglands Vlysses, slaine by mortall fates,

His bodie Tethys caught within her armes,

Jove plac'd his soule amid the heavenlie states,

Setting him free from fortune-tossing harmes,

From Scylla's gulfes, and Circes deadlie charmes:

And both did chuse a place to keepe his pray,

Tethys her lap, but Jove the Milke-white Waye.

Yet shall his fame, his worth▪ his worthy deedes,

Eterniz'd by thy verse, amonge us dwell,

And whatsoever after-age succeedes,

Vnto posteritie the same shall tell,

And make thy prayses with his owne excell:

Time that doth all things else in time devoure,

Shall never have thy name within her power.

Old GEFFREY CHAVCER, Englands auncient Muse,

And mirrour of the times that did ensue,

Yeelded to death, that nere admits excuse;

But now in thee he seemes to live a newe,

(If grave Pythagoras sage sawes be true:)

Then sith old GEFFREY's spirite lives in thee,

Rightlie thou named art FITZ-GEFFERY.

D. W.

Information about this book

Title statement

Sir Francis Drake his honorable lifes commendation, and his tragicall deathes lamentation.

Fitz-Geffry, Charles, 1575?-1638.

Edition statement

1596

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2008-09 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A00823

ID [STC]

STC 10943

ID [STC]

ESTC S105617

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99841344

ID [PROQUEST]

99841344

ID [VID]

5920

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Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A00823)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 5920)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 226:15)

Source

— Sir Francis Drake his honorable lifes commendation, and his tragicall deathes lamentation., Fitz-Geffry, Charles, 1575?-1638..

Extent

[104] p.

Printed by Ioseph Barnes, and are to bee solde in Pauls Church-yard at the signe of the Bible,. At Oxford :: 1596.. (Dedication signed: Charles Fitz-Geffrey.) (In verse.) (Signatures: A⁴ B-G.) (The poems on A3r,v are signed "R.R." and "F.R.". Variant 1: poems signed "Richard Rous" and "Francis Rous". Variant 2: with an additional leaf following A4, with a Latin poem by T. Michelborne.) (Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery.)

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