THE FORTVNATE FAREWE [...] to the most forward and noble Earle of Essex, one of the honorable priuie Counsel, Earle high Marshal of Eng­land, Master of the horse, Master of the ordinance, Knight of the garter, & Lord Lieutenant general of all the Queenes Maiesties forces in Ireland.

Dedicated to the right Honorable the Lord HARRY SEAMER, second sonne to the last Duke of Sommerset.

Written by Thomas Churchyard Esquire.

Printed at London by Edm. Bollifant, for William Wood at the west doore of Powles. 1599

[...] Thomas Churchyard wisheth continuance of vertue, blessednesse of minde, and wished felicitie.

IN all duty (my good Lord) I am bold, because your most honorable father the Duke of Sommerset (vncle to the renowmed impe of grace noble King Edward the sixt) fauoured me when I was troubled before the Lords of the Counsell, for writing some of my first verses: in [...]uit all whereof euer since I haue honored all his noble race, and know­ [...] your Lordship in sea seruices forward and ready in all honorable [...]ner (sparing for no charges) when the Spanyards approched neere [...]countrie, I bethought me how I might be thankfull for good turnes [...]nd of your noble progente, though vnable therefore finding my [...]e vnfurnished of all things woorthy presentation and acceptance, I [...]ke occasion of the departure of a most woorthy Earle towardes the [...]uice in Ireland, so made a present to your Lordship of his happy Fare­ [...]ll as I hope: and trust to l [...]ue and see his wished welcome home. This [...]rewell onely deuised to stirre vp a threefold manly courage to the reenarie multitude of sold [...]ers, that follow this Marshall like Gene­ [...]l, and especially to mooue all degrees in generall loyally to serue our [...]d Queene Elizabeth, and valiantly to go through with good reso­ [...]ion the acceptable seruice they take in hand. Which true seruice shall [...]louble their renowne, and enroll their names in the memoriall booke [...]fame for euer. I feare I leade your Lordship too farre with the flou­ [...] of a fruitlesse pen, whose blandishing phrase makes many to gaze [...] and few to consider well of and regarde. My plot is onely l [...]ude to [...]chase good will of vertuous people, what the rest thinke, let their [...]sconstruing conceires answere their owne idle humors. This plaine [...]esent winning your Lordships good liking, shall passe with the grea­ [...] grace to his honorable hands, that the praiers & power of good men [...]ites willingly vpon towards the reformation of wicked rebellion.

Your L [...]in [...]ll at commandement, [...] Thoma [...] Churchyard.

The happy Farewell to the fortunate and forward most noble Earle of Essex.

NOw SCIPIO sails, to Affrick far from hoem
The Lord of hoests, and battels be his gied,
Now when green trees, begins to bud and bloem,
On Irish seas, ELIZAS ships shall ried,
A warliek band, of worthy knights I hoep,
Aer armd for fight, a bloedy brunt to bied,
With rebels shall, boeth might and manhoed coep
Our contreis right, and quarrell to be tried:
Right maeks wrong blush, and troeth bids falshed f [...]
The sword is drawn, TYROENS dispatch draws ny [...]
A traitor must, be taught to know his king,
When MARS shal march, with shining sword in ha [...]
A crauen cock, cries creak and hangs down wing,
Will run about, the shraep and daer not stand,
When cocks of gaem, coms in to giue a bloe,
So false TYROEN, may faint when he would fight,
Thogh now alowd, on dunghill doth he croe,
Traitors wants hart, and often taeks the flight:
When rebels see, they aer surpriesd by troeth,
Pack hence in haest, away the rebels goeth.
[...]oud trecherous trash, is curbd & knockt with bloes,
[...] loftie mindes, with force are beaten down,
[...]ainst the right, though oft rued rebels roes,
[...]t oen sped well, that did impeach a crowne.
[...]ad the Annaels, of all the Princes past,
[...]hear treasons still, are punisht in their kinde,
[...]ear shall you see, when faithfull men stand fast,
[...]se traytors still, are but a blast of winde:
[...]rhe that first, formd kings and all degrees,
[...]e ruel of staets, and kingdoms ouersees.
[...]t and rage, this rank rebellion breeds,
[...]ock and spoyl, sets bloudshed so abroetch,
[...]ethles attempts, their filthy humor feeds,
[...]hnes runs on, all hedlong to reproetch:
[...]dnes begaet, theas helhounds all a roe,
[...] sons of shaem, and childern of Gods wraeth,
[...]th woluish minds, liek breetchles beares they goe,
[...]ow woods and bogs, and many a crooked paeth:
[...]ng liek dogs, in litter, dung and strawe,
[...]ed as bruet beasts, that knoes ne ruel nor lawe.
Fostred from faith, and fear of God or man,
Vnlernd or taught, of any graces good,
Nurst vp in vice, whear false hed first began,
Mercyles boern, still sheading giltles blood.
Libertiens lewd, that all good order haets,
Murtherers viel, of wemen great with childe,
Cruell as kiets, despising all estaets,
Diulishly bent, boeth currish, stern and wilde:
Their whoel deuice, is rooet of mischeeues all,
That seeks a plaeg, on their own heds to fall.
Will God permit, such monsters to beare sway,
His iustice haets, the steps of tyrants still,
Their damnable deeds, craues vengeance euery day
Which God doth scourge, by his own blessed will,
He planteth force, to fling down feeble strength,
Men of mutch worth, to weaken things of noght,
Whoes cloked craft, shall suer be seen at length,
When vnto light, dark dealings shall be broght:
Sweet ciuill Lords, shall sawsy fellowes meet,
Who must ask grace, on knees at honors feet.
[...]uednes may range, a while in ruffling sort,
As witlesse wights, with wandring maeks world mues
[...]ut when powre coms, to cut prowd practise short,
[...]nd shoe by sword, how subiects Prince abues,
[...]hen conshens shall, Peccaui cry in feeld,
[...]remble and quaek, mutch liek an Aspin leaf,
[...]ut when on knees, do conquerd captiues yeeld,
[...]he victor turns, his hed as he wear deaf:
[...]ueth is grown cold, reuenge is hot as fier,
And mercy sits, with frowns in angry attier.
World past forgaue, great faults and let them pas,
[...]ime present loeks, on futuer time to com,
All aegis sawe, their follies in a glas,
Yet were not taught, by time nor sound of drom,
This world groes blinde, and neither sees nor heers,
Their senses fail, the wits and reason faints,
Old world is waxt, worm eaten by long yeers,
And men becom, black diuels that were saints:
[...]et Gods great grace, this wretched caus reforms,
And from fayr flowrs, weeds out the wicked worms.
They com that shall, redresse great things amis,
Pluck vp the weeds, plant roses in their place,
No violent thing, enduers long as hit is,
Falsehed flies fast, from sight of true mens face,
Traitors do fear, the plaegs for them prepard,
And hieds their heds, in hoels when troeth is seen,
Thogh gracelesse giues, to duty small regard,
Good subiects yeelds, obedience to their Queen:
In quarrels iust, do thousands offer liues,
They feel fowl bobs, that for the bucklars striues.
This Lord doth bring, for strength the fear of God,
The loue of men, and sword of iustice boeth,
Which three is to, TYROEN an iron rod,
A birtchin twig, that draws bloed whear hit goeth,
When IOAB went, to warr in DAVIDS right,
He broght hoem peace, in spite of emnies beard,
For IOZIAS, the Lord aboue did fight,
With Angels force, that maed the foes afeard:
The world doth shaek, and tremble at his frown,
Whoes beck soon casts, the brags of rebels down.
[...]and fast and suer, false traitors turns their back,
[...]rue subiects veaw, maeks haerbrain rebels blush,
[...]tout heauy bloes, maeks highest trees to crack,
[...]n armed piek, may brauely bied a push,
Wheel not about, stand stiffe liek brazen wall,
[...]or thats the way, to win the feeld in deed,
Charge the foer front, and see the emnies fall,
[...]he cowards brag, is but a rotten reed:
Victors must beare, the brunt of eury shock,
[...] constant minde, is liek a stony rock.
[...]arewell sweet Lords, Knights, Captains and the rest,
Who goes with you, taeks threefold thankfull pain,
Who sets you forth, is ten times treble blest,
Who serues you well, reaps glory for their gain,
Who dies shall liue, in faem among the best,
Who liues shall loek, and laugh theas broils to scorn,
All honest harts, doth ciuill warr detest,
And curse the time, that ear TYROEN was born:
We hoep good hap, waits on the fleet that goes,
And Gods great help, shall clean destroy our foes.

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