A canticle of the victorie obtained by the French King, Henrie the fourth. At Yvry.
O God! what glorious sun, beams bright about our bounds?
What high triumphall hymne, so sweetly shirle resounds,
In our archt temples faire? what noise runs longst our streets?
What ruddy flakes of fire with clouds high climing meets?
Then is the victory ours: and heauens most righteous wrath
Vpon the cruell campe of Leaguers showered hath.
My brows be-slick your selues, & you my throbbing thoghts
(Deepe sunke in sigh-full cels of sorrowes sable vaughts)
Soar vp to heauen againe: you sisters threefold three,
Which of your sweets some yeers haue now bin niggardlie,
And left my lips a-drie: insucket now my tong
In your best syrrops; now poure downe vpon this song
A lake of learned gold, a rich May-month of flowers:
Let not my blubbered eies disturbe with sorrowes showers
The common publike ioy: nor me dumb-thanklesse hide
Among so many Orphes, these braue Trophés tride.
Ah in my braine I feele, alreadie gin to boile
Inuentions thousand faire: and now's the fittest while
To giue my spirit carreer, whilst others whist their voice
For silence neuer long accompanies greatioies
But how, or at which end, or of what thred shall I
This rich gold-grounded web, to weaue begin to trie?
Lord, heere I will not shew, nor consecrate to fame
Of thy first braue exploits, the now far-noised name:
I will not sing of all those numbrie hoasts vndunne,
Those wals defended well, those rampires warlike [...]
By thy yoong valure great: nor will I Lyl [...] againe
[Page] Repurple with my pen: nor smeere the fertile plaine
Of Courtras with dead grease: nor shal thy fauchine dred
Now here againe cut-off thy foes vnfaith-ful head.
I will not neither now, that my learnd Calyópa
Shall cornet through the world, that whilst that our Európa
(Of Church, and King with-al, abusing th'-holie stile)
Against thee was combinde in league most law-lesse vile:
Thou, (Prince then parti-les, sans men, munition, treasure,
Prince, poore at-once in al, saue rich in hope boue measure:)
Didst seeme of thy huge hils like one of greatest height
Which beaten day and night, is stablisht by his weight,
With right-vp-lifted lookes beholds the starrie stages,
Skornes stormy winds, mocks rains, & laughs at tempests rages:
And treads-downe loftie-braue, on each assailed side,
Beneath his knobbed knees the thunders rowling pride.
I may not ouer-cast our glad thoughts watchet skie
With cloudie sad recite of passed miserie:
I may not cruel now to launce againe beginne▪
The wound which waxing whole begins a pace to skinne.
Let others storize that: Mee shal suffice to sing
That since some happy months, since thou weart Fraunce's king
Thy heau'n-holpe, hardie hand, more fenced Forts hath wonne
Then on both sides, the heads in thirtie yeres haue donne:
Al-though the swarmes beseeg'd, (in farre vn-equal count)
Of thy beseeging troupes the number did surmount;
So that there often seemes more standards of thy foes
Then in thy Kinglie Camp there single Souldiars goes.
Thou seèm'st a lightning swift, and then thy squadrons yare
Warnd of thy wil doe seeme, fethers not feet to bare:
Thy warriours wing'd with plumes of honors mounting mind
[Page] Are brauelie borne about by thy good fortunes wind:
Thou comst, thou seest, thou winst: & thou triumphant fliest,
More swifter yet then I haue these swift words deuisd.
Neere Arques onlie, prowd, the foe for certaine daies
Of thine exploits a space the expedition staies:
But as an angrie streame, whose wrathful waues for stop
The thicknes haue and height, of some new kawsies top.
His bottom vnder-mines, and wrastles with his shoare,
And stil ads (though in vaine) to forces, forces more;
Til taking to his aid the succour of the snowes
Wrath-foaming, roaring, he his prison ouer-throwes:
The forrests turui-turnes, driues downe the bridges all,
And hauing won the plaines, doth now the hils apall
Swels like a surging sea, and then his furious sope
Steales from the one her land, inlarging thothers scope:
So thou returnst to field: thou runst, incounterst, beatst,
Holds, houses, cities do wne: and ne'r thy paces seatst
Vntil fore Paris wals the rebel pále for feare
In her vast sub-urbs see thy face (which bright doth beare
Too-iust a wráth depaint) sub-urbs intrenched strong,
Sub-urbs which flancked wel with souldiars thicklie throng.
Thou takst Etampes, and then (sans losse of man almost)
Th'vnthankful Vandom's sackt by thine vn-vanquisht hoast:
Mans is assaild, and taen Falaise soone after that,
Lizieux, Eureux, and Mayn, stoop to thy standards flat:
And so doth Honfleur too: thy bumbard's brimstone thunder
Prepárd the prowdful wals of Dreux to pash in sunder,
When as the Leaguers Lord, puft with his fresh supplies
From fatal Philip sent (which Philip craftie-wise
Wide-gapeth after France; ambicious wayting still
[Page 4] For nothing, but to see our Peeres poure-out and spill
Each others life and blood, that at more easie rate,
He fox might bear-awaie the price of their debate.)
Drawes nigh thy honord hoast, Then thou whose greatest feare,
Is least he feare too-much: makst a retreat as twere,
Thou seemst to shrinke a space, coolst thy hot hart renownd
And stepst a-little backe to leape the larger ground.
Thou makst a stand, he flies: thou followst, then he staies
Both parts prepare a pace, to warres death-dealing plaies
They seeme two forrests great: each Captaine doth apart
His squadrons quicklie raunge (though quicklie yet with art)
The lightning, flashing-fire, from swords, caskes, curtilaces,
With trembling beames depaints the neighbor-growing grasses
Like as the starrie hoast, of heauenlie torches bright
Be spangles richlie-gaie the mantle of the night.
The Souldiar past his wont, his face more fearful makes,
Rage in his sparkling eies, in's mouth he railing takes,
His corslet on his backe, in's hand his fauchine fel,
Erinne to Yvry fields transport her hateful hel:
Theirs nothing heard but drūmes, fifes, clarions, trumpets noise
But sharp-shirle neighings loud, and dreadful tempests voice:
Terror is ouer al, each-where is horror spread;
Horror is each-where faire, and each-where sweeet is dread
Al readie fight their toongues, alreadie fights their gest
The valiant Knight his launce hath now-now coucht in rest
Like as for al the world when meeting on the sand
With boistrous Bul the Lion tameles hand to hand,
The Bul with nostrel wide, wrath-fuming, fearful, great
Against his enmie proud, bould bellowes out a threat
Defies his valiant foe, his head lifts loftie high,
[Page 5] With hooues the ground, with hornes he beates the breathie skie
Then thother wyding wood his sparkle-spewing throat
From hollow greedie gulph, intunes a thundering noat,
A ruth-les roaring fel: and rowles in furious wise
Beneath his bug-beare browes his brandie blazing eies
He reares (in rearing high his crest) his courage stout,
And spurs his rage a-pace with fisking traine about.
The cannon is prepard, dischargd, hand-stroks begin,
The neighbours, brethren, freinds, the cousens, and the kin,
All eies of duetie cloze, and open eies to know
Where, worthie of their wrath, & deadly strokes to stow.
But neuer North-west wind beneath the weeping Kid
So threefold-thicke let fall on smokie mountaines did
(Which stand, the Gascoine ground eternally confining)
The quicke rebounding beads of yce-pearle slippery shining:
As heere drop showers of lead, as heere haile sudden deathes:
Ofbloud they riuers make, of bodies make they heathes:
Tost truncheons, noises, smokes, the flames, the fuming damps
With thickened clouds obscure the face of both the camps.
Th'earth trembles terrified, the winds reflecten steepe,
And Pluto's selfe empales, within his Chaos deepe.
This side aduances now, anon this side retreats;
Where feare did lodge of late, now valiant courage seats:
For yet dame Victorie (blest daughter of the Lord,
With trumpet at hir backe, and by hir side a sword:
Her hands of scepters full, crownes hundred on hir head;
Her corps, in robe depaint with thousand conquests cled;
With standards flourisht faire, embost with brodered townes,
Powdred with palms, and wrought with great Achill's renowms)
Flies swift from camp to camp: and longst the purple plaine
[Page 6] Shee Glorie alluring-sweet leads with triumphant traine:
To souldiars showes her face, O Sonnes, O who: to-day?
Who of you al (digne spouse) shal valiant beare awaie
This peer-les beauteous bride? who shal her bed-mate be
Who wel-content shal suck her balm-breath's Ambrosie?
O happie thousand-times! him shal the Kings adore:
The nobles humble bow, his honord feet before:
The gazing common sort, (like wauing Sea vntamd)
Through streets flock-follow him: and's face for-euer famd,
Shal sodaine set a-worke the life-like pencill bould,
The hammer, grauing toole, the chisel, and the mould.
He shalbe thargument of an admired storie:
Al ages, euery sound shal celebrate his glorie:
In short his high renowne, shal onlie bounded be,
With limits of the world and of eternitie.
Thus spake faire Victorie; and in their boosoms blew
A more then common fire, a fit of furie new:
Here number ouercomes, their force, here conquers art:
Thus yet good-fortune fel indifferent t'either part.
Euen so, (or much a-like) th'earth angrie-spitefullie,
To warre against the seas, and combat with the skie,
Sets-on, prouoks, inflames, in fight of new deuice
The south-wind armd with showers, & north-wind lade with yce:
The flood floats certain-les, the cloud's tost too and fro,
Driu'n to his place againe; and both, rough blasts do blow,
Til thone of them, by stroke of valiant victorie
Be made King of the sea, and tyrant of the skie.
But see my mightie King, ah see him, courage, all,
O what bright honnor bears his face Maiesticall,
O God, what burnisht beames, in's eies fresh-flaming faire,
[Page 7] What more than princelie port: what sweet presaging aire
Of some good fortune neere? he dooth not flaunt it nice,
In rich-rare shining show of pearles of costlie price,
He is bare armed all: and steelie temp'rament
Is of his valure rich the sole rich ornament:
His nurse him lullabied in steele, in steele he dight
With downe his roiall chinne, in steele it gins to white:
And by the caruing steele he dooth reconquer bold
Crownes, sceptars, diadems, and pearles, and goods, and gold▪
Yet wholie void of marke, he doth not dastard shrowd
His person in the prease: a plume dread-dansing proud
Beclowds his creasted caske: and like a willow showes
Which proined smooth beneath, close by a riuer growes,
So soone as it enuide hath heauens calme fauor lost
Of his wight-wauing top the great greene tuffe is tost:
Now vp, now downe; and waues (made slaue vnto the wind)
Now too, now fro; and swaies now forward, now behind.
Thus that he might be knowne, our bold Achilles great
With his six hundred horsse vpon six thousand set:
The first that felt the force of his far▪swathing keen
Was (O blind vallour bold) a warriour that did ween
His stomach by his strength, his strength by deapth of wound,
Who daring hand to hand frunts Henrie high-renoumd:
Th'vnconquerd Henrie then, bears leuell with his eie
His pistoll flinting-fire, yet lets no bullet flie.
Then with an angrie voice, hence guilefull armes (quoth he)
The shining sword indeed of valiant chiualrie
The noblest glorie is: then quicklie tossing light
The fierie flaming feare of fauchine flashing bright,
[Page 8] Like an Autumnall star, which ruddie dooth foreshow
Some dearth, some pestilence, some bloudie ouer-throw)
He buckles with his foe, th'assailant he assaults
And resolute he markes his armors weake defaults:
Then entring in betweene his brestplate and his bases
He seekes his sinfull soule, their finds and thence it chases.
Go happie soule, go tell, go tidinges tell beneath,
That by th'vnuanquisht arme thou honord hadst thy death
Of th' Hercules of France, because the glorious fame
Of so faire death is more, then if ye ouercame:
Say that here liues againe a new Martellus braue:
And say the fields of France another Rowland haue.
But thou diest not alone; of al this goodly play,
Thou art but prologue thou, or first fruits of the fray:
He deals as many deaths as he bestoweth blowes,
He hacks, he hewes, he hurts, them all he ouerthrowes
More soon than whirl-wind swift, or cannot shot, or thunder,
Can ouerturne a tree, pash wals, or tower mine-vnder:
One place, one troope, one wound, one death, one doghty deed
Cannot containe his rage, nor can restraine his steed:
Ech-where he laies on lode, and's fiery fury stout
Crosse-carues an hundred waies, the quaking camp throughout
All fall at once dismaid: yet diuerslie they tumble,
Some stabd, some stund withstroks, some on their fellows stūble.
But like a Lion fierce, which longst Numidian lawne,
Vnlades his hungers load on trembling trowpes that fawne:
If of a beare he heare the hollow howling voice
With eares erect and creast he roares an hideous noise,
Leaues lambs, and kids, and kowes: glad he incountred hath,
[Page 9] An obiect matching more his honorable wrath:
My match-les Monarch so, discouering Duke Lorrain
Scornes baser blood, and plies to meete with him amaine,
Throngs thwart the thickest trowpes of souldiars, men at-arms
Dead horses, horses liue, pikes, bils, bowes, ensignes, armes:
Incounters: and beneath the steele seekes buissie-braue
The hart that onlie life vnto the Leaguers gaue.
But dreading his disdaigne, the Duke de-Maine retires
And from al hopes at-once deiected, faint, suspires:
Him past-blisse makes to blush, him thowsand cares molest,
Of his new foile he doth the witnes feelds detest.
Now Jvry out of sight, he neere to Mante approcheth
His heele, his wearie horse with wearie rowell broacheth
(His horse which breathles melts to dustie deaw his fat
Which on his bridle hangs his long neck crest-falne flatt
Which hauing mouth more drie the pum-stone spungi-light
Respects the spur no more then stocke that's stirr-les quight.)
O wherefore noble Prince, ô wherefore doest thou flie?
What Panike terror choakes thy vertues valiancie?
Who graues a pale-faint feare vpon thy constant face?
Thou lackst a lawful cause, not courage (in this case)
The cause doth combat thee: stay Charles, confesse thy misse,
And humble, of thy king the right hand come and kisse.
If ruth-les red reuenge for thy dead brothers fall
Made thee take armes in hand, whats that to Fraunce at all?
Whats that vnto the King? which hath of brothers gore
Hart no lesse free (thou knowest) then fingers euer more.
If greatnes made the fight, then mightst thou not attend
More honor from a Prince, which prudent can comprend
[Page 10] Thy noble vertues high; and which as king can grace
Those that his seruice will with courage stout imbrace:
Then from base people blind, poore, thanklesse light, inorme
Which saile with euerie wind, and leake in euery storme:
Which doo reward with death, or exile (at the best)
Iust Phocions, Camills stout, wise Dions with the rest:
Which haue no rule but rage, and which cast downe to ground
(Like yuie greene) the wall to which they most are bound.
But if bleake feare to find no more now open neuer
The wide gates of his grace: ah was there knowne yet euer
A King of seruice true and iust remembring more:
Or King that more forgat old quarrels quencht before.
He rather would subdue by benefits then blowes
His rebel subiects al: his wrath that hottest glowes
Is like a fire of straw: striking he sigheth sore,
And from his foe-mans flanke of bloud he drawes not more
Then teares from his owne eies: his spirit is void of gall,
This speciall gift from heauen the house of Bourbon all
Holds for blest heritage, and this worlds glorious eie,
Which bout the heauen each day one restlesse round doth plie
Did neuer'see a prince religiouslie more loath
To shake in any sort his honnor-binding oath.
Offer vnto my Lord the crowne of Germanie
The diadem of Spaine, the Turks Grand-Signorie:
Yea make him Monarch of the world (by guile)
Hee'l spurne al scepters, fore his faith defile.
Perhaps (th'wilt say) thou fight'st for church-creed catholike
But tell me, who conducts the Pinnesse Politike?
Who in his campe commands? but those that more than thou
[Page 11] Do zealous tooth and naile the faith of Rome auow?
Serues not his healthfull name for freedome (bout our borders)
And presence for azile vnto the preestlie orders?
No Atheisme in his hart he broodeth hyppocrite,
A Christian king he is, and prince religious right:
He doth beleeue he suckt with his kind nurses creames
Gods seruice pure reformd (more deere to him then realmes)
Yet he not partiall is, nor heddie opinionated:
If th'holie temple faire, now newlie ruinated
By our foule hands prophane, by our strife-stirring quils,
May euer one day looke for to repaire hir ils:
And if the Church at all may hope to reprocure
An happy blest estate, a peace firme-founded sure:
The same shall doubtlesse be, in such a Princes raigne
So free from passion blind. My Muse cast backe againe,
Returne we to the fight. But what, there al are fled
Al's full of rumor there, disorder, death and dread:
Al-readie none obay, al-readie none command,
Each souldiour now apart makes by himselfe his band:
The large bloud-bibbing plaines are couered al about
With swords, caskes, launces, guns; and brauest soldiors stout
Beare into forrests blacke, their faint, liue-deaths conceiued
And cast in hollow gulphs, their falne, dead-deaths receiued.
The Victor following fast, ore-takes their hinde-like heeles,
Feares not the flier's way: the greatest feare he feeles,
Is least th'ones hare-like dread, the others desperate furie,
Find out some ferry boate, some bridge, some way securie,
To scape to safe retreat: they gasping headlong throw
Their bodies heere and there, into the waters low.
The azure-eyed Nymph, Nauonda neuer-dying
Which (Queen) the christal cleues of those waues (woful crying)
Bleake gan to breath this plaint, from out the streaming glasse:
(Her head in dropping koife of rushes kercherd was.)
Alas (quoth she) whence comes? whence comes this iron spawn?
This mettle-moulded folke? from what Mount Gibel drawne?
What Vulcan? what Myron, hath cunning giuen (I saie)
To steele, a life to stir: to iron, breath to naigh?
Hence monsters, hence, away; (of war the workmanship)
Goe, and your mother Earth with blood bedie and dip.
Let vs slide toward the sea, with streames smooth-swifting sweete
Our Tritons louing, kind embracing armes to meete.
Her voice doth vanish void, amid so manie noises,
One combats with his waight, one through his armours poises
Swallowes the choaking flood: another hath for graue
Nought but his bayard bold, his bayard nought but but waue:
Another more amazd, for skiffe his target takes,
For owers his aking armes, his Plume his saile hee makes:
But straight a whirlpoole-place, that roareth ringing-round
Down-gimblets al at once, owers, saile, and ship to ground.
Those that by happie hap, safe thother shoare do find,
In changing aire, with-al yet do not change their mind:
Dikes, barricadoes, brigges, townes, rampiers, trenches cast
Cannot suffice to stop their heed-les head-long hast.
And if that any band resist thy victorie;
Tis not to stoope, but more thy praise to multiplie:
Witnesse that war-like troupe of valiant souldiars bold,
Which martch't wel orderd faire, beneath three standards old:
Thy selfe the fifteenth man with thine arme's lightning iust
[Page 13] That mightie bodie beat'st downe to the blood-died dust
Like as in calmie seas a gallie with her gunnes
Drownes in the deepe a ship of ful fower hundreth tunnes:
Or like as in carreer the Spanish Iennet light
Turnes topsi-turuie downe the Germain Coursers might.
Thou heawst, thou beatst, thou breakst, thou ouercommest aye
Vntil the niggard night, haue robd thee of the day:
And death of foe depriud: th▪ Heluecian band alone
Not willing to forget their ancient valour showne,
Against the conquering camp, shake the sharp ashen dart
The more their number growes the higher swels their hart.
But of thy warlike face th'hot shun-shine in a trice,
Their Diamantine hart transformes to brittle yce,
That brittle yce to wet, that wet to vapour vaine,
And those (whom pinching death, before pale dread did paine:)
Yea those I saie, that ne're turnd shameful backe at-all,
But to the warrious Phaenix, tamer of our Gaule:
Those old whip-tirants tough, those king-correcting braues
Prostrate before thy feete their bodies, and their staues:
Then, least that thou shouldst blot with brand of euer-blame
A people euer true to th' Flower-de-luce (offame)
Of thy high hartes disdaigne, the warlike wrath relenting
Thou to their Cantons goest their cullors lou'd presenting.
O Trophe statelie-proud, which needs no Trophes more!
O head whom Laurels green, stil flourishing decore!
O thou (indeed) inuict, ô more then kinglie brest,
Which happie o're thy selfe, and triumph triumphest:
Which blest contentst al parts: with victorie thine hoast,
With grace thy vanquisht foe, both with thy glorie most.
Thou this worlds ornament, thou honor of our times,
May euer on the wings of mine heróike rimes
This braue exploit be borne: & may our Countrie Nations
(which, fostered-vp in fraies, warres, treasons, innouations,
Stood as it were at-gaze, with diuers winds reflecting,
And of this battaile great the issue stood expecting)
Reap their right profit thence: may eke our Nobles yeeld,
Thy prowesse, of the world the Empire fit to weeld,
That now they haue for head, a king, wise-fortunate:
That by this fight thy hand hath blest restord the state
Of nobles to their place, reuengd the dead Kings wrong,
Authorized the Crowne, freed Fraunce from bondage long.
May Clergie-men deuout, at last begin confesse
That God vpholds thy side, and doth thy bosome blesse
With princelie vertues rare, and that vpon thy crowne
Th'oile of his holie ghost he powreth euer downe.
In short may al our French confesse this certaine thing
That thou oughtst onlie be, and canst be sole our king.
But what (alas,) a plague, gangrene, or leprosie,
Spreads al this bodie o're: a torch of mutinie
Burnes Fraunce to ashes all: and but thy hand vn-idle
Of this state's stumbling steede beares vp so short the bridle,
Our scepter (honord earst of many men of might)
Would flie to shiuers al, or waste in sparkles quight.
The Prelate strikes the fire, the Noble blowes the coale,
Of this consuming flame, the people peeuish whole
Delighting in the blaze, doo wretched-witched elues
Insteed of fuel (fooles) cast in their willing selues.
O, Clergie (that forget the holie roome yee hold)
[Page] Is't well doone, gainst your owne, your owne to arme so bold?
To kill your king? a King, which in the wombe (a-kin
To thousand famous Kings) that office did begin:
A King which for your lawes, your altars, honours, miters,
His bloud aduenterd oft among so many fighters:
A King (sans doubt) deuout if euer were on ground:
A King that feared most the fearefull thunder-sound
That roares from Vatican: and more, t'inregister
Amongst most glorious saints, a monstrous murtherer
Which sheath'd in belly of the Lord of hoasts annointed,
(First'nine-times steept in Stix) a steele of purpose pointed.
O little-noble Nobles, see you not alas,
Supplanting of the king ye do your selues abass?
That whilst ye do pull downe this royall Monarchie,
Ye do establish mad a verie Anarchie,
A shape-lesse Chaos rude: still stabbing night and day
Against your breast the blade of peoples violent sway;
Which hate the honest sort and haue their cheefe delight,
In hope t▪ensue the Switzers too-rebellious rite.
And thou peopl▪vndiscreet, which for a Monarch blest,
Iust, lawful, mightie, wise, and valiant boue the best:
Takst hundred tyrants base, whose tusk-teeth tearing fell
Thy marrow-kernel sucke, and cracke thy bones (the shell)
To whom the glittring gold, frō forth th'earths bowels brought,
Or midst the slippery sands of shining Tagus sought
Seemes nothing neere so fine as dooth the gold they fet
From foorth thy wombe, or gold that with thy tears is wet.
No no, the French-man's deafe, deep drownd in Lethargie,
Sencelesse he doth not feele, his murdring maladie,
[Page] Or if he liue and feele, he frantike armes his force
Gainst his Phisition kind, that faine would cure his corps,
Appliyng thousand sorts of sound-sweet medcines fit
Yet he doth more and more increase his furious fit.
Then courage mighty King thy thoughts let anchor heer,
O noble Prince pursue thy wel-begun carreer,
And sith this festred sore a plaister helps so small,
Set me the launce a-worke, the sword, the fire and all:
Choke me this Hydra huge whence monsters muster out
And with thy faire renowne fill me the world about:
Vse thy good fortune now; the hils most loftie-browd
Do trembling giue thee place: the flouds profoundest proud,
Drie vp before thy feet: the hugest mightie camps
Fore beames of thy bright eies, vanish in smokie damps:
And of the strongest holds the massie founded frame
Affrighted shaketh sore at sole sound of thy name.
But (mighty King) take heed, do not alas expose
Thy life in pray so oft to sparelesse Atropos:
Be sparing of thy bloud and thinke for certeintie
That our good hangs on hookes of thy prosperitie.
But if thou shut thine eare, gainst th▪humble low request
Of thy fames trumpetter: yet heare how Fraunce (at least)
Presents hir selfe to thee, not such as once she was,
When neer the Danish deep hir limits bounds did passe:
When Euphrates and Nile in fauour of hir realmes
Longst fruitfull plaines did roule their tributarie streames:
When to the Spaniard proud she rulers did allow:
And when the pride of Rome beneath hir lawes did bow:
But leane, and bleake, and broke, and tatterd, rent, and torne,
[Page] And sunck in [...]ngerous Seas or hard mishap forlorne.
ô my deere sonne (quoth she) nay my defender rather,
My staffe, my stay, my fort, my second-founding father,
Through greefe and forrow (sure) I should dispairing die,
I should my stommach stab, with shamful halter I
Should stop my wearie wind, and stint these cares of mine
Weart thou not mine (my Lord) and if I were not thine.
Be not (my deerest hope) then of thy life so lauishe
My kind King let no more fame-hunting enuie rauishe
Thy thoughts to see all things, to make thee hardi-heed-les
To get too great renowne runne into dangers need-les.
A mightie Monarke must, whilst greening youth doth flower
Make one, or two, or three, proofes of his peer-les power
For valour is the gate of honor beautified,
The first stair-step it is, whereby good-hap doth guyde
Our feete to Glorie's mount: and nothing hartens so
The men of armes to fight, as valiant Prince (we know:)
But after-wards he must with warie wisedome warre,
More often with his witthen with his weapon farre:
And feeding so his spirit with sweet-sharp easie-paine,
Not keepe a souldiars place, but Captaines roome retaine.
My sonne, but al too-much th'-hast fought with thine own hand
The vertue of whose force thous-thousands vnderstand:
My King, t'inlarge thy laud th'hast labourd al too-long,
But not for my repose: braue Lord my Victrie strong
Lies in thy length of life, not in thy boystrous arme:
Thy life's my life, thy death my death, thy hurt my harme:
If thou neglect thy selfe, I pri-the loue me tho
Vpon thy countrie deere (at least) some pittie show
[Page] Thinke what I should become is some vntimelie [...]eath
Betwixt mine armes toosoone should stop my Henries breath▪
Euen like a widow-ship which wanting Pilot sage,
On suddie Seas is tost in time of tempests rage
Which surging, at the last gainst th▪-horned stone doth knocke
And with farr-spreading split doth hide the hoarie rocke.
But if that too-much hart, too-prodigue of thy life,
Set not too-soone a-worke the edge of Atrop's knife,
I hope to flourish more, then ere I did in Arts,
In manners faire, in lawes, in stoar of valiant harts,
In faith, in knowledge, wealth▪ and thy iust raigne and sage
Shal nothing yeeld in blisse to calme Augustus age.
FJNJS.