The barrons vvars in the raigne of Edward the second. VVith Englands heroicall epistles. By Michael Drayton

Henry to Rosamond.

WHen first the Post arriued at my Tent, And brought the Letters Rosamond had sent, Thinke frō his lips, but what sweet cōfort came, vvhen in mine eare he softly breath'd thy name Straight I enioyne him of thy health to tell, Longing to heare my Rosamond did well; VVith new enquiries then I cut him short vvhen of the same he gladly would report, That with the earnest hast my tongue oft trips, Catching the words halfe spoke out of his lips; This told, yet more I vrge him to reueale, To loose no time whild I vnript the seale. The more I read, still doe I erre the more, As though mistaking somwhat said before. Missing the poynt, the doubtfull sence is broken, Speaking againe, what I before had spoken, Still in a swound, my hart reuiues and faints, Twixt hopes, dispaires, twixt smiles, and deepe complaints.

As these sad accents sort in my desires, Smooth calmes, rough stormes, sharp frosts, & raging fires, Put on with boldnes, and put backe with feares, My tongue with curses, when mine eyes with teares. O how my hart at that black line did tremble, That blotted paper should thy selfe resemble; O were there paper but neere halfe so white, The Gods thereon their sacred lawes would write vvith pens of Angells wings, and for their inke, That heauenly Nectar, their immortall drinke. Maiesticke courage striues to haue supprest This fearefull passion stird vp in my brest, But still in vaine the same I goe about, My hart must breake within, or woe breakes out, Am I at home pursu'd with priuate hate, And warre comes raging to my Pallace gate? Is meager Enuie stabbing at my throne, Treason attending when I walke alone? And am I branded with the curse of Rome, And stand condemn'd by dreadfull counsels dombe? And by the pride of my rebellious sonne, Rich Normandie with Armies ouer-runne? Fatall my birth, vnfortunate my life, Vnkind my children, most vnkind my wife. Griefe, cares, old age, suspition to torment me, Nothing on earth to quiet or content me, So many woes, so many plagues to finde, Sicknes of body, discontent of mind; Hopes left, helps reft, life wrong'd, ioy interdicted, Banish'd, distress'd, forsaken, and afflicted; Of all reliefe hath fortune quite bereft me?

Onely my loue vnto my comfort left me, And is one beautie thought so great a thing, To mittigate the sorrowes of a King? Barr'd of that choise the vulgar often proue, Haue we (then they) lesse priuiledge in loue? Is it a King, the wofull widdow heares? Is it a King, dries vp the Orphans teares? Is it a King, regards the Clyants cry? Giues life to him by law condemnd to die? Is it his care, the Common-wealth that keepes, As doth the Nurse her babie whilst it sleepes? And that poore king, of all these hopes preuented, Vnheard, vnhelp'd, vnpitted, vnlamented, Yet let me be with pouertie opprest, Of earthly blessings robd, and dispossest, Let me be scorn'd, reiected, and reuild, From Kingdome, Country, and from Court exild; Let the worlds curse vpon me still remaine, And let the last bring on the first againe; All miseries that wretched man may wound, Leaue for my comfort, onely Rosamond, For thee swift time her speedie course doth stay, At thy commaund the Destenies obay; Pittie is dead, that comes not from thines eyes, And at thy feete, euen mercie prostrate lyes; If I were feeble, rheumatick, or cold, These were true signes that I were waxed old, But I can march all day in massie steele, Nor yet my armes vnweldy weight doe feele, Nor wak'd by night, with bruise or bloody wound, The tent my bed, no pillow but the ground;

For very age had I laine bedred long, One smile of thine againe could make me yong. VVere there in Art a power but so diuine As is in that sweet Angell-tongue of thine, That great Enchantresse which once tooke such paines, To force young blood in AEsons wither'd vaines, And from Groues, Mountaines, and the moorish Fen, Vs'd all the hearbs, ordayn'd to vse of men, And in the powerfull potion that she makes, Puts blood of men, of birds, of beasts, of snakes, Neuer had needed to haue gone so far, To seeke the soiles where all those simples are, One accent from thy lips, the blood more warmes, Then all her philters, exorcismes, and charmes. Thy presence hath repaired in one day, vvhat many yeeres and sorrowes did decay, And made fresh beauties fairest branches spring From wrinkled furrowes of times ruining. Euen as the hungry vvihter-starued earth, vvhen she by nature labours towards her birth, Still as the day vpon the darke world creepes, One blossome forth after another peepes, Till the smal flower whose roote is now vnbound Gets from the frostie prison of the ground, Spreading the leaues vnto the powerfull noone, Deck'd in fresh colours, smiles vpon the sunne. Neuer vnquiet care lodg'd in that brest, vvhere but one thought of Rosamond did rest; Nor thirst, nor trauaile, which on warre attend, Ere brought the long day to desired end; Nor yet did pale Feare, or leane Famine liue

vvhere hope of thee, did any comfort giue, Ah what iniustice then is this of thee That thus the guiltlesse doost condemne for me? vvhen onely she (by meanes of my offence) Redeemes thy purenes, and thy innocence, vvhen to our wills perforce obey they must, That iust in them, what ere in vs vniust; Of what we doe, not them account we make, The fault craues pardon for th'offenders sake, And what to worke a Princes will may merrit, Hath deep'st impression in the gentlest spirit; If't be my name that doth thee so offend, No more my selfe shall be mine owne names friend; And if't be that which thou doost onely hate, That name, in my name, lastly hath his date. Say tis accurst, and fatall, and dispraise it, If written, blot it, if engrauen, raze it. Say that of all names tis a name of woe, Once a Kings name, but now it is not so. And when all this is done, I know twill grieue thee, And therefore (sweet) why should I now belieue thee? Nor should'st thou thinke those eyes with enuie lower, vvhich passing by thee, gaze vp to thy tower; But rather praise thine owne which be so cleere, vvhich from the Turret like two starres appeare; Aboue the sunne doth shine, beneath thine eye, Mocking the heauen to make another skye. The little streame which by thy tower doth glide, vvhere oft thou spend'st the wearie euening tide, To view thee well his course would gladly stay, As loth from thee to part so soone away;

And with salutes thy selfe would gladly greete, And offer vp those small drops at thy feete, But finding that the enuious banks restraine it, T'excuse it selfe, doth in this sort complaine it, And therefore this sad bubling murmur keepes, And in this sort within the channell weepes. And as thou doost into the water looke, The fish which see thy shadow in the brooke, Forget to feede, and all amazed lye, So daunted with the lustre of thine eye. And that sweet name which thou so much doost wrong, In time shall be some famous Poets song; And with the very sweetnes of that name, Lyons and Tygers, men shall learne to tame. The carefull mother from her pensiue brest vvith Rosamond shall bring her babe to rest; The little birds, (by mens continuall sonnd) Shall learne to speake, and prattle Rosamond, And when in Aprill they begin to sing, vvith Rosamond shall welcome in the spring; And she in whom all rarities are found, Shall still be sayd to be a Rosamond. The little flowers which dropping honied dew, vvhich (as thou writ'st) doe weepe vpon thy shu••, Not for thy fault (sweet Rosamond) doe mone, But weepe for griefe that thou so soone art gone, For if thy foote tuch Hemlock as it goes, That Hemlock's made more sweeter then the Rose, Of Ioue or Neptune how they did betray, Nor speake of I-o, or Amimone, vvhen she for whom Ioue once became a Bull,

Compar'd with thee, had beene a tawny trull; He a white Bull, and she a whiter Cow, Yet he, nor she, neere halfe so white as thou. Long since (thou knowst) my care prouided for•• To lodge thee safe from iealous Ellenor, The Labyrinths conueyance guides thee so, (vvhich onely Vahan, thou and I doe know) If she doe guard thee with a hundred eyes, I haue an hundred subtile Mercuries, To watch that Argus which my loue doth keepe, Vntill eye, after eye, fall all to sleepe. Those starres looke in by night, looke in to see, vvondring what star heere on the earth should be. As oft the moone amidst the silent night, Hath come to ioy vs with her friendly light, And by the curtaine help'd mine eye to see vvhat enuious night and darknes hid from mee; vvhen I haue wish'd that she might euer stay, And other worlds might still enioy the day, vvhat should I say? vvords, teares, and sighes be spent, And want of time doth further helps preuent: My campe resounds with fearefull shocks of war, Yet in my breast the worser conflicts are; Yet is my signall to the battailes sound, The blessed name of beautious Rosamond. Accursed be that hart, that tongue, that breath, Should thinke, should speake, or whisper of thy death. For in one smile, or lower from thy sweet eye, Consists my life, my hope, my victorie. Sweet VVoodstocke, where my Rosamond doth rest, Blessed in her, in whom thy King is blest;

For though in Fraunce a while my bodie be, (Sweet Paradice) my hart remaines in thee.

Notes of the Chronicle Historie.

Am I at home pursued with priuate hate, And warre comes raging to my Pallace gate?

RObert Earle of Leicester, who tooke part with young King Henry, entred into England with an Armie of 3. thousand Flemmings, & spoiled the Countries of Norfolke and Suffolke, being succoured by manie of the Kings priuate enemies.

And am I branded with the curse of Rome?

King Henry the second, the first Plantaginet, accused for the death of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterburie, slaine in the Cathe∣drall Church, was accursed by Pope Alexander, although hee vrg'd sufficient proofe of his innocencie in the same, and offered to take vpon him any pennance, so he might escape the curse and interdicti∣on of the Realme.

And by the pride of my rebellious Sonne, Rich Normandie with Armies ouer-runne.

Henry the young King, whom King Henry had caused to be crow∣ned in his life, (as he hoped) both for his owne good and the good of his Subiects, which indeede turned to his owne sorrowe, and the trouble of the whole Realme, for he rebelled against him, and raising a power, by the meanes of Lewes King of Fraunce, and William king of Scots, who tooke part with him, inuaded Normandie.

Vnkind my children, most vnkind my wife.

Neuer King more infortunate then King Henry; in the disobedi∣ence of his children: first Henry, then Geffrey, then Richard, then Iohn, all at one time or other, first or last, vnnaturally rebelled against him: then the iealousie of Ellinor his Queene, who suspected his loue to Rosamond, which grieuous troubles, the deuout of those times, at∣tributed to happen vnto him iustly, for refusing to take vppon him the gouernment of Ierusalem, offered vnto him by the Patriarcke there; which country was mightilie afflicted by the Souldane.

Which onely Vahan thou and I doe know.

This Vahan was a Knight whom the King exceedingly loued, who kept the Pallace at Woodstock, & much of the Kings iewels & trea∣sure, to whom the King committed many of his secrets, & in whom he reposed such trust, that he durst commit his loue vnto his charge.

FINIS.