Complaints Containing sundrie small poemes of the worlds vanitie. VVhereof the next page maketh mention. By Ed. Sp.

The Ruines of Time.

IT chaunced me on day beside the shore Of siluer streaming Thamesis to bee, Nigh where the goodly Verlame stood of yore, Of which there now remaines no memorie, Nor anie little moniment to see, By which the trauailer, that fares that way, This once was she, may warned be to say.

There on the other side, I did behold A Woman sitting sorrowfullie wailing, Rending her yeolow locks, like wyrie golde, About her shoulders careleslie downe trailing, And streames of teares frō her faire eyes forth rai∣ling. In her right hand a broken rod she held, Which towards heauen shee seemd on high to weld.

Whether she were one of that Riuers Nymphes, Which did the losse of some dere loue lament, I doubt; or one of those three fatall Impes, Which draw the dayes of men forth in extent•• Or th'auncient Genius of that Citie brent: But seeing her so piteouslie perplexed, I (to her calling) askt what her so vexed.

Ah what delight (quoth she) in earthlie thing, Or comfort can I wretched creature haue? Whose happines the heauens enuying, From highest staire to lowest step me draue, And haue in mine owne bowels made my graue, That of all Nations now I am forlorne, The worlds sad spectacle, and fortunes scorne.

Much was I mooued at her piteous plaint, And felt my heart nigh riuen in my brest With tender ruth to see her sore constraint, That shedding teares a while I still did rest, And after did her name of her request. Name haue I none (quoth she) nor anie being, Bereft of both by Fates vniust decreeing.

I was that Citie, which the garland wore Of Britaines pride, deliuered vnto me By Romane Victors, which it wonne of yore; Though nought at all but ruines now I bee, And lye in mine owne ashes, as ye see: Verlame I was; what bootes it that I was, Sith now I am but weedes and wastfull gras?

O vaine worlds glorie, and vnstedfast state Of all that liues, on face of sinfull earth, Which from their first vntill their vtmost date Tast no one hower of happines or merth, But like as at the ingate of their berth, They crying creep out of their mothers woomb, So wailing backe go to their wofull toomb.

Why then dooth flesh, a bubble glas of breath, Hunt after honour and aduauncement vaine, And reare a trophee for deuouring death, With so great labour and long lasting paine, As if his daies for euer should remaine? Sith all that in this world is great or gaie, Doth as a vapour vanish, and decaie.

Looke backe, who list, vnto the former ages, And call to count, what is of them become:

Where be those learned wits and antique Sages, Which of all wisedome knew the perfect somme: Where those great warriors, which did ouercomme The world with conquest of their might and maine, And made one meare of th'earth & of their raine?

What nowe is of th'Assyrian Lyonesse, Of whome no footing now on earth appeares•• What of the Persian Beares outragiousnesse, Whose memorie is quite worne out with yeares? Who of the Grecian Libbard now ought heares, That ouerran the East with greedie powre, And left his whelps their kingdomes to deuoure?

And where is that same great seuen headded beast, That made all nations vassals of her pride, To fall before her feete at her beheast, And in the necke of all the world did ride? Where doth she all that wondrous welth nowe hide•• With her own weight down pressed now shee lies, And by her heaps her hugenesse testifies.

O Rome thy ruine I lament and rue, And in thy fall my fatall ouerthrowe, That whilom was, whilst heauens with equall vewe Deignd to behold me, and their gifts bestowe, The picture of thy pride in pompous shew: And of the whole world as thou wast the Empresse, So I of this small Northerne world was Princesse,

To tell the beawtie of my buildings fayre, Adornd with purest golde, and precious stone•• To tell my riches, and endowments rare That by my foes are now all spent and gone:

To tell my forces matchable to none, Were but lost labour, that few would beleeue, And with rehearsing would me more agreeue.

High towers, faire temples, goodly theaters, Strong walls, rich porches, princelie pallaces, Large streetes, braue houses, sacred sepulchers, Sure gates, sweete gardens, stately galleries, Wrought with faire pillours, and fine imageries, All those (ô pitie) now are turnd to dust, And ouergrowen with blacke obliuions rust.

Theretoo for warlike power, and peoples store, In Britannie was none to match with mee; That manie often did abie full sore: Ne Troynouant, though elder sister shee, With my great forces might compared bee; That stout Pendragon to his perill felt, Who in a siege seauen yeres about me dwelt.

But long ere this Bunduca Britonnesse Her mightie hoast against my bulwarkes brought, Bunduca, that victorious conqueresse, That lifting vp her braue heroïck thought Boue womens weaknes, with the Romanes fought, Fought, and in field against them thrice preuailed: Yet was she foyld, when as she me assailed.

And though at last by force I conquered were Of hardie Saxons, and became their thrall; Yet was I with much bloodshed bought full deere, And prizde with slaughter of their Generall: The moniment of whose sad funerall,

For wonder of the world, long in me lasted; But now to nought through spoyle of time is wasted.

Wasted it is, as if it neuer were, And all the rest that me so honord made, And of the world admired eu'rie where, Is turnd to smoake, that doth to nothing fade; And of that brightnes now appeares no shade, But greislie shades, such as doo haunt in hell With fearfull fiends, that in deep darknes dwell.

Where my high steeples whilom vsde to stand, On which the lordly Faulcon wont to towre, There now is but an heap of lyme and sand, For the Shriche-owle to build her balefull bowre: And where the Nightingale wont forth to powre Her restles plaints, to comfort wakefull Louers, There now haūt yelling Mewes & whining Plouers.

And where the christall Thamis wont to slide In siluer channell, downe along the Lee, About whose flowrie bankes on either side A thousand Nymphes, with mirthfull iollitee Were wo••t to play, from all annoyance free; There now no riuers course is to be seene, But moorish fennes, and marshes euer greene.

Seemes, that that gentle Riuer for great griefe Of my mishaps, which oft I to him plai••ed; Or for to shunne the horrible mischie••e, With which he saw my cruell ••oes me pained, And his pure streames with guiltles blood oft stained, From my vnhappie neighborhood farre fled, And his sweete waters away with him led.

There also where the wing••d ships were seene In liquid waues to cut their fomie waie, And thousand Fishers numbred to haue been, In that wide lake looking for plenteous praie Of fish, which they with baits vsde to betraie, Is now no lake, nor anie fishers store, Nor euer ship shall saile there anie more,

They all are gone, and all with them is gone, Ne ought to me remaines, but to lament My long decay, which no man els doth mone, And mourne my fall with dolefull dreriment. Yet it is comfort in great languishment, To be bemoned with compassion kinde, And mitigates the anguish of the minde.

But me no man bewaileth, but in game, Ne sheddeth teares from lamentable eie: Nor anie liues that mentioneth my name To be remembred of posteritie, Saue One that maugre fortunes iniurie, And times decay, and enuies cruell tort, Hath writ my record in true-seeming sort.

Cambden the nourice of antiquitie, And lanterne vnto late succeeding age, To see the light of simple veritie, Buried in ruines, through the great outrage Of her owne people, led with warlike rage, Cambden, though time all moniments obscure, Yet thy iust labours euer shall endure,

But whie (vnhappie wight) doo I thus crie, And grieue that my remembrance quite is raced

Out of the knowledge of posteritie, And all my antique moniments defaced? Sith I doo dailie see things highest placed, So soone as fates their vitall thred haue shorne, Forgotten quite as they were neuer borne.

It is not long, since these two eyes beheld A mightie Prince, of most renowmed race, Whom England high in count of honour held, And greatest ones did sue to gaine his grace; Of greatest ones he greatest in his place, Sate in the bosome of his Soueraine, And Right and loyall did his word maintaine.

I saw him die, I saw him die, as one Of the meane people, and brought foorth on beare, I saw him die, and no man left to mone His dolefull fate, that late him loued deare: Scarse anie left to close his eylids neare; Scarse anie left vpon his lips to laie The sacred sod, or Requiem to saie.

O trustlesse state of miserable men, That builde your blis on hope of earthly thing, And vainly thinke your selues halfe happie then, When painted faces with smooth flattering Doo fawne on you, and your wide praises sing, And when the courting masker louteth lowe, Him true in heart and trustie to you trow.

All is but fained, and with oaker dide, That euerie shower will wash and wipe away, All things doo change that vnder heauen abide, A••d after death all friendship doth decaie.

Therefore what euer man bearst worldlie sway, Liuing, on God, and on thy selfe relie; For when thou diest, all shall with thee die.

H•• now is dead, and all is with him dead, Saue what in heauens store house he vplaid: His hope is faild, and come to passe his dread, And euill men now dead, his deeds vpbraid: Spite bites the dead, that liuing neuer baid. He now is gone, the whiles the Foxe is crept Into the hole, the which the Badger swept.

He now is dead, and all his glorie gone, And all his greatnes vapoured to nought, That as a glasse vpon the water shone, Which vanisht quite, so soone as it was sought•• His name is worne alreadie out of thought, Ne anie Poet seekes him to reuiue; Yet manie Poets honourd him aliue.

Ne doth his Colin, carelesse Colin Cloute, Care now his idle bagpipe vp to raise, Ne tell his sorrow to the listning rout Of shepherd groomes, which wōt his songs to praise•• Praise who so list, yet I will him dispraise, Vntill he quite him of this guiltie blame: Wake shepheards boy, at length awake for shame.

And who so els did goodnes by him gaine, And who so els his bounteous minde did trie, Whether he shepheard be, or shepheards swaine, (For manie did, which doo it now denie) Awake, and to his Song a part applie:

And I, the whilest you mourne for his decease, Will with my mourning plaints your plaint increase.

He dyde, and after him his brother dyde, His brother Prince, his brother noble Peere, That whilste he liued, was of none enuyde, And dead is now, as liuing, counted deare, Deare vnto all that true affection beare: But vnto thee most deare, ô dearest Dame, His noble Spouse, and Paragon of fame.

He whilest he liued, happie was through thee, And being dead is happie now much more; Liuing, that lincked chaunst with thee to bee, And dead, because him dead thou dost adore As liuing, and thy lost deare loue deplore. So whilst that thou, faire flower of chastitie, Dost liue, by thee thy Lord shall neuer die.

Thy Lord shall neuer die, the whiles this verse Shall liue, and surely it shall liue for euer: For euer it shall liue, and shall rehearse His worthie praise, and vertues dying neuer, Though death his soule doo from his bodie seuer. And thou thy selfe herein shalt also liue; Such grace the heauens doo to my verses giue,

Ne shall his sister, ne thy father die, Thy father, that good Earle of rare renowne, And noble Patrone of weake pouertie; Whose great good deeds in countrey and in towne Haue purchast him in heauen an happie crowne; Where he now liueth in ete••n••ll blis, And left his sonne ••'ensue those steps of his.

He noble bud, his Grandsires liuelie hayre, Vnder the shadow of thy countenaunce Now ginnes to shoote vp fast, and flourish fayre In learned artes and goodlie gouernaunce, That him to highest honour shall aduaunce. Braue Impe of Bedford, grow apace in bountie, And count of wisedome more than of thy Countie.

Ne may I let thy husbands sister die, That goodly Ladie, sith she eke did spring Out of this stocke, and famous familie, Whose praises I to future age doo sing, And foorth out of her happie womb did bring The sacred brood of learning and all honour; In whom the heauens powrde all their gifts vpon her.

Most gentle spirite breathed from aboue, Out of the bosome of the makers blis, In whom all bountie and all vertuous loue Appeared in their natiue propertis, And did enrich that noble breast of his, With treasure passing all this worldes worth, Worthie of heauen it selfe, which brought it forth.

His blessed spirite full of power diuine And influence of all celestiall grace, Loathing this sinfull earth and earthlie slime, Fled backe too soone vnto his natiue place, Too soone for all that did his loue embrace, Too soone for all this wretched world, whom he Robd of all right and true nobilitie.

Yet ere his happie soule to heauen w••nt Out of this fleshlie goale, he did deuise

Vnto his heauenlie maker to present His bodie, as a spotles sacrifise; And chose, that guiltie hands of enemies Should powre forth th'offring of his guiltles blood: So life exchanging for his countries good.

O noble spirite, liue there euer blessed, The worlds late wonder, and the heauens new ioy, Liue euer there, and leaue me here distressed With mortall cares, and cumbrous worlds anoy. But where thou dost that happines enioy, Bid me, ô bid me quicklie come to thee, That happie there I maie thee alwaies see.

Yet whilest the fates affoord me vitall breath, I will it spend in speaking of thy praise, And sing to thee, vntill that timelie death By heauens doome doo ende my earthlie daies: Thereto doo thou my humble spirite raise, And into me that sacred breath inspire, Which thou there breathest perfect and entire.

Then will I sing, but who can better sing, Than thine owne sister, peerles Ladie bright, Which to thee sings with deep harts sorrowing•• Sorrowing tempered with deare delight, That her to heare I feele my feeble spright Robbed of sense, and rauished with ioy, O sad ioy made of mourning and anoy.

Yet will I sing, but who can better sing, Than thou thy selfe, thine owne selfes valiance, That whilest thou liuedst, madest the forrests ring, And fields resownd, and flockes to leap and daunce,

And shepheards leaue their lambs vnto mischaunce, To runne thy shrill Arcadian Pipe to heare: O happie were those dayes, thrice happie were.

But now more happie thou, and wetched wee, Which want the wonted sweetnes of thy voice, Whiles thou now in Elisian fields so free, With Orpheus, and with Linus, and the choice Of all that euer did in rimes reioyce, Conuer••est, and doost heare their heauenlie layes, And they heare thine, and thine doo better praise.

So there thou liuest, singing euermore, And here thou liuest, being euer song Of vs, which liuing loued thee afore, And now thee worship, mongst that blessed throng Of heauenlie Poets and Heroes strong. So thou both here and there immortall art, And euerie where through excellent desart.

But such as neither of themselues can sing, Nor yet are sung of others for reward, Die in obscure obliuion, as the thing Which neuer was, ne euer with regard Their names shall of the later age b•• heard, But shall in rustie darknes euer lie, Vnles they mentiond be with infamie.

What booteth it to haue been rich aliue? What to be great? what to be gracious? When after death no token doth suruiue, Of former being in this mortall hous, But sleepes in dust dead and inglorious,

Like beast, whose breath but in his nostrels is, And hath no hope of happinesse or blis.

How manie great ones may remembred be, Which in their daies most famouslie did florish; Of whome no word we heare, nor signe now see, But as things wipt out with a sponge to perishe, Because they liuing, cared not to cherishe No gentle wits, through pride or couertize, Which might their names for euer memorize.

Prouide therefore (ye Princes) whilst ye liue, That of the Muses ye may friended bee, Which vnto men eternitie do giue; For they be daughters of Dame memorie, And Ioue the father of eternitie, And do those men in golden thrones repose, Whose merits they to glorifie do chose.

The seuen fold yron gates of grislie Hell, And horrid house of sad Proserpina, They able are with power of mightie spell To breake, and thence the soules to bring awaie Out of dread darkenesse, to eternall day, And them immortall make, which els would die In soule forgetfulnesse, and nameles lie.

So whilome raised they the puissant brood Of golden g••rt Al••mena, for great merite, Out of the dust, to which the Oetaean wood Had him consum'd, and spent his vitall spirite: To highest heauen, where now he doth inherit•• All happinesse in Hebes siluer bowre, Chosen to be her dearest Paramoure.

So raisde they eke faire Ledaes warlick twinnes, And interchanged life vnto them lent, That when th'one dies, th'other then beginnes To shew in Heauen his brightnes orient•• And they, for pittie of the sad wayment, Which Orpheus for Eurydice did make, Her back againe to life sent for his sake.

So happie are they, and so fortunate, Whom the Pierian sacred sisters loue, That freed from bands of impacable fate, And power of death, they liue for aye aboue, Where mortall wreakes their blis may not remoue: But with the Gods, for former vertues meede, On Nectar and Ambrosia do feede.

For deeds doe die, how euer noblie donne, And thoughts of men do as themselues decay, But wise wordes taught in numbers for to runne, Recorded by the Muses, liue for ay; Ne may with storming showers be washt away, Ne bitter breathing windes with harmfull blast, Nor age, nor enuie shall them euer wast.

In vaine doo earthly Princes then, in vaine Seeke with Pyramides, to heauen aspired; Or huge Colosses, built with costlie paine; Or brasen Pillours, neuer to be fired, Or Shrines, made of the mettall most desired; To make their memories for euer liue: For how can mortall immortalitie giue.

Such one Mansolus made, the worlds great wonder, But now no remnant doth thereof remaine:

Such one Marcellus, but was torne with thunder: Such one Lisippus, but is worne with raine: Such one King Edmond, but was rent for gaine. All such vaine moniments of earthlie masse, Deuour'd of Time, in time to nought doo passe.

But fame with golden wings aloft doth flie, Aboue the reach of ruinous decay, And with braue plumes doth beate the azure skie, Admir'd of base-borne men from farre away: Then who so will with vertuous deeds assay To mount to heauen, on Pegasus must ride, And with sweete Poets verse be glorifide.

For not to haue been dipt in Lethe lake, Could saue the sonne of Thetis from to die; But that blinde bard did him immortall make With verses, dipt in deaw of Castalie: Which made the Easterne Conquerour to crie, O fortunate yong-man, whose vertue found So braue a Trompe, thy noble acts to sound.

Therefore in this halfe happie I doo read Good Melibae, that hath a Poet got, To sing his liuing praises being dead, Deseruiug neuer here to be forgot, In spight of enuie, that his deeds would spot: Since whose decease, learning lies vnregarded, And men of armes doo wander vnrewarded.

Those two be those two great calamities, That long agoe did grieue the noble spright Of Salomon with great indignities; Who whilome was aliue the wisest wight.

But now his wisedome is disprooued quite•• For he that now welds all things at his will, Scorns th'one and th'other in his deeper skill.

O griefe of griefes, ô gall of all good heartes, To see that vertue should dispised bee Of him, that first was raisde for vertuous parts, And now broad spreading like an aged tree, Lets none shoot vp, that nigh him planted bee: O let the man, of whom the Muse is scorned, Nor aliue, nor dead be of the Muse adorned.

O vile worlds trust, that with such vaine illusion Hath so wise men bewitcht, and ouerkest, That they see not the way of their confusion, O vainesse to be added to the rest, That do my soule with inward griefe infest: Let them behold the piteous fall of mee: And in my case their owne ensample see.

And who so els that sits in highest seate Of this worlds glorie, worshipped of all, Ne feareth change of time, nor fortunes threate, Let him behold the horror of my fall, And his owne end vnto remembrance call; That of like ruine he may warned bee, And in himselfe be moou'd to pittie mee.

Thus hauing ended all her piteous plaint, With dolefull shrikes shee vanished away, That I through inward sorrowe wexen fain••, And all astonished with deepe dismay, For her departure, had no word to say••

But sate long time in sencelesse sad affright, Looking still, if I might of her haue sight.

Which when I missed, hauing looked long, My thought returned greeued home againe, Renewing h••r complaint with passion strong, For ruth of that same womans pi••eous paine; Whose wordes recording in my troubled braine•• I felt such anguish wound my feeble heart, That frosen horror r••n through euerie part.

So inlie greeuing in my groning brest, And deepelie muzing at her doubtfull speach, Whose meaning much I labored foorth to wreste, Being aboue my slender reasons reach; At length by demonstration me to teach, Before mine eies strange sights presented were, Like tragicke Pageants seeming to appeare.

1

I saw an Image, all of massie gold, Placed on high vpon an Altare faire, That all, which did the same from farre beholde, Might worship it, and fall on lowest staire. No•• that great Idoll might with this compaire, To which th'Assyrian tyrant would haue made The holie brethren, falslie to haue praid,

But th'Altare, on the which this Image staid, Was (ô great pitie) built of brickle clay, That shortly the ••oundation decaid, With showres of heauen and tempests worne away, Then downe it fell, and low in ashes lay,

Scorned of euerie one, which by it went•• That I it seing, dearelie did lament.

2

Next vnto this a stat••lie Towre appeared, Built all of richest stone, that might bee found, And nigh vnto the Heauens in height vpreared, But placed on a plot of sandie ground: Not that great Towre, which is so much renownd For tongues confusion in holie writ, King Ninus worke might be compar'd to it.

But ô vaine labours of terrestriall wit, That buildes so stronglie on ••o frayle a soyle, As with each storme does fall away, and flit, And giues the fruit of all your trauailes toyle, To be the pray of Tyme, and Fortunes spoyle: I saw this Towre fall sodainlie to dust, That nigh with griefe thereof my heart was brust.

3

Then did I see a pleasant Paradize, Full of sweete flowres and daintiest delights, Such as on earth man could not more deuize, With pleasures choyce to feed his cheerefull sprights: Not that, which Merlin by his Magicke slights Made for the gentle squire, to entertaine His fayre Belphoebe, could this gardine staine.

But ô short pleasure bought with lasting paine, Why will hereafter anie flesh delight In earthlie blis, and ioy in pleasures vaine,

Since that I sawe this gardine wasted quite, That where it was scarce seemed anie sight? That I, which once that beautie did beholde, Could not from teares my melting eyes with-holde.

4

Soone after this a Giaunt came in place, Of wondrous power, and of exceeding stature, That none durst vewe the horror of his face, Yet was he milde of speach, and meeke of nature Not he, which in despight of his Creatour With railing tearmes defied the Iewish hoast•• Might with this mightie one in hugenes boast.

For from the one he could to th'other coast, Stretch his strong thighes, and th'Occaean ouerstride•• And reatch his hand into his enemies hoast. But see the end of pompe and fleshlie pride; One of his feete vnwares from him did slide•• That downe hee fell into the deepe Abisse, Where drownd with him is all his earthlie blisse.

5

Then did I see a Bridge, made all of golde, Ouer the Sea from one to other side, Withouten prop or pillour it t'vpholde, But like the coulored Rainbowe arched wide: Not that great Arche, with Traian edifide, To be a wonder to all age ensuing, Was matchable to this in equall vewing.

But (ah) what bootes i•• to see earthlie thing In glorie, or in greatnes to excell, Sith time doth greatest things to ruine bring? This goodlie bridge, one foote not fastned well, Gan faile, and all the rest downe shortlie fell, Ne of so braue a building ought remained, That griefe thereof my spirite greatly pained.

6

I saw two Beares, as white as anie milke, Lying together in a mightie caue, Of milde aspect, and haire as soft as silke, That saluage nature seemed not to haue, Nor after greedie spoyle of blood to craue: Two fairer beasts might not elswhere be found, Although the compast world were sought around.

But what can long abide aboue this ground In state of blis, or stedfast happinesse? The Caue, in which these Beares lay sleeping sound, Was but earth, and with her owne weightinesse Vpon them fell, and did vnwares oppresse, That for great sorrow of their sudden fate, Henceforth all words felicitie I hate.

¶Much was I troubled in my heauie spright, At sight of these sad spectacles forepast, That all my senses were bereaued quight, And I in minde remained sore agast, Distraught twixt feare and pitie•• when at last I heard a voyce, which loudly to me called, That with the suddein shrill I was appalled.

Behold (said it) and by ensample see, That all is vanitie and griefe of minde, Ne other comfort in this world can be, But hope of heauen, and heart to God inclinde; For all the rest must needs be left behinde: With that it bad me, to the other side To cast mine eye, where other sights I spide?

1

¶Vpon that famous Riuers further shore, There stood a snowie Swan of heauenly hiew, And gentle kinde, as euer Fowle afore; A fairer one in all the goodlie criew Of white Strimonian brood might no man view: There he most sweetly sung the prophecie Of his owne death in dolefull Elegie.

At last, when all his mourning melodie He ended had, that both the shores resounded, Feeling the fit that him forewarnd to die, With loftie flight aboue the earth he bounded, And out of sight to highest heauen mounted: Where now he is become an heauenly signe; There now the ioy is his, here sorrow mine.

2

Whilest thus I looked, loe adowne the Lee, I sawe an Harpe stroong all with siluer twyne, And made of golde and costlie yuorie, Swimming, that whilome seemed to haue been The harpe, on which Dan Orpheus was seene

Wylde beasts and forrests after him to lead, But was th'Harpe of Philisides now dead.

At length out of the Riuer it was reard A••d borne aboue the cloudes to be diuin'd, Whilst all the way most heauenly noyse was heard Of the strings, stirred with the warbling wind, That wrought both ioy and sorrow in my mind: So now in heauen a signe it doth appeare, The Harpe well knowne beside the Northern Beare.

3

Soone after this I saw on th'other side, A curious Coffer made of Heben wood, That in it did most precious treasure hide, Exceeding all this baser worldes good: Yet through the ouerflowing of the flood It almost drowned was, and done to nought, That sight thereof much grieu'd my pensiue thought.

At length when most in perill it was brought, Two Angels downe descending with swift flight, Out of the swelling streame it lightly caught, And twixt their blessed armes it carried quight Aboue the reach of anie liuing sight: So now it is transform'd into that starre, In which all heauenly treasures locked are.

4

Looking aside I saw a stately Bed, Adorned all with costly cloth of gold, That might for anie Princes couche be red,

And deckt with daintie flowres, as if it shold Be for some bride, her ioyous night to hold: Therein a goodly Virgine sleeping lay: A fairer wight saw neuer summers day.

I heard a voyce that called farre away And her awaking bad her quickly dight, For lo her Bridegrome was in readie ray To come to her, and seeke her loues delight: With that she started vp with cherefull sight, When suddeinly both bed and all was gone, And I in languor left there all alone.

5

Still as I gazed, I beheld where stood A Knight all arm'd, vpon a winged steed, The same that was bred of Medusaes blood, On which Dan Perseus borne of heauenly seed, The faire Andromeda from perill freed: Full mortally this Knight ywounded was, That streames of blood foorth flowed on the gr••s.

Yet was he deckt (small ioy to him alas) With manie garlands for his victories, And with rich spoyles, which late he did purchas Through braue atcheiuements from his enemies: Fainting at last through long infirmities, He smote his steed, that straight to heauen him bore, And left me here his losse for to deplore.

6

Lastly I saw an Arke of purest golde Vpon a brazen pillour standing hie, Which th'ashes seem'd of some great Prince to hold,

Enclosde therein for endles memorie Of him, whom all the world did glorifie: Seemed the heauens with the earth did disagree•• Whether should of those ashes keeper bee.

At last me seem'd wing footed Mercurie, From heauen descending to appease their strife, The Arke did beare with him aboue the skie, And to those ashes gaue a second life, To liue in heauen, where happines is ri••e: At which the earth did grieue exceed••ngly, And I for dole was almost like to die.

L•• Envoy.

Immortall spirite of Philisides, Which now art made the heauens ornament, That whilome wast the worlds chiefst riches; Giue leaue to him that lou'de thee to lament His losse, by lacke of thee to heauen hent, And with last duties of this broken verse, Broken with sighes, to decke thy sable Herse.

And ye faire Ladie th'honor of your daies, And glorie of the world, your high thoughts scorne; Vouchsafe this moniment of his last praise, With some few siluer dropping teares t'adorne: And as ye be of heauenlie off spring borne, So vnto heauen let your high minde aspire, And loath this drosse of sin••ull worlds desire.

FINIS.