Brittons bovvre of delights Contayning many, most delectable and fine deuices, of rare epitaphes, pleasant poems, pastorals and sonets by N.B. Gent.

Brittons second dreame of Venus com∣plaint when she lost her son Cupid.

BUt sorrow thus to lose the sight of loue▪ Scarce well awakt I fell asleepe againe: In hope the heauens would some odde humor moue, To shew the fruits of such a sleepie vaine:

And scarce a sleepe strange visions did ensue, Yet not so strange but that they may be true.

Hard by the place where I had Cupid seene, Me thought I saw a heauenly kind of creature, Of stature tall, of countenance like a Queene, Exceeding faire, and of so sweet a feature: That when I stood to view her stately grace, My thought indeed I saw an Angels face.

Attirde she was in garments white as snow, Saue on her arme she wore a Tawnie lace. In her right hand she bare a bended bowe, And at her backe an emptie Arrow case: Little she said that I could heare at first, But sight and sobt as if her hart would burst.

But yet at last with sad and heauie looke, She tooke the bow and flung it on the ground: And from hir backe the emptie case she tooke, Which with the lace vnto the bowe she bound, Then downe she sate within a shadow vaile, And to her selfe she tolde this heauie tale.

Was euer wretch or creature thus beguilde, To loose the iewell of his chiefest ioy: Can Venus choose but sorrow for her childe, No, no, my darling was a daintie boy: But Mars, oh Mars, what ment he to come hither, For Mars and he are gone away together.

These little things were wont to be his armes, But now the wag hath throwne these toyes away: And thinks himselfe amid the thickest harmes, In onely hope to finde a happie day: Oh hawtie reach of honors high renowne, That throwes the sence of sweetest humors downe.

But my sweet boy, when first th•…•…se hands did binde thee, I knew each way that thou wert woont to go, And when this heart (vnhappie did vnbind thee, I little thought thou shouldst haue rannged so. But come againe good wretch let me intreat thee, And I protest thy mother will not beat thee.

But turne againe and tell me ere thon goest. Doest thou inte•…•…d to do som royall thing: Let this suffice that I am sure thou knowest, My hart could wish that thou wert made a king. God send thy hart the height of thy desier, Hope, hap, & heauen, and who can wish thee hier.

And therewithall she did those teares let fall, That shewd the wa•…•… where Loue & Reason fought Whose colour pale shewed some what did appall, Her pacient heart with some vnhappie thought. And so sweet Saint with sorrow ouercome, She stood amazde as she were striken dombe.

Then I behelde a sight of daintie Nymphes, Did straight before her stately eyes appeare: And downe on knees fell all these heauenly impes, To comfort her amid her heauie cheare. And when she heard that euery one had spoken, Prace, peace quoth she, for Bewties hart is brokē.

Alas, Alas, ye little sillie things, God knowes, I know still little do you know, What do belong vnto the state of Kings, What sets them vp, or seekes their ouerthrow. What kind of care do breed their sorrow most, What death is life wher dearest friends are lost.

But wish I yet I had but such a friend. As by desert delight did holde full deare:

And feare by force did see his fatall end, Yet no conceit could serue to keepe him heare. Would it not grieue each vaine within her hart, To see so sweet and deare a friend depart.

Then let this be a sparke of all my paine, Alas, alas, t'is but a sparke in deed: My sorrow sinks into so deepe a vaine, As makes the hart of highest fauour bleed, The chiefest staffe of my assured stay, With no small griefe is gone, is gone away.

My Cupid was to me a child of loue. But no such babe as ioied in childrens bables: For mark his life, his mind would soone approue, Such feined fancies were but Ouids fables. Who was as far from knowing my Cupido, As faithfull loue is farre from foule Libido.

He neuer liued by deedes of vaine desire, Nor wrapt himselfe in Carpets of conceite: But hautie Fame had set his heart on fire, To shew the mind that neuer ment deceite. But seekes by armes to pul ambition downe, That wrought by force to wring me from my crowne.

O care most rare, and worthy kinde regarde, O rare regard, and worthie high renowne: O high renowne that rightly maist reward, The carefull heart to keepe me in my crowne. And honor seekes where due desert may beare it, Which wonne by force, with fauor he shall weare it.

Wherewith (me thought) I heard a sudden larme, To horse, to horse the Caualir•…•…es cried, And after that a crie of arme, arme, arme, And downe they ranne vnto a riuer side.

Where I might heare the trumpet, drumme, and •…•…ife, Sound vp the honour of a souldiers life.

Anon I saw the shippes drawe nigh the shore, And all aboord went horse and man apace: Where launching out the gunnes shot off so sore, As where I stood did seemt to shake the place. And Trumpets shrill so sounded in the streame, As I awooke, and all was but a dreame.