Delia and Rosamond augmented Cleopatra by Samuel Daniel.

To the Right Honourable, the Lady Marie, Countesse of PEMBROOKE.

LOE heere the worke the which she did impose, Who onely doth predominate my Muse: The starre of wonder, which my labours chose To guide their way in all the course I vse. Shee, whose cleere brightnes doth alone infuse Strength to my thoughts, and makes mee what I am, Call'd vp my spirits from out their low repose, To sing of state, and tragick notes to frame.

I, who (contented with an humble song.) Made musique to my selfe that pleas'd mee best, And onely told of DELIA, and her wrong, And prais'd her eyes, and plain'd mine owne vnrest: (A text from whence my Muse had not degrest.) Madam, had not thy well grac'd Anthony, (Who all alone hauing remained long,) Requir'd his Cleopatras company.

Who if shee heere doe so appeare in act, That for his Queene & Loue he scarce wil know her, Finding how much shee of her selfe hath lackt, And mist that glory wherein I should shew her, In maiestie debas'd, in courage lower; Yet lightning thou by thy sweet fauouring eyes, My darke defects which from her sp'rit detract, Hee yet may gesse it's shee; which will suffise.

And I heereafter, in another kinde, More fitting to the nature of my vaine, May (peraduenture) better please thy minde, And higher notes in sweeter musique straine: Seeing that thou so graciously doost daine. To countenaunce my song and cherish mee. I must so worke posterity may finde How much I did contend to honour thee.

Now when so many pennes (like Speares) are charg'd, To chace away this tyrant of the North: Gross Barbarism, whose powre growne far inlarg'd, Was lately by thy valiant Brothers worth, First found, encountred, and prouoked forth: Whose onset made the rest audacious, Whereby they likewise haue so well discharg'd, Vpon that hidious Beast incroching thus.

And now must I with that poore strength I haue, Resist so foule a foe in what I may: And arme against obliuion and the graue, That els in darknes carries all away, And makes of all our honors but a pray. So that if by my penne procure I shall But to defend mee, and my name to saue, Then though I die, I cannot yet die all;

But still the better part of me will liue, Deckt and adorned with thy sacred name, Although thy selfe dost farre more glory giue Vnto thy selfe, then I can by the same. Who doost with thine owne hand a Bulwarke frame Against these Monsters, (enemies of honour,) VVhich euer-more shall so defend thy Fame, That Time nor they, shall neuer pray vpon her.

Those Hymnes that thou doost consecrate to heauen, Which Israels Singer to his God did frame: Vnto thy voyce eternitie hath giuen, And makes thee deere to him frō whence they came. In them must rest thy euer reuerent name, So long as Syons GOD remaineth honoured; And till confusion hath all zeale be-reauen, And murthered Fayth, and Temples ruined.

By this, (Great Lady,) thou must then be knowne, VVhen Wilton lyes low loudl'd with the ground: And this is that which thou maist call thine owne, VVhich sacriligious time cannot confound; Heere thou suruiu'st thy selfe, heere thou are found Of late succeeding ages, fresh in fame: This Monument cannot be ouer-throwne, Where, in eternall Brasse remaines thy Name.

O that the Ocean did not bound our stile VVithin these strict and narrow limmits so: But that the melody of our sweet Ile, Might now be heard to Tyber, Arne, and Po. That they might know how far Thames doth out-go The musique of Declyned Italie: And listning to our songs another while, Might learne of thee, their notes to purifie.

O why may not some after-comming hand, Vnlock these limits, open our confines: And breake a sunder this imprisoning band, T'inlarge our spirits, and publish our dissignes; Planting our Roses on the Apenines? And teach to Rhene, to Loyre, and Rhodanus, Our accents, and the wonders of our Land, That they might all admire and honour vs.

Wherby great SYDNEY & our SPENCER might, VVith those Po-singers beeing equalled, Enchaunt the world with such a sweet delight, That theyr eternall songs (for euer read,) May shew what great ELIZAS raigne hath bred. VVhat musique in the kingdome of her peace. Hath now beene made to her, and by her might, VVhereby her glorious fame shall neuer cease.

But if that Fortune doth deny vs this, Then Neptune, lock vp with thy Ocean key, This treasure to our selues, and let them misse Of so sweet ritches: as vnworthy they To taste the great delights that we inioy. And let our harmony so pleasing growne, Content our selues, whose errour euer is, Strange notes to like, and disesteeme our owne.

But, whither doe my vowes transport me now, VVithout the compasse of my course inioynd? Alas, what honour can a voyce so low As this of mine, expect heereby to find? But, (Madam,) this doth animate my mind, That fauored by the Worthyes of our Land, My lynes are lik'd; the which may make me grow, In time to take a greater taske in hand.