A panegyrike congratulatorie to the Kings Maiestie Also certaine epistles, by Samuel Daniel.

TO THE LADY MARGARET COVNTESSE OF CVM∣BERLAND.

HE that of such a height hath built his minde, And rear'd the dwelling of his thoughts so strong As neither Feare nor Hope can shake the frame Of his resolued powres, nor al the winde Of Vanitie or Malice, pierce to wrong His setled peace, or to disturbe the same, What a faire seate hath he from whence hee may The boundlesse wastes, and weilds of man suruay.

And with how free an eye doth he looke downe, Vpon these lower Regions of turmoyle, Where all these stormes of passions mainely beate On flesh and blood, where honor, power, renowne Are onely gay afflictions, golden toyle, Where Greatnesse stands vpon as feeble feete As Frailtie doth, and only great doth seeme To little mindes, who do it so esteeme.

He lookes vpon the mightiest Monarchs warres But onely as on stately robberies, Where euermore the fortune that preuailes Must be the right, the ill-succeeding marres The fairest and the best-fac't enterprize: Great Pyrat Pompey lesser Pyrates quailes, Iustice, he sees, as if seduced, still Conspires with powre, whose cause must not be ill.

He sees the face of Right t'appeare as manyfold As are the passions of vncertaine man, Who puts it in all coulours, all attires To serue his ends, and make his courses hold: He sees that let Deceit worke what it can, Plot and contriue base wayes to high desires, That the all-guiding Prouidence doth yet All disappoint, and mockes this smoake of wit.

Nor is he moou'd with all the thunder crackes Of Tyrants threats, or with the surly brow Of power, that prowdly sits on others crimes, Chardg'd with more crying sinnes, then those he checks: The stormes of sad confusion that may grow Vp in the present, for the cumming times, Appall not him, that hath no side at all But of himselfe, and knowes the worst can fall.

Although his hart so neere allied to earth, Cannot but pittie the perplexed State Of troublous, and distrest mortalitie, That thus make way vnto the ougly birth Of their owne sorrowes, and doe still beget Affliction vpon imbecilitie: Yet seeing thus the course of things must run, He lookes thereon, not strange, but as foredun.

And whilst distraught Ambition compasses And is incompast, whil'st as craft deceiues And is deceiu'd, whil'st man doth ransack man And builds on bloud, and rises by distresse, And th'inheritance of desolation leaues To great expecting hopes, he lookes thereon As from the shore of peace with vnwet eye And beares no venture in impietie.

Thus, Madame, fares the man that hath prepar'd A rest for his desires, and sees all things Beneath him, aud hath learn't this booke of man, Full of the notes of frailtie, and compar'd The best of glory with her sufferings, By whom I see you labour all you can To plant your heart, and set your thought as neere His glorious mansion, as your powres can beare.

Which, Madame, are so soundly fashioned, By that cleere iudgement that hath caried you Beyond the feeble limits of your kinde, As they can stand against the strongest head Passion can make, invr'd to any hew The world can cast, that cannot cast that minde Out of her forme of goodnesse, that doth see Both what the best and worst of earth can bee.

Which makes, that whatsoeuer here befalles, You in the region of your selfe remaine, Where no vaine breath of th'impudent molests, That hath secur'd within the brasen walls Of a cleere conscience, that without all staine Rises in peace, in innocencie rests: Whilst all what malice from without procures, Shews her owne ougly heart, but hurts not yours.

And whereas none reioyce more in reuenge Then women vse to doe, yet you well know, That wrong is better checkt, by being contemn'd, Then being pursu'd, leauing to him tauenge To whom it appertaines, wherein you show How worthily your Clearenesse hath condemn'd Base malediction, liuing in the darke, That at the raies of goodnesse still doth barke.

Knowing the heart of man is set to be The centre of his world, about the which These reuolutions of disturbances Still roule, where all th'aspects of miserie Predominate, whose strong effects are such As he must beare, being powrelesse to redresse, And that vnlesse aboue himselfe he can Erect himselfe, how poore a thing is man?

And how turmoyld they are that leuell lie With earth, and cannot lift themselues from thence, That neuer are at peace with their desires, But worke beyond their yeares, and euen deny Dotage her rest, and hardly will dispence With Death: that when ability expires, Desire liues still, so much delight they haue To carry toile, and trauaile to the graue.

Whose ends you see, and what can be the best They reach vnto, when they haue cast the summe And recknings of their glory, and you know This floting life hath but this Port of rest, A heart prepar'd that feares no ill to come: And that mans greatnesse rests but in his show; The best of all whose dayes consumed are, Eyther in warre, or peace conceiuing warre.

This Concord (Madame) of a wel-tun'd minde Hath beene so set by that all-working hand Of heauen, that though the world hath done his worst, To put it out, by discords most vnkinde, Yet doth it still in perfect vnion stand With God and Man, nor euer will be forc't From that most sweete accord, but still agree Equall in Fortunes inequalitie.

And this note(Madame) of your Worthines Remaines recorded in so many Hearts As time nor malice cannot wrong your right In th inheritance of Fame you must possesse, You that haue built you by your great desarts, Out of small meanes, a farre more exquisite And glorious dwelling for your honoured name Then all the gold of leaden mindes can frame.

S. D.