Poems: by Michaell Draiton Esquire

Charles Brandon Duke of Suffolk, to Mary the French Queene.

BVt that thy faith commaunds me to forbeare, The fault thine owne, if I vnpacient were; Were my dispatch such as should be my speede, I should want time thy louing lines to reede, Heere in the Court, Camelion-like I fare, And as that creature feed, vpon the ayre, All day I waite, and all the night I watch, And starue mine eares to heare of thy dispatch; If Douer were th'Abydos of my rest,

Or pleasant Cal〈…〉〈…〉ce were my Maries Cest, Thou shouldst not need, faire Queene, to blame me so, Did not the distance to desire say no: Noted ous night from trauell should be free, T••ll through the wanes, with swimming vnto thee, A snowy path I made vnto thy Bay, So bright as is that Nectar-stained way The restlesse sunne by trauelling doth weare, Passing his course to finish vp the yeare. But Paris lockes my loue within the maine, And London yet my Brandon doth detaine, Of thy firme loue thou putst me still in minde, But of my faith, not one word can I finde. When Longauile to Mary was affide, And thou by him wast made King Lewes bride, How oft I wisht that thou a prize mightst bee, That I in armes might combate him for thee, And in the madnesse of my loue distraught, A thousand times his murther haue sore thought, But that th'all-seeing powers which sit a〈…〉〈…〉, Regard not mad mens oathes, nor faults in loue, And haue confirmde it by the graunt of heauen, That Louers sinnes on earth should be forgiuen; For neuer than is halfe so much distrest, As he that loues to see his loue possest. Comming to Richmond after thy depart (Richmond where first thou stolst away my heart) Me thought it looke not as it did of late, But wanting thee ••or lo••ne and desolate, In whose faire walkes thou often hast bin seene, To sport with Katharine, Henries beauteous Queene,

Ast••nishing sad winter with thy sight, As for thy sake, the day hath put backe night; That the smal birds, as in the pleasant spring, Forgot themselues, and haue begun to sing: So oft I go by Thames, so oft returne, Me thinkes for thee the riuer yet doth mourne, Who I haue seene to let her streame at large, Which like a hand-maid waited on thy Barge; And if thou hapst against the flood to row, Which way it ebd, it presently would flow, Weeping in drops vpon thy laboring oares, For ioy that it had got thee from the shoares. The Swans with musicke that the Roothers make, Ruffing their plumes, come gliding on the lake, As the fleete Dolphins by Arion•• strings, Were brought to land with their sweete rauishings, The flockes and h••irdes that pasture neere the flood, To gaze vpon thee, haue forborne their food, And sate downe sadly mourning by the brim, That they by nature were not made to swim. Whenas the Post to Englands royall Court, Of thy hard passage brought the true report, How in a storme thy well rigd ships were tost, And thou thy selfe in danger to be lost, I knew twas Venus loath'd that aged bed, Where beautie so should be dishonoured; Or fearde the Sea-Nimphs haunting of the lake, If thou but seene, their Goddesse should forsake. And whirling round her Doue-drawne Coach about, To view the Nauie now in lanching out, Her ayrie mantle loosely doth vnbinde,

Which fanning forth a rougher gale of winde, Wafted thy sailes with speede vnto the land, And runnes thy ship on Bullins harboring strand. How should I ioy of thy arriue to heare? But as a poore sea-faring passenger, After long trauaile, tempest-torne and wrack'd, By some vnpitting Pirat that is sack'd; Heares the false robber that hath stolne his wealth, Landed in some safe harbour, and in health, Enriched with invaluable store, For which he long hath trauailed before. When thou to Abuile heldst th' appointed day, We heard how Lewes met thee on the way; Where thou in glittering Tissue strangely dight, Appear'dst vnto him like the Queene of light, In cloth of siluer all thy virgin traine, In beautie sumptuous as the Northerne waine; And thou alone the formost glorious star, Which lead'st the teame of that great Wagoner. What could thy thought be, but as I do thinke, When thine eyes tasted what mine eares did drinke? A cripple King laid bed-rid long before, Yet at thy comming crept out of the doore, T'was well he rid, he had no legs to goe, But this thy beautie forc'd his body to; For whom a cullice had more fitter beene, Then in a golden bed a gallant Queene. To vse thy beautie as the miser gold, Which hoards it vp but onely to behold, Still looking on it with a iealous eye, Fearing to lend, yet louing vsurie;

O Sacriledge (if beautie be diuine) The prophane hand shuld touch the halowed shrine. To 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sicknesse on the sound mans diet; To rob content yet still to liue vnquiet; And hauing all, to be of all beguild, And yet still longing like a little child. When Marques Dorset and the valiant Graies, To purchase fame first crost the narrow Seas, With all the Knights that my associates went, In honour of thy nuptiall turnament; Thinkst thou I ioy'd not in thy beauties pride, When thou in triumph didst through Paris ride? Where all the streetes as thou didst pace along, With Arras, Bisse, and Tapestry were hung; Ten thousand gallant Cittizens prepar'd, In rich at••ire thy princely selfe to guard; Next them, three thousand choise 〈…〉〈…〉igious men, In golden vestments followed on agen; And in procession as they came along, With Hymeneus sang thy marriage song. Then fiue great Dukes as did their places fall, To each of these, a princely Cardinall, Then thou on thy imperiall Chariot set, Crown'd with a rich imperled Coronet, Whilst the Persian dames, as thy traine past, Their pretious incence in abundance cast. As Cinthia from the waue-embatteld shrowdes, Opening the West, comes streaming through the clowds, With shining troupes of siluer-tressed stars, Attending on her as her torch-bearers, And all the lesser lights about her throne,

With admiration stand as lookers on; Whilst she alone in height of all her pride, The Queene of light, along her spheare doth glide, When on thy tilt my horse like thunder came, No other signall had I but thy name; Thy voyce my trumpet, and my guide thine eyes, And but thy beautie, I esteemde no prize. That large-〈…〉〈…〉d Almaine of the Giants race, Which bare strength on his breast, feare in his face, Whose sinewde armes, with his steele-temperd blade, Through plate and male such open passage made, Vpon whose might the Frenchmens glory lay, And all the hope of that victorious day; Thou sawe'st thy Brandon beate him on his knee, Offring his shield a conquerd spoile to thee. But thou wilt say perhaps I vainely boast, And tell thee thee which thou already know'st. No sacred Queene, my valour I denie, It was thy beautie, not my chiualrie; One of thy tressed curles which falling downe, As loth to be imprisoned in thy crowne, I saw the soft ayre sportiuely to take it, To diuers shapes and sundry formes to make it, Now parting it to foure, to three, to twaine, Now twisting it, and then vntwist againe; Then make the thrids to dally with thine eye, A sunny candle for a golden flie. At length from thence one little teare it got, Which falling downe as though a star had shot, My vp-turnde eye pursues it with my sight, The which againe redoubleth all my might.

Tis but in vaine of my descent to boast, When heauens lampe shines, all other lights be lost, Faulcons gaze not, the Eagle sitting by, Whose broode suruaies the sunne with open eye; Else might my blood finde issue from his force, In Bosworth plaine beate Richard from his horse, Whose puissant armes, great Richmond chose to wield, His glorious colours in that conquering field; And with his sword in his deere Soueraignes fight, To his last breath, stood fast in Henries right; Then beauteous Empresse, thinke this safe delay, Shall be the euen to a ioyfull day; Fore-sight doth still on all aduantage lie, Wise-men must giue place to necessitie; To put backe ill, our good we must forbeare, Better first feare, then after still to feare. T'were ouer-sight in that at which we aime, To put the hazard on an after-game; With patience then let vs our hopes attend, And till I come, receiue these lines I send.

¶ Notes of the Chronicle-Historie.

When Longauile to Mary was affied.

THe Duke of Longauile, which was prisonet in England vpon the peace to be concluded betweene England and France, was deliuered, and married the Princesse Mary, for Lewes the French King his Maister.

How in a storme thy well rigg'd ships were tost, And thou, &c.

As the Queene sailed for France, a mighty storme arose at sea, so that the Nauy was in great danger, and was seuered, some driuen vpon the coast of Flanders, some on Brittaine: the ship

wherein the Queene was, was driuen into the hauen at Bullen with very great danger.

When thou to Abuile heldst th'appointed day.

King Lewes met her by Abuile, neere to the Forrest of Arders, and brought her into Abuile with great solemnitie.

Appear'dst vnto him like the Queene of light.

Expressing the sumptuous attire of the Queene & her train, at∣tended by the chiefe of the Nobility of England, with 36. La∣dies, al in cloth of siluer, their horses trapped with crimson veluet.

A cripple King laid bed-rid long before.

King Lewes was a man of great yeeres troubled much with the gowt, so that he had long time before little vse of legs.

When Marques Dorset, and the valiant Graies,

The Duke of Suffolke when the proclamation came into Eng∣land, of iusts to be holden in France at Paris, he for the Queenes sake his Mistris, obtained of the King to go thither: with whom went the Marquesse Dorset and his foure brothers, the Lord Clin∣ton, Sir Edward Neuell, Sir Giles Chappell, Tho: Cheyney, which went all ouer with the Duke as his assistants.

When thou in triumph didst through Paris ride.

A true description of the Queenes entring into Paris, after her coronation performed at S. Dennis.

Then fiue great Dukes as did their places fall.

The Dukes of Alansoon, Burbon, Vandome, Longauile, Suf∣folke, with fiue Cardinalls.

That large-limd Almaine of the Giants race.

Francis Valoys, the Dolphin of France, enuying the glory that the Englishmen had obtained at the Tilt, brought in an Almaine secretly, a man thought almost of incomparable strength, which encountred Charles Brandon at Barriers, but the Duke grapling with him, so beate him about the head with the pumell of his sword, that the blood came out of the sight of his Caske.

Else might my blood finde issue from his force. In Bosworth, &c.

Sir William Brandon Standard-bearer to the Earle of Rich∣mond, (after Henry the 7.) at Bosworth field, a braue and gallant Gentleman, who was slaine by Richard there; this was father to this Charles Brandon Duke of Suffolke.

FINIS.