Poly-Olbion by Michaell· Drayton Esqr

The second Song. (Book 2)

* THE ARGVMENT.

The Muse from Marshwood way commands, Along the shore through Chesills sands: Where, ouertoyld, her heate to coole, Shee bathes her in the pleasant Poole: Thence, ouer-land againe doth scowre, To fetch in Froome, and bring downe Stowre; Falls with New-forrest, as she sings The wanton Wood-Nymphes reuellings. Whilst Itchin in her loftie layes, Chaunts Beuis of South-hamptons praise, Shee Southward with her actiue flight Is wafted to the Ile of Wight, To see the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Sea-gods keepe: There swaggering in the Solent deepe. Thence Hampshire-ward her way shee bends; And visiting her Forrest friends, Neere Salsbury her rest doth take: Which shee her second pause doth make.

MArch strongly forth my Muse, whilst yet the temperat aire Inuites vs, easely on to hasten our repaire. Thou powerfull God of flames (in verse diuinely great) Touch my invention so with thy true genuine heate, That high and noble things I slightly may not tell, Nor light and idle toyes my lines may vainly swell; But as my subiect serues, so hie or lowe to straine, And to the varying earth so sute my varying vaine, That Nature in my worke thou maist thy power avow: That as thou first found'st Art, and didst her rules allow; So I, to thine owne selfe that gladlie neere would bee, May herein doe the best, in imitating thee: As thou hast heere a hill, a vale there, there a flood, A mead here, there a heath, and now and then a wood,

These things so in my Song I naturally may showe; Now, as the Mountaine hie; then, as the Valley lowe: Heere, fruitfull as the Mead, there as the Heath be bare; Then, as the gloomie wood, I may be rough; though rare. Through the Dorsetian fields that lie in open view, My progresse I againe must seriouslie pursue, From Marshwoods fruitfull Vale my iourney on to make: (As Phoebus getting vp out of the Easterne lake, Refresht with ease and sleepe, is to his labour prest; Euen so the labouring Muse, heere baited with this rest.) Whereas the little Lim along doth easelie creepe, And Car, that comming downe vnto the troubled Deepe, Brings on the neighbouring Bert, whose batning mellowed banke, From all the British soyles, for Hempe most hugely ranke Doth beare away the best; to Bert-port which hath gain'd That praise from euery place, and worthilie obtain'd * 1.1Our cordage from her store, and cables should be made, Of any in that kind most fit for Marine trade: Not seuer'd from the shore, aloft where Chesill lifts Her ridged snake-like sands, in wrecks and smouldring drifts, Which by the South-wind raysd, are heav'd on little hills: Whose valleys with his flowes when foming Neptune fills, * 1.2Vpon a thousand Swannes the naked Sea-Nymphes ride Within the ouzie Pooles, replenisht euery Tide: Which running on, the Ile of Portland pointeth out; Vpon whose moisted skirt with sea-weed fring'd about, The bastard Corall breeds, that drawne out of the brack, A brittle stalke becomes, from greenish turn'd to black: §. Which th'Ancients, for the loue that they to Isis bare (Their Goddesse most ador'd) haue sacred for her haire. Of which the Naides, and the blew a 1.3 Nereides make Them b 1.4 Taudries for their necks: when sporting in the Lake, They to their secrete Bowres the Sea-gods entertaine. VVhere Portland from her top doth ouer-peere the Maine; Her rugged front empal'd (on euery part) with rocks, Though indigent of wood, yet fraught with woolly flocks: Most famous for her folke, excelling with the fling, Of any other heere this Land inhabiting; That there-with they in warre offensiuelie might wound, If yet the vse of shot Invention had not found. Where, from the neighbouring hills her passage Wey doth path: VVhose hauen, not our least that watch the mid-day, hath The glories that belong vnto a complete Port; Though Wey the least of all the Naïdes that resort To the Dorsetian sands, from off the higher shore. Then Frome (a nobler flood) the Muses doth implore

Her mother Blackmores state they sadly would bewaile; Whose bigge and lordlie Oakes once bore as braue a saile As they themselues that thought the largest shades to spred: But mans deuouring hand, with all the earth not fed, Hath hew'd her Timber downe. VVhich wounded, when it fell, By the great noise it made, the workmen seem'd to tell The losse that to the Land would shortlie come thereby, VVhere no man euer plants to our posteritie: That when sharp Winter shoots her sleet and hardned haile, Or suddaine gusts from Sea, the harmlesse Deere assaile, The shrubs are not of power to sheeld them from the wind. Deere Mother, quoth the Froome, too late (alas) we find The softness of thy sward continued through thy soile, To be the onely cause of vnrecouer'd spoile: VVhen scarce the British ground a finer grasse doth beare; And wish I could, quoth shee, (if wishes helpfull were) §. Thou neuer by that name of White-hart hadst been known, But stiled Blackmore still, which rightly was thine owne. For why, that change foretold the ruine of thy state: Lo, thus the world may see what tis to innovate. By this, her owne nam'd * 1.5 Towne the wandring Froome had past: And quitting in her course old Dorcester at last, Approaching neere the Poole, at Warham on her way, As easelie shee doth fall into the peacefull Bay, Vpon her nobler side, and to the South-ward neere, Faire Purbeck shee beholds, which no where hath her peere: So pleasantlie in-Il'd on mightie Neptunes marge, A Forest-Nymph, and one of chaste Dianas charge, Imploy'd in Woods and Launds her Deere to feed and kill: §. On whom the watrie God would oft haue had his will, And often her hath woo'd, which neuer would be wonne; But, Purbeck (as profest a Huntresse and a Nunne) The wide and wealthy Sea, nor all his power respects: Her Marble-minded breast, impregnable, reiects The a 1.6 vglie Orks, that for their Lord the Ocean wooe. Whilst Froome was troubled thus where nought shee hath to doe, The Piddle, that this while bestird her nimble feet, In falling to the Poole her sister Froome to meet, And hauing in her traine two little slender rills (Besides her proper Spring) where-with her banks shee fills, To whom since first the world this later name her lent, Who ancientlie was knowne to be instiled b 1.7 Trent, Her small assistant Brookes her second name haue gain'd. Whilst Piddle and the Froome each other entertain'd, Oft praysing louely Poole, their best-beloued Bay, Thus Piddle her bespake, to passe the time away;

VVhen Poole (quoth shee) was young, a lustie Sea-borne Lass, Great Albyon to this Nymph an earnest suter was; And bare himselfe so well, and so in fauour came, That he in little time, vpon this louelie Dame §. Begot three mayden Iles, his darlings and delight: The eldest, Brunksey call'd; the second, Fursey hight; The youngest and the last, and lesser then the other, Saint Hellens name doth beare, the dilling of her Mother. * 1.8And, for the goodlie Poole was one of Thetis traine, Who scorn'd a Nymph of hers, her Virgin-band should staine, Great Albyon (that fore-thought, the angrie Goddesse would Both on the Dam and brats take what reuenge shee could) I'th bosome of the Poole his little children plac't: First, Brunksey; Fursey next; and little Hellen last; Then, with his mightie armes doth clip the Poole about, To keepe the angrie Queene, fierce Amphitrite out. Against whose lordlie might shee musters vp her waues; And strongly thence repulst (with madness) scoulds and raues. When now, from Poole, the Muse (vp to her pitch to get) Her selfe in such a place from sight doth almost set, As by the actiue power of her commanding wings, She (Falcon-like) from farre doth fetch those plentious Springs. VVhere Stour receiues her strength frō * 1.9 sixe cleere Fountaines fed; Which gathering to one streame from euery seuerall head, Her new-beginning banke her water scarcely weelds; And fairelie entreth first on the Dorsetian feelds: Where Gillingham with gifts that for a God were meet (Enameld paths, rich wreaths, and euery soueraine sweet The earth and ayre can yeeld, with many a pleasure mixt) Receiues her. Whilst there past great kindness them betwixt, The Forrest her bespoke; How happie floods are yee, From our predestin'd plagues that priuiledged bee; Which onelie with the fish which in your banks doe breed, And dailie there increase, mans gurmandize can feed? But had this wretched Age such vses to imploy Your waters, as the woods we latelie did enioy, Your chanels they would leaue as barren by their spoile, As they of all our trees haue lastlie left our soile. Insatiable Time thus all things doth deuour: What euer saw the sunne, that is not in Times power? Yee fleeting Streames last long, out-liuing manie a day: But, on more stedfast things Time makes the strongest pray. §. Now tow'rds the Solent sea as Stour her way doth ply, On Shaftsbury (by chance) shee cast her crystall eye, From whose foundation first, such strange reports arise §. As brought into her mind the Eagles prophecies;

Of that so dreadfull plague, which all great Britaine swept, From that which highest flew, to that which lowest crept, Before the Saxon thence the Britaine should expell, And all that there-vpon successiuely befell. How then the bloodie Dane subdu'd the Saxon race; And, next, the Norman tooke possession of the place: Those ages, once expir'd, the Fates to bring about, The British Line restor'd; the Norman linage out. §. Then, those prodigious signes to ponder shee began, Which afterward againe the Britans wrack fore-ran; How here the Owle at noone in publique streets was seene, As though the peopled Townes had way-less Deserts been. And whilst the loathly Toad out of his hole doth crall, And makes his fulsome stoole amid the Princes hall, The crystall fountaine turn'd into a gory wound, And bloodie issues brake (like vlcers) from the ground; The Seas against their course with double Tides returne, And oft were seene by night like boyling pitch to burne. Thus thinking, liuelie Stour bestirres her tow'rds the Maine; Which Lidden leadeth out: then Dulas beares her traine From Blackmore, that at once their watry tribute bring: VVhen, like some childish wench, shee looselie wantoning, With ••ricks and giddie turnes seemes to in-Ile the shore. Betwixt her fishfull banks, then forward shee doth scowre, Vntill shee lastlie reach cleere Alen in her race: Which calmlie commeth downe from her deere mother c 1.10 Chase, Of Cranburn that is call'd; who greatly ioyes to see A Riueret borne of her, for Stours should reckned bee, Of that renowned flood, a fauourite highlie grac't. Whilst Cranburn, for her child so fortunatelie plac't, VVith Ecchoes euerie way applauds her Alens state, A suddaine noise from d 1.11 Holt seeme to congratulate VVith Cranburn for her Brooke so happily bestow'd: Where, to her neighboring Chase, the curteous Forrest show'd So iust conceiued ioy, that from each rising a 1.12 hurst, Where many a goodlie Oake had carefullie been nurst, The Syluans in their songs their 〈◊〉〈◊〉 full meeting tell; And Satyres, that in stades and gloomy dimbles dwell, Runne whooting to the hills to clappe their rude•• hands. As Holt had done before, so Canfords goodlie Launds (Which leane vpon the Poole) enricht with Coppras vaines, Reioyce to see them ioyn'd. When downe from Sarum Plain••d Cleere Auon comming in her sister Stour doth call, §. And at New-forrests foote into the Sea doe fall, Which euery day bewaile that deed so full of dred Whereby shee (now so proud) became first Forrested:

Shee now who for her site euen boundless seem'd to lie, §. Her beeing that receiu'd by Williams tyrannie; Prouiding Lawes to keepe those Beasts heere planted then, Whose lawless will from hence before had driuen men; That where the harth was warm'd with Winters feasting fiers, The melancholie Hare is form'd in brakes and briers: The aged ranpick trunk where Plow-men cast their seed, And Churches ouer-whelm'd with nettles, ferne and weed, By Conquering William first cut off from euery trade, That heere the Norman still might enter to invade; That on this vacant place, and vnfrequented shore, New forces still might land, to ayde those heere before. But shee, as by a King and Conqueror made so great, By whom shee was allow'd and limited her seat, Into her owne-selfe praise most insolently brake, And her lesse fellow Nymphs, New-forrest thus bespake: * 1.13Thou Buckholt, bow to mee, so let thy sister Bere; Chute, kneele thou at my name on this side of the Shiere: Where, for their Goddesse, mee the b 1.14 Driads shall adore, With Waltham, and the Bere, that on the Sea-worne shore See at the Southerne Iles the Tides at tilt to runne; And Woolmer, placed hence vpon the rising sunne, With Ashholt thine Allie (my Wood-Nymphs) and with you, Proud Pamber tow'rds the North, ascribe me worship due. Before my Princelie State let your poore greatness fall: And vaile your top•• to mee, the Soueraigne of you all. Amongst the Riuers, so, great discontent there fell. Th'efficient cause thereof (as loud report doth tell) Was, that the sprightly Test arising vp in Chute, To Itchin, her All••••, great weakeness should impute▪ That shee, to her owne wrong, and euery others griefe, Would needs be telling things exceeding all beliefe: For, she had giuen it out South-hampton should not loose §. Her famous Beuis so, went in her power to choose; §. And, for great Arthurs seat, her Winchester preferres, Whose old Round-table, yet she va••nteth to be hers: And swore, th'inglorious time should not bereaue her right; But what it could obscure, she would reduce to light. For, from that wondrous * 1.15 Pond, whence shee deriues her head, And places by the way, by which shee's honored (Old Winchester, that stands neere in her middle way, And Hampton, at her fall into the Solent Sea) Shee thinks in all the Ile not any such as shee, And for a Demy-god she would related bee. Sweet sister mine (quoth Test) advise you what you doe; Thinke this; For each of vs, the Forests heere are two:

Who if you speak a thing whereof they hold can take, Bee't little, or bee't much, they double will it make▪ Whom Hamble helpeth our; a handsome ••ome proper flood, In curtesie well skild, and one that knew her good, Consider, quoth this Nymph, the times be curious now, And nothing of that kind will any way allow. Besides, the Muse hath, next the British cause in hand, About things later done that now shee cannot stand. The more they her perswade, the more shee doth persist; Let them say what they will, shee will doe what shee li••t. Shee stiles her selfe the•• Chiefe, and sweares shoe will command; And, what-so-ere shee saith, for Oracles must stand! Which when the Riuers heard, they further speech forbare. And shee (to please her selfe that onely seem'd to eare) To sing th'atchieuement great of B••uis thus began; Redoubted Knight (quoth shee) ô most renowned man! Who, when thou, wer•• but young, thy Mother durst reproue (Most wickedly seduc't by the vnlawfull loue Of Mordure, at that time the Almain Emperors sonne) That shee thy Sire to death disloyally had done: Each circumstance whereof shee largelie did relate; Then, in her song pursu'd his Mothers deadlie hate; And how (by Sabers hand) when shee suppos'd him dead, Where long vpon the Downe•• a Shepheards life hee led; Till by the great reco••••••, he came at length to knowe The Country there about could hardly hold the showe His Mothers mariage feast to faire South-hampton drue, Be'ing wedded to that Lord who la•••• her husband slue: Into his noble breast which pierc't so wondrous deepe, That (in the poore attire he vs'd to tend the sheepe, And in his hand his hooke) vnto the Towne hee went; As hauing in his heart a resolute intent Or manfullie to die, or to reuenge his wrong: VVhere pressing at the gate the multitude among, The Porter to that place his entrance that forbad (Supposing him some swaine, some boystrous Country-lad) Vpon the head hee lent so violent a stroke, That the poore emptie skull, like some thin potsheard broke, The braines and mingled blood, were spertled on the wall. Then hasting on he came into the vpper Hall, Where murderous M••rdure sate imbraced by his Bride: VVho (guiltie in himselfe) had hee no•• Beuis spide, His boanes had with a blowe been shattred: but, by chance (He shifting from the place, whilst Bre•••• did aduance His hand, with greater strength his deadly foe to hit, And missing him) his chaire hee all to shiuers split:

Which strooke his Mothers breast with strange and sundry feares, That Beuis beeing then but of so tender yeares Durst yet attempt a thing so full of death and doubt And, once before deceiu'd, shee newlie cast about To rid him out of sight; and with a mighty ••••ge, Wonne such, themselues by oath as deeplie dursting age, To execute her will▪ who shipping him away (And making forth their course into the Mid-land-se••) As they had got before, so now againe for gold To an Armenia•• there that young Alcides ••old▪ Of all his gott••n prize, who (as the worthiest thing, And fittest where-withall to gr••••if••e his King) Presented that braue youth▪ the splendor of whose eye A wondrous mixture shew'd of grace and maiestie▪ Whose more then man-like shape and matchlesse stature, tooke The King; that often vs'd with great delight to looke Vpon that English Earle. But though the loue he bore To Beuis might be much, his daughter tenne times more Admir'd the god-like man▪ who from the howre that first His beautie shee beheld, f••lt her sof•• bosome pierst With Cupids deadliest shaft▪ that I••sia••, to her guest, Alreadie had resign'd possession of her breast. Then sang shee, in the field ••how as hee went to sport, And those damn'd Pani••s heard▪ who in despightfull sort Derided Christ the Lord; for his Rede••mers sake He on those heathen hounds did there such slaughter make, That whilst in their black mouth•••• their blasphemies they drue, They headlong went to hell. As also how hee ••lue That cruell Boare, whose tusks turn'd vp whole fields of graine (And, wrooting, raised hills vpon the leuell Plaine; Digd Cauerns in the earth, so darke and wondrous deepe As that, into whose mouth the desperate * 1.16 Roman leepe): And cutting off his head, a Trophy thence to beare▪ The Forresters that came to intercept it there, How he their scalps and trunks in chip•• and pee••••s cleft, And in the fields (like beasts) their mangled bodies left. As to his further praise, how for that dangerous fight The great Armenian King made noble Beuis Knight: And hauing raised power, Damascus to invade, The Generall of his force this English Heroe made. Then, how faire Io••••an gaue him Ar••••d••ll his ste••d, And Morglay his good sword, in many a valiant deed Which manfully he tri'd. Next, in a * 1.17 Bu••kind straine, Sung how himselfe he bore vpon Damascus Plaine (That dreadful battell) where, with Bradamond he fought; And with his sword and steed such earthlie wonders wrought,

As euen amongst his fo••s him admiration won▪ Incountring in the throng with mightie Radison; And lopping off his armes, th'imperiall standard tooke. At whose prodigious fall, the conquered Foe forsooke The Field; where, in one day so many Peeres they lost, So braue Commaunders, and so absolute an host, As to the humbled earth tooke proud Damascus downe, Then tributarie made to the Armenian Crowne. And how at his returne, the King (for seruice done, The honor to his raigne, and to Ar••••nia won) In mariage to this Earle the Princess Ios••an gaue; As into what distresse him Fortune after draue, To great Damascus sent Ambassador againe; When, in reuenge of theirs, before by Beuis slaine (And now, at his returne, for that he so despis'd Those Idols vnto whom they dailie sacrifiz'd: Which he to peeces hew'd and scattred in the dust) They, rising, him by strength into a Dungeon thrust; In whose blacke bottom, long two Serpents had remain'd (Bred in the common ••ewre that all the Cittie drain'd) Empoysning with their smell; which seiz'd him for their pray: With whom in strugling long (besmeard with blood and clay) He rent their squallid chaps, and from the prison scap't. As how adultrous Ioure, the King of Mambrant, rap't Faire Iosian his deere Loue, his noble sword and steed: Which afterward by craft, he in a Palmers weed Recouerd, and with him from Mambrant bare away. And with two Lions how hee held a desperat fray, Assayling him at once, that fiercelie on him flew: Which first he tam'd with wounds, then by the necks them drew, And gainst the hardned earth their lawes and shoulders burst; And that (G••lia-like) great Ascupart inforc't To serue him for a slaue, and by his horse to runne. At Colein as againe the glorie that he wonne On that huge Dragon, like the Country to destroy; Whose sting strooke like a Lance: whose venom did destroy As doth a generall plague: his scale•• like shields of brass; His bodie, when hee moou'd, like some vnweeldie mass, Euen brus'd the solid Earth. Which boldlie hauing song, With all the sundry turnes that might thereto belong, Whilst yet shee shapes her course how he came back to show What powers he got abroad, how them he did bestow; In England heere againe, how he by dint of sword Vnto his ancient lands and titles was restor'd, New-forrest cry'd enough: and Waltham with the Bere, Both bad her hold her peace; for they no more would heare.

And for shee was a flood, her fellowes nought would say▪ But slipping to their b••••ks, slid fal••ntlie away. When as the pliant Muse, with faire and euen flight, Betwixt her siluer 〈…〉〈…〉 wasted 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the a 1.18 Wight: That Ile, which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 out into the Sea so farre, Her ofspring traineth vp in exercise of warre▪ Those Pyrats to put backe that oft purloine her trade, Or Spaniards, or the French attemp••ing to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Of all the Southerne Iles shee 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the highest place, And euermore hath born the great 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Britai••••s grace: Not one of all her Nymphs her Soueraigne fauoureth thus, Imbraced in the armes of old Oceanus. For none of her account, so neere her bosome stand, Twixt b 1.19 Penwiths fur••hest point and b 1.20 Goodwins queachy sand, Both for her seat and soyle, that farr•• before the other, Most iustlie may account great Britaine for her Mother. A finer fleece then hers not Lemsters selfe can boast, Nor Newport for her Mart, or marcht by any Coast. To these, the gentle South, with kisses smooth and soft, Doth in her bosome breathe, and seemes to court her oft. Besides, her little Rill••, her in-lands that doe feed, Which with their lauish streames doe furnish euerie need: And Meads, that with their fine soft grafsie towels stand To wipe away the drops and moisture from her hand. And to the North, betwixt the fore-land and the firme, * 1.21Shee hath that narrow Sea, which we the Solent t••arme: Where those rough irefull Tides ••••s in her Straits they meet, With boystrous shock•• and rores each other rudely grect: Which fiercelie when they charge, and sadlie make retre••••, Vpon the bulwarkt Forts of c 1.22 Hurst and Calsheat beat, Then to South-hampton runne: which by her shores supplide * 1.23(As Portsmouth by her strength) doth vilifie their pride; Both, Roads that with our best may boldlie hold their plea, Nor Plimmouths selfe hath born•• more brauer ships then they; That from their anchoring Bayes haue trauailed to finde Large Chi••a•• wealthie Realms, and view'd the either I••de, The pearlie rich 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ and with as prosperous fate, Haue borne their ful-spred sailes vpon the streames of Plate: Whose pleasant harbors oft the Sea-mans hope renue, To rigge his late-craz'd Barke, to spred a wanton clue; Where they with lustie Sack, and mirthfull Sailers songs, Defie their passed stormes, and laugh at Neptunes wrongs: The danger quite forgot wherein they were of late; Who halfe so merrie now as Maister and his Mate▪ And victualling againe, with braue and man-like minds To Sea-ward cast their eyes, and pray for happie winds.

But, partlie by the floods sent thither from the shore, And Ilands that are set the bordring coast before: As one amongst the rest, a braue and lustie Dame Call'd Portsey, whence that Bay of Portsmouth hath her name: By her, two little Iles, her handmaids (which compar'd With those within the Poole, for deftness not out-dar'd) The greater Haling hight: and fairest though by much, Yet Thorney verie well, but some-what rough in tuch. Whose beauties farre and neere divulged by report, And by the a 1.24 Trytons told in mightie Neptunes Court, Old b 1.25 Proteus hath been knowne to leaue his finny Heard, And in their sight to spunge his ••oame-bespawled beard. The Sea-gods, which about the watry ki••••••ome keepe, Haue often for their sakes abandoned the Deepe; That Thetis many a time to Neptune hath complaind, How for those wanton Nymphes her Ladies were disdain'd: And there arose such rut th'vnrulie rout among, That soone the noyse thereof through all the Ocean rong. §. VVhen Portsey, weighing well the ill to her might grow, In that their mightie stirres might be her ouer-throw, Shee stronglie straightneth-in the entrance to her Bay; That,* 1.26 of their haunt debard, and shut out to the Sea (Each small conceiued wrong helps on distempred rage.) No counsell could be heard their choler to aswage: When euery one suspects the next that is in place To be the onely cause and meanes of his disgrace. Some comming from the East, some from the setting Sunne, The liquid Mountaines still together mainlie runne; Waue woundeth waue againe; and billow, billow gores: And topsie turuie so, flie tumbling to the shores. From hence the Solent Sea, as some men thought, might stand Amongst those things, which wee call Wonders of our Land. When toghing vp c 1.27 that streame, so negligent of fame, As till this verie day shee yet conceales her name; By Bert and Waltham both, that's equally imbrac't, And lastlie, at her fall, by Tichfield highlie grac't. Whence, from old Windsor hill, and from the aged d 1.28 Stone, The Muse those Countries sees, which call her to be gone. The Forests tooke their leaue: Bere, Chute, and Buckholt, bid Adieu; so Wolmer, and so Ashholt, kindly did. And Pamber shooke her head, as grieued at the hart; When farre vpon her way, and ready to depart, As now the wandring Muse so sadlie went along, To her last Farewell, thus, the goodlie Forests song. Deere Muse, to plead our right, whom time at last hath brought, Which else forlorne had lyen, and banisht euerie thought,

When thou ascend'st the hills, and from their rising shrouds Our sisters shalt commaund, whose tops once toucht the clouds; Old a 1.29 Arden when thou meet'st, or doost faire b 1.30 Sherwood see, Tell them, that as they waste, so euerie day doe wee: Wish them, we of our griefes may be each others heirs; Let them lament our fall, and we will mourne for theirs. Then turning from the South which lies in publique view, The Muse an oblique course doth seriously pursue: And pointing to the Plaines, she thither takes her way; For which, to gaine her breath shee makes a little stay.

Illustrations.

THe Muse, yet obseruing her began course of Chorographicall longitude, traces Eastward the Southerne shore of the Isle. In this second, sing•• Dor∣ser and Hantshire; fi••ly here ioyned as they ioine themselues, both hauing their South limits washt by the British Ocean.

Which th' Ancients, for the loue that they to Isis bare

Iuba remembers a 1.31 a like corall by the Troglodytique Isles (as is here in this Sea) and stiles it * 1.32 Isidi•• plocam••s. True reason of the name is no more perhaps to be giuen, then why Adiantum is called Capillus Veneris, or Sengreene Barba Iouis. Onely thus: You haue in Plutarch and Apuleius such variety of Isis ti∣tles, and, in Clemens of Alexandria, so large circuits of her trauels, that it were no more wonder to heare of her name in this Northerne climat, then in Aegypt: especially,* 1.33 we hauing three riuers of note b 1.34 synonymies with her. Particularly to make her a Sea-goddesse, which the common storie of her and Osiris her hus∣band (sonne to Cham, and of whom Bale dares offer affirmance, that in his tra∣uelling ouer the world, hee first taught the Britons to make Beere in steed of Wine) do's not: * 1.35 Isis Pelagia, after Pausanias testimony, hath an c 1.36 olde coine. The speciall notice which Antiquity tooke of her haire is not onely shewed by her attributed 1.37 of * 1.38 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, but also in that her haire was kept as a sacred re∣lique in e 1.39 Memphis, as Geryons bones at Thebes, the Boores skin at Tegea, and such like elsewhere. And after this to fit our corall lust with her colour, * 1.40 Ae∣thiopicis solibus Isis furua, she is called by f 1.41 Arnobuis. Gentlewomen of blacke haire (no fault with breuity to turne to them) haue no simple patterne of that part in this great Goddesse, whose name indeed comprehended whatsoeuer in the Deity was feminine, and more too; nor will I sweare, but that Anacreou (a man very iudicious in the prouoking motiues of wanton loue) intending to be∣stow on his sweete Mistresse that one of the titles of womens speciall ornament, * 1.42 Well-haired, thought of this, when he gaue his Painter direction to make her picture blarke-haired. But thus much out of the way.

Thou neuer by that name of white-hart hadst beene knowne.

Very likely from the soile was the old name Blackmore. By report of this countrey, the change was from a white hart, reserued here from Chase, by ex∣presse will of Hen. III. and afterward killed by Thomas de la Lynd, a Gentleman of these parts. For the offence, a mulct imposed on the possessors of Black∣more

(called g 1.43 white-hart siluer) is to this day paid into the Exchequer. The destruction of woods here bewaild by the Muse, is (vpon occasion too often giuen) often seconded:* 1.44 but while the Muse bewailes them, it is Maryas and his country-men, that most want them.

On whom the watry God would oft haue had his will.

Purbecke (named, but indeed not, an Isle, being ioynd to the firme land) sto∣red with game of the Forrest.

Thence alluding to Diana's deuotions, the author well cals her an Huntres and a Nunne. Nor doth the embracing force of the Ocean (whereto she is adiacent) although very violent, preuaile against her stonie cliffes. To this pur∣pose the Muse is heere wanton with Neptune ••ooing.

That he in little time vpon this louely dame, Begat three maiden Isles his darlings and delight.

Albion (sonne of Neptune) from whom that first name of this Britaine was supposed, is well fitted to the fruitfull bedde of this Poole, thus personated as a Sea Nymph. The plaine truth (as wordes may certifie your eyes, sauing all im∣propriety of obiect) is,* 1.45 that in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Poole are seated three Isles, Brunkse••, Fursey, and S. Helens, in situation and magnitude, as I name them. Nor is the fiction of begetting the Isles improper; seeing Greek h 1.46 antiquities tell vs of diuers in the Mediterranean and the Archipelag, as Rhodes, Delos, Hi••ra, the Echinades, and o∣thers, which haue beene, as it were, brought forth out of the salt womb of Amphitrite.

But towards the Solent Sea, as Stour her way doth ply, On Shaftsbury, &c.

The straight twixt the Wight and Hantshire, is titled in Bedes Story, * 1.47 Pelagus latitudinic III, millium quod vocatur Solente; famous for the double, and ther∣by most violent flouds of the Ocean (as Scylla & Charybdi•• twixt Sicily and Ita∣ly in Homer) expressed by the Author towards the end of this Song, & reckon'd among our British wonders. Of it the Author tels you more presently. Con∣cerning Shaftesbury (which, beside other names, i 1.48 from the corps of S^t. Edward, murdred in C••rf•• Castle▪ through procurement of the bloudy hate of his step∣mother Aelfrith, hither translated, and some III. yeares lying buried, was once called S^t. Edwards) you shall heare a peece out of Harding;

k 1.49Caire Paladoure that now is Shaftesbury Where an Angell spake sitting on the wall While it was in working over all.

Speaking of Rudhudibras his fabulous building it. I recite it, both to mend it, l 1.50 reading Aigle for Angell, and also that it might then, according to the British story, helpe me explaine the author in this,

As brought into her minde the Eagles prophecies.

This Eagle (whose prophecies among the Britons, with the later of Merlin, haue beene of no lesse respect, then those of Bacis were to the Greekes, or the Sybillines to the Romanes) foretold of a reuerting of the crowne, alter the Bri∣tons, Saxons, and Normans to the first againe, which in Hen. VII. sonne to O∣wen Tyddour, hath beene,m 1.51 obserued, as fulfilled. This in particular is peremp∣torily

affirmed by that Count Palatine of Basingstoke. * 1.52 Et aperte dixit tempus a∣liquando fore vt Britannicum imperium denuo sitad veteres Britannes post Saxo∣vas & Normannos rediturum; are his wordes of this Eagle. But this prophe∣cie in Manuscript I haue seene, and without the helpe of Albertus secret, Cana∣ce's ring in Cha••cer, or reading ouer Aristophanes Comedie of Birds I vnder∣stood the language▪ neyther finde I in it any such matter expresly. Indeed as in Merlin you haue in him the white Dragon, the redde Dragon, the blacke Dra∣gon for the Saxons, Britaines, Normanes, and the fertile tree, supposed for Brute, by one that of later time hath giuen his obscurities n 1.53 interpretation: in which, not from the Eagles, but from an Angelicall voyce, almost DCC. yeares after Christ, giuen to Cadwallader (whom others call Cedwalla) that restitution of the crowne to the Britons is promised, and grounded also vpon some generall and ambiguous words in the Eag•••• text, by the Author here followed; which (pro∣uided your faith be strong) you must beleeue made more then M.M.D. years since. For a corrollary, in this not vnfit place, I will transcribe a piece of the Glosse out of an olde copie, speaking thus vpon a passage in the prophecie: Henricuso 1.54 IIII. (he meanes Hen. III. who, by the ancient account in regard of Henry, sonne to Henry Fite-lempresse, crowned in his fathers life, is in Bracton and others called the fourth) concessit omne ius & clameum, prose & heredibus su∣is, quod habuit in Ducatu Normannia imperpetuùm. Tunc fractum fuit eius si∣gillum & mutatum; nam prius tenebat in scepter••gladium, nunc tenet virgam; qui gladi{us} fuit de conquestu Ducis Willielm•• Bastardi, & ideo dicit Aquila, separabitur gladius à sceptre. Such good fortune haue these praedictions, that eyther by conceit (although strained) they are applied to accident, or else euer religiously expected; as * 1.55 Buchanan of Merlins,

Then those prodigious signes to ponder she began.

I would not haue you lay to the Authors charge a iustification of these signes at those times: but his liberty herein, it is not hard to iustifie,

Obsedit{que} frequens castrorum limina bub••:

and such like hath Silius Italicus before the Roman ouerthrow at Canna; and Historians commonly affirm the like; therfore a Poet may wel guesse the like.

And at New-forrest foote into the Sea doth fall.

The fall of Stour and Auon into the Ocean is the limit of the two shires, and here limits the Authors description of the first, his Muse now entring New-for∣rest in Hantshire.

Her being that receiu'd by Williams tyrannie.

New-forest (it is thought the newest in England, except that of Hampton Court, made by Hen. VIII.) acknowledges William her maker, that is, the Norman Con∣queror. His loue to this kinde of possession and pleasure was such, that he con∣stituted losse p 1.56 of Eies punishment for taking his Venery: so affirme expresly Florence of Worcester, Henry of Huntingdon, Walter Mapez, and others, al∣though the Author of Distenctio Aquilae, with some of later time, falsly laid it to William Rufus his charge. To iustifie my truth, and for variety, see these rimes, q 1.57 euen breathing antiquity:

Game of houndes he louede ••••ou, and of wild best, And * 1.58 is forest, and is wodes, and mest the niwe forest, That is in Suthamtessire, vor thulke he louede ••now

And astored well * 1.59 mid bestes, and * 1.60 lese mid gret wou: Uor he cast out of house and hom of men a great route, And * 1.61 binom their lond thritti mile and more thereaboute, And made it all forest and lese the bests vor to fede, Of pouer men diserited he nom let el hede: Theruore therein vell mony mischeuing, And is sone was thereine * 1.62 issote William the red King, And* 1.63 is o sone, that het Richard, caght there is deth also, And Richard* 1.64 is o neuen, brec there is neck thereto, As he rod an honteth and perauntre his horse sprend, The vnright ••do to pouer men to such mesauntre trend,

But to quit you of this antique verse, I returne to the pleasanter Muse.

Hir famous Beuis so wert in her power to choose;

About the Norman inuasion was Beuis famous with title of Earle of South∣hampton; Duncton in Wiltshire knowne for his residence. What credit you are to giue to the Hyperbolies of Itchin in her relation of Beuis, your owne iudge¦ment, and the Authors censure in the admonition of the other riuers here personated, I presume, will direct. And it is wished that the poeticall Monkes in celebration of him, Arthur, and other such Worthies had containd themselues within bounds of likelyhood; or else that some iudges,* 1.65 proportionat to those r 1.66 of the Graecian Games, (who alwayes by publique authority pull'd downe the statues erected, if they exceeded the true symmetry of the victors) had giuen such exorbitant fictions their desert. The sweet grace of an inchanting Poem (as vnimitable Pindar s 1.67 affirmes) often compels beliefe; but so farre haue the indi∣gested reports of barren and Monkish inuention expatiated out of the lists of Truth, that from their intermixed and absurd fauxeties hath proceeded doubt; and, in some, euen deniall of what was truth. His sword is kept as a relique in A∣rundell Castle, not equalling in length (as it is now worne) that of Edward the thirds at Westminster.

And for great Arthurs seat her Winchester preferres, Whose old round table yet, &c.

For him, his table, order, Knights, and places of their celebration, looke to the IV. Song.

When Portsey waighing well the ill to her might grow.

Portsey an Iland in a creeke of the Solent, comming in by Portesmouth, en∣dures the forcible violence of that troublesome sea, as the Verse tels you in this fiction of wooing.

Notes

• * 1.1

  By Act of Par∣liament 21. Hen. 8.
• * 1.2

  The beautie of the many Swannes vpon the Chesills, no∣ted in this Poë∣ticall delicacie.
• a 1.3

  Sea-Nymphs.
• b 1.4

  A kind of neck-laces worne by coū∣try wenches.
• * 1.5

  Frampton.
• a 1.6

  Monsters of the Sea, suppo∣sed Neptunes Gard.
• b 1.7

  The ancient name of Pid∣dle.
• * 1.8

  The storie of Poole.
• * 1.9

  Stour riseth from six foun∣taines.
• c 1.10

  Cranburn Chase.
• d 1.11

  Holt Forest.
• a 1.12

  A wood in English.
• * 1.13

  The Forests of Hampshire, with their situ∣ations.
• b 1.14

  Nymphs that liue & die with Oakes.
• * 1.15

  A Poole neer vnto Alresford, yeelding an vn∣usual abūdance of water.
• * 1.16

  Curtius, that for his coun∣tries sake so la∣uished his life.
• * 1.17

  Loftie.
• a 1.18

  Ile of Wight.
• b 1.19

  The Fore∣lands of Corn∣wall and Kent.
• b 1.20

  The Fore∣lands of Corn∣wall and Kent.
• * 1.21

  The Solent.
• c 1.22

  Two Castles in the Sea.
• * 1.23

  Portsmouth▪
• a 1.24

  Neptunes Trumpeters.
• b 1.25

  Proteus, a Sea-god, chan∣ging himselfe into any shape.
• * 1.26

  A poëticall de∣scription of the Solent Sea.
• c 1.27

  Tichfield Ri∣uer.
• d 1.28

  Another little hill in Hamp∣shire.
• a 1.29

  The great & ancient forest of Warwick∣shire.
• b 1.30

  The goodly forest by No∣tingham.
• a 1.31

  Apud Plin. hist. nat. lib. 13. cap. ••5.
• * 1.32

  Isis haire.
• * 1.33

  Ouse.
• b 1.34

  Leland. ad Cyg. Cant.
• * 1.35

  Isis of the Se••.
• c 1.36

  Golez. thes. antiq.
• d 1.37

  Philostrat in ein.
• * 1.38

  Loosehaird.
• e 1.39

  Lucian, in ein.
• * 1.40

  Aethiopian sunneburnt.
• f 1.41

  Aduers. gent. ••. Blacke-haire.
• * 1.42

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 & 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. wel hai∣red, and pretty∣foo••ed; two speciall com∣mendations, dispersed in Gre••ke Poets, ioyned in Luci∣lius.
• g 1.43

  Camden.
• * 1.44

  Destruction of woods.
• * 1.45

  Isles newly out of the Sea.
• h 1.46

  Lucian dialog. Pindar. olymp. ••. Strab. Pa••san••∣••••.
• * 1.47

  A Sea three miles ouer, cal∣led Solente lib. 4 hist. eccles. cap. ••6.
• i 1.48

  Malmesb. lib. 2. de Pontific. S. Edwards. DCCCC.LXXIX.
• k 1.49

  Camden takes this Cair for Bath.
• l 1.50

  Harding a∣mended.
• m 1.51

  Twin. in Albi∣oni••. 2.

  See the 5. Song.
• * 1.52

  He plainly said that there would be a time of this re∣uerting of the Crowne.
• n 1.53

  Distinct. Aquil Sceptonia. A prophecie of an Angell to Cadwallader.
• o 1.54

  A Scepter in steed of a sword first in Hen, the thirds seale, but beleeue him not; the seales of those times giue no warrant for it: and euen in K. Arthurs, Leland sayes, there was a fleury Scep∣ter; but that perhaps as fai∣ned, at this false.
• * 1.55

  Hist. Scot. lib. 5. in Cong allo.
• p 1.56

  Matth. Paris post Hen. Hun∣ting ••. and vnder Will. 11. it was capital to steale Deere.
• q 1.57

  Robert. Glo∣cestrensi.
• * 1.58

  His.
• * 1.59

  With.
• * 1.60

  Pastures.
• * 1.61

  Tooke.
• * 1.62

  Shot by Wal∣ter Tirell.
• * 1.63

  Shot by Wal∣ter Tirell.
• * 1.64

  His owne.
• * 1.65

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
• r 1.66

  Lucian. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• s 1.67

  Olymp. •• & Nem. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.