To the right well deserving Mr. IOHN SPEED, the Author of this Worke.
IN this Book, (Bibliothec, or Book of Books;
TIMES Library, PLACES Geographie)
All that is shewne for which the curious looks
Touching this LAND, for Place, or History.
In which, thou hast with pain, with care, and skill,
Survey'd this LAND more neere then ere it was:
For which, thy Wit thou strain'd hast to thy Will,
That wils as much as Wit can bring to passe.
The faire Hibernia, that Westerne Isle likewise,
In every Member, Artire, Nerve, and Veine,
Thou by thine Art dost so Anatomize,
That all may see each parcell without * 1.1 paine.
Here Time, and Place, like friendly foes doe warre
Which should shew most desir'd Particulars;
But Place gives place, sith Time is greater farre;
Yet Place, well rang'd, gets glory by these warres.
No helps thou hadst, nor no assisting ayde
In this attempt: but, Vertue gave thee might
That well to doe, that well thou hast assaide,
Which shall (in grace) out-live immortall spight.
Hadst thou among the Romanes liv'd when they
Did signiorize the World; A Signiory
Should then (at least) have guerdon'd thy Survey,
Thy Maps, Descriptions, and thine History.
But thou doest live when all Arts save the * 1.2 eight
(Illiberall-liberall Art) a begging goe;
That Art alone, with her true friend Deceipt,
Gets all; then all seeks but that Art to know.
But, by thy Art though nought be purchased
But emptie Fame (that feeds, but fattens not)
Yet shall it feed thy NAME till DEATH be dead;
While emptie noble Names away shall rot.
The Leaves this Book contains, & Maps here grav'n,
Are still as Feathers to thy Fames faire Wings,
To fanne fresh Aire upon the face of Heaven;
And raise the same above all ending Things:
That when Confusion wracks this double FRAME,
A Spirit shall move on CHAOS called thy Fame.
The unfained lover of thy Person, JO: DAVIES.