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To the right Noble and beauti

full Ladie, the La. Marie

M

Countesse of Pembrooke. TOST Honourable and bountifull Ladie, me : for that I haue not shewed anie thankefull brest, the seede of most entire love and humble suffer their names to sleep in silence and forgetaffection vnto that most braue Knight your noble fulnesse. Whome chieflie to satisfie, or els to brother deceased ; which taking roote began in his auoide that fowle blot of unthankefulnesse, I haue life time somewhat to bud forth : and to shew conceiued this small Poeme, intituled by a generall themselues to him, as then in the weakenes of name of the worlds Ruines : yet speciallie intheir first spring : And would in their riper tended to the renowming of that noble race, from strength (had it pleased high God till then to which both you and he sprong, and to the eternizdrawe out his daies) spired forth fruit of more ing of some of the chiefe of them late deceased. perfection. But since God hath disdeigned the The which I dedicate unto your La. as whome it world of that most noble Spirit, which was the most speciallie concerneth : and to whome hope of all learned men, and the Patron of my I acknowledge my selfe bounden, by manie young Muses; togeather with him both their hope singular fauours and great graces. of anie further fruit was cut off ; and also the I pray for your Honourable tender delight of those their first blossoms nipped

happinesse : and so and quite dead. Yet sithens my late cumming

humblie kisse your into England, some frends of mine (which might

handes. much preuaile with me, and indeede commaund me) knowing with howe straight bandes of duetie

Your Ladiships euer I was tied to him : as also bound vnto that noble

humblie at commaund. house, (of which the chiefe hope then rested in him) haue sought to reuiue them by upbraiding

E.S.

The Ruines of Time.

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T chaunced me on day beside the shore Rending her yeolow locks, like wyrie golde, 10 Of siluer streaming Thamesis to bee, About her shoulders careleslie downe trailing, Nigh where the goodly Verlame stood of yore, And streames of teares from her faire eyes forth Of which there now remaines no memorie, railing. Nor anie little moniment to see,

In her right hand a broken rod she held, By which the trauailer, that fares that way, Which towards heauen shee seemd on high to This once was she, may warned be to say. weld. There on the other side, I did behold Whether she were one of that Riuers Nymphes, A Woman sitting sorrowfullie wailing, Which did the losse of some dere loue lament,

vewe

I doubt; or one of those three fatall Impes, What of the Persian Beares outragiousnesse,
Which draw the dayes of men forth in extent; Whose memorie is quite worne out with yeares?
Or th'auncient Genius of that Citie brent: Who of the Grecian Libbard now ought heares,
But seeing her so piteouslie perplexed, 20 That ouerran the East with greedie powre, 69
I (to her calling) askt what her so vexed. And left his whelps their kingdomes todeuoure?
Ah what delight (quoth she) in earthlie thing, And where is that same great seuen headded
Or comfort can I wretched creature haue ? beast,
Whose happines the heauens enuying, That made all nations vassals of her pride,
From highest staire to lowest step me draue,

To fall before her feete at her beheast, And haue in mine owne bowels made my graue, And in the necke of all the world did ride ? That of all Nations now I am forlorne,

Where doth she all that wondrous welth nowe The worlds sad spectacle, and fortunes scorne.

hide ?

With her own weight down pressed now shee Much was I mooued at her piteous plaint,

lies, And felt my heart nigh riuen in my brest 30 And by her heaps her hugenesse testifies. With tender ruth to see her sore constraint, That shedding teares awhile I still did rest,

O Rome thy ruine I lament and rue, And after did her name of her request.

And in thy fall my fatall ouerthrowe, Name haue I none (quoth she) nor anie being,

That whilom was, whilst heauens with equall

80 Bereft of both by Fates vniust decreeing.

Deignd to behold me, and their gifts bestowe, I was that Citie, which the garland wore

The picture of thy pride in pompous shew: Of Britaines pride, deliuered vnto me

And of the whole world as thou wast the By Romane Victors, which it wonne of yore; Empresse, Though nought at all but ruines now I bee,

So Iof this small Northerne world was Princesse. And lye in mine owne ashes, as ye see: 40

To tell the beawtie of my buildings fayre, Verlame I was ; what bootes it that I was

Adornd with purest golde, and precious stone; Sith now I am but weedes and wastfull gras ?

To tell my riches, and endowments rare O vaine worlds glorie, and vnstedfast state That by my foes are now all spent and gone : Of all that liues, on face of sinfull earth, To tell my forces matchable to none, 89 Which from their first vntill their vtmost Were but lost labour, that few would beleeue, date

And with rehearsing would me more agreeue. Tast no one hower of happines or merth,

High towers, faire temples, goodly theaters, But like as at the ingate of their berth, They crying creep out of their mothers woomb, Large streetes, braue houses, sacred sepulchers,

Strong walls, rich porches, princelie pallaces, So wailing backe go to their wofull toomb.

Sure gates, sweete gardens, stately galleries, Why then dooth flesh, a bubble glas of Wrought with faire pillours,and fine imageries, breath,

50 All those (O pitie) now are turnd to dust, Hunt after honour and aduauncement vaine, And ouergrowen with blacke obliuions rust. And reare a trophee for deuouring death, Theretoo for warlike power, and peoples store, With so great labour and long lasting paine, In Britannie was none to match with mee, 100 As if his daies for euer should remaine ? That manie often did abie full sore: Sith all that in this world is great or gaie,

Ne Troynouant, though elder sister shee, Doth as a vapour vanish, and decaie.

With my great forces might compared bee; Looke backe, who list, vnto the former ages, That stout Pendragon to his perill felt, And call to count, what is of them become:

Who in a siege seauen yeres about me dwelt. Where be those learned wits and antique Sages, But long ere this Bunduca Britonnesse Which of all wisedome knew the perfect somme: Her mightie hoast against my bulwarkes Where those great warriors, which did ouer

brought,

61 Bunduca, that victorious conqueresse, The world with conquest of their might and That lifting vp her braue heroick thought maine,

Boue womens weaknes, with the Romanes And made one meare of th'earth and of their

fought, raine?

Fought, and in field against them thrice preWhat nowe is of th’Assyrian Lyonesse,

uailed : Of whome no footing now on earth appeares ? Yet was she foyld, when as she me assailed.

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And though at last by force I conquered were But me no man bewaileth, but in game,
Of hardie Saxons, and became their thrall; Ne sheddeth teares from lamentable eie :
Yet was I with much bloodshed bought full Nor anie liues that mentioneth my name
deere,

To be remembred of posteritie,
And prizde with slaughter of their Generall: Saue One that maugre fortunes iniurie,
The moniment of whose sad funerall,

And times decay, and enuies cruell tort,
For wonder of the world, long in me lasted ; Hath writ my record in true-seeming sort.
But now to nought through spoyle of time is Cambden the nourice of antiquitie,
wasted.

And lanterne vnto late succeeding age, 170 Wasted it is, as if it neuer were,

To see the light of simple veritie, And all the rest that me so honord made,

Buried in ruines, through the great outrage
And of the world admired eu'rie where, Of her owne people, led with warlike rage.
Is turnd to smoake, that doth to nothing fade ; Cambden, though time all moniments obscure,
And of that brightnes now appeares no shade, Yet thy iust labours euer shall endure.
But greislie shades, such as doo haunt in hell But whie (vnhappie wight) doo I thus crie,
With fearfull fiends, that in deep darknes dwell. And grieue that my remembrance quite is raced
Where my high steeples whilom vsde to stand, And all my antique moniments defaced ?

Out of the knowledge of posteritie,
On which the lordly Faulcon wont to towre,
There now is but an heap of lyme and sand,

Sith I doo dailie see things highest placed, 180 For the Shriche-owle to build her balefull So soone as fates their vitall thred haue shorne, bowre:

Forgotten quite as they were neuer borne.

130 And where the Nightingale wont forth to powre It is not long, since these two eyes beheld Her restles plaints, to comfort wakefull Louers, A mightie Prince, of most renowned race, There now haunt yelling Mewes and whining Whom England high in count of honour held, Plouers.

And greatest ones did sue to gaine his grace And where the christall Thamis wont to slide Sate in the bosome of his Soueraine,

Of greatest ones he greatest in his place, In siluer channell, downe along the Lee,

And Right and loyall did his word maintaine. About whose flowrie bankes on either side

I saw him die, I saw him die, as one 190 A thousand Nymphes, with mirthfull iollitee Were wont to play, from all annoyance free ;

Of the meane people, and brought foorth on

beare. There now no riuers course is to be seene, 139 I saw him die, and no man left to mone But moorish fennes, and marshes euer greene.

His dolefull fate, that late him loued deare. Seemes, that that gentle Riuer for great griefe Scarce anie left to close his eylids neare ; Of my mishaps, which oft I to him plained ; Scarce anie left vpon his lips to laie Or for to shunne the horrible mischicfe, The sacred sod, or Requiem to saie. With which he saw my cruell foes me pained, O trustlesse state of miserable men, And his pure streames with guiltles blood oft That builde your blis on hope of earthly thing, stained,

And vainly thinke your selues halfe happie then, From my vnhappie neighborhood farre fled,

When painted faces with smooth flattering 200 And his sweete waters away with him led. Doo fawne on you, and your wide praises sing, There also where the winged ships were seene And when the courting masker louteth lowe, In liquid waues to cut their fomie waie, 149 Him true in heart and trustie to you trow. And thousand Fishers numbred to haue been, Al is but fained, and with oaker dide, In that wide lake looking for plenteous praie That euerie shower will wash and wipe away, Of fish, which they with baits vsde to betraie, All things doo change that vnder heauen abide, Is now no lake, nor anie fishers store,

And after death all friendship doth decaie. Nor euer ship shall saile there anie more. Therefore what euer man bearst worldlie sway, They all are gone, and all with them is gone, Liuing, on God, and on thy selfe relie ; Ne ought to me remaines, but to lament For when thou diest, all shall with thee die. 210 My long decay, which no man els doth mone, He now is dead, and all is with him dead, And mourne my fall with dolefull dreriment. Saue what in heauens storehouse he vplaid: Yet it is comfort in great languishment, His hope is faild, and come to passe his dread, To be bemoned with compassion kinde, 160 And euill men, now dead, his deeds vpbraid: And mitigates the anguish of the minde. Spite bites the dead, that liuing neuer baid.

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vpon her,

He now is gone, the whiles the Foxe is crept He noble bud, his Grandsires liuelie hayre, Into the hole, the which the Badger swept. Vnder the shadow of thy countenaunce He now is dead, and all his glorie gone,

Now ginnes to shoote vp fast, and flourish fayre And all his greatnes vapoured to nought,

In learned artes and goodlie gouernaunce, 270 That as a glasse vpon the water shone, That him to highest honour shall aduaunce. Which vanisht quite, so soone as it was sought. Braue Impe of Bedford, grow apace in bountie, His name is worne alreadie out of thought,

And count of wisedome more than of thy Ne anie Poet seekes him to reuiue ;

Countie. Yet manie Poets honourd him aliue.

Ne may I let thy husbands sister die, Ne, doth his Colin, carelesse Colin Cloute, That goodly Ladie, sith she eke did spring Care now his idle bagpipe vp to raise,

Out of this stocke, and famous familie, Ne tell his sorrow to the listning rout Whose praises I to future age doo sing, Of shepherd groomes, which wont his songs to And foorth out of her happie womb did bring praise :

The sacred brood of learning and all honour ; Praise who so list, yet I will him dispraise, In whom the heauens powrde all their gifts Vntill he quite him of this guiltie blame: 230

280 Wake shepheards boy, at length awake for Most gentle spirite breathed from aboue, shame.

Out of the bosome of the makers blis, And who so els did goodnes by him gaine,

In whom all bountie and all vertuous loue And who so els his bounteous minde did trie, Appeared in their natiue propertis, Whether he shepheard be, or shepheardsswaine, And did enrich that noble breast of his, (For manie did, which doo it now denie) With treasure passing all this worldes worth Awake, and to his Song a part applie: Worthie of heauen it selfe, which brought it And I, the whilest you mourne for his decease,

forth. Will with my mourning plaints your plaint His blessed spirite full of power

diuine increase.

And influence of all celestiall grace, He dyde, and after him his brother dyde, 239 Loathing this sinfull earth and earthlie slime, His brother Prince, his brother noble Peere, Fled backe too soone vnto his natiue place, 291 That whilste he liued, was of none enuyde, Too soone for all that did his loue embrace, And dead is now, as liuing, counted deare, Too soone for all this wretched world, whom he Deare vnto all that true affection beare: Robd of all right and true nobilitie. But vnto thee most deare, 0 dearest Dame,

Yet ere his happie soule to heauen went His noble Spouse, and Paragon of fame.

Out of this fleshlie goale, he did deuise He whilest he liued, happie was through thee, Vnto his heauenlie maker to present And being dead is happie now much more ; His bodie, as a spotles sacrifise ; Liuing, that lincked chaunst with thee to bee, And chose, that guiltie hands of enemies And dead, because him dead thou dost adore Should powre forth th'offring of his guiltles As liuing, and thy lost deare loue deplore. 250 blood : So whilst that thou, faire flower of chastitie, So life exchanging for his countries good. Dost liue, by thee thy Lord shall neuer die.

O noble spirite, liue there euer blessed, Thy Lord shall neuer die, the whiles this verse The worlds late wonder, and the heauens Shall live, and surely it shall liue for euer : new ioy, For ever it shall liue, and shall rehearse Liue euer there, and leaue me here distressed His worthie praise, and vertues dying neuer, With mortall cares, and cumbrous worlds aroy. Though death his soule doo from his bodie seuer. But where thou dost that happines enioy, And thou thy selfe herein shalt also liue ; Bid me, O bid me quicklie come to thee, Such grace the heauens doo to my verses giue. That happie there I maie thee alwaies see. Ne shall his sister, ne thy father die, 260 Yet whilest the fates affoord me vitall breath, Thy father, that good Earle of rare renowne, I will it spend in speaking of thy praise, 310 And noble Patrone of weake pouertie ; And sing to thee, vntill that timelie death Whose great good deeds in countreyandin towne By heauens doome doo ende my earthlie daies : Haue purchast him in heauen an happie crowne; Thereto doo thou my humble spirite raise, Where he now liueth in eternall blis,

And into me that sacred breath inspire, And left his sonne t'ensue those steps of his. Which thou there breathest perfect and entire.

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300

Then will I sing : but who can better sing, Prouide therefore (ye Princes) whilst ye liue,
Than thine owne sister, peerles Ladie bright, That of the Muses ye may friended bee,
Which to thee sings with deep harts sorrowing, Which vnto men eternitie do giue ;
Sorrowing tempered with deare delight. For they be daughters of Dame memorie,
That her to heare I feele my feeble spright 320 And loue the father of eternitie,
Robbed of sense, and rauished with ioy, And do those men in golden thrones repose,
O sad ioy made of mourning and anoy.

Whose merits they to glorifie do chose. 371
Yet will I sing: but who can better sing, The seuen fold yron gates of grislie Hell,
Than thou thy selfe, thine owne selfes valiance, And horrid house of sad Proserpina,
That whilest thou liuedst, madest the forrests They able are with power of mightie spell
ring,

To breake, and thence the soules to bring awaie And fields resownd, and flockes to leap and Out of dread darkenesse, to eternall day, daunce,

And them immortall make, which els would die And shepheards leaue their lambs vnto mis- In foule forgetfulnesse, and nameles lie. chaunce,

So whilome raised they the puissant brood To runne thy shrill Arcadian Pipe to heare: Of golden girt Alcmena, for great mcrite, 380 O happie were those dayes, thrice happie were. Out of the dust, to which the Oetæan wood But now more happie thou, and wretched wee, Had him consum’d, and spent his vitall spirite : Which want the wonted sweetnes of thy voice, To bighest heauen, where now he doth inherite Whiles thou now in Elisian fields so free, All happinesse in Hebes siluer bowre, With Orpheus, and with Linus, and the choice Chosen to be her dearest Paramoure. Of all that euer did in rimes reioyce,

So raisde they eke faire Lelaes warlick twinnes, Conuersest,anddoost heare their heauenlie layes, And interchanged life vnto them lent, And they heare thine, and thine doo better That when th’one dies, th’other then beginnes praise.

To shew in Heauen his brightnes orient; So there thou liuest, singing euermore,

And they, for pittie of the sad wayment, 390 And here thou liuest, being euer song

Which Orpheus for Eurydice did make, which liuing loued thee afore,

Her back againe to life sent for his sake. And now thee worship, mongst that blessed So happie are they, and so fortunate, throng

340 Whom the Pierian sacred sisters loue, Of heauenlie Poets and Heroes strong,

That freed from bands of impacable fate, So thou both here and there immortall art, And power of death, they liue for aye aboue, And euerie where through excellent desart. Where mortall wreakes their blis may not But such as neither of themselues can sing, Nor yet are sung of others for reward,

But with the Gods, for former vertues meede, Die in obscure obliuion, as the thing

On Nectar and Ambrosia do feede. Which neuer was, ne euer with regard For deeds doe die, how euer noblie donne, 400 Their names shall of the later age be heard, And thoughts of men do as themselues decay, But shall in rustie darknes euer lie,

But wise wordes taught in numbers for to runne, Vnles they mentioned be with infamie. 350 Recorded by the Muses, liue for ay ; What booteth it to haue been rich aliue ?

Ne may with storming showers be washt away, What to be great ? what to be gracious ?

Ne bitter breathing windes with harmfull blast, When after death no token doth suruiue,

Nor age, nor enuie shall them euer wast. Of former being in this mortall hous,

In vaine doo earthly Princes then, in vaine But sleepes in dust dead and inglorious, Seeke with Pyramides, to heauen aspired ; Like beast, whose breath but in his nostrels is, Or huge Colosses, built with costlie paine ; And hath no hope of happinesse or blis. Or brasen Pillours, neuer to be fired, How manie great ones may remembred be,

Or Shrines, made of the mettall most desired ; Which in their daies most famousliedid florish? To make their memories for euer liue : Of whome no word we heare, nor signe now see,

For how can mortall immortalitie giue ? But as things wipt out with a sponge to perishe, Such one Mausolus made, the worldsgreatwonder, Because they liuing, cared not to cherishe But now no remnant doth thereof remaine : No gentle wits, through pride or couetize, Such one Marcellus, but was torne with thunder: Which might their names for euer memorize. Such one Lisippus, but is worne with raine :

Of vs,

remoue :

410

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