So, loathing earth, I looke up to the sky,

And, being driven hence, I thether fly.

Thence I behold the miserie of men,

Which want the bliss that Wisedom would them breed, And like brute beasts doo lie in loathsome den

531

Of ghostly darknes, and of gastlie dreed:
For whom I mourne, and for my
selfe complaine,
And for my Sisters eake whom they disdaine.-

With that shee wept and waild so pityouslie,

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As if her eyes had beene two springing wells;

And all the rest, her sorrow to supplie,

Did throw forth shriekes and cries and dreery yells. So ended shee: and then the next in rew

Began her mournfull plaint, as doth ensew.

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POLYHYMNIA.

A DOLEFULL case desires a dolefull song,
Without vaine art or curious complements;
And squallid Fortune, into basenes flong,
Doth scorne the pride of wonted ornaments.
Then fittest are these ragged rimes for mee,
To tell my sorrowes that exceeding bee.

545

For the sweet numbers and melodious measures,
With which I went the winged words to tie,

And make a tunefull Diapase of pleasures,

Now being let to runne at libertie

550

By those which have no skill to rule them right,
Have now quite lost their naturall delight.

Heapes of huge words uphoorded hideously,
With horrid sound though having little sence,
They thinke to be chiefe praise of Poëtry;
And, thereby wanting due intelligence,
Have mard the face of goodly Poësie,
And made a monster of their fantasie.

555

Whilom in ages past none might professe

But Princes and high Priests that secret skill;
The sacred lawes therein they wont expresse,

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And with deepe Oracles their verses fill:

Then was shee held in soveraigne dignitie,

And made the noursling of Nobilitie.

But now nor Prince nor Priest doth her maintayne, But suffer her prophaned for to bee

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Of the base vulgar, that with hands uncleane

Dares to pollute her hidden mysterie;

And treadeth under foote hir holie things,

Which was the care of Kesars and of Kings.

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One onelie lives, her ages ornament,

And myrrour of her Makers maiestie,

That with rich bountie, and deare cherishment,
Supports the praise of noble Poësie;

Ne onelie favours them which it professe,

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But is her selfe a peereles Poëtesse.

Most peereles Prince, most peereles Poëtesse,
The true Pandora of all heavenly graces,
Divine Elisa, sacred Emperesse!

Live she for ever, and her royall p❜laces

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Be fild with praises of divinest wits,

That her eternize with their heavenlie writs!

Some few beside this sacred skill esteme,

Admirers of her glorious excellence ;

Which, being lightned with her beawties beme,
Are thereby fild with happie influence,
And lifted up above the worldës gaze,

To sing with Angels her immortall praize.

But all the rest, as borne of salvage brood,
And having beene with acorns alwȧies fed,
Can no whit savour this celestiall food,

But with base thoughts are into blindnesse led,
And kept from looking on the lightsome day:
For whome I waile and weepe all that I

may.

Eftsoones such store of teares shee forth did powre,
As if shee all to water would have gone;

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590

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And all her Sisters, seeing her sad stowre,

Did weep and waile, and made exceeding mone,

And all their learned instruments did breake:

The rest untold no living tongue can speake.

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THE

RUINES OF ROME:

BY BELLAY

1591.