13 Much richer then that vessell seem'd to bee, Which did to that sad Florentine appeare, 170 Casting mine eyes farre off, I chaunst to see, Vpon the Latine Coast herselfe to reare: But suddenly arose a tempest great, Bearing close enuie to these riches rare, Which gan assaile this ship with dreadfull threat, This ship, to which none other might compare. 180 And all that treasure drowned in the maine: But I the ship saw after raisd' againe. 14 Long hauing deeply gron'd these visions sad, I saw a Citie like vnto that same, Which saw the messenger of tidings glad ; But that on sand was built the goodly frame: It seem'd her top the firmament did rayse, And no lesse rich than faire, right worthie sure (If ought here worthie) of immortall dayes, Or if ought vnder heauen might firme endure. As much it grieueth me to thinke thereon. With deadly force so in their cruell race They pincht the haunches of that gentle beast, That at the last, and in short time I spide, 10 2 After at sea a tall ship did appeare, Made all of Heben and white Yuorie, The sailes of golde, of silke the tackle were, Milde was the winde, calme seem'd the sea to 3 Then heauenly branches did I see arise Out of the fresh and lustie Lawrell tree, 30 Amidst the yong greene wood: of Paradise Some noble plant I thought my selfe to see : Such store of birds therein yshrowded were, Chaunting in shade their sundrie melodie, That with their sweetnes I was rauish't nere. While on this Lawrell fixed was mine eie, The skie gan euerie where to ouercast, And darkned was the welkin all about, 38 When sudden flash of heauens fire out brast, And rent this royall tree quite by the roote, Which makes me much and euer to complaine: For no such shadow shalbe had againe. I saw a Phœnix in the wood alone, With purple wings, and crest of golden hewe; Strange bird he was, whereby I thought anone, That of some heauenly wight I had the vewe; Vntill he came vnto the broken tree, And to the spring, that late deuoured was. What say I more? each thing at last we see Doth passe away: the Phoenix there alas rest, 61 And ye faire Ladie, in whose bounteous brest All heauenly grace and vertue shrined is, When ye these rythmes doo read, and vew the Loath this base world, and thinke of heauens blis: And though ye be the fairest of Gods creatures, Yet thinke, that death shall spoyle your goodly features. Daphnaïda. An Elegie vpon the death of the noble and vertuous Dedicated to the Right honorable the Lady AT LONDON Printed for William Ponsonby, dwelling in Paules Churchyard at the signe of the Bishops head 1591. I TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE AND VER tuous Lady Helena Marquesse of Haue the rather presumed humbly to offer vnto your Honour the dedication of this little Poëme, for that the noble and vertuous Gentlewoman of whom it is written, was by match neere alied, and in affection greatly deuoted unto your Ladiship. The occasion why I wrote the same, was aswell the great good fame which I heard of her deceassed, as the particular goodwill which I beare vnto her husband Master Arthur Gorges, a louer of learning and vertue, whose house, as your Ladiship by mariage hath honoured, so doe I find the name of them by many notable records, to be of great antiquitie in this Realme; and such as haue euer borne themselues with honourable reputation to the world, and unspotted loyaltie to their Prince and Countrey: besides so lineally are they descended from the Howards, as that the Lady Anne Howard, eldest daughter to Iohn Duke of Norfolke, was wife to Sir Edmund, mother to Sir Edward, and grandmother to Sir William and Sir Thomas Gorges Knightes. And therefore I doe assure my selfe, that no due honour done to the white Lyon but will be most gratefull to your Ladiship, whose husband and children do so neerely participate with the bloud of that noble family. So in all dutie I recommende this Pamphlet, and the good acceptance thereof, to your honourable fauour and protection. London this first of Ianuarie. 1591. Your Honours humbly euer. Ed. Sp. Daphnaïda. 7 Hat euer man he be, whose heauie minde Fit matter for his cares increase would finde: II And in their wrath breake off the vitall bands, Approach hereto: and let the dreadfull Queene Of darkenes deepe come from the Stygian strands, 20 And grisly Ghosts to heare this dolefull teene. I walkt abroade to breath the freshing ayre In open fields, whose flowring pride opprest With early frosts, had lost their beautie faire. There came vnto my minde a troublous thought, Which dayly dooth my weaker wit possesse, Ne lets it rest, vntill it forth haue brought 31 Her long borne Infant, fruit of heauinesse, Which she conceiued hath through meditation Of this worlds vainnesse and lifes wretched nesse, That yet my soule it deepely doth empassion. So as I muzed on the miserie, In which men liue, and I of many most, throwne As loathing light: and euer as he went, He sighed soft, and inly deepe did grone, As if his heart in peeces would haue rent. 50 Whilome I vsde (as thou right well doest know) My little flocke on westerne downes to keepe, Not far from whence Sabrinaes streame doth flow, And flowrie bancks with siluer liquor steepe : Nought carde I then for worldly change or chaunce, Approaching nigh, his face I vewed nere, One, whome like wofulnesse impressed deepe, weepe: 70 Then stay Alcyon, gentle shepheard stay, 80 To tell the cause, which thee theretoo constrained: Least that the world thee dead accuse of guilt, And say, when thou of none shalt be maintained, That thou for secret crime thy blood hast spilt. Who life dooes loath, and longs to bee vnbound From thestrongshackles of fraile flesh (quothhe) Nought cares at all, what they that liue on ground 90 Deeme the occasion of his death to bee: Then harken well till it to ende be brought, For all my ioy was on my gentle sheepe, And to my pype to caroll and to daunce. ΙΟΙ 110 It there befell, as I the fields did range 120 For being borne an auncient Lions haire, 140 And oft their lasses which my luck enuide, |