Her power difperft through all the world did vade,

To fhew that all in th' end to nought shall fade.

XXI.

The fame which Pyrrhus, and the puiffance
Of Africk could not tame, that fanie brave city
Which, with ftout courage arm'd against mif-
chance,

Suftain'd the shock of common enmity,
Long as her fhip toft with fo many freaks,
Had all the world in arms against her bent,
Was never seen that any fortune's wreaks
Could break her courfe, begun with brave intent;
But when the object of her vertue fail'd,
Her power it felf against it self did arm:
As he that having long in tempest sail'd,
Fain would arrive, but cannot for the storm,
If too great wind against the port him drive,
Doth in the part it felf his veffal rive.

XXIL

When that brave honour of the Latine name,
Which mear'd her rule with Africa and Byze,
With Thames' inhabitants of noble fame,
And they which fee the dawning day arise,
Her nourflings did with mutinous oprore
Hearten against her felf, her conquer'd spoil,
Which he had won from all the world afore,
Of all the world was fpoil'd within a while;
So when the compafs'd courfe of th' univerfe
In fix and thirty thousand years is run,
The bands of th' elements fhall back reverse
To their first difcord, and be quite undone :
The feeds, of which all things at firft were bred,
Shall in great Chaos' womb again be hid.

To th' end that his victorious people should
With cankring leifure not be overworn!
He well forefaw how that the Roman courage,
Impatient of pleafure's faint defires,
Through idleness would turn to civil rage,
And be her felf the matter of her fires:
For in a people given all to eafe,

Ambition is engendred eafily;

As in a vicious body, grofs disease,
Soon grows through humours fuperfluity.

That came to pafs, when, fwoln with plenty's pride,

Nor prince, nor peer, nor kin, they would abide.

XXIV.

If the blind fury which wars breedeth oft,
Wonts not t'enrage the hearts of equal beasts,
Whether they fare on foot or fly aloft,
Or armed be with claws or fcaly creafts,
What fell Erynnis with hot burning tongs,
Did gripe your hearts with noifom rage imbew'd,
That cach to other working cruel wrongs,
Your blades in your own bowels you embrew'd?
Was this (ye Romans!) your hard definy,
Or fome old fin, whofe unappealed guilt
Pour'd vengeance forth on you eternally?
Or brothers' bloed, the which at first was spilt

Upon your walls, that God might not endure Upon the fame to fet foundation fare?

XXV.

O that I had the Thracian poet's harp,
For to awake out of th' infernal fhade
Thofe antique Cæfars, fleeping long in dark,
The which this ancient city whilom made!
Or that I had Amphion's inftrument,
To quicken with his vital notes' accord
The ftony joints of these old walls, now rent,
By which th' Aufonian light might be reftor's;
Or that at least I could with penfil fine
Fashion the pourtraicts of these palaces,
By pattern of great Virgil's fpirit divine;
I would affay with that which in me is,
To build with level of my lofty ftile,
That which no hands can ever more compile.

XXVI.

Who lift the Roman greatnefs forth to figure,
Him needeth not to feek for ufage right
Of line, or lead, or rule, or fquare, to measure
Her length, her breadth, her deepncís, or he
hight;

But him behooves to view in compass round
All that the Ocean grafps in his long arms,
Be it where th' yearly ftar doth scorch the groun
Or where cold Boreas blows his bitter fterms
Rome was th' whole world, and all the worldwa

Rome';

And if things nam'd their names do equalize, When land and fea ye name, then name ye Re And naming Rome ye land and fea comprize' For th' ancient plot of Rome, difplayed plain The map of all the wide world doth comtais.

XXVII.

Thou that at Rome aftonifh'd doft behold The antique pride which menaced the sky, Thefe haughty heaps, these palaces of old, These walls, thefe arks, thefe baths, these tur Judge by thefe ample Ruins' view the ret The which injurious Time hath quite outwer, Since of all workmen held in reckning bet, Yet thefe old fragments are for patters botn: Then alfo mark how Rome from day to day, Repaying her decayed fashion

Renews herself with buildings rich and gay, That one would judge that the Roman dæmi Doth yet himself with fatal hand enforce, Again on foot to rear her fouldred corfe.

XXVIII.

He that hath feen a great oak dry and dead,
Yet clad with reliques of fome trophees cid,
Lifting to heaven her aged hoary head,
Whofe foot on ground hath left but feeble ho
But half difbowel'd lies above the ground,
Shewing her wreathed roots and naked arms,
And on her trunk, ail ro`ten and unfound,
Only fupports her felf for meat of worms,
And though the owe her fall to the fint wird,
Yet of the devout people is adorn'd,
And many young plants fpring out of her und;
Who fuch an oak hath feen, let him record
That fuch this city's honour was of y re,
And mongst all cities fleurifhed much more.

XXIX.

All that which Egypt whilom did devife,
All that which Greece their temples to enbrave,
After th' Ionick, Attick, Dorick guise,
Or Corinth, skill'd in curious works to grave;
All that Lyfippus' practick art could form,
Apelles' wit, or Phidias his fkili,

Was wont this ancient city to adorn,

And heaven it felf with her wide wonders fill:
All that which Athens ever brought forth wife,
All that which Africk ever brought forth ftrange,
All that which Afia ever had of praise,

Was here to fee. O marvailous great change!
Rome living was the world's fole ornament,
And dead, is now the world's fole moniment?

Hope ye, my Verses! that pofterity

Of age enfuing fhall you ever read?
Hope ye that ever immortality

So nean harp's work may challenge for her meed?
If under heaven any endurance were,
These moniments, which not in paper writ,
But in porphyre and marble do appear,
Might well have hop'd to have obtained it.
Nath'lefs my lute, whom Phœbus deign'd to give,
Ceafe not to found thefe old antiquities,
For if that Time do let thy glory live,
Well may'ft thou boaft, how ever base thou be,
That thou art first which of thy nation fong
Th' old honour of the people gowned long.

L'ENVOY.

BELLAY! first garland of free poesy

That France brought forth, though fruitful of brave wits,

Well worthy thou of immortality,

That long haft travel'd by thy learned writs,
Old Rome out of her ashes to revive,
And give a fecond life to dead decays;
Needs muft he all eternity furvive,
That can to other give eternal days.
Thy days, therefore, are endlefs, and thy praise
Excelling all that ever went before;
And after thee 'gins Bartas hie to raise
His heavenly Mufe, th' Almighty to adore,
Live, happy Spirits! th' honour of your name,
And fill the world with never-dying fame.

Naij

Ir chaunced me one day beside the shore
Of filver ftreaming Thamefis to be,
Nigh where the goodly Verlame stood of yore,
Of which there now remains no memory,
Nor any little monument to fee,

By which the traveller, that fares that way,
This once was she may warned be to say.

There on the other fide I did behold
A woman fitting forrowfully wailing,
Rending her yellow locks, like wiry gold,
About her shoulders carelessly down trailing,
And streams of tears from her fair eyes forth
railing;

In her right hand a broken rod fhe held,
Which towards heaven fhe feem'd on high to
weld.

Whether the were one of that river's nymphs,
Which did the lofs of fome dear love lament,
I doubt, or one of those three fatal imps
Which draw the days of men forth in extent,
Or th' ancient Genius of that city brent;
But feeing her fo piteoufly perplexed,

I (to her calling) afk'd what her so vexed?

Ah what delight (quoth she) in earthly thing, "Or comfort, can I, wretched Creature! have? "Whofe happiness the Heavens envying, "From highest stair to lowest step me drave, "And have in mine own bowels made my grave; "That of all nations now I am forlorn, "The worlds fad spectacle, and Fortune's scorn."

Much was I moved at her piteous plaint,
And felt my heart nigh riven in my breft,
With tender ruth to fee her fore constraint,
That shedding tears awhile, I still did rest,
And after did her name of her request:
"Name have I none, (quoth fhe) nor any being
Bereft of both by Fate's unjuft deciceing.

"I was that city which the garland wote "Of Britain's pride, delivered unto me "By Roman victors, which it won of yore, "Though nought at all but ruines now I be, "And lie in mine own afhes, as ye fee: "Verlame I was; what boots it that I was, "Sith now I am but woods and wasteful grass?

"O vain world's glory, and unstedfast state "Of all that lives on face of finful earth! "Which from their firft until their utmost date "Taste no one hour of happinefs or mirth, "But like as at the ingate of their birth, "They crying creep out of their mother's womb, "So wailing back go to their woeful tomb.

"Why then doth flesh, a bubble-glass of breath, "Hunt after honour and advauncement vain, "And rear a trophee for devouring Death, "With fo great labour and long-lasting pain, "As if his days for ever should remain? "Sith all that in this world is great or gay, "Doth as a vapour vanish and decay.

"Look back who lift unto the former ages, "And call to count what is of them become, "Where be those learned wits and antique fages "Which of all wifdom knew the perfect fum? "Where thofe great warriors which did over

66 come

"The world with conqueft of their might and. "main, Treign? "And made one mear of th' earth and of their

"What now is of th' Affyrian Lioness, "Of whom no footing now on earth appears? "What of the Perfian Bear's outragiousness, "Whofe memory is quite worn out with years? "Who of the Grecian Libbard now onght hears, "That over-ran the Eaft with greedy powre, "And left his whelps their kingdoms to devour ?

"Wafted it is, as if it never were, "And all the reft, that me fo honour'd made, "And of the world admired every where, "Is turn'd to smoak, that doth to nothing fade, "And of that brightness new appears no fhade, "But griefly fhades, fuch as do haunt in hell "With fearful fiends, that in deep darknes "dwell.

"Where my high steeples whilom uf'd to ftand, "On which the lordly falcon wont to towre, "There now is but an heap of lime and fand, "For the fkriech-owl to build her baleful bowre; "And where the nightingale wont forth to peur "Her reftlefs plaints, to comfort wakeful lovers "There now haunt yelling mews and whining " plovers.

"And where the chrystal Thamis wont to flide "In filver channel down along the lee, "About whofe flowry banks on either fide

A thousand nymphs, with mirthful jollitee, "Were wont to play, from all annoyance free, "There now no river's courfe is to be seen, "But moorish fens, and marches ever green.

"Seems that the gentle river for great grief "Of my mishap, which oft I to him plained, "Or for to fhun the horrible mitchief "With which he faw my cruel foes me pained, "And his pure ftreams with guiltless blood of "stained,

“From my unhappy neighbourhood far fled, "Aad his fweet waters away with him led.

"There also, where the winged ships were feen "In liquid waves to cut their foamy way, "And thoufand fifhers numbred to have been "In that wide lake, looking for plenteous prey "Of fish, which they with baits uf'd to betray, "Is now no lake, nor any fisher's ftore, "Nor ever ship shall fail there any more.

"They are all gone, and all with them is gone, "Ne ought to me remains but to lament

My long decay, which no man clfe doth more, "And mourn my fall with doleful dreriment. "Yet is it comfort in great languishment, "To be bemoned with compaffion kind, "And mitigates the anguish of the mind.

"But me no man bewaileth but in game,
"Ne fheddeth tears from lamentable eye,
"Nor any lives that mentioneth my name
"To be remembred of pofterity,
"Save one, that maugre Fortune's injury,
"And Timic's decay, and Envy's cruel test,
"Hath writ my record in truc-feeming fert.

"Cambden! the nourice of Antiquity,
"And lanthorn unto late fucceecing age,
"To fee the light of fimple verity,
"Buried in ruines, through the great outrage
"Of her own people, led with warlike rage;