But, sith thou mayst not so, give leave a while
To baser wit his power therein to spend,
Whose gross defaults thy dainty pen may file,2
And unadvised oversights amend.
But evermore vouchsafe, it to maintain
Against vile Zoilus backbitings vain.
To the Right Honourable Sir Francis Walsingham,
Knight, principal Secretary to her Majesty,
and one of her honourable privy Council.
THAT Mantuan poet's incompared spirit,
Whose garland now is set in highest place,
Had not Mecænas, for his worthy merit,
It first advanc'd to great Augustus' grace,
Might long perhaps have lien in silence base,
Ne been so much admir'd of later age.
This lowly Muse, that learns like steps to trace,
Flies for like aid unto your patronage,
(That are the great Mecenas of this age,
As well to all that civil arts profess,
As those that are inspired with martial rage,)
And craves protection of her feebleness:
Which if ye yield, perhaps ye may her raise
In bigger tunes to sound your living praise.
To the Right Noble Lord and most valiant Captain, Sir John Norris, Knight, Lord president of Munster.
WHO ever gave more honourable prize
To the sweet Muse then did the martial crew,
That their brave deeds she might immortalize
In her shrill trump, and sound their praises due?
Who then ought more to favour her than you,
Most noble Lord, the honour of this age,
And precedent of all that arms ensue?1
Whose warlike prowess and manly courage,
Temper'd with reason and advizement2 sage,
Hath fill'd sad Belgic with victorious spoil;
In France and Ireland left a famous gage; 3
And lately shakt the Lusitanian soil.
Sith then each where thou hast dispread thy fame,
Love him that hath eternizéd your name.
To the Right Noble and Valorous Knight, Sir
Walter Raleigh, Lord Warden of the Stan-
neries, and Lieutenannt of Cornwall.
To thee, that art the summer's nightingale,
Thy sovereign Godess's most dear delight,
Why do I send this rustic madrigale,
That may thy tuneful ear unseason* quite?
Thou only fit this argument to write,
In whose high thoughts Pleasure hath built her
bower,
And dainty Love learn'd sweetly to indite.
My rhymes I know unsavoury and sour,
To taste the streams that, like a golden shower,
Flow from thy fruitful head of thy love's praise;
Fitter perhaps to thunder martial stowre,5
Whenso thee list thy lofty Muse to raise:
Yet, till that thou thy poem wilt make known,
Let thy fair Cinthia's* praises be thus rudely shown.
*Cinthia's:' alluding to a poem by Sir Walter, entitled 'Cynthia.'
1 With much forbear
ance.
To the Right Honourable and most virtuous Lady,
the Countess of Pembroke.
REMEMBRANCE of that most heroic spirit,"
The Heaven's pride, the glory of our days,
Which now triumpheth (through immortal merit
Of his brave virtues) crown'd with lasting bays,
Of heavenly bliss and everlasting praise;
Who first my Muse did lift out of the floor,
To sing his sweet delights in lowly lays;
Bids me, most noble Lady, to adore
His goodly image living evermore
In the divine resemblance of your face;
Which with your virtues ye embellish more,
And native beauty deck with heavenly grace:
For his, and for your own especial sake,
Vouchsafe from him this token in good worth1 to take.
To the most virtuous and beautiful Lady, the Lady
NE2 may I, without blot of endless blame,
You, fairest Lady, leave out of this place;
But, with remembrance of your gracious name,
(Wherewith that courtly garland most ye grace
And deck the world,) adorn these verses base:
Not that these few lines can in them comprise
Those glorious ornaments of heavenly grace,
Wherewith ye triumph over feeble eyes
* Sir Philip Sidney, her brother.-+Carew:' supposed to be the same as Lady Carey, whose maiden name was Spenser, and who was related to the poet.
And in subduéd hearts do tyrannise;
(For thereunto doth need a golden quill
And silver leaves, them rightly to devise ;)
But to make humble present of good will:
Which, whenas timely means it purchase may,
In ampler wise itself will forth display.
To all the gracious and beautiful Ladies in the
Court.
THE Chian painter, when he was required
To pourtray Venus in her perfect hue;
To make his work more absolute, desired
Of all the fairest maids to have the view.
Much more me needs, (to draw the semblant1 true,
Of Beauty's Queen, the world's sole wonderment,)
To sharp my sense with sundry beauties' view,
And steal from each some part of ornament.
If all the world to seek I overwent,
A fairer crew yet no where could I see
Then that brave Court doth to mine eye present; Than. That the world's pride seems gathered there to be.
Of each a part I stole by cunning theft:
Forgive it me, fair dames, sith3 less ye have not left. Since.
THE LEGEND OF THE KNIGHT OF THE RED CROSS, OR
OF HOLINESS.
4 Gloriana, the
Faerie
Queene.
Lo! I, the man whose Muse whylome1 did mask,
As time her taught, in lowly shepherds' weeds,
Am now enforc'd, a far unfitter task,
For trumpets stern to change mine oaten reeds,
And sing of Knights' and Ladies' gentle deeds;
Whose praises having slept in silence long,
Me, all too mean, the sacred Muse areeds2
To blazon broad amongst her learned throng:
Fierce wars and faithful loves shall moralize my
song.
Help then, O holy virgin, chief of Nine,
Thy weaker novice to perform thy will;
Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryne
The antique rolls, which there lie hidden still,
Of Faerie Knights, and fairest Tanaquill, 4
Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long
Sought through the world, and suffer'd so much
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