V.

Then did I see a bridge, made all of golde,
Over the sea from one to other side,
Withouten prop or pillour it t'upholde,

But like the coloured rainbowe arched wide:
Not that great arche, which Traian edifide,
To be a wonder to all age ensuing,
Was matchable to this in equall vewing.

But (ah!) what bootes it to see earthlie thing
In glorie or in greatnes to excell,
Sith time doth greatest things to ruine bring?
This goodlie bridge, one foote not fastned well,
Can faile, and all the rest downe shortlie fell,
Ne of so brave a building ought remained,
That griefe thereof my spirite greatly pained.

VI.

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I saw two beares, as white as anie milke,
Lying together in a mightie cave,
Of milde aspect, and haire as soft as silke,
That salvage nature seemed not to have,
Nor after greedie spoyle of bloud to crave.
Two fairer beasts might not elsewhere be found,
Although the compast world were sought around.
But what can long abide above this ground
In state of blis, or stedfast happinesse ?

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The cave, in which these beares lay sleeping sound,
Was but of earth, and with her weightinesse
Upon them fell, and did unwares oppresse;
That, for great sorrow of their sudden fate,
Henceforth all worlds felicitie I hate.

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Soone after this I saw on th' other side
A curious coffer made of heben wood,
That in it did most precious treasure hide,
Exceeding all this baser worldes good:
Yet through the overflowing of the flood
It almost drowned was, and done to nought,
That sight thereof much griev'd my pensive thought.
At length, when most in peril it was brought,
Two angels, downe descending with swift flight, 625
Out of the swelling streame it lightly caught,
And twixt their blessed armes carried quight
Above the reach of anie living sight:
So now it is transform'd into that starre,
In which all heavenly treasures locked are.

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UPON that famous rivers further shore,
There stood a snowie swan of heavenly hiew,
And gentle kinde, as ever fowle afore;

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A fairer one in all the goodlie criew

Of white Strimonian brood might no man view: There he most sweetly sung the prophecie

A knight all arm'd, upon a winged steed,
The same that was bred of Medusaes blood,
On which Dan Perseus, borne of heavenly seed
The faire Andromeda from perill freed:
Full mortally this knight ywounded was,
That streames of blood foorth flowed on the gras:
Yet was he deckt (small ioy to him alas!)
With manie garlands for his victories,

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Of his owne death in dolefull elegie.
At last, when all his mourning melodie
He ended had, that both the shores resounded,
Feeling the fit that him forewarnd to die,
With loftie flight above the earth he bounded,
And out of sight to highest heaven mounted,
Where now he is become an heavenly signe;
There now the ioy is his, here sorrow mine.

II.

Whilest thus I looked, loe! adowne the lee
I saw an harpe stroong all with silver twyne,
And made of golde and costlie yvorie,
Swimming, that whilome seemed to have been
The harpe on which Dan Orpheus was seene

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Give leave to him that lov'de thee to lament
His losse, by lacke of thee to heaven hent,
And with last duties of this broken verse,
Broken with sighes, to decke thy sable herse!
And ye, faire ladie! th' honour of your daies,
And glorie of the world, your high thoughts scorne;
Vouchsafe this moniment of his last praise
With some few silver-dropping teares t'adorne ;
And as ye be of heavenlie off-spring borne,
So unto heaven let your high minde aspire,

And loath this drosse of sinfull worlds desire! 686

TO THE RIGHT WORTHY AND VERTUOUS LADIE,
THE LA: CAREY:

Most brave and bountifull La: for so excellent favours as I have received at your sweet handes, to offer these fewe leaves as in recompence, should be as to offer flowers to the gods for their divine benefites. Therefore I have determined to give my selfe wholy to you, as quite abandoned from my elfe, and absolutely vowed to your services : which in all right is ever held for full recompence of debt or damage, to have the person yeelded. My person I wot wel how little worth it is. But the faithfull minde and humble zeale which I bear unto your La may perhaps be more of price, as may please you to account and use the poore service therof; which taketh glory to advance your

excellent partes and noble vertues, and to spend it selfe in honouring you; not so much for your great bounty to my self, which yet may not be unminded; nor for name or kindreds sake by you vouchsafed; being also regardable; as for that honorable name, which yee have by your brave deserts purchast to your selfe, and spred in the mouths of all men: with which I have also presumed to grace my verses; and, under your name, to commend to the world this small Poëme. which beseeching your La: to take in worth, and of all things therin according to your wonted gra. ciousnes to make a milde construction, I humbly pray for your happines.

The

Your La: ever humbly;

E. S.

1 SING of deadly dolorous debate,
Stir'd up through wrathfull Nemesis despight,
Betwixt two mightie ones of great estate,
Drawne into armes, and proofe of mortall fight,
Through prowd ambition and hart-swelling hate, 5
Watest neither could the others greater might
And sdeignfull scorne endure; that from small iarre
Their wraths at length broke into open warre.

The roote whereof and tragicall effect,
Vouchsafe, O thou the mournfulst Muse of nyne, 10
That wont'st the tragick stage for to direct,
In funerall complaints and wailefull tyne,
Reveale to me, and all the meanes detect,
Through which sad Clarion did at last decline
To lowest wretchednes: And is there then
Such rancour in the harts of mightie men!

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Lastly his shinie wings as silver bright,
Painted with thousand colours passing farre
All painters skill, he did about him dight:
Not halfe so manie sundrie colours arre
In Iris bowe; ne heaven doth shine so bright,
Distinguished with manie a twinckling starre;
Nor Iunoes bird, in her ey-spotted traine,
So many goodly colours doth containe.

Ne (may it be withouten perill spoken)
The archer god, the sonne of Cytheree,
That ioyes on wretched lovers to be wroken,
And heaped spoyles of bleeding harts to see,
Beares in his wings so manie a changefull token.
Ah! my liege lord, forgive it unto mee,

If ought against thine honour I have tolde;
Yet sure those wings were fairer manifolde.

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Thus the fresh Clarion, being readie dight,
Unto his journey did himselfe addresse,
And with good speed began to take his flight;
Over the fields, in his frank lustinesse.
And all the champaigne o're he soared light;
And all the countrey wide he did possesse,
Feeding upon their pleasures bounteouslie,
That none gainsaid, nor none did him envie.
The woods, the rivers, and the medowes greene,
With his aire-cutting wings he measured wide,
Ne did he leave the mountaines bare unseene,
Nor the ranke grassie fennes delights untride.
But none of these, how ever sweet they beene,
Mote please his fancie, nor him cause t' abide :
His choicefull sense with every change doth flit;
No common things may please a wavering wit. 160
To the gay gardins his unstaid desire
Him wholly caried, to refresh his sprights:
There lavish Nature, in her best attire,
Powres forth sweete odors and alluring sights;
And Arte, with her contending, doth aspire,
T'excell the naturall with made delights:
And all, that faire or pleasant may be found,
In riotous ex cesse doth there abound.

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But what on earth can long abide in state?
Or who can him assure of happy day?
Sith morning faire may bring fowle evening late,
And least mishap the most blisse alter may
For thousand perills lie in close awaite
About us daylie, to worke our decay;
That none except a god, or God him guide,
May them avoyde, or remedie provide.
And whatso heavens in their secret doome
Ordained have, how can fraile fleshly wight
Forecast, but it must needs to issue come?
The sea, the aire, the fire, the day, the night,
And th'armies of their creatures all and some
Do serve to them, and with importune might
Warre against us the vassals of their will.
Who then can save what they dispose to spill!

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And evermore with most varietie,
And change of sweetnesse, (for all change is sweete),
He casts his glutton sense to satisfie,
Now sucking of the sap of herbe most meet,
Or of the deaw, which yet on them does lie,
Now in the same bathing his tender feete:
And then he pearcheth on some braunch thereby,
To weather him, and his moyst wings to dry.

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And then againe he turneth to his play,
To spoyle the pleasures of that Paradise ;
The wholesome saulge, and lavender still gray,
Ranke-smelling rue, and cummin good for eyes,
The roses raigning in the pride of May,
Sharpe isope good for greene wounds remedies, 190
Faire marigoldes, and bees-alluring thime,
Sweet mariorum, and daysies decking prime :

Coole violets, and orpine growing still,
Embathed balme, and cheerfull galingale,
Fresh costmarie, and breathfull camomill,
Dull poppy, and drink-quickning setuale,
Veyne healing verven, and hed-purging dill,
Sound savorie, and bazil heartie-Lale,
Fat colworts, and comtórting perseline,
Cold lettuce, and refreshing rosmarine.

It fortuned (as heavens had behight)
That in this gardin, where young Clarion
Was wont to solace him, a wicked wight,
The foe of faire things, th' author of confusion,

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The shame of nature, the bondslave of spight, 245
Had lately built his hatefull mansion;
And, lurking closely, in awaite now lay,
How he might any in his trap betray.

But when he spide the ioyous butterflie
In this faire plot displacing to and fro,
Feareles of foes and hidden ieopardie,
Lord! how he gan for to bestirre him tho,
And to his wicked worke each part applie!
His heart did earne against his hated foe,
And bowels so with rankling poyson swelde,
That scarce the skin the strong contagion helde.

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The cause, why he this flie so maliced,

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Was (as in stories it is written found)
For that his mother, which him bore and bred,
The most fine-fingred workwoman on ground, 260
Arachne, by his meanes was vanquished

Minerva did the chalenge not refuse,

But deign'd with her the paragon to make:

So to their worke they sit, and each doth chuse 275
What storie she will for her tapet take.
Arachne figur'd how love did abuse
Europa like a bull, and on his backe

Her through the sea did beare; so lively seene,
That it true sea, and true bull, ye would weene. 280

Shee seem'd still backe unto the land to looke,
And her play-fellowes ayde to call, and feare
The dashing of the waves, that up she tooke
Her daintie feet, and garments gathered neare :
But (Lord!) how she in everie member shooke, 285
When as the land she saw no more appeare,
But a wilde wildernes of waters deepe:
Then gan she greatly to lament and weepe.

She grew to hideous shape of dryrihed,
Pined with griefe of folly late repented:
Eftsoones her white streight legs were altered

To crooked crawling shankes, of marrowe empted;
And her faire face to foul and loathsome hewe, 351
And her fine corpes t' a bag of venim grewe.

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This cursed creature, mindfull of that olde
Enfested grudge, the which his mother felt,
So soone as Clarion he did beholde,
His heart with vengefull malice inly swelt;
And weaving straight a net with manie a fold
About the cave, in which he lurking dwelt,
With fine small cords about it stretched wide,
So finely spunne, that scarce they could be spide. 360

Not anie damzell, which her vaunteth most
In skilfull knitting of soft silken twyne;
Nor anie weaver, which his worke doth boast
In diaper, in damaske, or in lyne ;
Nor anie skil'd in workmanship embost;
Nor anie skil'd in loupes of fingring fine;
Might in their divers cunning ever dare
With this so curious networke to compare.

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Suspition of friend, nor feare of foe,

Before them stands the god of seas in place, Clayming that sea-coast citie as his right,

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And strikes the rockes with his three-forked mace;
Whenceforth issues a warlike steed in sight,
The signe by which he chalengeth the place;
That all the gods, which saw his wondrous might,
Did surely deeme the victorie his due:
But seldome seene, foreiudgement proveth true.
Then to herselfe she gives her Aegide shield, 321
And steel-hed speare, and morion on her hedd,
Such as she oft is seene in warlike field :
Then sets she forth, how with her weapon dredd
She smote the ground, the which streight foorth did
A fruitfull olyve tree, with berries spredd, [yield 326
That all the gods admir'd; then all the storie
She compast with a wreathe of olyves hoarie.
Emongst these leaves she made a butterflie,
With excellent device and wondrous slight,
Fluttring among the olives wantonly,
That seem'd to live, so like it was in sight:
The velvet nap which on his wings doth lie,
The silken downe with which his backe is dight,
His broad outstretched hornes, his hayrie thies, 335
His glorious colours, and his glistering eies.

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That hazarded his health, had he at all,
But walkt at will, and wandred to and fro,
In the pride of his freedome principall⚫
Litle wist he his fatall future woe,
But was secure; the liker he to fall.
He likest is to fall into mischaunce,
That is regardles of his governaunce.
Yet still Aragnoll (so his foe was hight)
Lay lurking covertly him to surprise;
And all his gins, that him entangle might,
Drest in good order as he could devise.
At length, the foolish flie without foresight,
As he that did all daunger quite despise,
Toward those parts came flying carelesselie,
Where hidden was his hatefull enemie.

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