"Such one Mausolus made, the worlds great

wonder,

But now no remnant doth thereof remaine : Such one Marcellus, but was torne with thunder: Such one Lisippus, but is worne with raine: Such one King Edmond, but was rent for gaine. All such vaine moniments of earthlie masse, Devour'd of Time, in time to nought doo passe.

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"But Fame with golden wings aloft doth flie,
Above the reach of ruinous decay,
And with brave plumes doth beate the azure skie,
Admir'd of base-borne men from farre away:
Then who so will with vertuous deeds assay
To mount to heaven, on Pegasus must ride,
And with sweete Poets verse be glorifide.

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"For not to have been dipt in Lethe lake,
Could save the sonne of Thetis from to die;
But that blinde Bard did him immortall make 400
With verses, dipt in deaw of Castalie:
Which made the Easterne Conquerour to crie,
O fortunate yong-man, whose vertue found
So brave a Trompe, thy noble acts to sound.

"Therefore in this halfe happie I doo read
Good Melibæ, that hath a Poet got
To sing his living praises being dead,
Deserving never here to be forgot,
In spight of envie, that his deeds would spot:
Since whose decease, learning lies unregarded,
And men of armes doo wander unrewarded.

"Those two be those two great calamities, That long agoe did grieve the noble spright

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Ver. 436. Good Melibæ, that hath a Poet gol, Sir Francis Walsingham, who died Apr. 6. 1590, is Melibæ. The Poct is Thomas Watson, who published his "Meliboeus, sive Ecloga in Obitum Honoratissimi viri Dom. Fr. Walsinghami, Equitis Aurati, &c. 4to. 1590." OLDYS.

Thus having ended all her piteous plaint,
With dolefull shrikes shee vanished away,
That I through inward sorrowe wexen faint,
And all astonished with deepe dismay
For her departure, had no word to say;
But sate long time in sencelesse sad affright,
Looking still, if I might of her have sight.

Which when I missed, having looked long,
My thought returned greeved home againe,
Renewing her complaint with passion strong,
For ruth of that same womans piteous paine;
Whose wordes recording in my troubled braine,
I felt such anguish wound my feeble heart,
That frosen horror ran through everie part.

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So inlie greeving in my groning brest,
And deepelie muzing at her doubtfull speach,
Whose meaning much I labored foorth to wreste,
Being above my slender reasons reach ;

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Of wondrous powre, and of exceeding stature,
That none durst vewe the horror of his face,
Yet was he milde of speach, and meeke of nature:
Not he, which in despight of his Creatour
With railing tearmes defied the Iewish hoast,
Might with this mightie one in hugenes boast;
For from the one he could to th' other coast
Stretch his strong thighes, and th' ocean overstride,
And reatch his hand into his enemies hoast.
But see the end of pompe and fleshlie pride!
One of his feete unwares from him did slide,
That downe hee fell into the deepe abisse,
Where drownd with him is all his earthlie blisse.

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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 coulored 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,
Gan faile, and all the rest downe shortlie fell,
Ne of so brave a building ought remained,
That griefe thereof my spirite greatly pained.

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Much was I troubled in my heavie spright, At sight of these sad spectacles forepast, That all my senses were bereaved quight, And I in minde remained sore agast, Distraught twixt feare and pitie; when at last I heard a voyce, which loudly to me called, That with the suddein shrill I was appalled. Behold (said it) and by ensample see, That all is vanitie and griefe of minde, Ne other comfort in this world can be, But hope of heaven, and heart to God inclinde; For all the rest must needs be left behinde : With that it bad me, to the other side To cast mine eye, where other sights I spide.

I.

UPON that famous Rivers further shore,
There stood a snowie Swan of heavenly hiew,
And gentle kinde, as ever Fowle afore;
A fairer one in all the goodlie criew
Of white Strimonian brood might no man view :
There he most sweetly sung the prophecie
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.

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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
Wylde beasts and forrests after him to lead,
But was th' Harpe of Philisides now dead.
At length out of the river it was reard
And borne above the cloudes to be divin'd,
Whilst all the way most heavenly noyse was heard
Of the strings, stirred with the warbling wind,
That wrought both ioy and sorrow in my mind:
So now in heaven a signe it doth appeare,
The Harpe well knowne beside the Northern Beare.

III.

Soone after this I saw on th' other side, A curious Coffer made of Heben wood,

Ver. 609. Sidney. TODD.

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th' Harpe of Philisides] Of Sir Philip

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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 perill it was brought,
Two Angels, downe descending with swift flight,
Out of the swelling streame it lightly caught,
And twixt their blessed armes it 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.

IV.

Looking aside I saw a stately Bed,
Adorned all with costly cloth of gold,
That might for anie Princes couche be red,
And deckt with daintie flowres, as if it shold
Be for some Bride, her ioyous night to hold:
Therein a goodly Virgine sleeping lay;
A fairer wight saw never summers day.
I heard a voyce that called farre away,
And her awaking bad her quickly dight,
For lo! her Bridegrome was in readie ray
To come to her, and seeke her loves delight:
With that she started up with cherefull sight,
When suddenly both Bed and all was gone,
And I in languor left there all alone.

V.

Still as I gazed, I beheld where stood

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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 gar ands for his victories,
And with rich spoyles, which late he did purchas
Through brave atcheivements from his enemies :
Fainting at last through long infirmities,
He smote his steed, that straight to heaven him
And left me here his losse for to deplore. [bore,

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Ay me! what thing on earth that all thing breeds,
Might be the cause of so impatient plight?
What furie, or what feend, with felon deeds
Hath stirred up so mischievous despight?
Can griefe then enter into heavenly harts,
And pierce immortall breasts with mortall smarts?

Vouchsafe ye then, whom onely it concernes,
To me those secret causes to display ;
For none but you, or who of you it learnes,
Can rightfully aread so dolefull lay.
Begin, thou eldest Sister of the crew,
And let the rest in order thee ensew.

CLIO.

HEARE, thou great Father of the gods on hie,
That most art dreaded for thy thunder darts;
And thou our Sire, that raigust in Castalie
And Mount Parnasse, the god of goodly Arts:
Heare, and behold the miserable state
Of us thy daughters, dolefull desolate.

Behold the fowle reproach and open shame,
The which is day by day unto us wrought
By such as hate the honour of our namie,
The foes of learning and each gentle thought;
They, not contented us themselves to scorne,
Doo seeke to make us of the world forlorne.

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Ne onely they that dwell in lowly dust,
The sonnes of darknes and of ignoraunce;
But they, whom thou, great Iove, by doome uniust
Didst to the type of honour earst advaunce;
They now, puft up with sdeignfull insolence,
Despise the brood of blessed Sapience.

Man without Understanding doth appeare;

For all this worlds affliction he thereby,

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And Fortunes freakes, is wisely taught to beare: 130 Of wretched life the onely ioy Shee is,

The sectaries of my celestiall skill,

That wont to be the worlds chiefe ornament,
And learned Impes that wont to shoote up still, 75
And grow to height of kingdomes government,
They underkeep, and with their spreading armes
Do beat their buds, that perish through their harmes.

It most behoves the honorable race

Of mightie Peeres true wisedome to sustaine,
And with their noble countenaunce to grace
The learned forheads, without gifts or gaine :
Or rather learnd themselves behoves to bee;
That is the girlond of Nobilitie.

But (ah!) all otherwise they doo esteeme
Of th' heavenly gift of wisdomes influence,
And to be learned it a base thing deeme;
Base minded they that want intelligence:
For God himselfe for wisedome most is praised,
And men to God thereby are nighest raised.

But they doo onely strive themselves to raise
Through pompous pride, and foolish vanitie;
In th' eyes of people they put all their praise,
And onely boast of Armes and Auncestrie:

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And th' only comfort in calamities.

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Why then doo foolish men so much despize
The precious store of this celestiall riches?
Why doo they banish us, that patronize
The name of learning? Most unhappie wretches!
The which lie drowned in deep wretchednes,
Yet doo not see their owne unhappiness.

My part it is and my professed skill
The Stage with Tragick Buskin to adorne,
And fill the Scene with plaint and outcries shrill
Of wretched persons, to misfortune borne:
But none more tragick matter I can finde
Then this, of men depriv'd of sense and minde.

For all mans life me seemes a tragedy, Full of sad sights and sore catastrophees;

Ver. 112.

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steep.] Here is one of Spenser's ellipses;