The second day of the First vveeke of the most excellent, learned, and diuine poet, VVilliam, Lord Bartas. Done out of French into English heroicall verse by Thomas VVinter, Maister of Artes

The second day of the first Weeke of the Lord Bartas. THose Learned wits, whose soothing rimes do change The v • nity of lasciuious Poets. Fowle into faire, and lewd with chast do range, And of a bastard, dwarfe, blind, •• irting boy Do make a god, nay all the gods to sway: They lose both seed and trauell of their hand, In plowing of th'vngratefull fruitlesse sand. And setting nets for to intrap the winde Of some vaine praise, which doth their wisedome blinde, They imitate the Spiders curious paine, Which weaues a needlesse web withou • en gaine. But though more deare then time we nought possesse, Yet would I grieue their losse of that the lesse, If by their guilefull verse their too much Art Made not their hearers share with them a part. The sugred baite of those their learned writs, Doth shrowd that poison, which the yonger wits Quaffe downe with breathlesse draughts, and loues hote wine, Making them host at drunken Bacchus signe, Distempers so their stomacks, that they feede On such ill meats as no good humours breede. Their charming numbers with a mightie glaunce, Cast headlong downe fresh readers to mischaunce. Which by a vaine desire soone make them • lide, From this liues mountaine, where they might abide. The songs to which their Muse sweete notes doth frame, Are bellowes of lewd lust, which do enflame That wanton heate, which yet yong tender age, In modest ashes keepes in vassallage. The chast in • ē tion of the L. Ba • tas. Now all such as I am, I haue deuoted That art and wit which heauen hath me allotted, To th' honor of great Ioue, such verse to frame, As virgins reading need not blush for shame. Inuocatio. Thou Learnings spring, soule of this worldly round, Sith thou wilt haue my low-tun'd verse to sound Of thy great praise, graunt that my keaking quill, Celestiall Nectar euer may distill: And fill this volume with her hornes store, Which cherisht once a god then late y bore. That in some rate it may be correspondent, To the greatnesse of so graue an argument. Rid cleane the path, which now I am to tread, From bushie brakes which do it ouer-spread. Throughout my course so lend me still thy ligh • , That to my Inne I may arriue ere night. The chaos created of nothing That endlesse end▪ broade length and heigth profound, Which yet no world, yet was a worldly round: That massie lumpe which nourisht ciuill hatred, Was instantly of verie nought created: And was that fertile soile from which should grow Earth, water, aire, the fire, and heauen also. Th • compositiō of • he fo •• e • lement • i • mixt • odies. Now these foure brethren two-twind generation, Thus made, not onely keepe their seuerall station, But are the simples too, to make the mixt Of euery thing, whereon our sense is fixt. Whether their onely qualities remaine, And in each part of each mixt bodie raigne: Or their essentiall formes be all combined, These foure as one sole bodie are defined. Si • ile. As in a chrystall glasse we see the bloud Of grapes, allaide with Achelou • floud. Or as the meate and drinke▪ which we haue singled Out for our nouriture, in vs is mingled, And by our inward heate yeelds moisture, good To be conuerted into purest bloud. This in a burning brand we see full plaine, Example. His firetowers vp, his heauenly home t'attaine, His aire to smoake, hi • earth to ashes goeth, Out of his knobs the boiling water floweth. Like warre our bodies quiet peace maintaineth: For fire and aire in vitall spir • ts remaineth, The flesh is earth, the humors water be. Yea in each particle we plainely see Each of these mingled, though some ones minority, Among his brethren beares not like authority. So in the bloud, those muddie lees which craue (As being earthie) lowest place to haue, Are melancholy; in the middle swimmes The purest bloud like aire; about the brimmes Lies watrie phlegme; and on the top there • ubbles That firie choler which so many troubles. Yet in the bodie no one element One element • lvv •• es predomin • nt in • ixt bodies. Doth daily play the king, but is content To take his turne, and so his subiect • awes, As if they take new Lord, he makes new lawes. As each good townse-man bloud or wealth nought heeding, Simile. Is rul'd, which earst in ruling made proceeding In a free citie, which doth lose his fashion, Soone as the rulers suffer alteration. For the light vulgar tost with euerie wind, Are to their princes humors still enclind Cameleon-like, which change of colours weareth, As oft as change of obiect him anneareth. Example. So th' element of which wine most partaketh, Now moist, now dry, now hote, now cold it maketh. And as these foure are coupled more or lesse, So do th' effects and tast the same expresse: So that in time the iuyce of grapes vnripe, Becomes new wine to fill the emptie pipe; And that same new growes good as it growes old▪ Which kept too long, for vineger is sold. Any ele • ent excessi • ely predomi •• nt, i • dangerous to t • e bodie. Now whiles the Prince which keepes the rest in aw, Doth subiugate his greatnesse to the law; He rules in safetie and doth still increase, His commons ioy for their so happie peace. But if of subiects bloud which he doth spill By dint of sword, he neuer take his fill, At length his rage dispeopling so his land, Must leaue his realme to sauage beasts command▪ Right so as long as some one element, Doth rule the rest with modest gouernment; And a proportion in the humors found, Though some do more then other some abound, The bodie's in faire plight, as those faire lines, Drawne on the surface, are thereof good signes. Caligula. But if that cruell king it represent, Who wisht that all of his great regiment, Had one sole necke, that at one chop he might Butcher all Rome in furious despight: Then doth it breed corruption of the rest, And th' house whereof the tyrant is possest, Doth by degrees decay; so that the eye The bodies totall change may soone descrie. Excesse o • moist • re c •• set • the dropsie. So whensoere the liuer is opprest With moisture, which it cannot well digest, Which runs along the flesh, it makes it swell, And stops the conduit pipes which should e • pell Moist excrements, and bolteth fast the dore, Which to the panting breath should euermore Yeeld backe; and in the water doth torment The dropsie-sicke with thirstie languishment. Nor doth it leaue the patient any rest, Vntill the graue be of his corps possest. Excesse of dri • esse causeth the Hectique ••• er. So, too much drought a lingring feuer breeds, Which with some paine on th' Hectique daily feedes; Feebles the sinewes, clads the heart with griefe, The face with sadnesse, playes the very thiefe, In stealing from the limmes their moist reliefe, Like as the flaming torch, which is the chiefe Cause of his peecemeale burning cleane away, Feeds by his life, liues by his owne decay. Nor doth it l • nd the patient any rest, Vntill the graue be of his corps possest. So too much heate doth breed the feauer lourdane, Excess • of h • at • the cause of th • quarta • e ague. The tongue surcharging with a slimie burthen, And makes the drudging pulse to trot apace, And in the braine more diuerse shapes doth trace With a fantasticke pencill, then can art, Or chance, or Nature to the eye impart. Nor doth it lend the burning patient rest, Vntill the graue be of his corps possest. So too much cold vpon the aged pate Excesse of cold causeth old age. Doth clap a hoarie fleece, and doth abate The flesh, and furrowes vp the late-smooth forehead, Hollowes the eyes, and makes a man abhorred Vnto himselfe, and gliding through each part, Doth by his winters freeze the very heart. Nor doth it lend the aged any rest, Vntill the graue be of his corps possest. Yet thinke not that this great excesse doth bring Nibil in • ibilum riducitur. Annihilation vnto any thing: It onely doth diuersifie the fashion, So as the matter by this commutation, Do it within, or else without remaine, Nor can be sayd to lose, nor yet to gaine. What ere is made, is of that matter fram'd, Which in the ancient nought the M • t • ri • • rima. First was nam'd. And whatsoeuer is resolu'd againe, Vnto that former matter runnes amaine. For since that God of nothing made this All, • x ni • il • • i • il fit. Of nought is nothing made, nor euer shall Ought vnto nought be brought: but all that's borne, Or dyes againe doth onely change his forme. His bodie sometimes shrinkes, sometimes is lengthened, Sometimes is thickened, sometimes straightened, 〈◊〉 . And if (in sooth) of nothing bodies were, The earth vntild should fruit abundant beare; Desired children, virgins should enioy; And each thing grow each where without annoy; The thirstie hart should in the Ocean lie; The monstrous whale should dwell vpon the drie; The fleecie sheepe should grase amid the aire; The seruice tree, and eke the pine-tree faire, Should take their rooting in the raging floud; Out of the oke the ches-nut tree should bud; And from the ches nut tree should achornes fall; And natures lawes being violated all, The eagle with the silly doue should match, And each of these the others broode should hatch. Nothing can enlarge it selfe by it self • . And if that bodies of themselues could grow, Then man which in his growing is so slow, Should instantly be of that very stature, Which in full age is giuen him by nature. Vnplanted trees with leauie branches dight, Should rob the shaded groues of Phoebus light. The suckling elephant his backe should yeeld, Vnto the warlike castle for the field. The yongling Colt couragiously should neigh, Bucephal-like in warre to breake the ray. Contrariwise, if ought annihild be, Then whatsoere we touch, or tast, or see, Still losing something of his quantitie, At length should come vnto a nulliti • . If death could something to a nothing bring, Then should that change be vtter perishing. Exemplific • ti • Sometimes the mountaines prouder tops do fall, But then the dales are filled therewithall. And when as Rhone, or Thesis swelling pride, Doth ouerflow the field through which they glide, No more on either side is drownd and lost, Then is recouerd on the other coast. The louely heauen doth showre downe many a floud, That his beloued spouse the earth may bud; Which she repa • es squirting them vp amaine, Through hidden poares of hearbes and trees againe. He that this only obseruation makes, Simil. How waxe a hundred diuerse fashion takes, Yet still the same; to him the daily change Of this inferiour world cannot be strange. The worlds First ma • ter is this waxe vnformed▪ Which with a thousand formes is all adorned; The forme is the seale, and heauens great King, Is this high Chancelor, who with his ring, His great or lesser seales doth print vpon her, Which sometime bring her shame, and somtimes honor. With vs is nothing firme and constant; here Both life and death in turne do dominere. One bodie springs not till another fade, Onely the matter is immortall made. Gods writing table, bodie of this All, Receiuer of what accidents befall; All like it selfe, all in it selfe compacted, It neither is enlarged nor contracted. Whose essence is vuchanged, but her shape No fewer outward fashions doth escape, Then Proteus, or the fish cald Manie-feete, Which for to prey amid the watrie deepe, Himselfe discolours, and in imitation Fitly resembles our French-neighbour nation, Mat • ri • prima Gall • similis. Which like an ape doth euermore delight, To be in stranger fashions alway dight: Whose shirt no oftner suffers any change, Then his apparell doth a fashion strange. This Matter is a Lais, whose delight Would chaunge a hundred louers in a night▪ Who scarcely of some yonkers arme vnlaced, Hath in her cogitation straight embraced Anothers culling, and her nouell sport, Doth cause her wish for plentie of that sort. For this same matter prickt with strong desire Of change: and yet vnable to attire Her selfe with euery shape, doth by succession Receiue in euery part a new impression. The cause of the trans • utation of the elemen • s. The chiefest cause of these euanishments, Is deadly fewd of our foure elements; Which in their turne do prey one on the other, As snow and water being maide and mother, Do make a mutuall change: each of these foure, In two chiefe qualities doth shew his powre; Whereof the one doth still the scepter sway, To whom the other doth his homage pay. Those elements whose forces disagree, And wholy sauour of antipathie, Maintaine a longer fight in open field, Or either of them to the other yeeld. The fire to water turnes not speedily, Nor doth the aire rauen so greedily Vpon the earth: for being deadly foes, They fight both with their fingers and their toes. But aire to water, earth to fire likewise Doth sooner turne; for that they symbolize Some qualitie: and easier tis to quell One enemie▪ then two that do rebell. Sith then this worlds children none can see, Vntill these elements conioyned be In holy wedlocke: and that nothing dies, Till by diuorce these foure are enemies; Which by vnconstant changing of their place, Produce those various formes, wherwith the face Of this great All is so embellished: Simil. (Iust as a song is sweetly relished With some few notes in sundrie line and space▪ Which by their charming, sweet, harmonious grace, Do make the hearers eares the broad high way, By which they may their soules from them conuey. Or as the letters of the Alphabet, Simil. By being in a diuerse order set, Do make these words; and then these words againe, Which here do flow from my poëtike braine, Changing their rancke, enrich these sacred lines, With choice of new discourse a thousand times.) It wants not reason: why Gods caref • ll hand, Sharing among them, all their common land, Gaue ea • h a place fit for his quantitie, Which also might preserue his qualitie. He then that sees a drossie wedge of gold, Exampl • ▪ Mai • terd by V • l • an, how it doth vnfold His wished riches, and how lingringly The gold vnto the gold doth striue to sli • ; The siluer seekes the siluer, and the brasse Betweene them both doth run, and how that masse Composd of peeces neither like his fellow, Doth branch it selfe in streames, blacke, white, and yello • : He doth conceiue that soone as God assigned A place, to which each one should be confined▪ The earth, the fire, the water, and the aire, Vnto their like do speedily repaire. So then this Chaos muddie lees do sinke The situ • tio • of t • e • arth & the fi • e. Right downeward by their naturall instinct. The fire doth trie a new conclusion, Runs through the chinkes of this Confusion, And sparkleth vpward by his nimble pace, And of this lower world gets highest place. As one may see when as the dawne doth paint Simil. The Zenith of Catay with colours quaint, Dead pooles to reake, and from the poarie ground, Exhaled vapours in the aire abound. Th • situation of t • e vvat • r and the aire. But least the fire which doth the rest inclose, Should burne the earth by his too neare repose, As arbiters betweene such deadly foes, Did God the water and the aire dispose. One of which two could neuer end their fight, The water p • rent-like would take delight To helpe the earth: the ayer would desire T'vphold the quarrell of his cousin fire. But both of them their sundred loue vniting, Might quickly end their quarrell and their fighting: Which questionlesse if't had not bene perfou • ned, This new-made world to his first state had turned. The aire is plac'd aboue, the water vnder, No chance, but God so placing them asunder, Who that each thing in other may take ple • sure, Hath made his works in number, waight, and measure. For if neare Vulcan, Neptune had his place, Th • t cholericke element would straight embrace Suspect of outrage, and his place forsake, That of his wrong some iudgement he might take. Now then the linkes of this most holy chaine, Which doth the members of this All containe, Are such as he alone can them vntie, Who linked them together cunningly. The water armd with moisture and with cold, Doth in one arme the cold-drie earth enfold, And in the other doth the aire embrace; The aire as hote and moist doth hie apace To ioyne himselfe by heate vnto the fire, And by his moisture water doth desire. Simil. As when the shepheardesses chaunce to meete, Trampling the flowers with their tripping feete, Marrying their pitches to the oaten sounds, And sportfully do daunce their rusticke rounds Vnder the branches of some shadie tree, By ioyning hand in hand so coupled be, As that the first clinching her fellow fast▪ Is ioyned by her fellowes to the last. For sith the earth alonely doth not nourish VVhy th • •• rt • is th • c •• ter of th • vvorld▪ Those creatures which in the same do flourish▪ But, which is more, doth with her dugs supply Foode to the winged people of the skie, And gluts the scaly troupe with longed food, Wh • ch cleaue the billowes of the briny floud, So that what ere doth creepe, runne, swimme or flie, Is by this Mother nourced carefully: It did behoue that she should counter-waigh Her selfe, that so she might the firmer stay Against the barking of the stonnie maine, And might the anger-swollen cheekes disdaine Of Auster, who in parching heate delighteth, And Boreas, who with freezing cold still fighteth. It did behoue, her body dull and flow, Should farthest be from heauen here below, That she might nere be wheel'd about, by force Of heauens swift and neuer-resting course: Which doth with strong and stubborne rauishment, Pull round about the highest element. And sith againe that the harmonious course Of heauenly planets, is th'immortall source Of life in earthly things, and that their changing Is caused by the starres their circled ranging: Th'Almightie could no fitter lodge prouide, Whereas our grandame earth might well abide, Then in the center of this worldly round. For vitall beames wherewith the starres abound, Do shatter downe their powerfull influence Vpon the aire his waving residence, On th' arched fire, and on the swelling maine Where scaly people wanting lungs remaine. But they in fine vnite their forces all, Within the circle of this earthy ball, Simil. Which is the worlds naue: like as we may See in a wheele which chalketh out his way Amid the mudde; whose widest spoakes do meete Within the button by their ioyned feete. Simil. And as the Sunne doth pierce the window glasse, So do these starrie influences passe, Through euerie part without impediment Of the transparant firie element, The regions of the aire, and water bright, But not the earth, wherein is firmely pight The worlds foundation; so that we name, (And iustly too) the water, aire and flame, The concubines of euer-mouing heauen, For that his Sunne, and Moone, and Starry-seuen, Neuer inioy their loue, but when by chance By these three regions along they glance: When heauen husband-like hath no intent To be diuorc'd from the driest element: And with such seed as still doth animate Each liuing thing, he doth engrauidate The fruitfull earth his lawfull wedded bride; And with a bodie so diuersifide In disposition and in outward forme, He doth the structure of this All adorne. VVhy the vva • er is placed betvveene the earth and the aire. The water lighter then the earthie lumpe, And heauier then the aire, doth pitch his iumpe Betweene them both; that being moist and cold, By those two qualities he may be bold, To slacke the thirstie drinesse of our Mother, And coole the feruor of his airie brother. Apostrophe ad Musam suam. But whither away my Muse? thou wanton stay, Spend not thy Poetry at one essay: Surcease to day, to sing of sea and land, Their compasse, power and praise▪ and where they stand. Do not too hastily preuent the time, Wherein the world was in his flowing prime: Le • ue mountaine rockes with waters ouer-spread, Till Phoebus rise againe from's easterne bed: For when he shewes againe his blushing face, Then shall Gods powerfull hand asunder place These mingled bodies; and shall richly dight The earth, with bushie trees of goodly height. It's time my loue, my ioy and onely deare, To soare aloft, to lodge no longer here. Or neuer now tis time, to graft my wings On thy immortall virgin-pin • onings: That on thy backe I being nimbly light, May safely vnto heauen take my flight. Come, come then luckily, thy shoulder lend, That mounted on the same I hence may wend To gaine that crowne, to win that wreathed bay, Which neuer Poets, that in Fraunce did sway, Did weare; and which the heauens nigardize Hath long concealed from my longing eyes. The aire (which foggie mists doth entertaine, The aire hov • and vvhy it is d • uided into three r • g • o • s. The play-game of the tempests and the raine; Th'inconstant house where winged clouds abide, Swift Aeol • s his kingdome and his pride. The shop where winds are sold, whose trafficke maketh, That euerie mouing thing of life partaketh) Is not all one, for men by learning guided, Into three lofts hau't rightf • lly deuided. Whereof the high'st (for that the restlesse course Regi • suprema. Of the first Mouer puls it round by force, From Ea • t to West, and likewise from the West Vnto the place where faire Aurora's drest: And for it bounds vpon the burning •• ame) The learned do this loft the hottest name. That loft wherein we breath, by turne doth hold Regio infima. Now melting heate, now all-congealing cold: Now neither, so his waters in the Spring Are coldly hote; in Autumne wauering, In winter cold, and hote in sommers raigne, For then the earth rebat • th backe againe Those beames, which starrie bow-men shoote apace; Especially the Sunne (the heauens chiefe grace) Who for his shafts doth eue •• ore d • light, To make the circled earth his but tand white. Medi •••• io. The middle-loft, for that it still remaineth Farre from the burning • eeling, which containeth This lower world in his firie seate, Vnable also to partake the heate, Which from the earth is banded bolt-vpright, Doth in continuall freezing take delight. For how could water hardned be to haile, Euen when the sommer heate doth so preuaile, That haruest fields looke white, if y • ie cold His shiuering climates did not all enfold? VVhy the middle region is th • c • ld • st. Assoone as Phoebus hath his court remoued From the T •• sig •• Gemini. two twinnes, so mutually beloued, And takes his lodging with his Cancer. Crabbed hoste, Or panting Lyon; then this middle coast His cold redoubleth: for enuironed With heate of armies newly mustered, Which more then ere are now encouraged To haue his coldest times vnwintered: Delayes the time to traine his men no longer, His forces ioyn'd together are the stronger. S • mil. As Christians leauing farre their natiue land, Feare not the furie of the Turkish band, Marching disorderly; make now and then, As many squadrons, as there be of men; So that sometime the clownes with bils and bowes, Driue them before them with their stubborne blowes: But when they see the Mooned flags appeare, (Armes of old Ottoman) and when they heare The horrid thunder of cannons sound, Which by their shocke do leuell with the ground, The strongest wals that euer yet immured Rhodes and Belgrada, while their prime indured, Straight they retire, and in some neighbour plaine, Do set themselues in order all againe; Their warlike courage doth increase their strength, Their bloud doth boile for heate, and at the length The bordring circumcised peoples aide Doubling their forces, makes their foes afraid. This antiperistasis (for tis no danger T • e effe •• s of the A • tip • ris • a •• s of the • i •• le r • gio • . To naturalize a word that is a stranger▪ Yea in this worke, where we haue no one word, That doth so strong an emphasis afford) Doth cause that in the heate of winters cold, We feele the chimney hotter many-fold Then in the sommer: and that Scythia, Saluted often by Orithia Her blustering louer, euermore doth breed Children, whose stomackes crauing still to feed, Continually digest more store of meate, Both in the winter, and in sommers heate, Then those leane scranlings whom the Delphian torch▪ Vpon the Lybian sand doth alway scorch. This makes that we, which haue the happie lucke Sweete aire into our spongie lungs to sucke, More liuely heate within our stomackes hide, When freezing Ianiuere doth here abide: Then when the Sunne is banisht for a while From Chus, and to our tropicke doth recuile, Gods mightie hand did thus the aire deuide, That in the middle lo • t there might reside The mists, the comets and the windie traine, The tempests and the dew, the y • e and raine. Some of the which appointed are to make The earth to yeeld her fruit, the rest to take Weapons against our sinnes: that so they might Engraue in hardest hearts each day and night, The awfull loue, the sweet-alluring feare Of him, which of this All the crowne doth weare. Simil. As in a cupping-glasse a litle flame, To shunne a vacuum (which is natures shame) Or 〈◊〉 it selfe from cupped partes doth bring Th • abounding humor, which lies pestering The flesh; which being thinne and too subtile, Doth by the ruddie eyes distill each while: Right so the Sunne, whose yellow golden haire Doth daily guild this and that hemispheare, Two sorts of vapors euermore exhales From wauing fields, and from the flowrie dales. E ••• atio. The one is thinne, pure, nimble, burning, dry, Vapor. T • e other hote, moist, rising heauily, Which runne amid the aire throughout the yeare, And make the world vnlike it selfe appeare. O • • he blasts, o • n • l d • vv. If then a vapor do so thinly rise, As that it cannot be in any wise To water turned; and his heauie wing G • ued with cold, lie onely houering Vpon the earth his gaudy flowred weed, A blacknesse in the aire it straight doth breed, And the • ewithall a sluggish mi • tie blast, Vpon the hearbes and flowers hangeth fast. O • the d • vv a •• the ye • . If so this vapor lingringly do flie Scarce to the middle region of the sky, Yet higher then the clouds, it's in a trice, In Aprill dew, in Ianuarie y • e. 〈◊〉 the raine. But if this vapor actiuely do get, Vnto the shiuering winters cabinet; The water which hath got the highest place, Is turned in a verie litle space By cold into a • loud, and through the skie, Vpon the winged winds doth swiftly flie: Vntill his waters dropping downe amaine, Do find their grandame riuers once againe. Whether one cloud be driuen by the wind, Coni • c • urall reason • of the raine. Against another in a furious kind; And with a stubborne shocke are forc'd againe, To shed their water in a showre of raine: As oftentimes, a wanton lad doth dash Simil. The brittle vessels, seruing for to wash, B • tweene his waggish hands, and so doth spill The water which the vessels earst did fill: Or whether it be, a gentler gale do play Amid the aire, and sighing in his way, Wrings out their teares: as after a great raine, Another showre stilleth downe againe From tops of forrests trees; when as the wind Among their bushy boughes doth pleasure find, And sports to crispe their wauing leauie tresses: Or whether it be a higher cloud that presses The vnder cloud with a moist heauie waight; And that the humor se • kes an issue straight, Prest by another water: as is s • ene, The more that Grapes. Bacchus presents piled bene Vpon the hurdle in the vintage time, The faster doth the new, sweet, • uming wine Streame from the bottome pierced all below, And to the froathie tub amaine doth flow. Then many heauenly streames our flouds augment, Saue teares is nothing scene: the firmament Darkned with clouds, in drops doth seeme to still, And stinking frogs the earthie plaines to fill: Hovv frogs may b • • nge • dred v ••• h t •• raine Whether the vapor that doth vpward • lie, Be of it selfe both cold, hote, moist and drie; Whose mixture quickneth euerie liuing thing: Or whether it be, the Easterne blustering Sweeping the earth, do heape into the sky Some fertile dust, whereof confusedly These ougly things are made; as neare the brimme, Where some new mountaine floud doth swiftly swimme, The froathy mud is turn'd in a strange kind Into a frog, which yet vnshhap't behind Within the dirt enioys some small pastime, Halfe dead, and halfe aliue, halfe flesh, halfe slime. Of the snovv. S ••• times it hapneth, that the freezing cold Congeales the totall cloud; then we behold Great lockes of heauenly wooll to tumble downe, The trees vnleau'd, no grasse vpon the ground, The world hath all one die; aboue the snow The stagge his horned head can hardly shew. Of the • aile. Sometimes it chanceth otherwise againe, Soone as the cloud is turned into raine, Th'excessiue cold that's in the middle loft, To haily bullets hardneth it full oft; Which falling downe (alas they so should fall) Our hoped vintage greedily forestall; Without a sickle reape our vnripe graine, Vnblossome all our trees, and do constraine The birds to leaue the neasts they lately made, Do rob the woods and groues of wonted shade, Do bruise our bullockes grazing as they go, Do make our verie houses cracke for woe, Of t • e vvinds hovv they are caused. If so the starres which Gods creating hand Sow'd scatteringly vpon the heauenly land, Draw fumes from off the earth both hote and dry, Their actiue fire would lodge them instantly In Phoebus lap: but t • ey no sooner gaine The loft, where freezing cold doth still remaine, And feele the strength of their audacious foes, But straight they striue to gaine a sweete repose Vpon the earth from whence they did ascend, Assisted by the waight she did them lend. But from the fields there fumes another fire, Which comes to aide them in their backe re • ire Which stops their downeward course, restores their hearts, And weapons to their trembling hands imparts. With these fresh souldiers they fiercely fight, Now tumbling downe, now towring bolt vpright, Driuing now here, now there our aire along, According as the matter's weake, or strong. This holds but for a while, for in this fray The heate and cold both bearing equall sway, To end this stirre, one lets their vpward flight, The other stops their fall with all his might: So that this vapour taking litle rest, To moue in circled wise doth hold it best, And buzzing flies from pole to pole, from Spaine To Easterne India, and backe againe. These puffing winds although they quickned be The f • ur • thi •• winds rese • bled t • th • foure seasons of the yeare, the fo • re hum •• s of a man • bodie, the foure elements, and t • e fo • re ages. By spirit and vapour of like qualitie: Yet doth the diuerse place where they are borne, With diuerse names and power them all adorne▪ Whiles I obserue the foure winds principall, Which quarter out the cantons of this All, In their effects as humming on they flie, I find that they resemble properly Foure times of th'yeare, foure humors that abound, Foure simples, whereof nature doth compound Each mingled bodie, and the foure-fold age, Which man runs ouer in his pilgrimage. The wind which doth with faire Aurora dwell, The Eastwind. Resembles in his nature passing well • , The naked sommer and the tender age, The fire and choler (apt to kindle rage.) The wind which barbrous Africa doth greet, The Sout • . Is like the ioyfull Spring▪ the aire most sweet: That age wherein man doth in strength excell, The bloud wherein the soule of man doth dwell. The wind which doth with drops bedew the West, The VV • st. The water and the phlegme resembles best, The age wherein mans strength fals to decay, The time when hoarie winter beareth sway. The North. The wind which from the shiuering North doth flie▪ May be compar'd and not iniuriously, To Autumne, earth, and melancholie sad, And to the age when man becomes a lad. Not •• at vntill this time we haue not learned More winds then East, West, North and South are tearmed. The man that liues vpon the watrie plaine, Hath on his compasse noted thirtie twaine. Though, as the places number do exceed, From whence these exhalations do proceed; So are the winds in number numberlesse, Which cleanse the aire of mistie fogginesse. Yet from what place so ere they sallie forth, They mustred are by South, East, West or North. The eff • cts of the winds. Sometimes they with a whizzing broome do sweepe The aire, where duskie cloudes their court do keepe, Sometimes they drie the fields which drowned bin, With teares of Phaeton his weeping kin. Sometimes they temper with a welcome cold The aire, which while the fainting dog-daies hold, Do frie for heate. They ripe the ruddie peare, The beane in huske, the corne within the eare. They make the winged ship to flie with ease, Throughout the world vpon the raging seas. And with a li • gring hast whirling around The milstone, vnder which the graine is ground, To vndeuided atomies they bring The seed, which from the earth they made to spring. Diuerse effects of th • hote exhalatio •• . Now if the fume be hote and glutinous, And yet vnable to be mutinous Against the ysicles, • hat rule and raigne Amid the aire; then doth it still remaine, Houering betweene vs and the middle skie, Vntill it kindled be, and downeward flie: Iust like a squib (that serues for sportfull games) Or like an arrow feathered all with flames. But when againe the exhalation Of the comets. Surmounts cold winters habitation, It lights it selfe and makes a blazing starre, Foredooming some mischance that is not farre. But then his flame hauing more nouriture Then th'other vapour, longer doth endure; Whether the fume ytost withouten stay, Become a brand by heauens circled sway, Kindling it selfe like coales that ouer-spread With straw, do for a while lye seeming dead, Which afterward the artisan doth shake, Of darksome night a lightsome day to make: Or whether from the highest element, It do receiue his firie nutriment, Like as the torch of flaming life depriued, Is by the burning linke againe reuiued. According as the vapour's thicke or rare, Of the other fierie impressions in the aire. Long, equall, large, vnequall, round, or square, It makes those various shapes in th'aire appeare, Whose sight doth make the sottish quake for feare. Here doth a steeple seeme to flame by night, There doth a cruell dragon come in sight. Here is the torch, and there the arrow flies, The forked beame and speare here greet our eyes, And there the dart, which crossing in their waies, Clashing together sparkle out their raies. The wanton goate with firie tassels dight, By often skips doth simple men affright, The bloudie tresses of a twinkling starre, Do threaten on the other side from farre, To plague the neat-h • ards with tempestuous haile, With stormes to souce the mariners that saile, To punish shepheards with their flockes decay, And citizens with many a bloudie fray. What rumbling noise in heauen do I heare? Of the thunder. The wals of this great All as doth appeare, In euery corner suffer batterment, It seemes Proserpina hath some intent, To set at large her furious daughters three, And leaue her queenedome of blacke Tartarie, And in the aire to hold her hellish raigne. I know that some do studie • o maintaine, That when the vapour doth ascend on high, Compact of aire and water euenly, And burning vapours mounting vp likewise Into the middle region of the skies, The hotter fume y compassed around With cold thicke cloudes which in the aire abound, Doubles his heate, and taking heart of grace, Makes warre on his cold neighbour foes apace. Simil. The lion banisht from the forrest wide His natiue home, and forced to abide In some straight den, where maides and idle boyes Do hisfe, and mocke, and anger him with toyes, Doth fill his narrow parke with dreadfull sound, Runs forth and backe in such his straightned pound, And being mad, doth not so much desire His libertie, as to reuenge his ire: Right so this fier crauing for to rent His floating prison, cannot be content; But • till bestirs him running round about, Wi • h grumbling, rumbling, and a thundring rout, Vntill he make a renting breach below, And thundring cannon-shot on vs do throw. For longing in these sharpe and cruell warres, To ioyne his weake enfeebled souldiers Vnto his brother forces, and obtaine In Cynthia's lap that he may still remaine; He snarlingly endeuours foorth to get, But with so huge an host he is beset, And so intrenched euery where about, That though he striue on this side to get out, And now on that side skirmish with the cold, Yet finds he many a souldier that is bold, Couragiously to stand against his strength, And so despairing, furiously at length Forgets his honour, and doth backe retire, With shame enough as wanting his desire. The ocean boiles for feare, and Neptunes band, Effects of the thun •• r. Finding the sea too straight, do hie to land. The earth doth quake, the shepheard all alone, Is hardly safe vnder the rockie stone. The skie is rift in twaine, and Plutoes selfe Lookes pale and bleake like some night-wandring elfe. The aire doth slame throughout with firie flashes, For then the lightning which so fiercely dashes Against the cloud, the which it doth surprise, Doth sparkle foorth those flames which dimme our eyes. Right like the man on whom the Muses fawne, Simil. Doth with his steele before the morning dawne, Compell the sparkes to issue from the flint Vntill they kindle his halfe burned lint. And which is more, the lightning being framed Stran • e effe ••• of the lig • tning. Of fumes which of themselues are still enflamed, Can breake the bones with his admired art, Yet keepe the flesh from feeling any smart: Can melt the coine wherewith the niggard's blest▪ Yet with his burning force not hurt the chest: Can breake the foyning blade short off in twaine, Yet misse the scabbard that doth it containe: Can kill the babe, ere it be brought to light, Yet to the mother offer no despight, Who with the strange euent astonished, Doth see her child no sooner borne then dead. Can burne the shoo, and not offend the foot, Nor pierce the tunne, yet draw the liquour out. I haue beheld with these (then younger) eyes, This thundring flame a woman to surprise, • xa • ple. And from those parts to whiffe away the haires, Which here to name my modest Muse forbeares. O • the circles abou • t • e Sun and Moone. Shall I conceale those various shapes, which be Painted in heauens face? Sometimes I see A firie circle fram'd of many a ray, Which Sunne and Moone, and other starres display; Which on some cloude whiles they are darted downe, Of substance thicke, and by his figure round, Through which they cannot passe with all their strength, Flie round about the edges at the length, And do a crowne resemble very right. Like as the torch, which when it burneth bright Within some angle of a darkesome cell, Whose gate is bolted, cannot very well Send through the doore the lustre of his raies, But by the chinkes his flaming light displaies. Of the rainebow. But when the Sun begins himselfe to shrowd In Thetis bed, and on some aduerse clowd, Vnable any longer to containe His watrie humour, shootes his beames amaine; Then doth he shadow his resplendent face Vpon that cloude▪ and variously doth trace The bending of that partie-coloured bow, Whose sight doth glad our faces here below. For th' aduerse cloude, which doth the arrowes take Of this great archer, instantly doth make That on the neighbour cloude they backe rebound, And doth with Titans golden beames compound His various colours: altogether like The Sun, which while his darts some violl strike Vpon thy window▪ thou dost straight espie The trembling brightnesse banded vpwardly, Against the s • eling of thy glittering hall. Of the diuerse S • ns & Moons which are som • imes seen. But if contrariwise the cloude do fall, Not ore against, nor vnder, but beside The Sunne or Moone▪ (the heauens nightly pride) Both one and th' other on th • t cloude do trace, With powerfull skill their two or three-fold face, The sillie vulgar are astonished, To see at once three coachmen furnished, To draw the Sun, the father of the day; And that the night for anger doth assay, To haue more Moones in heauen to r • maine, And there as crowned Queenes to rule and raigne. But why (ô foolish men) go ye about, An Apostrophe to those that wholy ground t •• mselues vpon reaso • . To search the wonders of th' Almighty out With your so shallow sence? what proud desire, Nay madnesse rather, makes you so aspire Without his helpe to open all his workes? I know that in a learned man there lurkes That skill, whereby he can some reason show, Of whatsoeuer moueth here below: But not so sound, that he may leaue a man Without all scruple; and if so he can, Yet of these instruments when we do boast, We should commend those cunning fingers most, Which set them all on worke, and by such waies Things more then dead to life againe do raise. When thunder roares, that voice me seemeth rings, T • e religious vse that we should make of th • se meteors and impressions. Which makes kings shepheards, and of shepheards kings. The towre-bruising shocke oflightning, telleth What wondrous power in Gods right hand there dwelleth. When as I see the flashes in the aire, I see beames of Gods eyes diuinely faire. When timely raine doth fall, I then espie▪ How he showres downe his blessings plenteously. When as the bridges in the fields are drownd, And streames do ouerwhelme our tilled ground; Me thinkes that God doth weepingly lament Those sinnes, whereof we neuer do repent. And neuer doth the bow in heauen appeare, But it's a seale and pledge to me most deare, That neuer more the vniuersall floud, Sh • ll proudly ouerwaue that forrest wood, Which Atlas seemeth in the cloudes to hide, Or doth on snowie Caucasus abide. But chiefly I am mou'd, when heauens ire, Salutes our eyes with prodigies of fire: When this great All is all disordered, And his old customes strangely altered. The most learned vnable to assigne true reasons of all accide • ts. Suppose there do in some one scholer flourish As many wits, as Pallas deignes to nourish: And let thilke man out of his subtill braine, Shew me a certaine reason of the raine, Of milke, and flesh, and wooll, which whilome fell From heauen; and let his deeper skill me tell, How in the clouds that store of graine might grow, Which hath bene seene at twise to ouerflow That part of Germanie where it did fall, Which vulgarly Carinthia men do call. The heauens great King doth now and then delight, To crosse each where the course of natures might: Minding that such irregularities, Should heralds be of future miseries. That firie showre which once was seene to raigne On the Plutarch in the l • fe of Crafs •• . Lucanian fields; (when Rome did traine, And send their brauest souldiers to that field, Which vnto fat Euphrates way doth yeeld) Foretold the Parthians neuer missing bow, Should all th' Italian armies ouerthrow. That ratling noise of armes, those trumpets sound, Which from abou • did simple men astound, (While as the Plutarch in the life of Marius. Romaines most couragious crew, So many Danes and Almaines fiercely slew) Tell vs that chaunce in nature worketh nought, Against the errors Epicurus taught. Thou which dost see the lightnings three-fold stroke Dash out A certaine Arrian Bishop, who for h • s • orrible blasphemies, was s • ine by the lightning. Olympus braines, which did prouoke Bl • sphemously the triple-vnitie: Dar'st thou presume t'expect impunity From God, while thou dost barke against his Grace, And shamest not to spit vpon his face, Whose iustice neuer leaues vnpunished Blasphemous mouths against him opened? Thou Iew, no Iew, but now a barbrous seed Of Turkish, • Scythian, or Tartarian breed; What is thy thought, when as thou dost espie Thy Iose •• us i • the vv • rres of t • e I •• oes. temple threatned with a sword on high? But that th' Almightie with his powerfull hand, Should powre his vengeance downe vpon thy land. That dearth and famine should sweepe them away, Which to the pestilence were not a pray: And that the sword should seaze on them againe, Which had escaped from the former twaine: That execrable mothers in that stowre, Their miserable children should deuoure: That there the plough his rustinesse should scowre, Where flourished of late thy stately bowre. And all for murdring in thy deadly strife, That King which came from heauen to giue thee life. That streame of bloud which once was seene to flow, Those craggie rockes from whence great Ione did throw His fearefull lightning on Liguria land, And all those bloudie crosses seeme to stand On mournefull habits of appearing men, Did seeme to cry with open mouth, that then In Genes the Turke with his enraged crew, Should pitch their standards, as it did ensue. O franticke Fraunce, how is't thou gainest nought, An apos • op •• to his o • vne countrey of Fraunce. By all those signes whereby thy God hath sought To call thee home? canst thou with tearlesse eyes Behold those fearefull firie prodigies, Wherewith the heauens do vs all affright, That He vnderstands the comet seene in the yeare▪ 1577blazing starre which threatens euerie night, Our land with warre, with pestilence and hunger, Three deadly points of that prepared thunder, Which when th' Almightie ginneth once to frowne, On vs rebellious men he powreth downe? But what (alas) can heauen vnarm'd preuaile, When as thy backe thresh'd with so many a flaile, Drawes not one sigh from thy obdurate heart? Thou art delighted with thy painefull smart, Thy hunger makes thee on thy flesh to feed, And makes thy bloud thy drinke; and thou indeed As dull as one that hath the lethargie, Shunnest the salue might cure thy maladie, The more thou feel'st the spurre, the more thou tirest, And voide of holy care, thou lesse desirest T'amend thy wayes, but like an Asse dost striue To fat thy selfe with blowes, with losse to thriue: And as the iron or the steeled blade, So thou by hammering art harder made. But better twere I see this talke to end, Then speaking to the deafe my time mispend: I see twere better tread my wonted way, And in my verse Gods greatest workes display. Of the elementarie fi •• . As then in court the king is hemmed in With princes of his royall bloud and kin, And next to them with nobles of his traine, And after them with magistrates againe, Marching along in order and degree, As they are nearest to his Maiestie: So God in order wisely did dispose, That Cinthia should that element enclose, Which did in his resplendent actiuenesse The nature of the heauens best expresse; And after him, the others as they bene Annear'd vnto the planets by their kin. And yet foole-many crediting their eyes Aboue their reason, many wayes deuise To pull this essence from his natiue place, And with his want this lower All deface. The fier giuing brightnesse, heate and flame, Ignis encomium. Welspring of motion, Alchymist of fame, A cleanser, quickner, smith and souldier, Bell-founder, surgeon, cooke and cannoner, And goldsmith too, which doth and can do all, Embracing round the aire and earthie ball. If so the fire (say they) encamped be Obi • ction. Betweene the heauen and vs, then should we see The same by night; for then our eyes do marke The shining glowormes in the greatest darke. Besides, how should we see the worldes eyn • , Throughout so great an element to shine? Sith that with vs the sharpest sighted eye Can nothing through a candles flame espie, You vnbeleeuing men, if so the puffes Soluti • n. Of wanton Zephirus, or angrie snuffes Of rainie Auster, made you not beleeue They haue a being▪ you would credence giue, That from the earth vnto the firmament, There were a vacuum and no element. And your opinion would aswell desire, To thinke no aire, as to conceiue no fire. Those torches wherewith we prolong the dayes The di • f • r • n • e betvveene the elementarie and our mixt fire. (Which in the winter Capricorne assaies To drowne in Westerne seas, t'enlarge the night) Compar'd vnto the Sunne, the heauens great light, Are lesse, by many hundreth times, obscure, Then is our mixt and compound fire impure, Compar'd to that resplendent element, This lower Vniuerse his chiefest ornament. Our fire is nothing but a lightsome shade Of darksome thicke and pitchie grosenesse made: But that aboue, by being wholy pure From mixture of compounded nouri • ure. And being farre remoued from our sight, And vnacquainted with the blustering might Of Aeolus, doth much resemblance beare Vnto the nature of the heauenly spheare. Of the matter of the h • auens. But (heauenly God) what matter may I name, Of which thou didst the heauenly arches frame? Vncertaine, I resemble euerie howre, The cocke that stands vpon some steepled towre, Which doth as oft new place and maister find, As in the aire we feele a change of wind. Sometimes I am of Aristotles traine, Sometimes I follow Plato's mind againe; Tracking the foot-steps of the Stagirite, I rob the firmament of mixture quite. I do auerre that Gods omnipotence Did fashion heauen of a quintessence: Sith that the elements directly flie, Some to the center, others to the skie. But heauens course giuing no inch of ground, Is euer turned in a circled round. Their motion dures not, but they so abide, As God the worlds first day did them diuide: But neuer-breathing heauen still doth runne, That constant p • sting course it hath begun: It treads one path, mou'd with vnburdened waight, And knowes not what it is a teeme to baite. The earth and water, fire and aire vnited, Are with an inbred warring hate delighted, Cau • ing in time their springing and their fall, Increase and decrease; suffring not at all, Beneath the horned planet any forme, For one halfe houre one subiect to adorne: But heauen neuer knowes death's equall rigor, Growing in year • s, it groweth not in vigor, Nor weares with vse, but's flowring eld may beare Resemblance to his childhood euery where. Tracing againe the steps of Plato's skill, Hovv a • d to vvhat vse the elements may be in the hea • e • s, according to Platoes opinion. The heau'nly orbes with elements I fill. Th'earth makes them solid, that they neuer craue A fleeting disposition to haue; The aire transparant, fire makes them light, Hote, nimble, actiue, and resplendant bright. And all the eadges which do counter-kisse Their fellow-wheeling globes, do neuer misse Of water, whose cold humor stops the course Of burning heate, arising from the source Of their swift motion, lest the heauenly land Should be conuerted to a flaming brand. Not that I equalize these elements, The differenc • betweene those elements wherof the heauens, and those wher • of the Sublunarie bodi • s are compounded. Of which I frame the heau'nly tenements, To those dull bodies which are here below, Which men by sight and frequent handling know. They are all pure, a heau'nly harmonie Combines their substances eternally. Their aire is free from tossing, and their fire From burning; and their earth doth not desire From his high mansion to tumble downe, Nor doth their water fleete vpon the ground. Lo, here th'extent of humane surque drie Blinded with error and simplicitie, Which dares (as though his cunning could calcine The matter of the heau'nly orbes) define With an vnbridled tongue, what wood and stone Th'Almightie chose to carpenter his throne. I rather had still doubtfull to remaine, Then lead awrie the simple of my traine; Waiting for holie Paul his rediscent: Orfreed from the vicious pesterment Ofthis rebellious flesh, which doth depresse My clogged soule with counter-heauinesse, These eyes may see the beauties of that place, Diuers • ••• nions touching the number of the sp •• ares. If then I ought would see saue Gods bright face, But men as manie curious questions moue, About the number of the spheares aboue: One holds but one, through which he makes to glide The eyes, wherewith this All is beautifide: Like as amid the sea, the scaly traine Diuide the surges of the watrie plaine. Another iudging all things by his eye, Marking the seauen planets in the skie To haue a diuerse course; and that beside The other starres (which fixed do abide, Guilding by night the heau'nly firmament) Runne but one way; his wise experiment By such his obseruation hath found, Eight • undry lofts in the cele • tiall round. Another ma • king in the starrie skie, A three-fold motion dancing actiuely, And that on • bodie hath but one sole race By naturall instinct; doth forthwith place A ninth and tenth, not numbring in that count Th imperiall spheare, which doth the rest surmount; Where streames of nectar neuer cease to flow, Where soule-delighting pleasures euer grow, Where one may see a • all times flourishing The pleasing beauties of a happie spring; Where life doth neuer die through crooked eld, Where Gods high parliament is alway held His glorious essence being hemmed in With troupes of many a flaming Seraphin, And soules of men which he hath purchased By hauing of that bodie murthered, Whose glorious resurrection and ascent, Hath plac'd the earth aboue the firmament. But here ile stop my ouer-posting teame. Not daring to discusse so deepe a theame. C • eli • ncomion. O faire and ten-fold round, which hat'st to stay, Life of this Vniuerse, spring of the day, Mould of thy selfe, begetter of the yeare, Which neuer changest place, yet dost appeare To flie so fast, that onely in our mind, We can thy neuer-lingring motion find: Finite, yet infinite, from growing free, From discord, death and hatefull miserie, Which louest sound and dancing harmonie, still like thy selfe in all eternitie, Transparant, light, law of this lower round; Which with thy limits euery thing dost bound▪ And yet vnbounded art, which dost enfold What euer thing this lower All doth hold, Throne of great Ioue: I willingly would sing The various orders of thy quauering▪ If time would giue me leaue, and that this Day Would not be ouer-long by that essay. Besides, I feare that some detracting tongue, Will blab abroad among each vulgar throng, That to each gale of wind for small auaile, My tatling Muse doth spread her fardled saile; And that a longer web she moughten weaue, She quils each thread, not caring when to leaue. But thinke who ere thou be, that reasonlesse I do not here so many workes expresse Of the creation; sith I vnderstand By that great firmament (which Gods right hand VVhat is v • derstood by the firmament. Gen. 1.6. Did hang this day betweene our watrie plaine, And that aboue the skie) the whirling traine Of spheares and aire, and th'hottest element, Which make a large deuiding sunderment Betweene the waters of our azurde deepe, And those which God aboue the skie doth keepe. Now in the learned bookes of high esteeme, Against • hose • hich hold no vvaters aboue the fir • ament. My ignorance hath not so litle seene, But we • l I know, that their so curious skill Presumes with subtile arguments to fill Their volumes, scoffing at the christall spheare, And at the waters which are placed there, And at that ocean which doth all containe Which vnderneath his compasse doth remaine. Simil. But as a modest matrons beauteous face, (Who as contented with the bounteous grace Which nature franckly hath bestow'd vpon her, Striues not with painting to increase her honour Of her so faire art-wanting countenance) Deserues more praise, then doth th'immodest glaunce, The wanton gesture, and the mincing pace, The borrowed tresses and depainted grace, Wherewith a curtisan of filthie trade Maintaines her beauty which begins to fade: So of the holy tongue I more account, Although the country phrase it not surmount, And that bare truth be her sole ornaments, Then of Athenian painted eloquence And guilded lines, wherewith men striue to shade The errors, which their vaine conceits haue made. I rather had my reason oft should lie, Then from the sacred truth once go awry, Gen. 1.6. Psal 104.3.148.4.Which in so manie places loud doth crie, That God hath plac'd some waters ore the skie. Be it that their estranged qualitie, With these below haue small affinitie: Or turn'd vnto a cloudie element, Do compasse round the starrie firmament▪ Or be it (as some say) a christall spheare, Embrace the golden firmament each where. And why shall I tost with vncertainties, Conclude of these as doubtlesse verities? A • g. a pari. I see not why mans reasonable sence Should not beleeue, that his omnipotence, Who whilome made the sea like wals to stand For Iacobs troupe to passe as on dry land, Could not aboue the wheeling globes compose That watrie spheare, the others to enclose. Thou seest that euerie howre the clouds cont • ine, So many seas which threatning vs with raine, Are only vnderpropt with feeble aire, Tost with each wind that thither doth repaire, And yet so weake, that it can hardly beare The litlest burthen any one can reare. Thou seest the sea which doth our mother bound, Spite of all accidents remaineth round; His waues not daring once their bounds to passe, To equalize their circled watrie masse. Why then beleeu'st thou not this vaulted spheare Vpon his backe a totall sea may beare▪ Yet that the water firmely may abide? O stonie heart, perswade thy selfe beside, That God sustaines those waters in that case; And thinke if natures working take such place, Arg. a mi ••• i. That pearle and christall glasse are by her skill Compos'd of streames, which droppingly distill; What then at once can the Almightie do, Which did create both heauen and nature too? Perswade thy vnbeleeuing mind againe, That this proud pallace where thou hold'st thy raigne, Tho built with wondrous art, would soone decay, If on a watrie ground it did not stay. For as the braine doth hold the highest seate Simil. Of mans small vniuerse, t'alay the heate Which from the cordiall parts doth euer flow, With his coole moisture; altogether so, That God might mixe the water with the flame, And coole the ardor of the heau'nly frame, He plac'd aboue the starrie firmament, A vaulted sea of that moist element. Me • ti •• ing t • e waters abo •• the firmament, be assumes occas •• n to mention the floud, which be describes mo •• elegantly. These higher waters (as the stories go) Ioyning themselues vnto the flouds below, And striuing with their ouer-swelling pride, The proudest mountaine tops with waues to hide, Had drown'd this All, if (dancing on the floud) Noe had not shut the world into a wood; Building an Arke, a huge and mightie frame, Keeping aliue all creatures in the same. They were no sooner in, but straight the Lord With onely power of his all-mightie word, Opened the doore of that vast, horrid caue, Where Aeolus his crew their dwelling haue; And bolted in the cloud-expelling North, And let the rainy southerne issue forth; Which gins forthwith to wag his dropping wing, His beard hath no one haire but is a spring: A night of clouds enuellops him around, His hanging lockes in raine are showred downe, And whiles t • e thickest clouds he fiercely dashes, They breake out into showers and stormie flashes. The froathie torrent, and the riuer stowre, Do make each other swell in one selfe howre; Their mingled waters scorne their former bankes, Runne to the sea to play their furious prankes, Spoiling the hopefull haruest as they goe, The earth doth quake • nd sweate for very woe, Not leauing in her vaines one watrie drop. And thou, ô heauen, thy scluses doest vnstop, To plague thy sister earth, whose former race Was shamelesse, lawlesse and withouten grace; Who tooke her onely and her chiefe delight, To offer to her maker mickle spite. The land is hid, now Neptune hath no shore, The riuers bend their course to him no more, They are a sea themselues, and all the number Of seas, which earst deuided were asunder, Make but one ocean; yea this vniuerse Is nothing but a watrie wildernesse, Which longs to ioyne his liquid wauing plaine, Vnto the flouds which in the heauens remaine. The sturgeon coasting by the castled bowres, Admires the drowning of so many towres. The mular and the manat side those rockes, Where lately fed the wantonizing flockes Of bearded goates: the Dolphin cuts the • loud Where it surmounts the highest mountaine wood. The horse, the tyger, hart, the hound, the hare, By their swift paces now vnsuccour'd are: They seeke for ground (alas) but tis no booting, For still they see they lose their hoped footing. The beauer, torteise and the crocodile, Which did enioy a two-fold house ere while, Haue nought but water now wherein to dwell: The tender lambkins and the Lyons fell, The rauenous wolfe, the nimble fallow deare, Swimme side by side without suspitious feare; The swallow, yearly Herauld of the spring, The vulture hatch'd for hatefull rauening▪ fighting, and striuing longer to contend, Against their certaine neare approaching end, Not finding where to pearch themselues againe, Do fall at length into the angred maine. As for poore men in that tempestuous stowre, Imagine one to get some loftie tower, Another to ascend some mountaine hill, Another practising his climbing skill, With hands and fe • te clasping some cedar tree, Striuing vpon his vpmost top to be; But still the floud rising as they ascend, If once they stay, their sinfull life doth end. One hardily vpon some planke doth venter, Another doth into some coffer enter, Another swimmeth in some kneading tub, Another halfe asleepe perceiues the floud T'assaile his bed and life at once; another Keepes with his armes and legs a swimming pother. Whe • eby he may resist the waters wrath, Whose rage but euen then deuoured hath Hard by his side his sister and his brother, His friend, his child, his father and his mother: But wearied at the l • ngth doth y •• ld againe, Vnto the mercie of the cruell maine. All stand at once at death his loathed doore, But yet the cruell Parcae, which of yore Were arm'd with many a murthering deuice, To rake to them the things of greatest price, No other hangmen at this instant haue, Beside the froathie ouer-whelming waue. Meane while the Arke securely doth remaine, Vpon the surges of that watrie plaine; Tho all vnrigd from any hauen farre, For God was both her pilote and her starre. Thrise fiftie dayes this monstrous floud did stay, Making of all this lower All a pray, Vntill this spoile had mou'd at length the Lord, Who had no sooner sounded with his word Vnto those wasting flouds a backe retire, But instantly the billowes do conspire, To runne vnto their former place and state; And straight the swelling riuers do abate: The sea bounds in it selfe▪ the hils appeare, The forrest trees which drowned were whileare, Do shew their slimie boughes; the champion field Encreaseth as the waters backward yeeld. And to be briefe, Gods thunder-shooting hand Did let the Sunne behold againe the land; That he againe might see the smoake arise, Of a deuout, sweet-smelling sacrifice, Fuming with sweete Panchayan franke-incense, Vnto the praise of his omnipotence. He concludeth vvith a prayer for the Church. O God, sith thou art pleas'd in this our age, To saue thy holy ship from stormie rage; Graunt that those few, whose setled confidence Is anchored on thy sacred prouidence, May by thy blessing euermore increase In number, faith and loue, the bond of peace. FINIS.