A commendation of Musicke, And a confutation of them which disprayse it.
WHen first within the corps of man, dame Nature built her bower:
She saw what troubles eke & thral, was bent them to deuower.
To whome she gaue as in reward, a pleasaunt note or sound:
Their carkes and cares to dryue away, wherby much ease was found.
Whereof in children proofe is had, whome nurses haue in charge:
How soone they stop and stay their cry, when she doeth sound at large.
The Plowman eke, and Carter both, with ease doeth passe away:
In singyng of some mery note, their tranayle all the day.
Wherefore to Lady Nature I, doe render prayse and wyll:
By whome not onely man alone, but byrdes in song hath skyll.
The Poetes fayne that
Amphion, who buylded Thebes towne:
Did fyrst inuent the pleasaunt note, whereby he got renowne.
To
Dionisius some the name, and some contrary wyse:
To
Zephus, who
Eusebius sayth, the same dyd first deuyse.
Solinus sayth that men of Crete, by ryng and sound of brasse:
By
Thacbadianes doeth
Polibius say, inuented first it was.
In déede I thinke soone after that, dame Nature made the sound:
That Reason did the measure make, the concord and the ground.
And then in
Mercury first it wrought, as auctour of the same:
The which euen hée (as worthy prayse) did publish and proclame.
Then Reason, as one not full suffysde, did seeke for to deuyse:
Some instrument to geue a sound, by whome there did aryse
A foreward wit in
Mercury, for to inuent the same:
Who made a Harpe of fyshes bone, a
Tortes cald by name.
Which hée by
Nilus ryuer found, the fysh was dryde away:
And nothyng but thrée sinowes left, whereon he sought to play.
But when they gaue a sound agayne, thus doe the Poetes fayne:
He made a Harpe much lyke that bone, by thinuent of his brayne.
Thrée strynges to it did he apply, a Treble Base and Meane:
The which he made for to accord, in Musickes pleasaunt vayne.
Then he it to
Apollo gaue, as gyft of wonderous weyght:
And he the same to
Orpheus handes, made redeliuery streyght.
Some thinke
Amphion first it found, and some to that say no:
And some in
Tuball thinke the lyke, but that can not be so.
Then
Pan the Pype,
Apollo eke, the Shalme he did inuent:
Then
Dauid Regalles sought to make, by Reasones whole consent.
And
Orphen first, with
Linus nexte, and
Arion als by name:
Timarias, and
Trezenius both, thereby did purchase same.
Nor
Cibell yet, with
Pises too, their labour ought did cease:
But in the same did sore apply, their cunnyng too encrease.
Thus haue we proued by Poetes lore, how auncient Musicke is:
And now I meane by Scripture playne, to proue the lykeiwis.
We read how
Dauid daunct and soung, before the Arke of God:
And how his wyfe which flowted him, was by the Lorde forbode
For hauyng chyldren any more, but barren should she be:
Whereby I proue that God is pleasde, with such lyke armony.
When
MirIam with the Israelites, the red sea déepe had past:
And Pharaos hoste were drowned all, who did pursue them fast,
Then tooke they Timbrelles in their handes, and to y
e Lord sang prayse
For that he was their ayde and shyeld, to passe the daungerouse seas.
The Shepherdes eke, and Angelles both, we read how they reioyst:
When they once heard and vnderstoode, the byrth of Iesus Christ.
We sée by this what Musicke is, we néede no better proofe:
The Scripture is a buckeler good, in Musickes right behoofe.
In
Fucsius, and in
Galen both, who lyst to looke shall fynd:
How much that Musicke doeth appease, the dolours of the mynd.
You know what tauntes
Themistocles, in banket did sustayne:
When he good musicke did disprayse, accoumptyng it but vayne.
They iudged his learnyng much the worse, because he did defye
That, which all men did much estéeme, regard and eke set bye.
I pray you was not
Socrates, whome crooked age had caught:
With Musickes skyll and armony, as one with Cupid fraught?
And sayd that concord was the ground, and eke the sure stay:
Without the which nothing is good, this could that wyse man say.
And measure is a mery meane, and meane who doeth embrace:
Of euery vertue hath the ground, which bryngeth man to grace.
This haue I doen in Musickes cause, my pen now wyll I rest:
Syth that I haue that worthy science, as famouse once profest.
And who that séekes the losse of it, néedes must I speake my mynd:
A great disprayse is to his wit, his wordes are coumpted wynd.
¶ FINIS.
(ꝙ) Nicholas Whight.
¶ Imprinted at London in Aldersgate strete, by Alexander Lacy: dwellyng besyde the Well.