THE MIRACLE OF THE PEACE IN FRAVNCE.
Celebrated by the Ghost of the Diuine DV BARTAS.
Translated, By IOSVAH SYLVESTER.
¶ Imprinted at London by Richard Bradocke for Iohn Browne, and are to be sold at his shop in Fleet street at the signe of the Bible. 1599.
¶ To the most honorable, learned, and religious Gent. M. Anthony Bacone.
BOund by your Bountie and mine owne desire,
To tender still new tribute of my zeale
To you (your Countries watchfull Sentinell,
Whose wisdome, ours and other States admire)
Loe here I tune vpon mine humble Lyre
Our neighbour Kingdomes vn-expected weale,
Through sodaine ceasing of
Warres enter-deale;
As
Celtike Muses to my Muse inspire.
Miraculous the Worke: and so his wit
That firstly sung this sacred MIRACLE:
A gratious Theame (if I disgrace not it)
That your graue eyes may daigne for spectacle.
What e're it be, accept it as a due
From him whose all doth all belong to You.
Iosuah Syluester.
A Phoneur de la Paix, chantée par Monsieur du NESME, & rechantée en Anglois par Monsieur SYLVESTRE.
SAns Paix rien ne subsiste: en Paix tout croist & dure,
Dieu maintient par sa Paix le beau grand Vniuers
Et le petit, bastis de membres si diuers,
Tous s'entr
[...]ydans l'un l'autre en commune facture:
Elle vnit a son Dieu! humaine creature:
Elle emplit descitez les Royaumes deseris:
Elle bride les fols, & rendles champs converts
De biens donnans-plaisirs, vesture, & nouriture.
Enuoy-la donc, ô Dieu! a nos Princes & Roys,
En nos maisons, en nous; & fay que dvne vois
Nous suyvions les accords de ton
Nesme admirable▪
[...] a iamais seras loue de nos Gaulois
Parses chantstout-divins: &
Syluestre, en Anglois
Redoubleràce loz dvn stile inimitable.
P. CATELLE.
[...]'atten
[...] le temps.
SONNET.
HEnry, triumphant though thou wert in Warre,
Though Fate & Fortitude conspir'd thy glory,
Though thy least conflicts well deserue a Storie;
Though
Mars his fame by thine be dark'ned far;
Though from thy cradle (infant Conquerer)
Thy martial proofes haue dimm'd
Alcides praise;
And though with garlands of victorious Bayes
Thy Royall tēples richly crowned are:
Yet (matchles Prince) nought hast thou wrought so glorious
As this vn-lookt-for happie PEACE admired;
Wherby thy selfe art of thy selfe victorious:
For, while thou might'st the worlds throne haue aspired,
Thou by this
Peace thy war-like hart hast tamed;
What greater cōquest could there thē be named?
¶ THE MIRACLE OF THE PEACE in Fraunce.
BVt what new Sunne doth now adorne our Land,
And giues our skie so smooth & smiling cheere?
For 'tis not
Phoebus; els his golden brand
Shines brighter now then 't hath done many a yeere.
Sweet Angel-beauty, sacred PEACE, heau'ns presēt;
Is't not the rising of thy new-come starre,
Which makes the aire more clere, the spring more pleasant;
Zephyre more calme, &
Flora merrier?
Ah I perceiue the
Oliue, Doue, and
Bowe,
Diuine presages that the flood abates,
The dismal flood where blood & teares did flow,
And
Ianus now lockes-vp his Temple gates:
Iustice and
Faith doe kindly kisse each other,
And
Mars appeas'd sits down by
Cupids mother.
SONNET.
Faire fruitfull daughter of th'Omnipotent,
Great Vmpire that doost either World sustaine,
Without whose helpe all would returne againe
Like hideous
Chaos to confusion bent.
O Mother of the liuing, second Nature
Of th'Elements, Fire, Water, Earth, and Aire:
O Grace (wherby mē climbe the heau'nly staire)
Whence void, this world harbors no happy creature.
Pillar of Lawes, Religions pedestall,
Hope of the godly, glorie of th'Immortall;
Honour of Cities, Pearle of kingdomes all;
Thou Nource of vertues, Muses chiefe supportall,
Patron of Artes, of Good the speciall spring:
All haile (dere
Peace) which vs all heale dost bring.
SONNET.
Come forth (dere
France) frō thy dark cell of mone,
Come (as new-borne) frō wars vnkindly quarels,
Turne tragicke Cypres to triumphant Laurels;
Change blacke to greene, and make thy graue a Throne,
Let
Ceres dwell vpon thy desart Plaine,
Bacchus, and
Diane, on thy hilles and groues,
Pomona in gardens,
Pan among thy droues,
Secure all Roades, and ope all gates againe.
Resume (O Cities) Rule and Reuerence;
Reuest (yee States) your robes of dignitie;
Rise-vp (yee Ruines) in faire Battlements;
Come Muses,
Pallas, Themis, Mercurie,
Restore vs Lawes, Learning, & Artes, & Trade,
And let our Age, a golden Age be made.
SONNET.
Most Christian kingdome, thou wert ne're so neare
Drown'd in the deep gulphes of thy Ciuill warre,
As in the tempest of this later iarre,
Which past conceit of calming did appeare:
When all the winds aduersly armed were,
(Though selfely-foes) yet friends to worke thy wrack:
Thy ship a helme, thy selfe a heart didst lacke,
On troubled waters tossed here and there.
When from aboue (O bountie most admired)
Saint
Hermes shin'd, whose gentle light presageth
That then the anger of the heau'ns asswageth.
O happie PEACE! lesse hoped then desired:
O grace much honord, little yet conceiued;
O blessed guile, that thus our sence deceiued.
SONNET.
Who could expect (but past all expectation)
So sodaine order from so sad confusion;
So loyall friendship, from false emulation;
So firme possession from so fierce intrusion?
Who could expect (but past all likelihood)
From such a storme, such and so sweet a calme;
From
Fraunce her cynders, such a
Phoenix-brood;
Pandoras boxe to yeeld so rare a balme?
Who could expect (but past all humane thought)
So franke a freedome from a thrall so late,
Or certaine Rudder of so rent a State?
True
Aesculapius, thou alone hast wrought
This MIRACLE, not on
Hyppolitus,
But on this kingdome, much more wonderous.
Th'vnlook't-for working of all things almost,
Inconstant-constant, in succession strange,
Amazeth those whose wits we chiefly boast,
To see this sodaine vn-expected change.
Each feeles th'effect, but none the cause discries,
(No, though he haue with starres intelligence:)
God to himselfe reserues such mysteries,
Disposing Kingdomes by his Prouidence.
O endles Bountie! In the midst of Broyles
He giues vs PEACE, when warre did vs inflame,
And reaues the mischiefe wee pursu'd ere whiles:
But this doth most extoll his glorious name,
That when most sharply this extreamest fit
Stroue to be cure-les, soone he cured it.
SONNET.
Some reasoned thus; No violence can last:
Reuolted subiects, of themselues will quaile:
Iust Soueraigntie can neuer be displac't;
And lawfull Princes first or last preuaile:
But who could thinke that the conioyned powers
Of
Spaine &
Rome, with an exceeding number
Of rebell Cities and false States of ours,
So weake a King so little should encumber?
Others discoursed in another sort,
While all things sorted to another end
Then their imaginations did purport.
That earth may know, it cannot comprehend
The secret depths of Iudgements all-diuine,
No: there's no ground, beginning, midst, nor fine.
SONNET.
Admire we onely Gods Omni-potence,
His deep-deepe Wisdome, & his Mercie deare,
For with these three he hath surmounted here
Our hatefull foes, our hopes, and all our sence:
His power appeares vpon our Lord and King
As earst on
Dauid, for they both attaine
By war-like broyles their pre-appointed raigne
Strangers, and subiects, and selues conquering
His Prudence shines, when to preserue vs thus,
All humane wit his wisdome doth conuince:
His gracious bountie in our bounteous Prince.
O various wonders! mel delicious
Flowes from a liuing Lyon,
Mars is quiet,
Valour relenting, Conquest void of ryot.
SONNET.
This was no action of a humane hand,
But th'only worke of the great Thunderer,
Who wise-directing all the things that are,
In vs diuinely workes his owne command.
Some men, vnwilling, benefit their Land,
Or vn-awares their Countries good preferre;
Another motions PEACE, but mindeth warre,
And PEACE succeeds what-euer drifts withstād.
Th'Arch-Architect, the matchles Artizan moues;
All instruments vnto good vses prooues:
Man's but a wheele which that great Moouer▪
Each gracious gist in that first cause began:
Each good's a gleame of that first light alone,
If Ill approach vs, onely that's our owne.
SONNET.
If God dart lightning, soone he dewes down raine
A dreadfull Iudge, and yet a gentle father:
Whose wrath slow-kindled is soone quencht againe,
To moue vs sinners to repent the rather.)
'Gainst hel-bred-
Hydra, heau'n-born
Theseus brings
The great
Alcides arme and armorie:
Of greatest Ill, a greater goodnes springs;
And mercie still doth rigour qualifie.
Ah
Fraunce, so many monsters to suppresse
Thou had'st great need of Royall fortitude,
Els had'st thou been an
Affrike wildernes.
O happie lost Realme, for it hath ensu'de
That now thy gaine is more, in restauration;
Then was thy lesse in all thy desolation.
SONNET.
But if I sing great
Henries fortitude,
Shall I not then be blam'd for ouer-daring?
If ouer-slip it, then be taxt of fearing,
Of silent dread, and dumbe ingratitude?
What ere befall, my youth-bold thoughts conclude
Like
Icarus my nimble Muse to raise:
And if I fall in such a Sea of praise,
What rarer
Mausole may my bones include?
A sacred rage of some sweet furious flame
Will-nill. I raps me boldly to rehearse
Great
Henries Trophies, & his glorious name.
Then roule thou Torrent of my tender verse,
Though this high Theame deserue a cōsort rather
Of all the Muses, and all musickes father.
SONNET.
Great Prince, not pleasd with a vain vertu-seeming;
Great Victor, prone to pardon humblenes,
Happie, all hap heau'ns only gift esteeming;
Warriour, whose wars haue wroght his Cuntries PEACE:
Noble by deeds, and noble by discent;
Ancient
Achilles, youthfull
Nestor sage,
Whose ripe-experienc't courage confident,
To knocks knits counsaile, and giues rule to rage.
As hard in toyle, as in compassion soft,
Inur'd to that, by nature borne to this;
Who sheds no blood, but sheddeth teares as oft,
Who never fights but still the field is his.
So like to
Mars, that both in loues and warres,
Bellona and
Venus take him still for
Mars.
SONNET.
A spirit, to vertues cheerefully addrest;
Apt to all goodnes, to no ill inclin'd;
Quicke to conceiue, ingenious to digest;
Whose tongue is still true trumpet of the mind:
A bodie, resting when it hath no rest;
A waxen mildnes in a steely mind;
A soule tra-lucent in an open brest
Which others thoughts through banie walls can find;
Whose front reflects majesticall-humilitie,
Whose graue sweet looke cōmandingly-intreats,
Which in one instant feare and loue begets:
A king still warring to obtaine tranquilitie,
To saue his Country scorning thousand dangers;
Mirrour of
Fraunce, and miracle of strangers.
SONNET.
If that before thee fall rebellious Towers,
If battered walles before thy souldiers, loofe:
If hugest rockes be pearced by thy powers;
If gainst thine armes, no armour be of proofe.
If that our fields flow with
Iberian blood,
If that thy campe composde of many a
Caesar
Can by no dismall dangers be withstood;
I ousting with Gyants, as it were at pleasure.
If loftie mountaines to thine homage vaile;
If valleys rise to bulwarke thee about;
If for thy sake riuers doe flow and faile;
'Twas neither Canons, nor our conflicts stout,
Nor strength, nor stomacke got these victories:
No, 'twas thy presence
Henry, and thine eyes,
SONNET.
They be to blame then that thy boldnes blame,
For hauing put thy selfe so oft in danger,
Sith against rebels and against the stranger,
Thy looks, like lightning did thy troopes inflame.
Fraunce fought before, all bloody, faint, and lame,
Crauing thine aide to venge her hatefull wrong:
When, like a Lyon to preserue her yong
Thou layd'st about thee to redeeme the same.
Then had'st thou cause to hazard so thy life,
In extreme perils, extreme remedies.
But spare thee now, thy state is free from strife:
Soueraigne, our fafetie in thy safetie lies.
Codrus could keepe his, onely by his death:
Thou thine, alone by thine owne liuing breath.
SONNET.
What wreath were worthy to become thy crowne,
What
Carr-triumphant equall with thy worth,
What marble statue meet for thy renowne,
Thou that hast rais'd the Lillie of the Earth?
What honourable Title of Addition
Dost thou deserue, who ioyning might with mildnes,
Hast sau'd this great ship from a sad perdition,
Nigh lost in th'Ocean of warres ciuill vildnes?
O modern
Hercules, thy Countries father,
Hope not of vs thy iust-deserued meed,
Earth is too-base, in heau'n expect it rather.
Our Laurels are too-pale to crowne thy deed,
Who thus hast salu'd the vniuersall Ball,
For the health of
France imports the health of all▪
SONNET.
Pardon me
(Henry) if heau'ns siluer raine
Dewing thy Pearles impearle mine humble laies,
And if my verse void both of price and paine,
Presume thy vertues passing-price to praise:
Pardon (great King) if that mine infant Muse
Stutter thy name; and if with skill too-scant
I limne thee here, let zeale my crime excuse;
My steel's attracted by thine Adamant.
For as the Sunne, although he doe reflect
His golden rayes on grosser Elements,
Doth neuer spot his beautifull aspect:
So though the praises of thine Excellence
Doe brightly glister in my gloomie stile,
They nothing loose of their first grace the while.
SONNET.
Now sith as well by conquest as succession
Fraunce is thine owne; O keepe it still therefore:
'Tis much to conquer, but to keepe possession
Is full as much, and if be not more.
Who well would keepe so plentifull a portion,
Must stablish first the heau'nly discipline;
Then humane Lawes, restraining all extortion;
And princely wealth with publick weale cōbine.
A Princes safetie lyes in louing people;
His Fort is Iustice (free from stratagem)
Without the which strong Cittadels are feeble.
The subiects loue is wonne by louing them:
Of louing them, n'-oppression is the triall:
And no oppression makes them euer loyall.
SONNET.
Bold
Martialists, braue Impes of noble birth,
Shining in steele for
Fraunce, and for your king:
Yee sonnes of those that heretofore did bring
Beneath their yoke, the pride of all the earth.
It is an honour to be high-discended,
But more t'haue kept ones Country and fidelity;
For our owne vertues make vs most cōmended:
And Truth's the title of all true Nobilitie.
Your shoulders shoard vp
France, euen like to fall;
You were her
Atlas, Henry Hercules:
And but for you her shocke had shaken All;
But now shee stands stedfast on Ciuill PEACE:
Wherefore if yet your war-like heat doe-wurke,
With holy armes goe hunt the hatefull
Turke.
SONNET.
But you that vaunt your antique Pettigrees,
So stately tymbring your surcharged shields,
Perking (like Pines aboue the lower trees)
Ouer the Farmers of your neighbour fields;
Is't lacke of loue, or is it lacke of courage,
That holds you snaile-like creeping in your houses,
While ouer all your Countryes foes doe forrage,
And rebell outrage euery corner rouses?
If no example of your Anceters,
Nor present instance of bright-armed Lords,
The feeble temper of your stomacke stirres,
If in your liues yee neuer drew your swords
To serue your King, nor quench your Countries flames,
Pardon me Nobles, I mistooke your names.
SONNET.
You sacred Order, chargd the Church to watch
And teach the holy mysteries of heau'n,
From henceforth all seditious plots dispatch,
And father-like, to all be alwaies euen.
Through superstition stirre no strife againe;
Reuolt's a mischiefe euermore pernicious:
Plucke vp abuses, and the hurtfull graine
Sprung from the Ignorant and Auaricious.
Auoid Ambition (common cause of strife)
Your reuerend robe be free from staines of blood,
Preach holy doctrine, prooue it by your life:
Flie Idlenes, chuse exercises good;
To wit, all workes of liuely faith and pietie,
So to your fold shall flocke the blest societie.
SONNET.
You graue assembly of sage Senators,
Rights, Oracles, yee
Ephori of
Fraunce;
Who for the States and Iustice maintenance,
Of Sword and Ballance are the Arbitrers:
That from henceforth against all enemies,
Our PEACE may seat her in a setled Throne;
Represse the malice of all mutinies,
Which through th'aduantage of these times haue grown.
At a low tyde 'tis best to mend a breach
Before the flood returne with violence:
'Tis good in health to counsaile with a leach.
So while a People's calme from insolence,
'Tis best that Rulers bridle them with awe;
And (for the future) kurbe the lewd with law.
SONNET.
People, lesse setled then the sliding sand;
More mutable then
Proteus, or the Moone;
Turn'd and return'd in turning of a hand,
Like
Euripus ebbe-flowing euery Noone.
Thou thousand-headed head-les Monster-most,
Oft slaine like
Antheus, and as oft new rising,
Who hard as steele, as light as wind art tost;
Cameleon-like, each obiects colour prysing.
Vnblind thy blind soule, ope thine inward sight,
Be no more tinder of intestine flame,
Of all fantastike humours purge thy spright:
For if past follies vrge yet griefe and shame,
Loe, like Obliuions law, to cure thy passion,
State-stabling
Peace brings froward minds in fashiō.
SONNET.
Engins of
Vulcan, heau'n affrighting wonders.
Like brittle glasse the Rocks to cynders breaking;
Deafning the winds, dumbing the loudest thūders;
May yee be bound a thousand yeres frō speaking.
Yee hate-peace hacksters flesht in massacres,
Be you for euer banisht from our soile;
Yee steeled tooles of slaughter, wounds, & wars,
Be you condemn'd to hang, and rust a while:
Or (not to languish in so fruitles rest)
Be you transform'd to husband-furniture,
To plow those fields you haue so oft deprest:
Or (if you cannot leaue your wonted vrc)
Leaue (at the least) all mutinous alarmes,
And be from henceforth Iustice lawfull Armes.
SONNET.
O
Paris know thy selfe, and know thy master
As well thy heau'nly as thine earthly guider:
And be not like a horse, who proud of pasture
Breakes bit, & raines, and cast his cunning rider.
Who nill be subiects, shall be slaues in fine:
Who Kings refuse, shall haue a Tyrant Lord:
Who are not moou'd with the mild rods diuine,
Shall feele the furie of heau'ns venging sword.
Thy greatnes stāds on theirs that weare the crown,
Whereof th'hast had now seuentie sauing seuen;
Thinke one sufficient soone to pull thee down:
Kings greatnes stands on the great King of heau'n.
Knowing these two, then
Paris know thy selfe,
By warres afflictions, and by PEACES wealth.
SONNET.
Swell not in pride O
Paris (princely dame)
To be chiefe Citie and thy Soueraignes Throne:
Citie? nay modell of this totall Frame,
A mightie kingdome of thy selfe alone:
The scourge that lately with paternall hand
For thine amendment did so mildly beat-thee,
If any more against thy kings thou stand,
Shall prooue that then God did but only threat-thee.
Wert thou a hundred thousand fold more mightie,
Who in th'Olympike court cōmands the thūders,
In his lest wrath can wrack thee (most almighty)
Thebes, Babel, Rome, those proud heau'n-daring wō ders,
Low vnder ground in dust and ashes lie,
For earthly kingdomes euen as men doe die.
SONNET.
But O my sorrowes! whither am I tost?
What? shall I bloodie sweet ASTREAS songs?
Re-open wounds that are now heald almost,
And new-remember nigh-forgotten wrongs?
Sith stormes are calmed by a gentle starre,
Forget we (Muse) all former furie-moods,
And all the tempest of our viper-warre;
Drowne we those thoughts in deep-deepe
Lethe floods.
O but (alas) I cannot not retaine
So great, notorious, common miseries.
Nor hide my plaint, nor hold my weeping raine:
But 'mid these hideous hellish outrages,
I'le show and prooue by this strange spectacle,
Our ciuill PEACE, a sacred Miracle.
SONNET.
As he that scap't from ship wrack on a planke,
Doubts of his health, and hardly yet beleeues
(Still faintly shiuering on the feare-les banke)
That (through that fraile helpe) certainly he liues:
As he that new freed from strange seruitude
Returnes againe to tread his natiue allies,
Seemes still to feare his Patrons rigour rude,
And seemes still tugging, chayned in the Gallies.
So alwaies ruth, ruine, and rage, and horror
Of troubles past doe haunt me euery where,
And still meete furies and gastly terror;
Then to my selfe thus raue I, (rapt with feare)
From pleasures past if present sorrow spring,
Why should not past cares present cōfort bring?
SONNET.
We must now vpbraid each others crimes,
Committed wrongly in the time of warre;
For we haue all (alas) too often times
Prouok't the vengeance of the Lord too farre:
Some robbing Iustice vnder maske of Reason;
Some blowing coles to kindle-vp Sedition;
Some 'against their King attēpting open Treason;
Some Godding fortunen (Idol of Ambition)
Alas, we know our cause of maladie,
All apt t'accuse, but none to clense th'impure;
Each doth rebuke, but none doth remedie:
To know a griefe it is but halfe a cure:
Is it our sinnes? let's purge away that bane;
For what helps Phisicke if it be not tane?
SONNET.
Who cloake their crimes in hoods of holines,
Are double villaines: and the Hypocrite
Is most-most odious in Gods glorious sight,
That takes his name to couer wickednes.
Prophane Ambition, blind and irreligious,
Inquest of kingdomes holding nothing holy;
Think'st thou th'Eternall blind (as thou in folly)
Or weake to punish monsters so prodigious?
O execrable vizard, canst thou hide thee
From th'All-pierce-eye? are treason, rape, & murder
Effects of faith, or of the Furies-order?
Thy vaile is rent, the rudest haue descride thee.
'Tis now apparant to each plaine Opinion,
Thy hot Deuotion hunted but Dominion.
SONNET.
'Tis strange to see the heat of Ciuill brands,
For when we arme vs brother against brother,
O then how ready are our hearts and hands:
And wits awake to ruine one another!
But come to counter-min 'gainst secret treason,
Or force the forces of a stranger foe,
Alas, how shallow are we then in reason,
How cold in courage, and in camping slow?
Franunce only striues to triumph ouer
Fraunce:
With selfe-kill swords to cut each others throat,
What swarmes of soldiers euery where doe float,
To spend and spoyle a kingdomes maintenance?
But said I soldiers? ah I blush for shame,
To giue base the eues the noble soldiers name.
SONNET.
Ist not an endles scandall to our daies
(If possible our heires can credit it)
That th'holy name of PEACE so worthy praise,
Hath been our watch-word for a fault vnfit?
That the pure Lillie, our owne natiue flower,
Hath been an odious obiect in our eyes?
That kingly Name, & kings heaun'-stablisht power,
Hath been with vs a marke of trecheries?
T'haue banisht hence the godly and the wise,
Whose sound direction kept the State frō danger,
Yea, made their bodies bloody sacrifice?
And (to conclude) seeking to serue a stranger,
T'haue flab'd our own (but O Muse keep that in,
The fault's so foule, to speake it were a sinne.)
SONNET.
I waile not I so much warres wastfull rigours,
Nor all thy ruines make me halfe so sorie,
As thy lost honour
(France) which most disfigures,
Loosing thy loyaltie, thy natiue glorie.
From
Moores to
Moscouites (O cursed change!)
The
French are called,
Faith-les Parricides:
Th'erst-most-prince-loyall people (ô most strāge!)
Are now Prince-treachers more then all besides:
With vs, massacres passe for Pietie;
Theft, rape, & wrong for iust-attaind possessions;
Reuolt for Merit, Rage for Equitie:
Alas, must we needs borrow the transgressions
And imperfections of all other nations,
Earst onely blamed for inconstant fashions?
SONNET.
Not without reason hath it oft been spoken,
That through faire concord little things augmēt,
And (opposite) that mightiest things are broken
Through th'vgly discord of the discontent
When many tunes doe sweetly symphonize
It conquers hearts & kindly them compound;
When many hearts doe gently sympathize
In sacred friendship, there all blisse abounds.
Alas, if longer we deuide this Realme,
Loosing to euery Partizan a part;
Farewell our Lillies and our Diadem.
For though it seeme to breath now some what peart,
Our sinnes I feare will worke worse after-claps,
And there's most danger in are-relaps.
SONNET.
O how I hate these partializing wordes,
Which show how we are in the faith diuised:
Ist possible to whet so many swordes,
And light such flames 'mong th'In-one-Christ baptizedt
Christians to Christians to be brute and bloodie,
Altars to Altars to be opposite,
Parting the limmes of such a perfect Bodie,
While
Turkes with
Turkes doe better farre vnite?
We our Truth find doubts (whēce follow scismes)
They, whose fond Law doth all of lies consist,
Abide confirm'd in their vaine Paganismes.
One nought beleeues, another what him list,
One ouer-creeds, another Creeds too-short;
Each makes his Church (rather his Sect) a part.
SONNET.
Put off (deare
French) all secret grudge and gall,
And all keen stings of vengeance on all parts:
For if you would haue PEACE proclaim'd to all,
It must be first faire printed in your harts.
Henry, the mildest of all Conquerers,
(Your perfect glasse for Princely clemencie)
He, to appease and calme the state from iarres,
For his friends sake hath sau'de his enemie.
Let's all be
French, all subiects to one Lord;
Let
Fraunce from henceforth be one onely state;
Let's all (for Gods sake) be of one accord:
So (through true zeale Christs praise to propagate)
May the most Christian King with prosperous power
On
Sion walls be-plant our Lillie-flower.
SONNET.
O Christian corsiue! That the
Mahomite
With hundred thousands in
Vienna Plaine,
His Mooned standards hath already pight,
Prest to ioyne
Austrich to his
Thracian raigne:
Malth, Corfu, Candie, his proud threats disdaine;
And all our
Europe trembles in disinay;
While striuing Christians by each other slaine,
Each other weak'ning, make him easie way.
Rhodes, Belgrade, Cyprus, & the Realmes of
Greece,
Thral'd to his barbarous yoke, yet fresh-declare,
That while two striue a third obtaines the fleece.
Though name of Christian be a title faire,
If but for Earth they all this while haue striu'n,
They may haue Earth, but others shal haue heau'n.
SONNET.
May I not one day see in
France againe
Some new
Martellus, full of stout actiuitie,
To snatch the scepter from the
Saracen,
That holds the Holy Land in strait captiuity?
May I not see the selfe-weale-wounding launce
Of our braue bloods (earst one another goring)
Turn'd with more valour on the
Musulmans,
A higher pitch of happie prowesse soaring?
But who (deare
Fraunce) of all thy men-at-armes
Shall so farre hence renew thine ancient Laurels?
Sith here they plot thine and their propher harms,
I rather feare that (through these fatall quarrels)
That hate-Christ Tyrant will in time become
The Lord and Soueraigne of all Christendome.
SONNET.
'Mid all these mischiefes while the frend-foe strāgers
With vs, against vs, had intelligence;
Henry our King, our father, voides our dangers,
And (O heau'ns wonder) plāteth PEACE in
France.
Thou Iudge that sitt'st on the supernall Throne,
O quench thy furie, keepe vs from hostilitie,
With eyes of mercie looke thou still vpon
Our PEACE, and found it on a firme stabilitie:
Sith in despight of discord, thou alone,
Inward and outward hast thus salu'd vs (Lord)
Keepe still our
France, (or rather Lord thine own)
Let Princes loue, and liue in iust accord:
Disarme them (Lord) or if armes busie them,
Be it alone for thy
Ierusalem.
A Dialogue vpon the Troubles past: BETWEENE HERACLITVS and the laughing Philosophers.
Heraclitus.
[Page 47]
A Las, thou laugh'st, perhaps not feeling well
The painfull torments of this mortall hell:
Ah canst thou teare-les in this iron Age,
See men massacred, monsters borne to rage?
Democritus.
Ha, but why weep'st thou? wherefore in this sort
Doest thou lament amid this merrie sport
Ha, canst thou choose but laugh to see the state
Of mens now-sollies, and the freakes of fate?
Heraclitus.
He hath no heart that melts not all in teares,
To see the treasons, murders, massacres,
Sackes, sacriledges, losses, and alarmes
Of those that perish by their proper armes.
Democritus.
Who all-dismayed, swoundeth soddainly
To heare or see some fained Tragedie
held in these dayes on euery stage as common,
Is but a heart-les man, or but a woman.
Heraclitus.
[Page 48]
O would to God our Countries tragicke ruth
Were but a fable, no effected truth:
My soule then should not sigh to angry heau'n,
Nor for her plagues my tender heart be riu'n.
Democritus.
I take the world to be but as a stage,
Where not-maskt men dee play their personage.
'Tis but a mummerie, and a pleasant show,
Sith ouer all strange vanities doe flow.
Heraclitus.
Those vanities I haue in detestation,
As cursed causes of Gods indignation:
Which makes me alwayes weepe, sith on the earth
I see no obiect for the meanest mirth.
Democritus
Thus from one subiect sundrie sequels spring,
As diuersly our wits conceiue a thing.
I laught to see thee weepe; thou weep'st to see
Me laugh so much, which more afflicteth thee.
Heraclitus.
[Page 49]
Laugh while thou list at mortall miseries,
I cannot choose but euen weepe out mine eyes,
Finding more cause for teares in bloodie slaughter,
Then for thy sence-lesill-beseeming laughter.
Democritus.
Melt thee, distill thee, turne to waxe or snow;
Make sad thy gesture, turne thy voice to wor;
I cannot weepe, except sometimes it hap
Through laughing much mine eyes let fall a drop.
Heraclitus.
I weepe to see thus euery thing confused,
Order disordred, and the Lawes abused;
Iustice reuerst, and Pollicie peruerted;
And this sicke state neare vtterly subuerted.
Democritus.
I laugh to see how Fortune, like a ball,
Playes with the Globe of this inconstant All:
How shee degradeth these, and graceth those;
How whom she lifts-vp, down againe she throwes.
Heraclitus.
[Page 50]
I raine downe Riuers, when against their King
Cities rebell through subiects bandying:
When Colledges through armes are reft of Art:
When euery Countie kingdomes it apart.
Democritus.
I burst with laughter, when confounding state,
I see those rebels hunt their Magistrate.
When I heare Porters prate of State-designes,
And make all common, as in new-found
Indes.
Heraclitus.
I weepe to see Gods glory made a vaile
To couer who his glorie most assaile:
That sacred Faith is made a maske for sinne,
And men runne headlong to destructions ginne.
Democritus.
I laugh with all my heart at the transforming
Of
[...]ggling
Proteis, to all timaes conforming,
But most I laught haue seene the world so mad
To starue and die, when those damn'd
Atheists bad.
Heraclitus.
[Page 51]
I weepe (alas) to see the people weepe,
Opprest with rest-les waight in dangers deepe;
Crying for PEACE, but yet not like to get-her,
Yet her condition is not greatly better.
Democritus.
I laugh to see all cause of laughter gone, (thy mone:
Through those which (erst thou said'st) haue caus'd
Noting th'old guise I laugh at al their new;
I laugh at more, but dare not tell it you.
Heraclitus.
Some sorrowes also I in silence keepe,
But in the desart, all my woes shall weepe,
And there perhaps the Rocks will helpe me then;
For in these dayes they are more mild then men.
Democritus.
I'
[...]e dwell in Cities (as my
Genius guides)
To laugh my fill, for smiling PEACE prouides
Such plenteous store of laughing stuffe to fill me,
That still I'le laugh, vnles that laughing kill me
Finis.
AN ODE OF THE loue and beauties of ASTREA.
To the most match-les, faire, and vertuous, M. M. H.
TETRASTICON.
Thou for vvhose sake my freedome I forsake,
VVho murdring me, doost yet maintaine my life:
Here vnder PEACE, thy beauties type I make,
Faire vvar-like Nymph that keep'st me still in strife.
The Loue and Beauties of ASTREA.
Sacred PEACE, if I approoue thee,
If more then my life I loue thee,
'Tis not for thy beauteous eyes:
Though the brightest lampe in skies
In his highest Sommer shine
Seemes a sparke compar'd with thine,
With thy paire of selfe-like Sunnes,
Past all els comparisons.
'Tis not (deare) the dewes Ambrosiall
Of those pretie lips so Rosiall
Make me humble at thy feet.
Though the purest house sweet
That the Muses birds doe bring
To Mount
Hybla euery spring,
Nothing neare so pleasant is
As thy liuely louing kisse.
ASTREA.
'Tis not (Beauties Emperesse)
Th'amber circlets of thy tresse,
Curled by the wanton windes,
That so fast my freedome bindes:
Though the precious glittering sand
Richly strow'd on
Tagus strand;
Nor the graines
Pactolus told
Neuer were so fine a gold.
'Tis not for the polish't rowes
Of those Rocks whence Prudence flowes
That I still my suite pursue;
Though that in those Countries new
In the Orient lately found
(Which in precious gemmes abound)
'Mong all baytes of Auarice
Be no Pearles of such a price.
ASTREA.
'Tis not (Sweet) thine yuorie necke
Makes me worship at thy becke;
Nor that prettie double Hill
Of thy bosome panting still:
Though no fairest
Laedas swanne,
Nor no sleekest marble can
Be so smooth or white in show,
As thy Lillies, and thy Snow.
'Tis not (O my Paradice)
Thy front euener than the yee,
That my yeelding heart doth tye
With his mild-sweet Maiestie:
Though the siluer Moone be faine
Still by night to mount her waine,
Fearing to sustaine disgrace
If by day shee meet thy face.
ASTREA.
'Tis not that soft Sattin limme,
With blew trailes enameld trimme,
Thy hand, handle of perfection,
Keepes my thoughts in thy subiection:
Though it haue such curious cunning,
Gentle touch, and nimble running,
That on Lute to heare it warble,
Would mooue rocks and rauish marble,
'Tis not all the rest beside,
Which thy modest vaile doth hide
From mine eyes (ah too iniurious)
Makes me of thy loue so curious:
Though
Diana being bare,
Nor
Leucothoe passing rare,
In the Christall-flowing springs
Neuer bath'd so beauteous things.
ASTREA.
What then (O diuinest Dame)
Fires my soule with burning flame,
If thine eyes be not the matches
Whence my kindling taper catches?
And what
Nectar from aboue
Feeds and feasts my ioyes (my Loue)
If they tast not of the dainties
Of thy sweet lippes sugred plenties?
What fell heat of couetize
In my feeble bosome fries;
If my heart no reckoning hold
Of thy tresses purest gold?
What inestimable treasure
Can procure me greater pleasure
Then those Orient Pearles I see
When thou daign'st to smile on mee?
ASTREA.
What? what fruit of life delights
My delicious appetites,
If I ouer-passe the messe
Of those apples of thy brests?
What fresh buddes of scarlet Rose
Are more fragrant sweet than those
Then those twins thy strawberry teates,
Curled-purled cherrielets?
What (to finish) fairer limme,
Or what member yet more trimme,
Or what other rarer subiect
Makes me make thee all mine obiect?
If it be not all the rest
By thy modest vaile supprest
(Rather which an enuious cloud
From my sight doth closely shroud.)
ASTREA.
Ah 't's a thing farre more diuine,
'Tis that Peere-les soule of thine,
Master-peece of heau'ns best Art,
Made to maze each mortall hart.
'Tis thine all-admired wit,
Thy sweet grace and gesture fit,
Thy mild pleasing curtesie
Makes thee triumph ouer me.
But, for thy faire soules respect,
I loue twinne-flames that reflect
From thy bright tra
[...]lucent eyes.
And thy yellow lockes likewise.
And those Orient Pearlie Rockes
Which thy lightning smile vn-lockes.
And the
Nectar-passing blisses
Of thy bony-sweeter kisses.
ASTREA.
I loue thy fresh rosie cheeke
Blushing most
Aurora-like,
And the white-exceeding skin
Of thy neck and dimpled chin,
And those yuorie-marble mounts
Either, neither, both at once:
For I dare not touch to know
If they be of flesh or no.
I loue thy pure Lillie hand
Soft and smooth, and slender; and
Those fiue nimble brethren small
Arm'd with Pearle-shel helmets all.
I loue also all the rest
By thy modest vaile supprest
(Rather which an enuious cloud
Frō my longing sight doth shroud.)
ASTREA.
Sweet mouth that send'st a muskie rosed breath;
Fountaine of
Nectar, and delightfull Balme;
Eies cloudy-clere, smile-frowning, stormy-calm;
Whose euery glance darts me a liuing-death:
Browes bending quaintly, your round Ebene arkes:
Smile, that then
Venus sooner
Mars besots;
Lockes more then golden, curl'd in curious knots,
Where in close ambush wanton
Cupid lurkes:
Grace Angel-like; faire forehead smooth and high;
Pure white, that dimm'st the Lillies of the vale;
Vermilion rose, that mak'st
Aurora pale:
Rare spirit, to rule this beauteous Emperie:
If in your force diuine effects I view,
Ah who can blame me if I worship you?
TO ASTREA.
Thou, whose sweet eloquēce doth make me mute;
Whose sight doth blind me; & whose nimblenes
Of feet in daunce, and fingers on the Lute,
In deepe amazes makes me motion-les.
Whose only presence from my selfe absents me,
Whose pleasant humours, make me passionate;
Whose sober mood, my follies represents me:
Whose graue-mild graces make me emulate.
My heart, through whome my hart is none of mine:
My All, through whome, I nothing doe possesse
Saue thine
Idéa, glorious and diuine.
O thou my Peace-like warre, & warlike PEACE,
So much the woūds that thou hast giuē me, please;
That tis my best case neuer to haue case.
Epigrammes upon Warre and Peace.
Vpon the League.
FRance, without cause thou doost complaine
Against the League for wronging thee,
Sh'hath made thee large amends againe
With more than common vsurie.
For, for thy one King which she slew,
Sh'hath giuen thee now a thousand new.
Vpon the taking of Paris.
1
When
Paris happily was wonne
With small or no endangering,
Such sodaine common ioy begunne,
That one would say (t'haue seene the thing)
Th'King tooke not
Paris, Paris tooke the King.
2
O rarest sight of ioyfull woe,
Adorned with delightfull dread;
When
Henry with one selfe-same show,
Conquer'd at once and triumphed!
3
Sith thee from danger and distresse to free,
The King thus tooke, or rather entred thee:
Paris, it was not in sterne
Mars his moneth,
But in the month that mild ASTREA owneth.
Vpon the fall of the Millars-bridge.
1
The Millars in the riuer drown'd,
While
Paris was beleagerd round;
To die were all resolu'd in mind
Because they had no more to grind.
2
Then was their fittest time to die
Because they might intend it best:
But their intent was contrarie,
Because they then liu'd so at rest.
3
As after long sharpe famine, some (forlorne)
Of surfet die, their greedines is such:
This Mill-bridge hauing fasted long from corne
Is drow'nd perhaps for hauing ground too-much.
Vpon the recouery of Amiens.
I know not which may seeme most admirable;
To take or retake such a Citties force:
But yet I know which is most honorable,
To take by fraud, or to retake by force.
2
Each where they sing a thousand wayes
The glorie of this enterprise:
But yet of all their merrie layes,
The best is still in the Reprise.
3
Hernand was happie by this Enterprise
To take so soone our
Amiens without blow:
More happie yet, to die ere the Reprise,
Els had he dy'de for shame to leaue it so.
Vpon the Reduction of Nantes.
Nantes would not yeeld so soone (they said)
Nor be recouered so good cheape
And yet for all defence it made,
'Twas made to make the
Britton leape.
Vpon PEACE.
1.
Souldiers late prest, are now supprest;
Crost and cassierd from further pay,
Yet will they in this time of rest,
Take vp their lendings by the Way.
2
This PEACE (it seemeth) doth not sound
To all the world, for euery where
More Sergeants now doe goe the Round,
Then Souldiers carst accustom'd were.
Vpon Captaine Coblar.
A merry Coblar left the warres,
To turne vnto his occupation:
And asked by his customers
The reason of his alteration:
'Thath pleasd (quoth he) the King t'ordaine
That each his Office take againe.
Epitaphes.
Vpon Warre.
1
Here, vnder
[...] huge heape of stones
Lately enterr'd, lyes cruell WARRE:
Pray God long rest her soule and bones:
Yet there is nothing worse for her.
Vpon Rowland Rob-Church.
2
Here lyeth
Rowland, that was lately slaine,
In robbing of a wealthie Chappell, spyde:
Yet I beleeue he doth in heau'n remaine,
Sith onely for the Churches Good he dy'de.
Vpon Captaine Catch.
3
Here vnder, Captaine CATCH is laid,
Who sixe times chang'd from side to side,
Of neither side (it seem'd) afraid:
He wore a white scarfe when he dy'de,
Yet some suspect, and so doe I,
For his inconstance showne before,
That to the Black-band he did flie.
But now he can reuolt no more.