Grace stirreth well, the grace of God is great Whych you hath brought to your ryall se, And in your ryght it hath you surely sette Above us all, to have the soveraintie: Whose worthy power, and regall dygnitie All our rancour, and our debate gan cease And hath us brought, both welthe, rest, and peace. From whom dyscendeth, by the ryghtful lyne Noble prynce Henry, to succede the crowne That in his youth, doth so clearely shyne In euery vertue, casting the vyce adowne: He shall of fame, attayne the hye renowne No doubte but grace, shall hym well enclose Whych by true ryght, sprang of the red rose. Your noble grace, and excellent hyenes For to accepte I beseche ryght humbly, Thys little boke, opprest wyth rudenes Without rethoryke, or colour crafty: Nothynge I am experte in poetry,
As the monke of Bury, floure of eloquence Which was in the time of great excellence, Of your predecessour, the. V. king Henry, Unto whose grace, he dyd present Ryght famous bokes, of parfit memory: Of hys faynyng, wyth termes eloquent. Whose fatall ficcions, are yet permanent. Grounded on reason, wyth cloudy fygures He cloked the truth of al his scriptures.
The light of trouth, I lacke cunnyng to cloke To drawe a curtayne, I dare not to presume Nor hyde my matter, with a misty smoke My rudenes cunnyng, dothe so sore consume Yet as I may, I shall blowe out a fume To hyde my mynde, underneth a fable By covert coloure, well and probable,
Besechyng your grace to pardon mine ignoraunce, Whiche this fayned fable, to eschue idlenes, Have so compiled, nowe without doubtance For to present, to your hye worthines To folowe the trace, and all the perfitenes Of my master Lydgate, with due exercise Suche fayned tales, I do fynde and devise.
For under a coloure, a truthe may arise As was the guise, in olde antiquitye Of the poetes olde, a tale to surmise To cloke the trouthe, of their infirmitye Or yet on joye to haue moralitye I me excuse, if by negligence
That I do offende, for lacke of science.
Your graces most bounden seruaunt, Stephen Hawes, one of the gromes of your maiesties chamber, the. xxi. yeare of your prosperous raygne.
HOWE GRAUND AMOUR WALKED IN A MEDOWE, AND MET WITH FAME, ENVIRONED WITH TONGUES OF fire.
WHEN Phoebus entred was, in Geminy Shinyng above, in his fayre goldē spere And horned Dyane, then but one degre In the Crabbe had entred, fayre and cleare When that Aurora, did well appeare In the depured ayre, and cruddy firmament Forthe then I walked, without impediment
In to a medowe bothe gaye and glorious, Whiche Flora depainted with many a colour Like a place of plesure most solacious Encensyng out, the aromatike odoure
Of Zepherus breathe, whiche that every floure Throughe his fume, dothe alwaie engender. So as I went among the floures tender
By sodaine chaunce, a faire pathe I founde On whiche I loked, and right oft I mused And then all about, I behelde the grounde With the faire pathe, whiche I sawe so used My chaunce or fortune, I nothing refused But in the pathe, forth I went a pace To knowe whither, and unto what place
It woulde me bryng, by any similitude So forth I went, were it ryght or wrong Tyll that I sawe, of royall pulcritude Before my face an ymage fayre and strong With two fayre handes, stretched out along Unto two hye wayes, there in particion And in the right hande was this description:
This is the strayght waye of contemplacion Unto the ioyfull tower perdurable
Who that wyll walke, unto that mancion He must forsake, all thynges variable With the vayne glory, so muche deceyvable And though the way, be hard and daungerous The last ende thereof shal be ryght precious.
And in the other hande ryght fayre written was This is the waye, of worldly dignitye
Of the active lyfe, who wyll in it passe Unto the tower of fayre dame Beautye Fame shal tell hym, of the way in certaintye Unto La bell Pucell, the fayre lady excellent Above all other in cleare beauty splendent
I behelde ryght well, bothe the wayes twayne And mused oft, whyche was best to take: The one was sharpe, the other was more plaine And unto my selfe, I began to make A sodayne argument, for I myght not slake Of my great musyng, of this royall ymage And of these two wayes, so much in usage
For thys goodly picture was in altitude, Nyne fote and more, of fayre marble stone Ryght well favored, and of great attribute, Though it were made full many yeres agone. Thus stode I musynge, my selfe all alone By right long tyme; but at the last I went The actyve way, with all my whole entent. Thus all alone I began to travayle Forthe on my waye by long continuaunce; But often times, I had great marvayle Of the by pathes so full of plesaunce, Whiche for to take, I had great doubtaunce But evermore, as nere as I myght
I toke the waye, whiche went before me right
And at the laste, when Phebus in the west Gan to avayle with all his beames merye, When cleare Dyana in the fayre southest Gan for to ryse, lightyng our emispery With clowdes cleare wythout the stormy pery, Me thought afarre, I had a vysyon
Of a picture, of marveylous facyon.
To whiche I went, without lenger delaye Beholdyng well, the right faire portrayture Made of fine copper, shynyng faire and gaye Full well truely, according to mesure And, as I thought, nine fote of stature; Yet in the breast with letters fayre and blewe Was written a sentence, olde and true:
This is the waye, and the sytuacion Unto the toure, of famous Doctrine,
Who that will learne, must be ruled by Reason And with all his diligence he must encline Slouthe to eschue, and for to determine And set his hert to be intelligible
To a willyng herte is nought impossible
Beside the ymage I adowne me sette After my laboure, my selfe to repose, Till at the last, with a gasping nette Slouth my head caught, with his whole purpose It vayled not, the bodye for to dispose Againste the heade, when it is applied, The heade must rule, it can not be denied
Thus as I satte in deadly slomber
Of a great horne, I hearde a royall blast, With which I awoke, and had a great wonder From whence it came; it made me sore agast, I loked about, the night was well nere past And fayre golden Phebus in the morow graye With clowdes redde began to breake the daye.
I sawe come ridyng in a valey farre A goodly ladye, environned about With tongues of fire, as bright as any starre That fiery flambes, ensensed al way out Whiche I behelde, and was in great doubt, Her palfrey swift, rennyng as the winde With two white greyhoūds, that were not behind. When that these greyhoundes had me so espied With faunyng chere of great humilitie In goodly haste, they fast unto me hied; I mused why, and wherfore it shoulde be, But I welcomed them, in every degree; They leaped oft, and were of me right faine, I suffred them, and cherished them againe.
Their collers were of golde and of tyssue fine Wherin their names appeared by scripture Of dyamondes that clerely do shine; The letters were grauen fayre and pure To reade their names, I did my busye cure:
The one was Gouernaunce, the other named Grace, Then was I gladde of all this sodayne cace Five Centuries.
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