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So well in all deformity in fashion, Borrowing a limb of ev'ry sev'ral nation; And nothing more than England hold in scorn, So live as strangers whereas they were born ; But thy return in this I do not read, Thou art a perfect gentleman indeed: O God forbid that Howard's noble line, From ancient virtue should so far decline ! The Muses' train (whereof yourself are chief) Only to me participate their grief: To sooth their humours, I do lend them ears. “He gives a Poet, that his verses hears.” Till thy return, by hope they only live; Yet had they all they all away would give: The world and they so ill-according be, That wealth and Poets never can agree. Few live in court that of their good have care, The Muses' friends are every where so rare. Some praise thy worth (that it did never know), Only because the better sort do so, Whose judgment never further doth extend, Than it doth please the greatest to commend; so great an ill upon desert doth chance, when it doth pass by beastly ignorance. why art thou slack, whilst no man put his hand To praise the mount where Surrey's towers must Or who the groundsil of that work doth lay, [stand? Whilst like a wand’rer thou abroad do'st stray, Clip'd in the arms of some lascivious dame, When thou should'st rear an Ilion to thy name? When shall the Muses by fair Norwich dwell, To be the city of the learned well ? Or Phoebus' altars there with incense heap'd, As once in Cyrrha, or in Thebe kept : Or when shall that fair hoof-plow'd spring distil From great Mount-Surrey, out of Leonard's-hill? Till thou return, the court I will exchange For some poor cottage, or some country grange Where to our distaves, as we sit and spin, My maid and I will tell what things have been. Our lutes unstrung shall hang upon the wall, Our lessons serve to wrap our tow withall, And pass the night, whiles winter-tales we tell, Of many things, that long ago befell: Or tune such homely carrols as were sung In country sport, when we ourselves were young, In pretty riddles to bewray our loves, In questions, purpose, or in drawing gloves. The noblest spirits, to virtue most inclined, These here in court thy greatest want do find: Others there be, on which we feed our eye, Like arras-work, or such like imag’ry: Many of us desire Queen Cath'rine's state, But very few her virtues imitate, Then, as Ulysses' wife, write I to thee, Make no reply, but come thyself to me.
POLKOLBION.—THE XV. SONG. The ARGUMENT. The Foots here to the bride-house hie. The goodly vale of Aylsbury
Sets her son (Tame) forth, brave as May,
Now fame had through this isle divulg'd in every
Than other of your kind, that you so fast should What business in hand, that spurs you thus away? Fair Windrush, let me hear; I pray thee, Charwel saw. They suddenly reply, ‘What lets you should not see ‘That for this nuptial feast we all prepared be? “Therefore this idle chat our ears doth but offend: “Our leisure serves not now these trifles to attend." But whilst things are in hand, old Chiltern (for his life) From prodigal expence can noway keep his wife; Who feeds her Tame with marle, in cordial-wise prepar’d, And thinks all idly spent, that now she only spar'd, In setting forth her son: nor can she think it well, Unless her lavish charge do Cotswolds far excel. For, Aylesbury's avale that walloweth in her wealth, And (by her wholesome air continually in health) Is lusty, firm, and fat, and holds her youthful strength. [length, Besides her fruitful earth, her mighty breadth and Doth Chiltern fitly match; which mountainously And being very long, so likewise she doth lie [high, From the Bedfordian fields, where first she doth begin, [doth win To fashion like a vale, to th’ place where Tame His Isis’ wished bed; her soil throughout so sure, For goodness of her glebe, and for her pasture pure, That as her grain and grass, so she her sheep doth breed, For burthen and for bone all other that exceed:
And she, which thus in wealth abundantly doth
‘Ye daughters of the hills, come down from every side, And due attendance give upon the lovely bride: Go, strew the paths with flowers, by which she is to pass. For be ye thus assur'd, in Albion never was A beauty (yet) like hers: where have you ever seen So absolute a nymph in all things, for a queen? Give instantly in charge the day be wondrous fair, That no disorder'd blast attempt her braided hair. Go, see her state prepard, and every thing be fit. The bride-chamber adorn'd with all beseeming it. And for the princely groom, who ever yet could A flood that is so fit for Isis as the Tame : [name Ye both so lovely are, that knowledge scarce can tell, For feature whether he, or beauty she excel: That ravished with joy each other to behold, When as your crystal waists you closely do enfold, Betwixt your beauteous selves you shall beget a son, That when your lives shall end, in him shall be begun. [light, The pleasant Surryan shores shall in that flood deAnd Kent esteem herself most happy in his sight. The shire that London loves, shall only him prefer, And give full many a gift to hold him near to her. The Scheldt, the goodly Meuse, the rich and viny Rhine, [plain, Shall come to meet the Thames in Neptune's wat'ry And all the Belgian streams and neighbouring floods of Gaul, Of him shall stand in awe his tributaries all.” As of fair Isis thus the learned virgins spake, A shrill and sudden bruit this Prothalamion brake; That White-horse, for the love she bare to her ally, And honoured sister vale, the bounteous Aylsbury, Sent presents to the Tame by Ock her only flood, Which for his mother vale so much on greatness stood. From Oxford, Isis hastes more speedily, to see That river like his birth might entertained be: For that ambitious vale, still striving to command, And using for her place continually to stand, Proud White-horse to persuade, much business there hath been [queen. To acknowledge that great vale of Eusham for her And but that Eusham is so opulent and great, That thereby she herself holds in the sovereign seat, This White-horse all the vales of Britain would o'erAnd absolutely sit in the imperial chair; [bear, And boasts as goodly herbs, and numerous flocks to feed, To have as soft a glebe, as good increase of seed; As pure and fresh an air upon her face to flow, As Eusham for her life; and from her steed doth Her lusty rising downs, as fair a prospect take [show, As that imperious Wold; which her great queen doth make So wond’rously admir’d, and her so far extend, But to the marriage hence, industrious Muse descend. The Naiads and the nymphs extremely over-j oy'd, And on the winding banks all busily employ'd,
Upon this joyful day, some dainty chaplets twine:
Sweet marjoram, with her like, sweet basil rare for
• Let all the world be judge, what mountain hath a name, [flood of fame: Like that from whose proud foot there springs some And in the earth's survey, what seat like that is set, Whose streets some ample stream abundantly doth wet? [road, Where is there haven found, or harbour, like that Int' which some goodly flood his burden doth unload 2 [reign fraught By whose rank swelling stream the far-fecht-soMay up to inland-towns conveniently be brought. Of any part of earth, we be the most renown'd ; That countries very oft, nay, empires oft we bound. As Rubicon, much fam'd both for his fount and fall, The ancient limit held 'twixt Italy and Gaul. Europe and Asia keep on Tanais' either side. [vide. Such honour have we floods, the world (even) to diNay, kingdoms thus we prove are christened oft by Iberia takes her name from crystal Iberus. [us; Such reverence to our kind the wiser ancients gave, As they suppos'd each flood a deity to have. “But with our fame at home return we to proceed. In Britain here we find, our Severn, and our Tweed, The tripartited isle do generally divide, [side. To England. Scotland, Wales, as each doth keep her Trent cuts the land in two so equally, as tho’ Nature it pointed-out, to our great Brute to shew How to his mighty sons the island he might share; A thousand of this kind, and nearer, I will spare; Where, if the state of floods at large I list to shew, I proudly could report how Pactolus doth throw Upgrains of perfect gold; and of great Ganges tell, Which when full India's showers enforceth him to swell, [shore: Gilds with his glistering sands the over-pamper'd How wealthy Tagus first, by tumbling down his ore, The rude and slothful Moors of old Iberia taught To search into those hills, from which such wealth he brought. Beyond these if I pleas'd I to your praise could bring, In sacred Tempe, how (about the hoof-plough’d spring) The Heliconian maids, upon that hallowed ground, Recounting heavenly hymns eternally are crown'd. And as the earth doth us in her own bowels nourish; So every thing that grows, by us doth thrive and flourish. To godly virtuous men, we wisely liken'd are: To be so in themselves, that do not only care; But by a sacred power, which goodness doth await, Do make those virtuous too, that them associate.” By this, the wedding ends, and brake up all the shew: [flow And Tames, got, born, and bred, immediately doth To Windsor-ward amain (that with a wond'ring eye, The forest might behold his awful empery) And soon becometh great, with waters weztso rank, That with his wealth he seems to retch his wid’ned bank: [grounds, Till happily attain'd his grandsire Chiltern's Who with his beechen wreaths this king of rivers crowns.
Amongst his holts and hills, as on his way he makes,
THE XXVIII. SONG OF THE SAME.
Now scarcely on this tract the Muse had entrance made, Inclining to the south, but Bever's batning slade
Receiveth her to guest, whose coming had too long Put off her rightful praise, when thus herself she sung, “Three shires there are (quoth she) in me their parts that claim, [Nottingham. Large Lincoln, Rutland rich, and th’ north's eye But in the last of these since most of me doth lie, To that my most-loved shire myself I must apply. Not Eusham that proud nymph, although she still pretend [send Herself the first of vales, and though abroad she Her awful dread command, that all should tribute pay [though her clay To her as our great queen ; nor White-horse, Of silver seem to be, new melted, nor the vale Of Aylsbury, whose grass seems given out by tale, For it so silken is, nor any of our kind, Or what, or where they be, or howsoe'er inclin'd, Me Bever shall outbrave, that in my state do scorn, By any of them all (once) to be overborn, With theirs, do but compare the country where I lie, My Hill, and Oulds will say, they are the island's Consider next my scite, and say it doth excel; [eye. Then come unto my soil, and you shall see it swell With every grass and grain, that Britain forth can bring; I challenge any vale, to shew me but that thing I cannot shew to her (that truly is mine own) Beside I dare thus boast, that I as far am known, As any of them all, the south their names doth sound, The spacious north doth me, that there is scarcely found, A roomth for any else, it is so fill'd with mine, Which but a little wants of making me divine: Nor barren am of brooks, for that I still retain Two neat and dainty rills, the little Snyte, and Deane, That from the lovely Oulds, their beauteous parent sprung From the Leicestrian fields, come on with me along, Till both within one bank,theyon my north are meint, And where I end, they fall, at Newark, into Trent.” Hence wand'ring as the Muse delightfully beholds The beauty of the large, and goodly full-flock'd Oulds, She on the left hand leaves old Leicester, and flies, Until the fertile earth glut her insatiate eyes, From rich to richer still, that riseth her before, Until she come to cease upon the head of Soare, Where Fosse, and Watling, cut each other in their Course [source, At Sharnford, where at first her soft and gentle To her but shallow banks, begineth to repair, Of all this beauteous isle, the delicatest air; Whence softly sallying out, asloth the place to leave, She Sence a pretty rill doth courteously receive: For Swift,alittle brook, which certainly she thought Down to the banks of Trent would safely her have brought, Because their native springs so nearly were ally'd, Her *ister Soare forsook, and wholly her apply'd To ***, as with her continually to keep, And wait on her along to the Sabrinian deep.
Thus with her handmaid Sence, the Soare doth eas’ly slide By Leicester, where yet her ruins show her pride, Demolish'd many years, that of the great foundation Of her longburied walls, men hardly see the station; Yet of some pieces found, so sure the cement locks The stones, that they remain like perdurable rocks: Where whilst the lovely Soare, with many a dear embrace, Is solacing herself with this delightful place, The forest, which the name of that brave town doth bear, [hair, With many a goodly wreath, crowns her dishevel’d And in her gallant green, her lusty livery shows Herself to this fair flood, which mildly as she flows, Reciprocally likes her length and breadth to see, As also how she keeps her fertile purlues free: The herds of fallow deer she on the lawns doth feed, As having in herself to furnish every need. [take, But now since gentle Soare such leisure seems to The Muse in her behalf this strong defence doth make, [her so, Against the neighbour floods, for that which tax And her a channel call, because she is so slow. The cause is that she lies upon so low a flat, Where nature most of all befriended her in that, The longer to enjoy the good she doth possess : For had those (with such speed that forward seem to press) So many dainty meads, and pastures theirs to be, They then would wish themselves to be as slow as she, [maid, Who well may be compar'd to some young tender Ent’ring some prince's court, which is for pomp array'd, Who led from room to room amazed is to see The furniture and states, which all embroideries be, The rich and sumptuous beds, with tester covering plumes, And various as the sutes, so various the perfumes, Large galleries, where piece with piece doth seem to strive, Of pictures done to life, landskip, and perspective, Thence goodly gardens sees, where antique statues stand In stone and copper, cut by many a skilful hand ; Where every thing to gaze, her more and more entices, Thinking at once she sees a thousand paradises, Goes softly on, as though before she saw the last, She long’d again to see, what she had slightly past. So the enticing soil the Soare along doth lead, As wond'ring in herself, at many a spacious mead; When Charnwood from the rocks salutes her wished sight, [light, (Of many a wood-god woo'd) her darling and deWhose beauty whilst that Soare is pausing to behold Clear Wreakin coming in, from Waltham on the Ould, Brings Eye, a pretty brook, to bear her silver train, Which on by Melton makes, and tripping o'er the plain,