Complete Works of Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey

by Henry Howard

  The vessels eke that were of massy gold,

  And vestures spoil’d, were gather’d all in heap:

  The children orderly, and mothers pale for fright,

  Long ranged on a row stood round about.

  So bold was I to show my voice that night 1020

  With clepes and cries to fill the streets throughout,

  With Creuse’ name in sorrow, with vain tears;

  And often sithes the same for to repeat.

  The town restless with fury as I sought,

  Th’ unlucky figure of Creusa’s ghost, 1025

  Of stature more than wont, stood ‘fore mine eyen.

  Abashed when I woxe: therewith my hair

  ‘Gan start right up: my voice stack in my throat:

  When with such words she ‘gan my heart remove:

  ‘What helps, to yield unto such furious rage, 1030

  Sweet spouse?’ quod she, ‘Without will of the Gods

  This chanced not: ne lawful was for thee

  To lead away Creusa hence with thee:

  The King of the high heaven suff’reth it not.

  A long exile thou art assigned to bear, 1035

  Long to furrow large space of stormy seas:

  So shalt thou reach at last Hesperian land,

  Where Lidian Tiber with his gentle stream

  Mildly doth flow along the fruitful fields.

  There mirthful wealth, there kingdom is for thee; 1040

  There a king’s child prepar’d to be thy make.

  For thy beloved Creusa stint thy tears:

  For now shall I not see the proud abodes

  Of Myrmidons, nor yet of Dolopes:

  Ne I, a Troyan lady, and the wife 1045

  Unto the son of Venus, the Goddess,

  Shall go a slave to serve the Greekish dames.

  Me here the God’s great mother holds —— —

  And now farewell: and keep in father’s breast

  The tender love of thy young son and mine.’ 1050

  This having said, she left me all in tears,

  And minding much to speak; but she was gone,

  And subtly fled into the weightless air.

  Thrice raught I with mine arms t’ accoll her neck:

  Thrice did my hands vain hold th’ image escape, 1055

  Like nimble winds, and like the flying dream.

  So night spent out, return I to my feres;

  And there wond’ring I find together swarm’d

  A new number of mates, mothers, and men

  A rout exiled, a wretched multitude, 1060

  From each-where flock together, prest to pass

  With heart and goods, to whatsoever land

  By sliding seas, me listed them to lead.

  And now rose Lucifer above the ridge

  Of lusty Ide, and brought the dawning light. 1065

  The Greeks held th’ entries of the gates beset:

  Of help there was no hope. Then gave I place,

  Took up my sire, and hasted to the hill.

  List of poems in chronological order

  List of poems in alphabetical order

  The Fourth Book of Virgil’s Æneid

  BUT now the wounded Queen, with heavy care,

  Throughout the veins she nourished the plaie,

  Surprised with blind flame; and to her mind

  ‘Gan eke resort the prowess of the man,

  And honour of his race: while in her breast 5

  Imprinted stack his words, and pictures form.

  Ne to her limbs care granteth quiet rest.

  The next morrow, with Phœbus’ lamp the earth

  Alighted clear; and eke the dawning day

  The shadows dark ‘gan from the pole remove: 10

  When all unsound, her sister of like mind

  Thus spake she to: ‘O! Sister Anne, what dreams

  Be these, that me tormented thus affray?

  What new guest this, that to our realm is come?

  What one of cheer? how stout of heart in arms? 15

  Truly I think (ne vain is my belief)

  Of Goddish race some offspring should he be:

  Cowardry notes hearts swerved out of kind.

  He driven, lord! with how hard destiny!

  What battles eke achieved did he recount! 20

  But that my mind is fixt unmovably,

  Never with wight in wedlock aye to join,

  Sith my first love me left by death dissever’d;

  If genial brands and bed me loathed not,

  To this one guilt perchance yet might I yield. 25

  Anne, for I grant, sith wretched Sychee’s death,

  My spouse and house with brother’s slaughter stain’d,

  This only man hath made my senses bend,

  And pricked forth the mind that ‘gan to slide:

  Now feelingly I taste the steps of mine old flame. 30

  But first I wish the earth me swallow down,

  Or with thunder the mighty Lord me send

  To the pale ghosts of hell, and darkness deep;

  Ere I thee stain, shamefastness, or thy laws.

  He that with me first coupled, took away 35

  My love with him; enjoy it in his grave.’

  Thus did she say, and with surprised tears

  Bained her breast. Whereto Anne thus replied:

  ‘O Sister, dearer beloved than the light:

  Thy youth alone in plaint still wilt thou spill? 40

  Ne children sweet, ne Venus’ gifts wilt know?

  Cinders, thinkest thou, mind this? or graved ghosts?

  Time of thy doole, thy spouse new dead, I grant,

  None might thee move: no, not the Libyan king,

  Nor yet of Tyre; Iarbas set to light, 45

  And other princes mo’; whom the rich soil

  Of Afric breeds, in honours triumphant.

  Wilt thou also gainstand thy liked love?

  Comes not to mind upon whose land thou dwell’st?

  On this side, lo! the Getule town behold, 50

  A people bold, unvanquished in war;

  Eke the undaunted Numides compass thee;

  Also the Sirtes unfriendly harbrough.

  On th’ other hand, a desert realm for-thrust,

  The Barceans, whose fury stretcheth wide. 55

  What shall I touch the wars that move from Tyre?

  Or yet thy brother’s threats? ——

  By Gods’ purveyance it blew, and Juno’s help,

  The Troiaynes ships, I think, to run this course.

  Sister, what town shalt thou see this become? 60

  Through such ally how shall our kingdom rise?

  And by the aid of Troyan arms how great?

  How many ways shall Carthages glory grow?

  Thou only now beseech the Gods of grace

  By sacrifice: which ended, to thy house 65

  Receive him, and forge causes of abode:

  Whiles winter frets the seas, and wat’ry Orion,

  The ships shaken, unfriendly the season.’

  Such words inflamed the kindled mind with love,

  Loosed all shame, and gave the doubtful hope. 70

  And to the temples first they haste, and seek

  By sacrifice for grace, with hogrels of two years,

  Chosen, as ought, to Ceres that gave laws,

  To Phœbus, Bacchus, and to Juno chief,

  Which hath in care the bands of marriage. 75

  Fair Dido held in her right hand the cup,

  Which ‘twixt the horns of a white cow she shed

  In presence of the Gods, passing before

  The altars fat; which she renewed oft

  With gifts that day, and beasts deboweled; 80

  Gazing for counsel on the entrails warm.

  Ay me! unskilful minds of prophesy!

  Temples or vows, what boot they in her rage?

  A gentle flame the marrow doth devour,

  Whiles in the breast the silent wound keeps life.
85

  Unhappy Dido burns, and in her rage

  Throughout the town she wand’reth up and down.

  Like the stricken hind with shaft, in Crete

  Throughout the woods which chasing with his dart

  Aloof, the shepherd smiteth at unwares, 90

  And leaves unwist in her the thirling head:

  That through the groves, and lands glides in her flight;

  Amid whose side the mortal arrow sticks.

  Æneas now about the walls she leads,

  The town prepared, and Carthage wealth to shew, 95

  Off’ring to speak, amid her voice, she whists.

  And when the day gins fail new feasts she makes;

  The Troies travails to hear a-new she lists,

  Enraged all; and stareth in his face

  That tells the tale. And when they were all gone, 100

  And the dim moon doth eft withhold the light,

  And sliding stars provoke unto sleep;

  Alone she mourns within her palace void,

  And sets her down on her forsaken bed.

  And, absent, him she hears, when he is gone, 105

  And seeth eke. Oft in her lap she holds

  Ascanius, trapp’d by his father’s form:

  So to beguile the love, cannot be told.

  The turrets now arise not, erst begun;

  Neither the youth wields arms, nor they advance 110

  The ports, nor other meet defence for war:

  Broken there hang the works and mighty frames

  Of walls high raised, threatening the sky.

  Whom as soon as Jove’s dear wife saw infect

  With such a plague, ne fame resist the rage; 115

  Saturnès’ daughter thus burdes Venus then:

  ‘Great praise,’ quod she, ‘and worthy spoils you win,

  You and your son; great Gods of memory!

  By both your wiles one woman to devour.

  Yet am not I deceived, that foreknew 120

  Ye dread our walls, and buildings ‘gan suspect

  Of high Carthage. But what shall be the end?

  Or whereunto now serveth such debate?

  But rather peace, and bridal bands knit we,

  Sith thou hast sped of that thy heart desired; 125

  Dido doth burn with love: rage frets her bones,

  This people now as common to us both,

  With equal favour let us govern then;

  Lawful be it to serve a Trojan spouse;

  And Tyrians yield to thy right hand in dower.’ 130

  To whom Venus replied thus, that knew

  Her words proceeded from a feigned mind,

  To Libyan coasts to turn th’ empire from Rome.

  ‘What wight so fond such offer to refuse?

  Or yet with thee had liever strive in war? 135

  So be it fortune thy tale bring t’ effect:

  But destinies I doubt; lest Jove nill grant,

  That folk of Tyre, and such as came from Troy,

  Should hold one town; or grant these nations

  Mingled to be, or joined aye in league. 140

  Thou art his wife: lawful it is for thee

  For to attempt his fancy by request:

  Pass on before; and follow thee I shall.’

  Queen Juno then thus took her tale again:

  ‘This travail be it mine. But by what mean 145

  (Marke), in few words I shall thee learn eftsoons,

  This work in hand may now be compassed.

  Æneas now, and wretched Dido eke,

  To the forest a hunting mind to wend

  To-morn, as soon as Titan shall ascend, 150

  And with his beams hath overspread the world:

  And whiles the wings of youth do swarm about,

  And whiles they range to overset the groves,

  A cloudy shower mingled with hail I shall

  Pour down, and then with thunder shake the skies. 155

  Th’ assembly scattered the mist shall cloke.

  Dido a cave, the Troyan prince the same

  Shall enter too; and I will be at hand:

  And if thy will stick unto mine, I shall

  In wedlock sure knit, and make her his own: 160

  Thus shall the marriage be.’ To whose request

  Without debate Venus did seem to yield,

  And smiled soft, as she that found the wile.

  Then from the seas the dawning ‘gan arise:

  The sun once up, the chosen youth ‘gan throng 165

  Out at the gates: the hayes so rarely knit,

  The hunting staves with their broad heads of steel;

  And of Masile the horsemen forth they brake;

  Of scenting hounds a kennel huge likewise.

  And at the threshold of her chamber door 170

  The Carthage lords did on the Queen attend.

  The trampling steed with gold and purple trapp’d,

  Chewing the foamy bit, there fiercely stood.

  Then issued she, awaited with great train,

  Clad in a cloak of Tyre embroider’d rich. 175

  Her quiver hung behind her back, her tress

  Knotted in gold, her purple vesture eke

  Button’d with gold. The Troyans of her train

  Before her go, with gladsome Iulus.

  Æneas eke, the goodliest of the rout, 180

  Makes one of them, and joineth close the throngs:

  Like when Apollo leaveth Lycia,

  His wint’ring place, and Xanthus’ floods likewise,

  To visit Delos, his mother’s mansion,

  Repairing eft and furnishing her choir: 185

  The Candians, and folks of Driopes,

  With painted Agathyrsies shout, and cry,

  Environing the altars round about;

  When that he walks upon mount Cynthus’ top:

  His sparkled tress repress’d with garlands soft 190

  Of tender leaves, and trussed up in gold;

  His quivering darts clatt’ring behind his back.

  So fresh and lusty did Æneas seem;

  Such lordly port in present countenance.

  But to the hills and wild holts when they came; 195

  From the rock’s top the driven savage rose.

  Lo from the hill above on th’ other side,

  Through the wide lawns they ‘gan to take their course.

  The harts likewise in troops taking their flight,

  Raising the dust, the mountain fast forsake. 200

  The child Iulus, blithe of his swift steed,

  Amid the plain now pricks by them, now these;

  And to encounter wisheth oft in mind

  The foaming boar instead of fearful beasts;

  Or Lion brown might from the hill descend. 205

  In the mean while the skies ‘gan rumble sore;

  In tail thereof, a mingled shower with hail.

  The Tyrian folk, and eke the Troyans youth,

  And Venus’ nephew the cottages? for fear

  Sought round about; the floods fell from the hills. 210

  Dido a den, the Troyan prince the same,

  Chanced upon. Our mother then, the Earth,

  And Juno that hath charge of marriage,

  First tokens gave with burning gleads of flame;

  And, privy to the wedlock, lightning skies; 215

  And the Nymphs yelled from the mountains top.

  Ay me! this was the first day of their mirth,

  And of their harms the first occasion eke.

  Respect of fame no longer her withholds:

  Nor museth now to frame her love by stealth. 220

  Wedlock she calls it: under the pretence

  Of which fair name she cloaketh now her fault.

  Forthwith Fame flieth through the great Libyan towns:

  A mischief Fame, there is none else so swift;

  That moving grows, and flitting gathers force. 225

  First small for dread, soon after climbs the skies;
<
br />   Stayeth on earth, and hides her head in clouds.

  Whom our mother the earth, tempted by wrath

  Of Gods, begat; the last Sister (they write)

  To Cäéus, and to Enceladus eke: 230

  Speedy of foot, of wing likewise as swift,

  A monster huge, and dreadful to descrive.

  In every plume that on her body sticks

  (A thing indeed much marvelous to hear)

  As many waker eyes lurk underneath, 235

  So many mouths to speak, and listening ears.

  By night she flies amid the cloudy sky,

  Shrieking, by the dark shadow of the earth,

  Ne doth decline to the sweet sleep her eyes.

  By day she sits to mark on the house top, 240

  Or turrets high; and the great towns affrays;

  As mindful of ill and lies, as blasing truth.

  This monster blithe with many a tale gan sow

  This rumor then into the common ears:

  As well things done, as that was never wrought: 245

  As, that there comen is to Tyrian’s court

  Æneas, one outsprung of Troyan blood,

  To whom fair Dido would herself be wed:

  And that, the while, the winter long they pass

  In foul delight, forgetting charge of reign; 250

  Led against honour with unhonest lust.

  This in each mouth the filthy Goddess spreads;

  And takes her course to king Hiarbas straight,

  Kindling his mind; with tales she feeds his wrath;

  Gotten was he by Ammon Jupiter 255

  Upon the ravish’d nymph of Garamant.

  A hundred hugy, great temples he built

  In his far stretching realms to Jupiter;

  Altars as many kept with waking flame,

  A watch always upon the Gods to tend; 260

  The floors embru’d with yielded blood of beasts,

  And threshold spread with garlands of strange hue.

  He woode of mind, kindled by bitter bruit

  Tofore th’ altars, in presence of the Gods,

  With reared hands gan humbly Jove entreat: 265

  ‘Almighty God! whom the Moores’ nation

  Fed at rich tables presenteth with wine,

  See’st thou these things? or fear we thee in vain,

  When thou lettest fly thy thunder from the clouds?

  Or do those flames with vain noise us affray? 270

  A woman, that wandering in our coasts hath bought

  A plot for price, where she a city set;

  To whom we gave the strond for to manure,

  And laws to rule her town, our wedlock loathed,

  Hath chose Æneas to command her realm. 275

  That Paris now, with his unmanly sort,

  With mitred hats, with ointed bush and beard,

  His rape enjoyeth: whiles to thy temples we