The fleete thou driu’st is fraughted with our woes,
But windes and seas, do Edwards wracke conspire;
For when iust heauen to chastice vs is bent,
All things conuert to our due punishment.
20
Thy coasts be kept with a continuall ward,
Thy Beacons watch’d her comming to discry;
O had the loue of subiects beene thy guard,
T’had beene t’effect that thou didst fortifie;
But whilst thou standst gainst forraigne foes prepard,
Thou art betraide by thy home enemy;
Small helpe by this thou art but like to win,
Shutting death out, thou keep’st destruction in.
21
When Henry brother to that haplesse Prince,
The first great engine of this ciuill strife,
(Deere Lancaster) who law did late conuince,
And that at Pomfret left his wretched life;
This Henry, in whose great hart euer since
Reuenge lay couerd, smotherd vp in griefe,
Like fire in some fat minerall of the earth,
Finding the least vent, giues it selfe a birth.
22
That being Earle Marshall, great vpon the coast,
With bells and bon-fires welcomes her ashore,
And by his office gath’ring vp an hoast,
Shewes the old malice in his breast he bore,
Nor of his helpe abash’d at all to boast,
The Clergies power in readinesse before,
Vpon their friends a great taxation laide,
To raise munition for the present aide.
23
And to confusion all their power expose,
On the rent bosome of this Ile, where long
Warre did it selfe so stedfastly inclose;
(warre from our owne lewd desolutenesse sprong)
Whom no inuasion euer yet could lose;
So old the malice, and so great the wrong,
Vrg’d with the force that forraigne fire doth bring,
A greater spoile, and horror menacing.
24
This inuouation by an altred state,
Lent this new action such a violent hand,
That it thus boldly dare insinuate,
On the cold faintnesse of the feebled Land;
And being arm’d with all the power of fate,
Finding a way so openly to stand
To their intendments, which endeuoured well,
Might get that height from whence at first they fel.
25
When all their strength in order strictly set,
All helps and doubts by warres best counsailes waid,
What well might further, what their course might let,
And their reliefes conueniently had laid,
A meane reseru’d securitie to get,
Whereon at worst their fortune might be stayd,
And furnish’d fully as themselues desir’d,
Of all this action needefully requir’d.
26
And at Saint Edmonds doe a while repose,
To rest themselues, and their new welcom’d force,
Better to learne the manner of their foes,
To th’end, not vainely to direct their course;
And seeing daily how the Armie growes,
To take a full view both of foote and horse;
With such discretion managing the war,
Truly to shew them what indeede they are.
27
When now the King of these proceedings heard,
And of the troopes that to them daily runne,
And little strength at London yet preparde,
Where he expected fauour to haue wonne,
He now commits the Cittie to the guard
Of his approu’d most-trusted Stapleton,
To Iohn of Eltham (his faire sonne) the Tower,
Himselfe to Wales to raise a speedy power.
28
Yet whilst his name doth any hope admit,
Proclaimes in forfait both of goods and life,
All that enioyde a subiects benefit,
Should lend their power against his sonne and wife,
And doth all slaughters generally acquite
Were done vpon the moouers of this strife:
And who could bring in Mortimers prowd head,
Should freely take th’reuenewes of the dead.
29
Which strait encountred by the Queenes Edict,
who making knowne the iustnes of her cause,
That she proceeded in a course so strict,
T’vphold their antient liberties and lawes;
Nor that she did this punishment inflict
For priuate hate, or popular applause,
Onely the Spensers to account to bring,
Whose wicked counsells had abusde the King.
30
Which ballasing the multitude that stood
As a light barke thats tosst twixt winde and tide,
Turnd in the mixture of th’opposed flood,
when yet opinion not their course could guide,
And wau’ring thus in their inconstant moode,
Till by the weakenes of th’emperiall side,
Suffers the seisure of it selfe at last,
which to the Queene all free aduantage cast.
31
When friendlesse Edward followed by his foes,
whom danger dooth to recreant flight debase,
As poore in hope, as he is rich in woes,
Depriu’d all princely ornament and grace,
whose force th’more weakened further that he goes,
His safety now suspecting eu’ry place;
No helpe at home, no succour seene abroade,
His minde small rest, his body lesse abode.
32
One scarce to him his sad discourse hath done
Of Henaults power, and what the Queene intends,
But whilst he speakes, another hath begunne,
A third dooth take it where the second ends,
when now abroade theres other rumours runne,
Some of new foes, some of reuolting friends;
These scarcely past when more reports are spred,
Of many that rebell, of many fled.
33
What plagues doth Edward for himselfe prepare,
Forsaken king, O whither doost thou she?
Men change their clime, but sildome change their care,
Thou fli’st thy foes, but follow’st misery,
The euill fates in number many are,
That to thy footsteps doe themselues apply;
And still thy conscience prickt with inward griefe,
Thy selfe pursues thy selfe, both robd, and thiefe.
34
Accepting succour offerd next at hand,
At last for Wales commits him to the seas;
And seeing Lundy that so faire dooth stand,
Puts in for succour, (neede would faine haue ease)
This little modell of his banisht land,
Which for a while his fancie seemes to please,
Faine would he be king of a little Ile,
Although his Empire bounded in a mile.
35
And ready now to strike his prosp’rous saile,
As vnder lee, past danger of the flood,
A suddaine storme of mixed •leet and haile,
Not suffers him to rule this peece of wood.
What doth thy labour, what thy toyle auaile,
When thou art still with greater powers with-stood?
Edward, thy hopes all vainely do delude,
By Gods and men, incessantly pursude.
36
In this blacke tempest long turmoild and tost,
Quite from their course, & well they know not where,
Mongst rockes and sands, in danger to be lost,
without in perrill, and within
in feare,
At length perceiuing they are neere the coast,
And that the place more plainely doth appeare,
Knowes by the mountaines insolently tall,
That part of Wales that we Glamorgan call.
37
To Neath, a Castell fortifi’d and strong,
Commanding entrance with his banish’d crew,
The Earle of Gloster, worker of much wrong,
The Chancelor Baldocke that much euill knew,
Reding his Marshall is the rest among,
Heere hid from eyes, but not from enuies view;
where for a while committing them to dwell,
We must prepare more dreadfull things to tell,
38
You lighter Muses, leaue me, and be gone,
Your weake complaints are matters much too slight,
More horred plagues are heere approching on,
Yee ghastly spirits that haunt the gloomie night,
Lend me your shreeks t’expresse the depth of moane,
with ghastly howling all approach my sight;
And round about with funerall tapers stand,
To giue a sad light to my sadder hand.
39
Each line shall leade to some dire point of wo,
And eu’ry cadence as a torturde cry,
Now must my teares in such aboundance flow,
That they surround the circle of mine eye;
And whilst these great calamities I show,
All loose affections stand you idely by,
Once more our cleere Muse dips her wing in gore,
The dreerest tale that pen did ere deplore.
40
New sorts of vengeance threatned to the earth,
The raging Ocean past the bounds to rise,
Strange apparitions, and prodigious birth,
Vnheard of sicknesse, and mortalities,
More inaccustom’d, and vnlook’d for dearth,
New sorts of Meteors gazing from the skies;
As what before had small or nothing bin,
And onely now our miseries begin.
41
And whilst these discordes and dissentions breede,
The land layd naked to all offered ill,
The lawlesse exile now returnes with speed,
Not to defend his countrey, but to kill,
And all the prisons dissolutely freed,
Both field and towne with wretchednes to fill,
London first author of our latest shame,
Soonst that repentst, most plagued for the same.
42
Whose giddy commons mercilesse and rude,
Let loose to mischiefe in this cursed day,
Their hands in blood of Edwards friends imbrude,
Neuer content till they were made away;
Th’implacable and wicked multitude
On the Lieutenant Stapleton doe pray,
who dragg’d and torne by this tumultuous heape,
Cut off his head before the Crosse in Cheape.
43
Reade wofull Citty on thy ruinde wall,
Thy sad destruction which is drawing nie,
Where on thy gates is charactered thy fall,
In mangled bodies thine Anatomy,
Now thy lewd errours to a reckning call,
Which may exstract teares from thy ruthlesse eye:
And if the thicke ayre dim thy hatefull sight,
Thy buildings are on fire to giue thee light.
44
Thy chanels serue for incke, for paper, stones,
And on the ground write murther, incest, rape,
Aud for thy pennes, a heape of dead mens bones,
Let euery letter besome monstrous shape,
Thy poynts and accents be departing groanes,
And let no vile, nor desperate act escape,
And when with pride thou arte againe ore’gon,
Then take this booke, and sadly looke thereon.
45
Poore wretch dispoilde of thy late Virgins name,
Now for thy sinne what impious villaine shent,
Blacke is my incke, but blacker thy defame,
Who shall reuenge whilst I thy state lament,
What might be done to remedy thy shame,
When now too late these mischieses to preuent,
Against these horrors thou doost idely striue,
Thou seest thy selfe deuoured, yet aliue.
46
Thou wantst redresse, and tyrannie remorce,
To whom shouldst thou thy helples woes complaine?
But yeelde thy selfe to the adulterers force,
Thy wordes vntimely, and returne in vaine,
The more thou grieu’st, thy fault is still the worse;
This remedy there onely dooth remaine,
Dispoylde of fame, be prodigall of breath,
And make thy life cleere by a resolute death.
47
For worlds that were, the present times complaine,
when men might haue beene buride when they di’de,
And children safely in their cradles laine,
And when the husband might enioy his bride,
when in some bounds ill could it selfe containe,
The sonne haue kneeld by’s fathers death-bed side,
The liuing wrongde, the dead no right can haue,
The father sees his sonne to want a graue.
48
But tis too late thy head-strong course t’recall,
Depriude all feeling of externall feare;
These deadly sounds by their continuall fall,
Settle confusion in thy deafned eare,
This is the last, O would the worst of all!
Shreekes be the musicke thou delightst to heare,
Armes thy attire, and wounds be all thy good,
Thy end consists in rapine and in blood.
49
In glorious age of whom it should be said,
That all these mischieues should abound in thee,
That all these sinnes should to thy charge be laid,
From no calumnious nor vile action free,
O let not time vs with thy ills vpbrayd,
Lest feare what hath beene, argue what may be;
And fashioning so a habite in the minde,
Make vs alone the haters of our kinde.
50
O powrefull heauen, in whose all-soueraigne raine,
Those thy pure bodies mooue in harmony,
And by a strong and euerlasting chaine,
Together linckt in sacred vnitie;
In which you doe continually remaine,
Stayd in one certaine course eternally,
Why his due motion keepeth eu’ry star,
Yet what they gouerne so irregular?
51
Muse, in the course of this vnnaturall warre,
Tell me from whence this height of mischiefe grew,
That in so short time spread it selfe so farre,
Whereon such strange calamities ensue;
The true occasions faithfully declare:
O men religious, was the fault in you?
Which euen growne resty by your powre, withdraw
Your stifned neckes, as free from ciuill awe.
52
What wonder then the people grow prophane,
When Church mens liues giue lay-men leaue to fall;
Their former Doue-like humblenesse disdaine,
For coates of haire, now clad in costly pall,
The holy Ephod made a cloke for gaine,
And what most cunning, most cannonicall,
And blinde promotion shuns that dangerous road,
Which the old Prophets diligently troad.
53
Hence ist that God so slightly is ador’d,
The rocke remoou’d whereon our faith is gounded,
Conscience esteemde but as an idle word,
Which weake before, by vaine opinion wounded,<
br />
Professors liues so little fruit affoord,
And in her sects religion lies confounded;
The sacred things a merchandize become,
None talks of texts, and prophecying dumbe.
54
And of the former being thus possest,
Like to the venome of infectious ayre,
That hauing got into the secret breast,
Is not prescribde, nor long times staies it there;
But from this ground to seize vpon the rest,
The rancke contagion spreading eu’ry where;
That ere this euill hath the vtmost done,
The solide body lastly ouer-runne.
55
Cauells breake forth to cancell wholesome lawes,
And caching hold vpon the publique weale,
Where doubts should cease, they rise in euery clawse,
The sword that wounds ordaind a salue to heale,
One mischeefe still another forward drawes,
Each striuiug others vilenesse to conceale,
By lewd corruptions in a needefull vse,
Right cloakes all wrong, and couers all abuse.
56
When now the King late taken to this hold,
And in this poore imprisned libertie,
Liuing a death in hunger, want, and cold,
Euen in depth of woe and miserie;
By hatefull treason secretly is sold,
Before he could the trecherous drift espy;
For when oppression’s vp vnto the chin,
Who lends not hand to thrust him boldly in?
57
In th’lucklesse fortunes of this wretched King,
whose person’s seised by th’inuading part,
Vnto his friends sad matters menacing,
With bloodlesse terror striking eu’ry hart,
All expectation now discouraging,
When no euasion from the foe to start;
And that the clowd which threatned greatest feare,
Rose whence their hopes most brightest did appeare.
58
Which breaking in now with a generall force,
On the two Spensers, from whose onely hate
This warre first sprung, distracted in their course,
Their latest power confined by their fate,
Of whom theres none takes pittie or remorce;
Which to avoide, as cankers of the state,
The eldest first to death at Bristow led,
Where hangde to death, his body quartered.
59
Whenas the heire to Winchester late dead,
The bloody lot to th’Earle of Gloster fell,
Reding the Marshall, marshald with the dead,
When soone succeedes the Earle of Arundell,
To pay the forfait of a reuerent head,
Then Muchelden, and wofull Daniell,
Who followed him in his lasciuious waies,
Must go before him to his fatall daies.
60
Euen like some pillar, on whose goodly height,
Michael Drayton- Collected Poetical Works Page 66