Skirmishing day by day,
With those that stop’d his way,
Where the French Gen’rall lay,
With all his Power.
Which in his Hight of Pride,
King HENRY to deride,
His Ransome to prouide
To the King sending. 20
Which he neglects the while,
As from a Nation vile,
Yet with an angry smile,
Their fall portending.
And turning to his Men,
Quoth our braue HENRY then,
Though they to one be ten,
Be not amazed.
Yet haue we well begunne,
Battels so brauely wonne, 30
Haue euer to the Sonne,
By Fame beene raysed.
And, for my Selfe (quoth he),
This my full rest shall be,
England ne’r mourne for Me,
Nor more esteeme me.
Victor I will remaine,
Or on this Earth lie slaine,
Neuer shall Shee sustaine,
Losse to redeeme me. 40
Poiters and Cressy tell,
When most their Pride did swell,
Vnder our Swords they fell,
No lesse our skill is,
Than when our Grandsire Great,
Clayming the Regall Seate,
By many a Warlike feate,
Lop’d the French Lillies.
The Duke of Yorke so dread,
The eager Vaward led; 50
With the maine, HENRY sped,
Among’st his Hench-men.
EXCESTER had the Rere,
A Brauer man not there,
O Lord, how hot they were,
On the false French-men!
They now to fight are gone,
Armour on Armour shone,
Drumme now to Drumme did grone,
To heare, was wonder; 60
That with the Cryes they make,
The very Earth did shake,
Trumpet to Trumpet spake,
Thunder to Thunder.
Well it thine Age became,
O Noble ERPINGHAM,
Which didst the Signall ayme,
To our hid Forces;
When from a Medow by,
Like a Storme suddenly, 70
The English Archery
Stuck the French Horses,
With Spanish Ewgh so strong,
Arrowes a Cloth-yard long,
That like to Serpents stung,
Piercing the Weather;
None from his fellow starts,
But playing Manly parts,
And like true English hearts,
Stuck close together. 80
When downe their Bowes they threw,
And forth their Bilbowes drew,
And on the French they flew,
Not one was tardie;
Armes were from shoulders sent,
Scalpes to the Teeth were rent,
Downe the French Pesants went,
Our Men were hardie.
This while our Noble King,
His broad Sword brandishing, 90
Downe the French Hoast did ding,
As to o’r-whelme it;
And many a deepe Wound lent,
His Armes with Bloud besprent,
And many a cruell Dent
Bruised his Helmet.
GLOSTER, that Duke so good,
Next of the Royall Blood,
For famous England stood,
With his braue Brother; 100
CLARENCE, in Steele so bright,
Though but a Maiden Knight,
Yet in that furious Fight,
Scarce such another,
WARWICK in Bloud did wade,
OXFORD the Foe inuade,
And cruell slaughter made,
Still as they ran vp;
SVFFOLKE his Axe did ply,
BEAVMONT and WILLOVGHBY 110
Bare them right doughtily,
FERRERS and FANHOPE.
Vpon Saint CRISPIN’S day
Fought was this Noble Fray,
Which Fame did not delay,
To England to carry;
O, when shall English Men
With such Acts fill a Pen,
Or England breed againe,
Such a King HARRY? 120
[When Brownistes banisht be,
Sectes and disloyalty,
Scizme and popery,
Then shall we flourish;
And when the greate shall aime
True justice to maintaine,
And shall imploye their braine
Vertue to nourish.]
POLY-OLBION
First published in 1612, this grand topographical poem describes in depth the lands of England and Wales. Drayton had begun working on the project since at least 1598. Divided into thirty songs, Poly-Olbion is composed in alexandrine couplets, consisting of almost 15,000 lines of verse. Drayton intended to compose a further part to cover Scotland, though no part of this work is known to have survived. Each song describes between one and three counties, describing their topography, traditions and histories. Copies were illustrated with maps of each county, drawn by William Hole, with places depicted anthropomorphically.
The original title page
CONTENTS
POLY-OLBION: VPON THE FRONTISPICE.
TO THE HIGH AND MIGHTIE, HENRIE, Prince of Wales.
TO THE GENERALL READER.
TO MY FRIENDS, THE CAMBRO-BRITANS.
POLY-OLBION: THE FIRST SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE SECOND SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE THIRD SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE FOURTH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE FIFT SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE SIXT SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE SEVENTH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE EIGHTH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE NINTH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE TENTH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE ELEVENTH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE TWELFTH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE THIRTEENTH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE FOURTEENTH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE FIFTEENTH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE SIXTEENTH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE SEVENTEENTH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE EIGHTEENTH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE NINETEENTH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE TWENTIETH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE ONE AND TWENTIETH SONG.
POLY-OLBION: THE TWO AND TWENTIETH SONG.
POLY-OLBION: THE THREE AND TWENTIETH SONG.
POLY-OLBION: THE FOUR AND TWENTIETH SONG.
POLY-OLBION: THE FIVE AND TWENTIETH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE SIXE AND TWENTIETH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE SEVEN AND TWENTIETH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE EIGHT AND TWENTIETH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE NINE AND TWENTIETH SONG
POLY-OLBION: THE THIRTIETH SONG
POLY-OLBION: VPON THE FRONTISPICE.
THROUGH a Triumphant Arch, see Albion plas’t,
In Happy site, in Neptunes armes embras’t,
In Power and Plenty, on hir Cleeuy Throne
Circled with Natures Ghirlands, being alone
Stil’d th’Oceans Island. On the Columnes beene
(As Trophies raiz’d) what Princes Time hath seene
Ambitious of her. In hir yonger years,
Vast Earth-bred Giants woo’d her: but, who bears
InGolden field the Lion passant red,
A Eneas Nephew (Brute) them conquered.
Next, Laureat Caesar, as a Philtre, brings,
On’s shield, his Grandame Venus: Him hir Kings
Withstood. At length, the Roman, by long sute,
Gain’d her (most Part) from th’ancient race of Brute.
Diuors’t from Him, the Saxonsable Horse,
Borne by sterne Hengist, wins her: but, through force
Garding the Norman Leopards bath’d in Gules,
She chang’d hir Loue to Him
, whose Line yet rules.
TO THE HIGH AND MIGHTIE, HENRIE, Prince of Wales.
THIS first part of my intended Poeme I consecrate to your Highnes: in whom (beside my particular zeale) there is a naturall interest in my Worke; as the hopefull Heyre of the kingdoms of this Great Britaine: whose Delicacies, Chorographicall Description, and Historie, be my subiect. My Soule, which hath seene the extreamitie of Time and Fortune, cannot yet despaire. The influence of so glorious and fortunate a Starre, may also reflect vpon me: which hath power to giue me new life, or leaue me to die more willingly and contented. My Poeme is genuine, and first in this kinde. It cannot want enuie: for, euen in the Birth, it alreadie finds that. Your Gracious acceptance, mighty Prince, will lessen it. May I breath to arriue at the Orcades (whither in this kind I intend my course, if the Muse faile me not) I shall leaue your whole British Empire, as this first and southerne part, delineated:
To your HIGHNES, the most humbly deuoted, MICHAEL DRAYTON.
BRITAINE, behold here portray’d, to thy sight,
Henry, thy best hope, and the world’s delight;
Ordain’d to make thy eight Great Henries, nine:
Who, by that vertue in the trebble Trine,
To his owne goodnesse (in his Being) brings
These seuerall Glories of th’eight English Kings;
Deep Knowledge, Greatnes, long Life, Policy,
Courage, Zeale, Fortune, awfull Maiestie.
He like great Neptune on three Seas shall roue,
And rule three Realms, with triple power, like Ioue;
Thus in soft Peace, thus in tempestuous Warres,
Till from his foote, his Fame shall strike the starres.
William Hole sculp:
TO THE GENERALL READER.
IN publishing this Essay of my Poeme, there is this great disaduantage against me; that it commeth out at this time, when Verses are wholly deduc’t to Chambers, and nothing esteem’d in this Iunatique Age, but what is kept in Cabinets, and must only passe by Transcription; In such a season, when the Idle Humerous world must heare of nothing, that either sauors of Antiquity, or may awake it to seeke after more, then dull and slothfull ignorance may easily reach vnto: These, I say, make much against me; and especially in a Poeme, from any example, either of Ancient, or Modern, that haue proued in this kind: whose vnusuall tract may perhaps seeme difficult, to the female Sex; yea, and I feare, to some that think theselues not meanly learned, being not rightly inspired by the Muses: such I meane, as had rather read the fantasies of forraine inuentions, then to see the Rarities & Historie of their owne Country deliuered by a true natiue Muse. Then, whosoeuer thou be, possest with such stupidity & dulnesse, that, rather then thou wilt take paines to search into ancient and noble things, choosest to remaine in the thicke fogges and mists of ignorance, as neere the common Lay-stall of a Citie; refusing to walke forth into the Tempe and of the Muses, where through most delightfull Groues the Angellique harmony of Birds shall steale thee to the top of an easie hill, where in artificiall caues, cut out of the most naturall Rock, thou shalt see the ancient people of this Ile deliuered thee in their liuely images: from whose height thou behold both the old and later times, as in thy prospect, lying farrevnder thee; then conuaying thee downe by a soule-pleasing Descent through delicate embrodered Meadowes, often veined with gentle gliding Brooks; in which thou maist fully view the dainty Nymphes in their simple naked bewties, bathing them in Crystalline streames; which shall lead thee, to most pleasant Downes, where harmlesse Shepheards are, some exercising their pipes, some singing roundelaies, to their gazing flocks: If as, I say, thou hadst rather, (because it asks thy labour) remaine, where thou wert, then straine thy selfe to walke forth with the Muses; the fault proceeds from thy idlenesse, not from any want in my industrie. And to any that shall demand wherfore hauing promised this Poeme of the generall Iland so many yeeres, I now publish only this part of it; I plainly answere, that many times I had determined with my selfe, to haue left it off, and haue neglected my papers sometimes two yeeres to gether, finding the times since his Maiesties happy comming in, to fall so heauily vpon my distressed fortunes, after my zealous soule had labored so long in that, which with the general happinesse of the kingdom, seem’d not then impossible somewhat also to haue aduanced me. But I instantly saw all my long nourisht hopes euen buried aliue before my face: so vncertaine (in this world) be the ends of our cleerest endeuors. And what euer is herein that tastes of a free spirit, I thankfully confesse it to proceed fro the continuall bounty of my truly Noble friend Sir Walter Aston; which hath giuen me the best of those howres, whose leasure hath effected this which I now publish. Sundry other Songs I haue also, though yet not so perfect that I dare comit them to publique censure; and the rest I determine to go forward with, God enabling me, may I find means to assist my endeuour. Now Reader, for the further vnderstanding of my Poeme, thou hast three especiall helps; First the Argument to direct thee still, where thou art, and through what Shires the Muse makes her iourney, and what she chiefly handles in the Song thereto belonging. Next, the Map, liuely delineating to thee, euery Mountaine, Forrest, Riuer, and Valley; expressing in their sundry postures; their loues, delights, and naturall situations. Then hast thou the illustration of this learned Gentleman, my friend, to explaine euery hard matter of history, that, lying farre from the way of common reading, may (without question) seem difficult vnto thee. Thus wishing thee thy hearts desire, and committing my Poeme to thy charitable censure, I take my leaue.
Thine, as thou art mine,
MICHAEL DRAYTON.
TO MY FRIENDS, THE CAMBRO-BRITANS.
TO haue you without difficulty vnderstand, how in this my intended progresse, through these vnited kingdomes of great Britaine, I haue placed your (and I must confesse) my loued Wales, you shall perceiue, that after the three first Songs, beginning with our French Ilands, Iernsey, and Iersey, with the rest; and perfecting in those first three the suruay of these sixe our most Westerne Countries, Cornwall, Deuon, Dorset, Hamp, Wilt, and Summerset; I then make ouer Seuerne into Wales, not farre from the midst of her Broad side that lieth against England. I tearme it her Broad side, because it lieth from Shrewsbury, stil along with Se¦uerne, till she lastly turne sea. And to explaine two lines of mine (which you shall fina in the fourth Song of my Poeme; but it is the first of Wales) which are these,
And ereseauen Books haue end, Ile strike so high a string,
Thy Bards shall stand amaz’d with wonder whilst I sing.
Speaking of seauen Books; you shall vnderstand that I continew Wales through somany; beginning in the fourth Song (where the nymphes of England and Wales, contena for the Ile of Lundy) and ending in the tenth; Striuing, as my much loued (the learned) Humfrey Floyd, in his description of Cambria to Abraham Ortelius, to vphold her auncient bounds, Seuerne, and Dee, and therefore haue included the parts of those three English Shiers of Gloster, Worster, and Sallop, that lie on the west of Seuerne, within their ancient mother Wales: In which if I haue not done her right, the want is in my ability, not in my loue. And beside my naturall inclination to lone Antiquitie (which Wales may highly boast of) I confesse, the free and gentle companie of that true louer of his Country (as of all ancient and noble things) M. Iohn Williams, his Maiesties Gold-smith, my deare and worthy friend, hath made me the more seek into the antiquities of your Country. Thus wishing your fauorable construction of these my faithfull endeuors, I bid you farewell.
Michael Drayton.
POLY-OLBION: THE FIRST SONG
The Argument
THE sprightly Muse her wing displaies,
And the French ilands first survaies;
Beares-up with Neptune, and in glory
Transcends proud Cornwalls promontorie;
There crownes Mount-Michaell, and discries 5
How all those riverets fall and rise;
Then takes in Tamer, as shee bounds
The Cornish and Devonian grounds.
And whilst the Devonshire-nymphes relate
Dert undertaketh to revive
Our Brute, and sings his first arrive:
Then North-ward to the verge shee bends,
And her first song at Ax shee ends.
OF Albions glorious Ile the wonders whilst I write,
The sundry varying soyles, the pleasures infinite
(Where heate kills not the cold, nor cold expells the heat,
The calmes too mildly small, nor winds too roughly great,
Nor night doth hinder day, nor day the night doth wrong, 5
The summer not too short, the winter not too long)
What helpe shall I invoke to ayde my Muse the while?
Thou genius of the place (this most renowned ile)
Which livedst long before the all-earth-drowning flood,
Whilst yet the world did swarme with her gigantick brood; 10
Goe thou before me still thy circling shores about,
And in this wandring maze helpe to conduct me out:
Direct my course so right, as with thy hand to showe
Which way thy forrests range, which way thy rivers flowe;
Wise genius, by thy helpe that so I may discry 15
How thy faire mountaines stand, and how thy vallyes lie;
From those cleere pearlie cleeves which see the mornings pride,
And check the surlie impes of Neptune when they chide,
Unto the big-swolne waves in the Iberian streame.
Where Titan still unyokes his fiery-hoofed teame, 20
And oft his flaming locks in lushious nectar steepes.
When from Olympus top he plungeth in the deepes:
That from th’Armorick sands, on surging Neptunes leas
Through the Hibernick Gulfe (those rough Vergivian seas)
My verse with wings of skill may flie a loftie gate, 25
As Amphitrite clips this iland fortunate,
Till through the sleepy maine to Thuly I have gone,
And seene the frozen iles, the cold Ducalidon,
Amongst whose iron rockes grym Saturne yet remaines,
Bound in those gloomie caves with adamantine chaines. 30
Yee sacred bards, that to your harps melodious strings
Sung th’ancient Heroes deeds (the monuments of Kings)
And in your dreadfull verse ingrav’d the prophecies,
Michael Drayton- Collected Poetical Works Page 78