Michael Drayton- Collected Poetical Works

by Michael Drayton

As fit to under-goe the full and weightie load.

  And of the fleecie face, the flanke doth nothing lack,

  But everywhere is stor’d; the belly, as the back.

  The faire and goodly flock, the shepheards onely pride, 265

  As white as winters snowe, when from the rivers side

  He drives his new-washt sheepe; or on the sheering day,

  When as the lusty ram, with those rich spoyles of May

  His crooked homes hath crown’d; the bell-weather, so brave

  As none in all the flock they like themselves would have. 270

  But Muse, returne to tell, how there the sheepheards King,

  Whose flock hath chanc’t that yeere the earliest lambe to bring,

  In his gay bauldrick sits at his lowe grassie bord,

  With fawns, curds, clowted-creame, and country dainties stored:

  And, whilst the bag-pipe playes, each lustie jocund swaine 275

  Quaffes sillibubs in kans, to all upon the plaine,

  And to their country-girles, whose nosegayes they doe weare,

  Some roundelayes doe sing: the rest, the burthen beare.

  But Cotswold, be this spoke to th’onely praise of thee,

  That thou of all the rest, the chosen soyle should’st bee, 280

  Faire Isis to bring-forth (the mother of great Tames)

  With those delicious brooks, by whose immortall streames

  Her greatnesse is begunne: so that our rivers King,

  When he his long descent shall from his bel-sires bring,

  Must needs (great pastures Prince) derive his stem by thee, 285

  From kingly Cotswolds selfe, sprung of the third degree:

  As th’old worlds heroes wont, that in the times of yore,

  On Neptune, Jove, and Mars, themselves so highly bore.

  But easely from her source as Isis gently dades;

  Unto her present ayde, downe through the deeper slades, 290

  The nimbler footed Churne, by Cisseter doth slide;

  And first at Greeklade gets preheminence to guide;

  Queene Isis on her way, ere shee receive her traine.

  Cleere Colne, and lively Leech, so downe from Cotswolds plaine, 294

  At Leechlade linking hands, come likewise to support

  The mother of great Tames. When, seeing the resort,

  From Cotswold Windrush scowres; and with her selfe doth cast

  The traine to over-take, and therefore hies her fast

  Through the Oxfordian fields; when (as the last of all

  Those floods, that into Tames out of our Cotswold fall, 300

  And farth’st unto the north) bright Enload forth doth beare.

  For, though it had been long, at length she came to heare

  That Isis was to Tame in wedlock to be ti’d:

  And therefore shee prepar’d t’attend upon the bride;

  Expecting, at the feast, past ordinarie grace. 305

  And beeing neere of kinne to that most spring-full place,

  Where out of Blockleys banks so many fountaines flowe,

  That cleane throughout his soyle proud Cotswold cannot showe

  The like: as though from farre, his long and many hills,

  There emptied all their vaines, where with those founts hee fills, 310

  Which in the greatest drought so brimfull still doe float,

  Sent through the rifted rocks with such an open throat,

  As though the cleeves consum’d in humor; they alone,

  So crystalline and cold, as hardneth stick to stone.

  But whilst this while we talke, the farre divulged fame 315

  Of this great bridale tow’rd, in Phoebus mightie name

  Doth bid the Muse make haste, and to the bridehouse speed;

  Of her attendance there least they should stand in need.

  POLY-OLBION: THE FIFTEENTH SONG

  The Argument

  THE guests heere to the bride-house hie.

  The goodly Vale of Al’sbury

  Sets her sonne (Tame) forth, brave as May,

  Upon the joyfull wedding day:

  Who, deckt up, tow’rds his bride is gone, 5

  So lovely Isis comming on,

  At Oxford all the Muses meet her,

  And with a Prothalamion greet her.

  The nymphs are in the bridall bowres,

  Some strowing sweets, some sorting flowres: 10

  Where lustie Charwell himselfe raises,

  And sings of rivers, and their praises,

  Then Tames his way tow’rd Windsore tends.

  Thus, with the song, the mariage ends.

  Now fame had through this ile divulg’d, in every eare,

  The long-expected day of mariage to be neere,

  That Isis, Cotswolds heire, long woo’d was lastly wonne,

  And instantly should wed with Tame, old Chiltern’s sonne.

  And now that wood-mans wife, the mother of the flood. 5

  The rich and goodly Vale of Alsbury, that stood

  So much upon her Tame was busied in her bowres,

  Preparing for her sonne, as many sutes of flowres,

  As Cotswold for the bride, his Isis, lately made;

  Who for the lovely Tame, her bridegroome, onely staid. 10

  Whilst every crystall flood is to this business prest,

  The cause of their great speed and many thus request;

  O! whither goe yee floods? what suddaine wind doth blowe,

  Then other of your kind, that you so fast should flowe?

  What busines is in hand, that spurres you thus away?

  Faire Windrush let me heare, I pray thee Charwell say: 16

  They suddainly reply, What lets you should not see

  That for this nuptiall feast we all prepared bee?

  Therefore this idle chat our eares doth but offend:

  Our leysure serves not now these trifles to attend. 20

  But whilst things are in hand, old Chiltern (for his life)

  From prodigall expense can no way keepe his wife;

  Who feedes her Tame with marie, in cordiall-wise prepar’d,

  And thinks all idly spent, that now she onely spar’d

  In setting forth her sonne: nor can shee thinke it well,

  Unlesse her lavish charge doe Cotswold’s farre excell.

  For, Alsbury’s a vale that walloweth in her wealth, 27

  And (by her wholesome ayre continually in health)

  Is lustie, frim, and fat, and holds her youthfull strength.

  Besides her fruitfull earth, her mightie breadth and length, 30

  Doth Chiltern fitly match: which mountainously hie,

  And beeing very long, so likewise shee doth lie;

  From the Bedfordian fields, where first she doth begin,

  To fashion like a vale, to th’place where Tame doth win

  His Isis wished bed; her soyle throughout so sure, 35

  For goodnesse of her gleabe, and for her pasture pure,

  That as her graine and grasse, so shee her sheepe doth breed,

  For burthen and for boans all other that exceed:

  And shee, which thus in wealth aboundantly doth flowe,

  Now cares not on her child what cost shee doe bestowe. 40

  Which when wise Chiltern saw (the world who long had try’d,

  And now at last had layd all garish pompe aside;

  Whose hoare and chalkie head discry’d him to be old,

  His beechen woods bereft that kept him from the cold)—”

  Would faine perswade the vale to hold a steddy rate;

  And with his curious wife, thus wisely doth debate:

  Quoth hee, you might allow what needeth, to the most:

  But where as lesse will serve, what meanes this idle cost?

  Too much, a surfet breeds, and may our child annoy:

  These fat and lushious meats doe but our stomacks cloy. 50

  The modest comly meane, in all things likes the wise,

  Apparrell oft
en shewes us womanish precise.

  And what will Cotswold thinke when he shall heare of this?

  Hee’ll rather blame your waste, then praise your cost iwiss.

  But, women wilfull be, and shee her will must have,

  Nor cares how Chiltern chides, so that her Tame be brave. 56

  Alone which tow’rds his love shee easely doth convay:

  For the Oxonian Ouze was lately sent away

  From Buckingham, where first he finds his nimbler feet;

  Tow’rds Whittlewood then takes: where, past the noblest street, 60

  Hee to the forrest gives his farewell, and doth keepe

  His course directly downe into the German deepe,

  To publish that great day in mightie Neptunes hall,

  That all the sea-gods there might keep it festivall.

  As wee have told how Tame holds on his even course, 65

  Returne we to report, how Isis from her sourse

  Comes tripping with delight, downe from her daintier springs;

  And in her princely traine, t’attend her marriage, brings

  Cleere Churnet, Colne, and Leech, which first she did retaine,

  With Windrush: and with her (all out-rage to restraine 70

  Which well might offred be to Isis as shee went)

  Came Yenload with a guard of satyres, which were sent

  From Whichwood, to await the bright and god-like dame.

  So, Bemwood did bequeath his satyres to the Tame,

  For sticklers in those stirres that at the feast should bee. 75

  These preparations great when Charwell comes to see,

  To Oxford got before, to entertaine the flood,

  Apollo’s ayde he begs, with all his sacred brood,

  To that most learned place to welcome her repaire.

  Who in her comming on, was wext so wondrous faire, 80

  That meeting, strife arose betwixt them, whether they

  Her beauty should extoll, or shee admire their bay.

  On whom their severall gifts (to amplifie her dowre)

  The Muses there bestowe; which ever have the power

  Immortal] her to make. And as — shee — past along, 85

  Those modest Thespian maids thus to their Isis song;

  Yee daughters of the hills, come downe from every side,

  And due attendance give upon the lovely bride:

  Goe strewe the paths with flowers by which shee is to passe,

  For be yee thus assur’d, in Albion never was 90

  A beautie (yet) like hers: where have yee ever seene

  So absolute a nymph in all things, for a Queene?

  Give instantly in charge the day be wondrous faire,

  That no disorderd blast attempt her braided haire.

  Goe, see her state prepar’d, and everything be fit, 95

  The bride-chamber adorn’d with all beseeming it.

  And for the princely groome, who ever yet could name

  A flood that is so fit for Isis as the Tame?

  Yee both so lovely are, that knowledge scarce can tell,

  For feature whether hee, or beautie shee excell: 100

  That ravished with joy each other to behold,

  When as your crystall wasts you closely doe enfold,

  Betwixt your beautious selves you shall beget a sonne,

  That when your lives shall end, in him shall be begunne.

  The pleasant Suriyan shores shall in that flood delight, 105

  And Kent esteeme her selfe most happy in his sight.

  The shire that London loves, shall onely him prefer,

  And give full many a gift to hold him neer to her.

  The Skeld, the goodly Mose, the rich and viny Rheine,

  Shall come to meet the Thames in Neptunes watry plaine. 110

  And all the Belgian streames and neighboring floods of Gaul,

  Of him shall stand in awe, his tributaries all.

  As of fayre Isis thus, the learned virgins spake,

  A shrill and suddaine brute this Prothalamion brake;

  That White-horse, for the love she bare to her ally,

  And honored sister vale, the bountious Alsbury, 116

  Sent presents to the Tame by Ock her onely flood,

  Which for his mother vale, so much on greatnesse stood.

  From Oxford, Isis hasts more speedily, to see

  That river like his birth might entertained bee: 120

  For, that ambitious vale, still striving to commaund,

  And using for her place continually to stand,

  Proud White-horse to perswade, much busines there hath been

  T’acknowledge that great Yale of Evsham for her Queen.

  And but that Evsham is so opulent and great, 125

  That thereby shee her selfe holds in the soveraigne seat,

  This White-horse all the vales of Britaine would or’ebeare,

  And absolutely sit in the imperiall chaire;

  And boasts as goodly heards, and numerous flocks to feed;

  To have as soft a gleabe, as good increase of seed;

  As pure and fresh an ayre upon her face to flowe, 131

  As Evsham for her life: and from her steed doth showe,

  Her lustie rising downes, as faire a prospect take

  As that imperious wold: which her great Queene doth make

  So wondrously admyr’d, and her so farre extend. 135

  But, to the mariage, hence, industrious Muse descend.

  The Naiads, and the nymphs extreamly over-joy’d,

  And on the winding banks all busily imploy’d,

  Upon this joyfull day, some dainty chaplets twine:

  Some others chosen out, with fingers neat and fine,

  Brave anadems doe make: some bauldricks up do bind: 141

  Some, garlands: and to some, the nosegaies were assign’d;

  As best their skill did serve. But, for that Tame should be

  Still man-like as him selfe, therefore they will that he

  Should not be drest with flowers, to gardens that belong 145

  (His bride that better fitte) but onely such as sprong

  From the replenisht meads, and fruitfull pastures neere.

  To sort with flowers, some sit; some making garlands were;

  The primrose placing first, because that in the spring

  It is the first appeares, then onely florishing; 150

  The azur’d hare-bell next, with them, they neatly mixt:

  T’allay whose lushious smell, they woodbind plac’t betwixt.

  Amongst those things of sent, there prick they in the lilly:

  And neere to that againe, her sister daffadilly.

  To sort these flowers of showe, with th’other that were sweet, 155

  The cowslip then they couch, and th’oxslip, for her meet:

  The columbine amongst they sparingly doe set,

  The yellow king-cup, wrought in many a curious fret,

  And now and then among, of eglantine a spray,

  By which againe a course of lady-smocks they lay:

  The crow-flower, and there-by the clover-flower they stick, 161

  The daysie, over all those sundry sweets so thick,

  As Nature doth her selfe; to imitate her right:

  Who seems in that her pearle so greatly to delight,

  That every plaine therewith she powdreth to beholde:

  The crimsin darnell flower, the blew-bottle, and gold:

  Which though esteem’d but weeds; yet for their dainty hewes, 167

  And for their sent not ill, they for this purpose chuse.

  Thus having told you how the bridegroome Tame was drest,

  lie shew you, how the bride, faire Isis, they invest;

  Sitting to be attyr’d under her bower of state, 171

  Which scornes a meaner sort, then fits a princely rate.

  In anadems for whom they curiously dispose

  The red, the dainty white, the goodly damask rose,

  For the rich ruby
, pearle, and amatist, men place 175

  In Kings emperiall crownes, the circle that enchase.

  The brave carnation then, with sweet and soveraigne power

  (So of his colour call’d, although a July-flower)

  With th’other of his kinde, the speckled and the pale:

  Then th’odoriferous pink, that sends forth such a gale 180

  Of sweetnes; yet in sents, as various as in sorts.

  The purple violet then, the pansie there supports:

  The mary-gold above t’adorne the arched bar:

  The dubble daysie, thrift, the button-batcheler,

  Sweet william, sops in wine, the campion: and to these, 185

  Some lavender they put, with rosemary and bayes:

  Sweet marjoram, with her like, sweet basill rare for smell,

  With many a flower, whose name were now too long to tell:

  And rarely with the rest, the goodly flower-delice.

  Thus for the nuptiall houre, all fitted point-device.

  Whilst some still busied are in decking of the bride,

  Some others were again as seriously imploy’d 192

  In strewing of those hearbs, at bridalls us’d that be;

  Which every where they throwe with bountious hands and free.

  The healthfull balme and mint, from their full laps doe fly, 195

  The sent-full camomill, the verdurous costmary.

  They hot muscado oft with milder maudlin cast:

  Strong tansey, fennell coole, they prodigally waste:

  Cleere isop, and therewith the comfortable thyme,

  Germander with the rest, each thing then in her prime; 200

  As well of wholesome hearbs, as every pleasant flower,

  Which Nature here produc’t, to fit this happy houre.

  Amongst these strewing kinds, some other wilde that growe,

  As burnet, all abroad, and meadow-wort they throwe.

  Thus all things falling out to every ones desire, 205

  The ceremonies done that mariage doth require,

  The bride and bridegroome set, and serv’d with sundry cates,

  And every other plac’t, as fitted their estates;

  Amongst this confluence great, wise Charwell here was thought

  The fitst to cheare the guests: who throughly had been taught 210

  In all that could pertaine to court-ship, long agon,

  As comming from his sire, the fruitfull Helidon,

  He travelleth to Tames; where passing by those townes

  Of that rich country neere, whereas the mirthfull clownes,

  With taber and the pipe, on holydayes doe use 215

  Upon the may-pole greene, to trample out their shooes;

  And having in his eares the deepe and solemne rings,