Michael Drayton- Collected Poetical Works

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Michael Drayton- Collected Poetical Works Page 171

by Michael Drayton

No man as he, so skilfull is in fight;

  Expert in all, to Duels that belong,

  Train’d vp in Armes whilst yet he was but yong.

  The better, answered David, if his skill

  Equall his strength, for what is it to kill

  A common man? a common thing it were,

  Which hapneth euery day, and euery where;

  But for a Giant such a one as he,

  Vpon the Field to be subdu’d by me,

  This to all Nations shall be thought a thing

  Worthy of Israels God, and Israels King.

  I haue slaine a Lion and Beare, quoth he,

  And what is this vncircumcis’d to me

  More then a Beast. That onely God of might

  By whose great power I conquered these in fight.

  In spight of humane strength and greatnesse, can

  Giue to my hands this proud Philistian.

  When Saul thus sees that there was in his soule

  That courage which no danger could controule,

  A valour so invincible and hie,

  As naturally enabled him to flye

  Aboue all thought of perill, and to beare

  Him quite away beyond the bounds of feare;

  He caus’d an Armour for him to be brought,

  But first of all a garment richly wrought

  He puts vpon the braue youth and then bad

  That in those goodly Armes he should be clad

  Which put vpon him as to stirre he striues,

  He thinkes him selfe in and Giues,

  Their ponderousnesse him to the earth doth presse

  These Armes doe make his Actiuenesse fare lesse

  For he before had not bin vs’d to these,

  Nor him at all their boistrousnesse can please,

  His Gorget gauld his Neck, his Ghinne beneath,

  And most extreamly hindred him to breath.

  His Curats sit too close vpon his side,

  He in no hand his Helmet can abide,

  It is so heauy, and his Temples wrings,

  His Pouldrons pinch him, and be cumbrous things,

  His Gaunlets clumsit, and doe wring his Wrists,

  And be so stiffe he cannot clutch his Fists;

  His Guyses they so strong and stubb orne be,

  That for his life he cannot bend his knee;

  He knew not how to beare his brazen Shield,

  Such weapons Sheepheards were not vs’d to weeld,

  Their weight and their vnwildinesse was such,

  And they restraind his nimblenesse so much,

  That he prayd Saul of these he might be freed,

  It is not Armour that must doe the deed,

  Let me alone, saith he, and Ile prouide

  My selfe of Armes, this quarrell to decide.

  When forth he goes, shot for his Sling to looke,

  And neare the Campe he finds a perling Brooke,

  Whose shallow sides with Pebbles did abound,

  Where seeking such as massy were and round,

  He picks out fiue, away with him to bring,

  Such as he knew would fit his trusty Sling,

  And in his Scrip them closely doth bestow,

  By which he vowes Goliabs ouerthrow.

  When swift report throughout the Army runnes,

  That youthfull David one of Ishaes sonnes,

  A very and the yong’st of eight,

  With the Philistian was that day to fight;

  That great Goliah which so oft had brau’d

  Deiected Israel, and the combat crau’d

  With any one she to the field could bring,

  Now for it was so pertinent a thing,

  As that their freedome or subiection lay

  On the successe of this vnequall Fray,

  Th’euent thereof struck euery one with fcare,

  But his sad brethren most perplexed were,

  And to themselues thus say they: O that we

  So long should draw our lothed breath, to see

  That by the pride of this accursed Boy,

  Despised Israel should no more enioy

  Her ancientglories, but be made a slaue

  To proud Philistia; and our fathers graue

  Slandred by him; his Family and Name

  Branded by David with perpetuall shame.

  Curst be the time that he was hither sent,

  Curst be the time he came into our Tent.

  And now and then they purposed to fly,

  Nor would they stay to see their brother dye,

  But at the very point to take their way,

  Bethinke themselues, it better were to stay,

  To seeke his scattered limbes to peeces hew’d,

  And see them in some obscure earth

  In this sad manner whilst they murm’ring were,

  David is busied listning still to heare

  Of great Goliah: scarce can he refraine

  From calling for him; now in euery vaine

  His blood is dancing, and a sprightly fire

  Takes vp his bosome, which doth him inspire

  With more then humane courage, nor he can

  Conceiue a terror to proceed from man,

  His nerues and sinewes to that vigor grow,

  As that his strength assures him he can throw

  Through thicker Armes, then mortall yet could weeld.

  Vpon the suddaine, when through all the field

  The word was heard, Goliah now appeares,

  Which Davids heart in such strange manner cheeres,

  As that he feeles it caper in his breast.

  When soone that huge vncircumcised beast,

  As he was wont, betweene the hosts doth come,

  And with his harsh voyce, like an vnbrac’d Drum,

  Cals to the host of Israel, where’s your man

  You cowardly Nation, where’s your Champian

  To vndertake me, bring him to the field,

  Or to Philistia your subiection yeeld.

  It was full Summer, and the day so cleere,

  As not a little cloud did once appeare;

  In view of either Army, the free Sunne

  That t’wards the noonsted halfe his course had runne,

  On the Philistian darting his cleere rayes,

  His bright resulgent Armes so sundry wayes

  Reflects the bcames, as that he seemes to all

  Like that in painting we a Glory call,

  And from his Helmet sharpning like a Spyre,

  He lookt like to a Piramid on fire.

  And now before yong David should come in,

  The host of Israel somewhat doth begin

  To rouze it selfe; some climbe the nearest Tree,

  And some the tops of Tents, whence they might see

  How this vnarmed Youth himselfe would beare

  Against th’all-armed Giant (which they feare)

  Some get vp to the fronts of easie hills;

  That by their motion a vast murmure fills

  The neighbouring Valleys, that th’enemy thought

  Something would by the be wrought

  They had not heard of, and they long’d to see

  What strange or warlike stratagem’t should be.

  When soone they saw a goodly Youth descend

  Himselfe alone, none after to attend,

  That at his need with armes might him supply,

  As meerely carelesse of his enemy.

  His head vncouered, and his locks of hayre

  As he came on being play’d with by the ayre

  Tost to and fro, did with such pleasuremoue,

  As they had beene prouocatiues for loue:

  His sleeues stript vp aboue his elbowes were,

  And in his hand a stiffe short staffe did beare,

  Which by the leather to it, and the string,

  They easily might discerne to be a Sling;

  Suting to these he wore a Sheepheards Scrip,

  Which from his side hung downe vpon his Hip.


  Those for a Champion that did him disdaine,

  Cast with themseues what such a thing should meane,

  Some seeing him so wonderously faire,

  (As in their eyes he beyond compare)

  Their verdict gaue that they had sent him sure

  As a choice bayte their Champion to alure;

  Others againe, of iudgement more precise,

  Said they had sent him for a sacrifice.

  And though he seem’d thus to be very yong,

  Yet was he well proportioned and strong,

  And with a comely and vndaunted grace,

  Holding a steady and most euen pace,

  This way, nor that way, neuer stood to gaze,

  But like a man that death could not amaze,

  Came close vp to Goliah, and so neare

  As he might easily reach him with his Speare.

  Which when Goliah saw, why Boy quoth he,

  Thou despirate Youth, thou tak’st me sure to be

  Some Dog (I thinke) and vnder thy command,

  That thus art come to beat me with a wand:

  The Kites and Raucns are not farre away,

  Nor Beasts of rauin that shall make a ptey

  Of a poore corpse, which they from me shall

  And their soule bowels shall be all thy

  Vncircumcised slaue quoth Dauid then,

  That for thy shape, the monster art of men:

  Thou thus in brasse com’st arm’d into the field,

  And thy huge Speare of brasse, of brasse thy Shield

  I in the name of Israels God alone,

  That more then mighty, that eternall one,

  Am come to meet thee, who bids not to feare,

  Nor once respect the Armes that thou dost beare.

  Slaue, marke the earth whereon thou now dost stand,

  I’le make thy length to measure so much land,

  As thou lyest groueling and within this houre

  The Birds and Beasts thy carkasse shall deuoure.

  In meane time Dauid looking in his face,

  Betweene his temples, saw how large a space

  He was to hit, steps backe a yard or two,

  The Gyant wondring what the Youth would doe,

  Whose nimble hand, out of his Scrip doth bring

  A pebblestone, and puts it in his Sling,

  At which the Gyant openly doth ieere,

  And as in scorne, stands leaning on his Speare,

  Which giues yong Dauid much content to see,

  And to himselfe thus secretly saith he.

  Stand but one minute still, stand but so fast,

  And haue at all Philistia at a cast.

  When with such slight the shot away he sent,

  That from his Sling as’t had beene Lightning went;

  And him so full vpon the forehead smit,

  Which gaue a cracke, when his thicke scalpe it hit,

  As t’had bin throwne against some Rocke or Post,

  That the shrill clap was heard through either host.

  Staggering a while vpon his Speare he leant,

  Till on a sodaine, he began to faint;

  When downe he came, like an old o’regrowne Oake,

  His huge Roote hewne vp by the Labourers stroke,

  That with his very weight, he shooke the ground,

  His brazen armour gaue a iarring sound

  Like a crackt Bell, or vessell chanc’t to fall

  From some high place, which did like death apall

  The proud Philistians, (hopelesse that remaine)

  To see their Champion great Goliah slaine:

  When such a shout the host of Israel gaue,

  As cleft the clouds, and like to men that raue,

  (o’rcome with comfort) crye, the Boy, the Boy,

  O the braue Dauid, Israels onely ioy:

  Gods chosen Champion, O most wondrous thing,

  The great Goliah slaine with a poore Sling:

  Themselues in compasse nor can they containe,

  Now are they silent, then they shoute againe.

  Of which no notice, Dauid seemes to take,

  But towards the Body of the dead doth make;

  With a faire comely gate, nor doth he runne,

  As though he gloried in what he had done.

  But treading on th’ vncircumei’ed dead,

  With his foot, strikes the Helmet from his dead;

  Which with the sword, ta’n from the Gyantside,

  He from the body quickly doth diuide.

  Now the Philistians at this fearefull sight,

  Leauing their Armes, betake themselues to flight;

  Quitting their Tents, nor dare a minute stay,

  Time wants to carry any thing away,

  Being strongly rowted with a generall feare;

  Yet in pursute, Sauls Army strikes their Reare,

  To Ekron walles, and slew them as they fled,

  That Sharams plaines lay couered with the dead:

  And hauing put the Philistines to foyle,

  Backe to the Tents retire, and take the spoyle

  Of what they left, and ransacking they cry,

  A Dauid, Dauid, and the victory,

  When straight waies Saul, his Generall Abner sent

  For valiant Dauid, that incontinent

  He should repaire to Court, at whose command

  He comes along, and beareth in his hand

  The Gyants head, by th’long hayre of his crowne,

  Which by his actiue knee, hung dangling downe.

  And through the Army as he comes along,

  To gaze vpon him, the glad Souldiers throng:

  Some doe instile him Israels onely light,

  And other some the valiant

  With Coniayes all salute him as he past,

  And vpon him their gracious glances cast.

  He was thought base of him that did not boast,

  Nothing but Dauid, Dauid, through the host.

  The Virgins to their Timbrels frame their layes,

  Of him: till Saul grew iealous of his praise:

  But for his meed doth to his Wise receiue

  Sauls louely Daughter, where’tis time I leaue.

  FINIS.

  THE SHORTER POEMS

  CONTENTS

  SONNETS, 1594

  To the deere Chyld of the Muses, and his euer kind Mecænas, Ma. Anthony Cooke, Esquire

  Amour 1

  Amour 2

  Amour 3

  Amour 4

  Amour 5

  Amour 6

  Amour 7

  Amour 8

  Amour 9

  Amour 10

  Amour 11

  Amour 12

  Amour 13

  Amour 14

  Amour 15

  Amour 16

  Amour 17

  Amour 18

  Amour 19

  Amour 20

  Amour 21

  Amour 22

  Amour 23

  Amour 24

  Amour 25

  Amour 26

  Amour 27

  Amour 28

  Amour 29

  Amour 30

  Amour 31

  Amour 32

  Amour 33

  Amour 34

  Amour 35

  Amour 36

  Amour 37

  Amour 38

  Amour 39

  Amour 40

  Amour 41

  Amour 42

  Amour 43

  Amour 44

  Amour 45

  Amour 46

  Amour 47

  Amour 48

  Amour 49

  Amour 50

  Amour 51

  SONNETS, 1599

  Sonet 1

  Sonet 2

  Sonet 3

  Sonet 5

  Sonet 8

  Sonet 9

  Sonet 10

  Sonet 11

  Sonet 12

  Sonet 13

  Sonet 14

  Sonet 21

  Sonet 22

&n
bsp; Sonet 23

  Sonet 24

  Sonet 25

  Sonet 27

  Sonet 29

  Sonet 30

  Sonet 31

  Sonet 34

  Sonet 43

  Sonet 44

  Sonet 45

  Sonet 55

  Sonet 56

  Sonet 57

  Sonet 58

  SONNETS, 1602

  Sonnet 12

  Sonnet 17

  Sonnet 25

  Sonnet 27

  Sonnet 31

  Sonnet 41

  Sonnet 58

  Sonnet 63

  Sonnet 66

  SONNETS, 1605

  Sonnet 43

  Sonnet 46

  Sonnet 47

  Sonnet 50

  Sonnet 51

  Sonnet 57

  Sonnet 58

  To Sir Walter Aston, Knight of the honourable order of the Bath, and my most worthy Patron

  SONNETS, 1619

  SONNET 1

  SONNET 6

  SONNET 8

  His Remedie for Loue

  SONNET 21

  SONNET 27

  SONNET 36

  SONNET 48

  SONNET 52

  SONNET 61

  ODES, 1619

  TO HIMSELFE AND THE HARPE

  The Phocean it did proue

  TO THE NEW YEERE

  TO HIS VALENTINE

  THE HEART

  THE SACRIFICE TO APOLLO

  TO CVPID

  AN AMOVRET ANACREONTICK

  LOVES CONQVEST

  TO THE VIRIGINIAN VOYAGE

  AN ODE WRITTEN IN THE PEAKE

  HIS DEFENCE AGAINST THE IDLE CRITICK

  TO HIS RIVALL

  A SKELTONIAD

  THE CRYER

  TO HIS COY LOVE

  A HYMNE TO HIS LADIES BIRTH-PLACE

  TO THE CAMBRO-BRITANS AND THEIR HARPE, HIS BALLAD OF AGINCOVRT

  ODES, 1606

  ODE 4 TO MY WORTHY FREND, MASTER JOHN SAUAGE OF THE INNER TEMPLE

  ODE 8

  LAST VERSES

  SONNETS, 1594

  To the deere Chyld of the Muses, and his euer kind Mecænas, Ma. Anthony Cooke, Esquire

  Vovchsafe to grace these rude vnpolish’d rymes,

  Which long (dear friend) haue slept in sable night,

  And, come abroad now in these glorious tymes,

  Can hardly brook the purenes of the light.

  But still you see their desteny is such,

  That in the world theyr fortune they must try,

  Perhaps they better shall abide the tuch,

  Wearing your name, theyr gracious liuery.

  Yet these mine owne: I wrong not other men,

  Nor trafique further then thys happy Clyme,

  Nor filch from Portes, nor from Petrarchs pen,

  A fault too common in this latter time.

  Diuine Syr Phillip, I auouch thy writ,

  I am no Pickpurse of anothers wit.

  Yours deuoted,

  M. DRAYTON.

  Amour 1

 

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