Michael Drayton- Collected Poetical Works

by Michael Drayton

  Reade heere (sweet Mayd) the story of my wo,

  The drery abstracts of my endles cares,

  With my liues sorow enterlyned so;

  Smok’d with my sighes, and blotted with my teares:

  The sad memorials of my miseries,

  Pend in the griefe of myne afflicted ghost;

  My liues complaint in doleful Elegies,

  With so pure loue as tyme could neuer boast.

  Receaue the incense which I offer heere,

  By my strong fayth ascending to thy fame,

  My zeale, my hope, my vowes, my praise, my prayer,

  My soules oblation to thy sacred name:

  Which name my Muse to highest heauen shal raise

  By chast desire, true loue, and vertues praise.

  Amour 2

  My fayre, if thou wilt register my loue,

  More then worlds volumes shall thereof arise;

  Preserue my teares, and thou thy selfe shall proue

  A second flood downe rayning from mine eyes.

  Note but my sighes, and thine eyes shal behold

  The Sun-beames smothered with immortall smoke;

  And if by thee, my prayers may be enrold,

  They heauen and earth to pitty shall prouoke.

  Looke thou into my breast, and thou shall see

  Chaste holy vowes for my soules sacrifice:

  That soule (sweet Maide) which so hath honoured thee,

  Erecting Trophies to thy sacred eyes;

  Those eyes to my heart shining euer bright,

  When darknes hath obscur’d each other light.

  Amour 3

  My thoughts bred vp with Eagle-birds of loue,

  And, for their vertues I desiered to know,

  Vpon the nest I set them forth, to proue

  If they were of the Eagles kinde or no:

  But they no sooner saw my Sunne appeare,

  But on her rayes with gazing eyes they stood;

  Which proou’d my birds delighted in the ayre,

  And that they came of this rare kinglie brood.

  But now their plumes, full sumd with sweet desire,

  To shew their kinde began to clime the skies:

  Doe what I could my Eaglets would aspire,

  Straight mounting vp to thy celestiall eyes.

  And thus (my faire) my thoughts away be flowne,

  And from my breast into thine eyes be gone.

  Amour 4

  My faire, had I not erst adorned my Lute

  With those sweet strings stolne from thy golden hayre,

  Vnto the world had all my ioyes been mute,

  Nor had I learn’d to descant on my faire.

  Had not mine eye seene thy Celestiall eye,

  Nor my hart knowne the power of thy name,

  My soule had ne’er felt thy Diuinitie,

  Nor my Muse been the trumpet of thy fame.

  But thy diuine perfections, by their skill,

  This miracle on my poore Muse haue tried,

  And, by inspiring, glorifide my quill,

  And in my verse thy selfe art deified:

  Thus from thy selfe the cause is thus deriued,

  That by thy fame all fame shall be suruiued.

  Amour 5

  Since holy Vestall lawes haue been neglected,

  The Gods pure fire hath been extinguisht quite;

  No Virgin once attending on that light,

  Nor yet those heauenly secrets once respected;

  Till thou alone, to pay the heauens their dutie

  Within the Temple of thy sacred name,

  With thine eyes kindling that Celestiall flame,

  By those reflecting Sun-beames of thy beautie.

  Here Chastity that Vestall most diuine,

  Attends that Lampe with eye which neuer sleepeth;

  The volumes of Religions lawes shee keepeth,

  Making thy breast that sacred reliques shryne,

  Where blessed Angels, singing day and night,

  Praise him which made that fire, which lends that light.

  Amour 6

  In one whole world is but one Phoenix found,

  A Phoenix thou, this Phoenix then alone:

  By thy rare plume thy kind is easly knowne,

  With heauenly colours dide, with natures wonder cround.

  Heape thine own vertues, seasoned by their sunne,

  On heauenly top of thy diuine desire;

  Then with thy beautie set the same on fire,

  So by thy death thy life shall be begunne.

  Thy selfe, thus burned in this sacred flame,

  With thine owne sweetnes al the heauens perfuming,

  And stil increasing as thou art consuming,

  Shalt spring againe from th’ ashes of thy fame;

  And mounting vp shall to the heauens ascend:

  So maist thou liue, past world, past fame, past end.

  Amour 7

  Stay, stay, sweet Time; behold, or ere thou passe

  From world to world, thou long hast sought to see,

  That wonder now wherein all wonders be,

  Where heauen beholds her in a mortall glasse.

  Nay, looke thee, Time, in this Celesteall glasse,

  And thy youth past in this faire mirror see:

  Behold worlds Beautie in her infancie,

  What shee was then, and thou, or ere shee was.

  Now passe on, Time: to after-worlds tell this,

  Tell truelie, Time, what in thy time hath beene,

  That they may tel more worlds what Time hath seene,

  And heauen may ioy to think on past worlds blisse.

  Heere make a Period, Time, and saie for mee,

  She was the like that neuer was, nor neuer more shalbe.

  Amour 8

  Vnto the World, to Learning, and to Heauen,

  Three nines there are, to euerie one a nine;

  One number of the earth, the other both diuine,

  One wonder woman now makes three od numbers euen.

  Nine orders, first, of Angels be in heauen;

  Nine Muses doe with learning still frequent:

  These with the Gods are euer resident.

  Nine worthy men vnto the world were giuen.

  My Worthie one to these nine Worthies addeth,

  And my faire Muse one Muse vnto the nine;

  And my good Angell, in my soule diuine,

  With one more order these nine orders gladdeth.

  My Muse, my Worthy, and my Angell, then,

  Makes euery one of these three nines a ten.

  Amour 9

  Beauty sometime, in all her glory crowned,

  Passing by that cleere fountain of thine eye,

  Her sun-shine face there chaunsing to espy,

  Forgot herselfe, and thought she had been drowned.

  And thus, whilst Beautie on her beauty gazed,

  Who then, yet liuing, deemd she had been dying,

  And yet in death some hope of life espying,

  At her owne rare perfections so amazed;

  Twixt ioy and griefe, yet with a smyling frowning,

  The glorious sun-beames of her eyes bright shining,

  And shee, in her owne destiny diuining,

  Threw in herselfe, to saue herselfe by drowning;

  The Well of Nectar, pau’d with pearle and gold,

  Where shee remaines for all eyes to behold.

  Amour 10

  Oft taking pen in hand, with words to cast my woes,

  Beginning to account the sum of all my cares,

  I well perceiue my griefe innumerable growes,

  And still in reckonings rise more millions of dispayres.

  And thus, deuiding of my fatall howres,

  The payments of my loue I read, and reading crosse,

  And in substracting set my sweets vnto my sowres;

  Th’ average of my ioyes directs me to my losse.

  And thus mine eyes, a debtor to thine eye,

  Who by extortion gaineth all t
heyr lookes,

  My hart hath payd such grieuous vsury,

  That all her wealth lyes in thy Beauties bookes;

  And all is thine which hath been due to mee,

  And I a Banckrupt, quite vndone by thee.

  Amour 11

  Thine eyes taught mee the Alphabet of loue,

  To con my Cros-rowe ere I learn’d to spell;

  For I was apt, a scholler like to proue,

  Gaue mee sweet lookes when as I learned well.

  Vowes were my vowels, when I then begun

  At my first Lesson in thy sacred name:

  My consonants the next when I had done,

  Words consonant, and sounding to thy fame.

  My liquids then were liquid christall teares,

  My cares my mutes, so mute to craue reliefe;

  My dolefull Dypthongs were my liues dispaires,

  Redoubling sighes the accents of my griefe:

  My loues Schoole-mistris now hath taught me so,

  That I can read a story of my woe.

  Amour 12

  Some Atheist or vile Infidell in loue,

  When I doe speake of thy diuinitie,

  May blaspheme thus, and say I flatter thee,

  And onely write my skill in verse to proue.

  See myracles, ye vnbeleeuing! see

  A dumbe-born Muse made to expresse the mind,

  A cripple hand to write, yet lame by kind,

  One by thy name, the other touching thee.

  Blind were mine eyes, till they were seene of thine,

  And mine eares deafe by thy fame healed be;

  My vices cur’d by vertues sprung from thee,

  My hopes reuiu’d, which long in graue had lyne:

  All vncleane thoughts, foule spirits, cast out in mee

  By thy great power, and by strong fayth in thee.

  Amour 13

  Cleere Ankor, on whose siluer-sanded shore

  My soule-shrinde Saint, my faire Idea, lyes;

  O blessed Brooke! whose milk-white Swans adore

  The christall streame refined by her eyes:

  Where sweet Myrh-breathing Zephyre in the spring

  Gently distils his Nectar-dropping showers;

  Where Nightingales in Arden sit and sing

  Amongst those dainty dew-empearled flowers.

  Say thus, fayre Brooke, when thou shall see thy Queene:

  Loe! heere thy Shepheard spent his wandring yeeres,

  And in these shades (deer Nimphe) he oft hath been,

  And heere to thee he sacrifiz’d his teares.

  Fayre Arden, thou my Tempe art alone,

  And thou, sweet Ankor, art my Helicon.

  Amour 14

  Looking into the glasse of my youths miseries,

  I see the ugly face of my deformed cares,

  With withered browes, all wrinckled with dispaires,

  That for my mis-spent youth the tears fel from my eyes.

  Then, in these teares, the mirror of these eyes,

  Thy fayrest youth and Beautie doe I see

  Imprinted in my teares by looking still on thee:

  Thus midst a thousand woes ten thousand joyes arise.

  Yet in those joyes, the shadowes of my good,

  In this fayre limned ground as white as snow,

  Paynted the blackest Image of my woe,

  With murthering hands imbru’d in mine own blood:

  And in this Image his darke clowdy eyes,

  My life, my youth, my loue, I heere Anotamize.

  Amour 15

  Now, Loue, if thou wilt proue a Conqueror,

  Subdue thys Tyrant euer martyring mee;

  And but appoint me for her Tormentor,

  Then for a Monarch will I honour thee.

  My hart shall be the prison for my fayre;

  Ile fetter her in chaines of purest loue,

  My sighs shall stop the passage of the ayre:

  This punishment the pittilesse may moue.

  With teares out of the Channels of mine eyes

  She’st quench her thirst as duly as they fall:

  Kinde words vnkindest meate I can deuise,

  My sweet, my faire, my good, my best of all.

  Ile binde her then with my torne-tressed haire,

  And racke her with a thousand holy wishes;

  Then, on a place prepared for her there,

  Ile execute her with a thousand kisses.

  Thus will I crucifie, my cruell shee;

  Thus Ile plague her which hath so plagued mee.

  Amour 16

  Vertues Idea in virginitie,

  By inspiration, came conceau’d with thought:

  The time is come deliuered she must be,

  Where first my loue into the world was brought.

  Vnhappy borne, of all vnhappy day!

  So luckles was my Babes nativity,

  Saturne chiefe Lord of the Ascendant lay,

  The wandring Moone in earths triplicitie.

  Now, or by chaunce or heauens hie prouidence,

  His Mother died, and by her Legacie

  (Fearing the stars presaging influence)

  Bequeath’d his wardship to my soueraignes eye;

  Where hunger-staruen, wanting lookes to liue,

  Still empty gorg’d, with cares consumption pynde,

  Salt luke-warm teares shee for his drink did giue,

  And euer-more with sighes he supt and dynde:

  And thus (poore Orphan) lying in distresse

  Cryes in his pangs, God helpe the motherlesse.

  Amour 17

  If euer wonder could report a wonder,

  Or tongue of wonder worth could tell a wonder thought,

  Or euer ioy expresse what perfect ioy hath taught,

  Then wonder, tongue, then ioy, might wel report a wonder.

  Could all conceite conclude, which past conceit admireth,

  Or could mine eye but ayme her obiects past perfection,

  My words might imitate my deerest thoughts direction,

  And my soule then obtaine which so my soule desireth.

  Were not Inuention stauld, treading Inuentions maze,

  Or my swift-winged Muse tyred by too hie flying;

  Did not perfection still on her perfection gaze,

  Whilst Loue (my Phoenix bird) in her owne flame is dying,

  Inuention and my Muse, perfection and her loue,

  Should teach the world to know the wonder that I proue.

  Amour 18

  Some, when in ryme they of their Loues doe tell,

  With flames and lightning their exordiums paynt:

  Some inuocate the Gods, some spirits of Hell,

  And heauen, and earth doe with their woes acquaint.

  Elizia is too hie a seate for mee:

  I wyll not come in Stixe or Phlegiton;

  The Muses nice, the Furies cruell be,

  I lyke not Limbo, nor blacke Acheron,

  Spightful Erinnis frights mee with her lookes,

  My manhood dares not with foule Ate mell:

  I quake to looke on Hecats charming bookes,

  I styll feare bugbeares in Apollos cell.

  I passe not for Minerua nor Astræa.

  But euer call vpon diuine Idea.

  Amour 19

  If those ten Regions, registred by Fame,

  By theyr ten Sibils haue the world controld,

  Who prophecied of Christ or ere he came,

  And of his blessed birth before fore-told;

  That man-god now, of whom they did diuine,

  This earth of those sweet Prophets hath bereft,

  And since the world to iudgement doth declyne,

  Instead of ten, one Sibil to vs left.

  Thys pure Idea, vertues right Idea,

  Shee of whom Merlin long tyme did fore-tell,

  Excelling her of Delphos or Cumæa,

  Whose lyfe doth saue a thousand soules from hell:

  That life (I meane) which doth Religion teach,


  And by example true repentance preach.

  Amour 20

  Reading sometyme, my sorrowes to beguile,

  I find old Poets hylls and floods admire:

  One, he doth wonder monster-breeding Nyle,

  Another meruailes Sulphure Aetnas fire.

  Now broad-brymd Indus, then of Pindus height,

  Pelion and Ossa, frosty Caucase old,

  The Delian Cynthus, then Olympus weight,

  Slow Arrer, franticke Gallus, Cydnus cold.

  Some Ganges, Ister, and of Tagus tell,

  Some whir-poole Po, and slyding Hypasis;

  Some old Pernassus where the Muses dwell,

  Some Helycon, and some faire Simois:

  A, fooles! thinke I, had you Idea seene,

  Poore Brookes and Banks had no such wonders beene.

  Amour 21

  Letters and lynes, we see, are soone defaced,

  Mettles doe waste and fret with cankers rust;

  The Diamond shall once consume to dust,

  And freshest colours with foule staines disgraced.

  Paper and yncke can paynt but naked words,

  To write with blood of force offends the sight,

  And if with teares, I find them all too light;

  And sighes and signes a silly hope affoords.

  O, sweetest shadow! how thou seru’st my turne,

  Which still shalt be as long as there is Sunne,

  Nor whilst the world is neuer shall be done,

  Whilst Moone shall shyne by night, or any fire shall burne:

  That euery thing whence shadow doth proceede,

  May in his shadow my Loues story reade.

  Amour 22

  My hart, imprisoned in a hopeless Ile,

  Peopled with Armies of pale iealous eyes,

  The shores beset with thousand secret spyes,

  Must passe by ayre, or else dye in exile.

  He framd him wings with feathers of his thought,

  Which by theyr nature learn’d to mount the skye;

  And with the same he practised to flye,

  Till he himself thys Eagles art had taught.

  Thus soring still, not looking once below,