10
The bloud of Martyrs dere were hir delite.
Most fierce and fell this woman seemde to me.
An Angell then descending downe from Heauen,
With thondring voice cride out aloude, and sayd,
Now for a truth great Babylon is fallen.
[14]
Then might I see vpon a white horse set
The faithfull man with flaming countenaunce,
His head did shine with crounes set therupon.
The worde of God made him a noble name.
5
His precious robe I saw embrued with bloud.
Then saw I from the heauen on horses white,
A puissant armie come the selfe same way.
Then cried a shining Angell as me thought,
That birdes from aire descending downe on earth
10
Should warre vpon the kings, and eate their flesh.
Then did I see the beast and Kings also
Ioinyng their force to slea the faithfull man.
But this fierce hatefull beast and all hir traine,
Is pitilesse throwne downe in pit of fire.
[15]
I saw new Earth, new Heauen, sayde Saint Iohn.
And loe, the sea (quod he) is now no more.
The holy Citie of the Lorde, from hye
Descendeth garnisht as a loued spouse.
5
A voice then sayde, beholde the bright abode
Of God and men. For he shall be their God,
And all their teares he shall wipe cleane away.
Hir brightnesse greater was than can be founde,
Square was this Citie, and twelue gates it had.
10
Eche gate was of an orient perfect pearle,
The houses golde, the pauement precious stone.
A liuely streame, more cleere than Christall is,
Ranne through the mid, sprong from triumphant seat.
There growes lifes fruite vnto the Churches good.
TO HIS BOOKE.
Goe little booke: thy selfe present,
As child whose parent is vnkent:
To him that is the president
Of noblesse and of cheualree,
5
And if that Enuie barke at thee,
As sure it will, for succoure flee
Vnder the shadow of his wing,
And asked, who thee forth did bring,
A shepheards swaine saye did thee sing,
10
All as his straying flocke he fedde:
And when his honor has thee redde,
Craue pardon for my hardyhedde.
But if that any aske thy name,
Say thou wert base begot with blame:
15
For thy thereof thou takest shame.
And when thou art past ieopardee,
Come tell me, what was sayd of mee:
And I will send more after thee.
Immeritô.
¶ To the most excellent and learned both Orator and Poete, Mayster Gabriell Haruey, his verie special and singular good frend E. K. commendeth the good lyking of this his labour, and the patronage of the new Poete.
VNCOVTHE VNKISTE, Sayde the olde famous Poete
Chaucer: whom for his excellencie and wonderfull skil in
making, his scholler Lidgate, a worthy scholler of so excellent
a maister, calleth the Loadestarre of our Language: and whom
5
our Colin clout in his Æglogue called Tityrus the God of
shepheards, comparing hym to the worthines of the Roman
Tityrus Virgile. Which prouerbe, myne owne good friend
Ma. Haruey, as in that good old Poete it serued well Pandares
purpose, for the bolstering of his baudy brocage, so very well
10
taketh place in this our new Poete, who for that he is vncouthe
(as said Chaucer) is vnkist, and vnknown to most men, is
regarded but of few. But I dout not, so soone as his name
shall come into the knowledg of men, and his worthines be
sounded in the tromp of fame, but that he shall be not onely
15
kiste, but also beloued of all, embraced of the most, and
wondred at of the best. No lesse I thinke, deserueth his
wittinesse in deuising, his pithinesse in vttering, his com
plaints of loue so louely, his discourses of pleasure so pleas-
antly, his pastorall rudenesse, his morall wisenesse, his dewe
20
obseruing of Decorum euerye where, in personages, in seasons,
in matter, in speach, and generally in al seemely simplycitie
of handeling his matter, and framing his words: the which of
many thinges which in him be straunge, I know will seeme
the straungest, the words them selues being so auncient, the
25
knitting of them so short and intricate, and the whole Periode
and compasse of speache so delightsome for the roundnesse,
and so graue for the straungenesse. And firste of the wordes
to speake, I graunt they be something hard, and of most men
vnused, yet both English, and also vsed of most excellent
30
Authors and most famous Poetes. In whom whenas this our
Poet hath bene much traueiled and throughly redd, how could
it be, (as that worthy Oratour sayde) but that walking in the
sonne although for other cause he walked, yet needes he
mought be sunburnt; and hauing the sound of those auncient
35
Poetes still ringing in his eares, he mought needes in singing
hit out some of theyr tunes. But whether he vseth them by
such casualtye and custome, or of set purpose and choyse, as
thinking them fittest for such rusticall rudenesse of
shepheards, eyther for that theyr rough sounde would make
40
his rymes more ragged and rustical, or els because such olde
and obsolete wordes are most vsed of country folke, sure I
think, and think I think not amisse, that they bring great grace
and, as one would say, auctoritie to the verse. For albe amongst
many other faultes it specially be obiected of Valla against
45
Liuie, and of other against Saluste, that with ouer much studie
they affect antiquitie, as coueting thereby credence and honor
of elder yeeres, yet I am of opinion, and eke the best learned
are of the lyke, that those auncient solemne wordes are a great
ornament both in the one and in the other; the one labouring
50
to set forth in hys worke an eternall image of antiquitie,
and the other carefully discoursing matters of grauitie and
importaunce. For if my memory fayle not, Tullie in that
booke, wherein he endeuoureth to set forth the paterne of a
perfect Oratour, sayth that ofttimes an auncient worde maketh
55
the style seeme graue, and as it were reuerend: no otherwise
then we honour and reuerence gray heares for a certein
religious regard, which we haue of old age. yet nether euery
where must old words be stuffed in, nor the commen Dialecte
and maner of speaking so corrupted therby, that as in old
60
buildings it seme disorderly and ruinous. But all as in most
exquisite pictures they vse to blaze and portraict not onely
the daintie lineaments of beautye, but also rounde about it
to shadow the rude thickets and craggy clifts, that by the
basenesse of such parts, more excellency may accrew to the
65
principall; for oftimes we fynde ourselues, I knowe not ho
w,
singularly delighted with the shewe of such naturall rudenesse,
and take great pleasure in that disorderly order. Euen so doe
those rough and harsh termes enlumine and make more clearly
to appeare the brightnesse of braue and glorious words. So
70
ofentimes a dischorde in Musick maketh a comely concordaunce:
so great delight tooke the worthy Poete Alceus to
behold a blemish in the ioynt of a wel shaped body. But if
any will rashly blame such his purpose in choyse of old and
vnwonted words, him may I more iustly blame and condemne,
75
or of witlesse headinesse in iudging, or of heedelesse hardinesse
in condemning. for not marking the compasse of hys bent, he
wil iudge of the length of his cast. for in my opinion it is one
special prayse, of many whych are dew to this Poete, that he
hath laboured to restore, as to theyr rightfull heritage such
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good and naturall English words, as haue ben long time out
of vse and almost cleare disherited. Which is the onely cause,
that our Mother tonge, which truely of it self is both ful
enough for prose and stately enough for verse, hath long time
ben counted most bare and barrein of both. which default
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when as some endeuoured to salue and recure, they patched
vp the holes with peces and rags of other languages, borrowing
here of the french, there of the Italian, euery where of the
Latine, not weighing how il, those tongues accorde with
themselues, but much worse with ours: So now they haue
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made our English tongue, a gallimaufray or hodgepodge of al
other speches. Other some not so wel seene in the English
tonge as perhaps in other languages, if them happen to here
an olde word albeit very naturall and significant, crye out
streight way, that we speak no English, but gibbrish, or rather
95
such, as in old time Euanders mother spake, whose first shame
is, that they are not ashamed, in their own mother tonge
straungers to be counted and alienes. The second shame no
lesse then the first, that what so they vnderstand not, they
streight way deeme to be sencelesse, and not at al to be
100
vnderstode. Much like to the Mole in Æsopes fable, that being
blynd her selfe, would in no wise be perswaded, that any beast
could see. The last more shameful then both, that of their
owne country and natural speach, which together with their
Nources milk they sucked, they haue so base regard and
105
bastard iudgement, that they will not onely themselues not
labor to garnish and beautifie it, but also repine, that of other
it shold be embellished. Like to the dogge in the maunger,
that him selfe can eate no hay, and yet barketh at the hungry
bullock, that so faine would feede: whose currish kind though
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cannot be kept from barking, yet I conne them thanke that
they refrain from byting.
Now for the knitting of sentences, whych they call the
ioynts and members therof, and for al the compasse of the
speach, it is round without roughnesse, and learned wythout
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hardnes, such indeede as may be perceiued of the leaste,
vnderstoode of the moste, but iudged onely of the learned.
For what in most English wryters vseth to be loose, and as it
were vngyrt, in this Authour is well grounded, finely framed,
and strongly trussed vp together. In regard wherof, I scorne
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and spue out the rakehellye route of our ragged rymers (for
so themselues vse to hunt the letter) which without learning
boste, without iudgement iangle, without reason rage and
fome, as if some instinct of Poeticall spirite had newly rauished
them aboue the meanenesse of commen capacitie. And being
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in the middest of all theyr brauery, sodenly eyther for want
of matter, or of ryme, or hauing forgotten theyr former
conceipt, they seeme to be so pained and traueiled in theyr
remembrance, as it were a woman in childebirth or as that
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same Pythia, when the traunce came vpon her.
Os rabidum fera corda domans &c.
Nethelesse let them a Gods name feede on theyr owne
folly, so they seeke not to darken the beames of others glory.
As for Colin, vnder whose person the Authour selfe is
shadowed, how furre he is from such vaunted titles and
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glorious showes, both him selfe sheweth, where he sayth.
Of Muses Hobbin. I conne no skill. And,
Enough is me to paint out my vnrest, &c.
And also appeareth by the basenesse of the name, wherein,
it semeth, he chose rather to vnfold great matter of argument
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couertly, then professing it, not suffice thereto accordingly.
which moued him rather in Æglogues, then other wise to
write, doubting perhaps his habilitie, which he little needed,
or mynding to furnish our tongue with this kinde, wherein it
faulteth, or following the example of the best and most auncient
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Poetes, which deuised this kind of wryting, being both so base
for the matter, and homely for the manner, at the first to trye
theyr habilities: and as young birdes, that be newly crept out
of the nest, by little first to proue theyr tender wyngs, before
they make a greater flyght. So flew Theocritus, as you may
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perceiue he was all ready full fledged. So flew Virgile, as not
yet well feeling his winges. So flew Mantuane, as being not
full somd. So Petrarque. So Boccace; So Marot, Sanazarus,
and also diuers other excellent both Italian and French Poetes,
whose foting this Author euery where followeth, yet so as
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few, but they be wel sented can trace him out. So finally flyeth
this our new Poete, as a bird, whose principals be scarce
growen out, but yet as that in time shall be hable to keepe
wing with the best.
Now as touching the generall dryft and purpose of his
160
Æglogues, I mind not to say much, him selfe labouring to
conceale it. Onely this appeareth, that his vnstayed yougth
had long wandred in the common Labyrinth of Loue, in which
time to mitigate and allay the heate of his passion, or els to
warne (as he sayth) the young shepheards .s. his equalls and
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companions of his vnfortunate folly, he compiled these xij.
Æglogues, which for that they be proportioned to the state
of the xij. monethes, he termeth the SHEPHEARDS CAL
ENDAR, applying an olde name to a new worke. Hereunto
The Shorter Poems Page 4