HYMNE IV.

OF HEAVENLY BEAUTIE.

RAPT with the rage of mine own ravisht thought,
Through contemplation of those goodly sights,
And glorious images in Heaven wrought,
Whose wondrous beauty, breathing sweet delights,
Do kindle love in high conceipted sprights;
I faine to tell the things that I behold,

But feele my wits to faile, and tongue to fold.

Vouchsafe then, O thou most Almightie Spright!
From whom all guifts of wit and knowledge flow,
To shed into my breast some sparkling light
Of thine eternall truth, that I may show
Some little beames to mortall eyes below
Of that immortall Beautie, there with thee,
Which in my weake distraughted mynd I see;

That with the glorie of so goodly sight
The hearts of men, which fondly here admyre
Faire seeming shewes, and feed on vaine delight,
Transported with celestiall desyre

Of those faire formes, may lift themselves up hyer,
And learne to love, with zealous humble dewty,
Th' Eternall Fountaine of that heavenly beauty.

Beginning then below, with th' eașie vew
Of this base world, subiect to fleshly eye,
From thence to mount aloft, by order dew,
To contemplation of th' immortall sky;
Of the soare faulcon so I learne to flye,
That flags a while her fluttering wings beneath,
Till she her selfe for stronger flight can breath.

Then looke, who list thy gazefull eyes to feed
With sight of that is faire, looke on the frame
Of this wyde universe, and therein reed

The endlesse kinds of creatures which by name
Thou canst not count, much less their natures aime;
All which are made with wondrous wise respect,
And all with admirable beautie deckt.

First, th' Earth, on adamantine pillers founded
Amid the sea, engirt with brasen bands;
Then th' aire still flitting, but yet firmely bounded
On everie side, with pyles of flaming brands,
Never consum'd, nor quencht with mortall hands;
And, last, that mightie shining cristall wall,
Wherewith he hath encompassed this all.

By view whereof it plainly may appeare,
That still as every thing doth upward tend,
And further is from Earth, so still more cleare
And faire it growes, till to his perfect end
Of purest beautie it at last ascend;
Ayre more then water, fire much more then ayre,
And Heaven then fire, appeares more pure and
fayre.

Looke thou no further, but affixe thine eye

On that bright shynie round still moving masse, The house of blessed God, which men call skye, All sowd with glistring stars more thicke then grasse, Whereof each other doth in brightnesse passe, But those two most, which, ruling night and day, As king and queene, the Heavens empire sway;

And tell me then, what hast thou ever seene
That to their beautie may compared bee,
Or can the sight that is most sharpe and keene
Endure their captains flaming head to see?
How much lesse those, much higher in degree,
And so much fairer, and much more then these,
As these are fairer then the land and seas?

For farre above these Heavens, which here we see,
Not bounded, not corrupt, as these same bee,
Be others farre exceeding these in light,
But infinite in largenesse and in hight,
Unmoving, uncorrupt, and spotlesse bright,
That need no sunne t' illuminate their spheres,
But their owne native light farre passing theirs.

And as these Heavens still by degrees arize,
Until they come to their first movers bound,
That in his mightie compasse doth comprize,
And carrie all the rest with him around;
So those likewise doe by degrees redound,
And rise more faire, till they at last arive,
To the most faire, whereto they all do strive.

Faire is the Heaven where happy soules have place
In full enioyinent of felicitie,

Whence they doe still behold the glorious face
Of the Divine Eternall Maiestie;

More faire is that, where those idees on hie
Enraunged be, which Plato so admyred,
And pure intelligences from God inspyred.
Yet fairer is that Heaven, in which do raine
The soveraigne powres and mightie potentates,
Which in their high protections doe containe
All mortall princes and imperiall states;
And fayrer yet, whereas the royall seates
And heavenly dominations are set,
From whom all earthly governance is fet.

Yet farre more faire be those bright cherubins,
Which all with golden wings are overdight,
And those eternall burning seraphins,
Which from their faces dart out fierie light;
Yet fairer then they both, and much more bright,
Be th' angels and archangels, which attend
On Gods owne person, without rest or end.

These thus in faire each other farre excelling,
As to the highest they approach more near,
Yet is that highest farre beyond all telling,
Fairer then all the rest which there appeare,
Though all their beauties ioyn'd together were;
How then can mortall tongue hope to expresse
The image of such endlesse perfectnesse?

Cease then, my tongue! and lend unto my mynd
Leave to bethinke how great that beautie is,
Whose utmost parts so beautifull I fynd;
How much more those essentiall parts of his,
His truth, his love, his wisedome, and his blis,
His grace, his doome, his mercy, and his might,
By which he lends us of himselfe a sight!

Those unto all he daily doth display,
And shew himselfe in th' image of his grace,
As in a looking-glasse, through which he may
Be seene of all his creatures vile and base,
That are unable else to see his face,
His glorious face! which glistereth else so bright,
That th' angels selves can not endure his sight.

But we, fraile wights! whose sight cannot sustaine
The Suns bright beames when he on us doth shyne,
But that their points rebutted backe againe
Are duld, how can we see with feeble eyne
The glorie of that Maiestie divine,

In sight of whom both Sun and Moone are darke,
Compared to his least resplendent sparke ?

The meanes, therefore, which unto us is lent
Him to behold, is on his workes to looke,
Which he hath made in beauty excellent,
And in the same, as in a brasen booke,
To read enregistred in every nooke
His goodnesse, which his beautie doth declare;
For all thats good is beautifull and faire.

Thence gathering plumes of perfect speculation,
To impe the wings of thy high flying mynd,
Mount up aloft through heavenly contemplation,
From this darke world, whose damps the soule do
And, lyke the native brood of eagles kynd, [blynd,
On that bright Sunne of Glorie fixe thine eyes,
Clear'd from grosse mists of fraile infirmities.
Humbled with feare and awfull reverence,
Before the footestoole of his Maiestie
Throw thy selfe downe, with trembling innocence,
Ne dare looke up with córruptible eye

On the dred face of that Great Deity,
For feare, lest if he chaunce to look on thee,
Thou turne to nought, and quite confounded be.

But lowly fall before his mercie seate,
Close covered with the Lambes integrity
From the just wrath of his avengefull threate
That sits upon the righteous throne on hy;
His throne is built upon eternity,

More firme and durable then steele or brasse,
Or the hard diamond, which them both doth passe.

His scepter is the rod of Righteousnesse,
With which he bruseth all his foes to dust,
And the great dragon strongly doth represse,
Under the rigour of his iudgment iust;
His seate is Truth, to which the faithfull trust,
From whence proceed her beames so pure and bright,
That all about him sheddeth glorious light:

Light, farre exceeding that bright blazing sparke
Which darted is from Titans flaming head,
That with his beames enlumineth the darke
And dampish air, wherby al things are red;
Whose nature yet so much is marvelled
Of mortall wits, that it doth much amaze
The greatest wisards which thereon do gaze.
But that immortall light, which there doth shine,
Is many thousand times more bright, more cleare,
More excellent, more glorious, more divine,
Through which to God all mortall actions here,
And even the thoughts of men, do plaine appeare;
For from th' Eternall Truth it doth proceed, [breed.
Through heavenly vertue which her beames doe

With the great glorie of that wondrous light
His throne is all encompassed around,
And hid in his owne brightnesse from the sight
Of all that looke thereon with eyes unsound;
And underneath his feet are to be found
Thunder, and lightning, and tempestuous fyre,
The instruments of his avenging yre.

| There in his bosome Sapience doth sit,
The soveraine dearling of the Deity,
Clad like a queene in royall robes, most fit
For so great powre and peerelesse majesty,
And all with gemmes and iewels gorgeously
Adornd, that brighter then the starres appeare,
And make her native brightnes seem more cleare.
And on her head a crown of purest gold
Is set, in signe of highest soverainty;
And in her hand a scepter she doth hold,
With which she rules the house of God on hy,
And menageth the ever-moving sky,
And in the same these lower creatures all
Subiected to her powre imperiall.

Both Heaven and Earth obey unto her will,
And all the creatures which they both containe;
For of her fulnesse which the world doth fill
They all partake, and do in state remaine
As their great Maker did at first ordaine,
Through observation of her high beheast,
By which they first were made, and still increast.
The fairnesse of her face no tongue can tell;
For she the daughters of all wemens race,
And angels eke, in beautie doth excell,
Sparkled on her from Gods owne glorious face,
And more increast by her owne goodly grace,
That it doth farre exceed all humane thought,
Ne can on Earth compared be to ought.

Ne could that painter (had he lived yet)
Which pictured Venus with so curious quill,
That all posteritie admyred it,

Have purtray'd this, for all his maistring skill;
Ne she her selfe had she remained still,
And were as faire as fabling wits do fayne,
Could once come neare this beauty soverayne.

But had those wits, the wonders of their dayes,
Or that sweete Teian poet, which did spend
His plenteous vaine in setting forth her praise,
Seen but a glims of this which I pretend,
How wondrously would he her face commend,
Above that idole of his fayning thought,
That all the world should with his rimes be fraught!

How then dare I, the novice of his art,
Presume to picture so divine a wight,
Or hope t' expresse her least perfections part,
Whose beautie filles the Heavens with her light,
And darkes the Earth with shadow of her sight?
Ah, gentle Muse! thou art too weake and faint
The pourtraict of so heavenly hew to paint.

Let angels, which her goodly face behold
And see at will, her soveraigne praises sing,
And those most sacred mysteries unfold
Of that faire love of mightie Heavens King;
Enough is me t' admyre so heavenly thing,
And, being thus with her huge love possest,
In th' only wonder of her selfe to rest.

But whoso may, thrise happie man him hold,
Of all on Earth whom God so much doth grace,
And lets his owne beloved to behold;
For in the view of her celestiall face
All ioy, all blisse, all happinesse, have place;
Ne ought on Earth can want unto the wight
Who of her selfe can win the wishfull sight.

For she, out of her secret threasury,
Plentie of riches forth on him will powre,
Even heavenly riches, which there hidden ly
Within the closet of her chastest bowre,
Th' eternall portion of her precious dowre,
Which mighty God hath given to her free,
And to all those which thereof worthy bee.

None thereof worthy be, but those whom shee
Vouchsafeth to her presence to receave,
And letteth them her lovely face to see,
Whereof such wondrous pleasures they conceave,
And sweete contentment, that it doth bereave
Their soul of sense, through infinite delight,
And them transport from flesh into the spright.

In which they see such admirable things,
As carries them into an extasy,

And heare such heavenly notes and carolings
Of Gods high praise, that filles the brasen sky;
And feele such joy and pleasure inwardly,
That maketh them all worldly cares forget,
And onely thinke on that before them set.

;

Ne from thenceforth doth any fleshly sense,
Or idle thought of earthly things, remaine
But all that earst seemd sweet seemes now offense,
And all that pleased earst now seemes to paine:
Their ioy, their comfort, their desire, their gaine,
Is fixed all on that which now they see;
All other sights but fayned shadowes bee.

And that faire lampe which useth to enflame
The hearts of men with selfe-consuming fyre,
Thenceforth seemes fowle, and full of sinfull blame;
And all that pompe to which proud minds aspyre
By name of honor, and so much desyre,
Seemes to them basenesse, and all riches drosse,
And all mirth sadnesse, and all lucre losse.

So full their eyes are of that glorious sight,
And senses fraught with such satietie,
That in nought else on Earth they can delight,
But in th' aspect of that felicitie,

Which they have written in theyr inward ey;
On which they feed, and in theyr fastened mynd
All happie ioy and full contentment fynd.

Ah, then, my hungry soule! which long hast fed
On idle fancies of thy foolish thought,
And, with false beauties flattring bait misled,
Hast after vaine deceiptfull shadowes sought,
Which all are fled, and now have left thee nought
But late repentance through thy follies prief;
Ah! ceasse to gaze on matter of thy grief:

And looke at last up to that Soveraine Light,
From whose pure beams al perfect beauty springs,
That kindleth love in every godly spright,
Even the love of God; which loathing brings
Of this vile world and these gy-seeming things;
With whose sweet pleasures being so possest,
Thy straying thoughts henceforth for ever rest.

TO THE RIGHT NOBLE LADY MARY, DAUGHTER TO THE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCE, GEORGE, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.

MOST noble lady! I have presumed to present this poëm to your honourable hand, encouraged onely by the worth of the famous author, (for I am certainely assured, by the ablest and most knowing men, that it must be a worke of Spencers, of whom it were pitty that any thing should bee lost) and doubting not but your lady-ship will graciously accept, though from a meane hand, this humble present, since the man that offers it is a true honourer and observer of your selfe and your princely family, and shall ever remaine

the humblest of your devoted servants,

MARTIAL.

THOMAS WALKLEY.

Accipe facundi Culicem studiose Maronis, Ne nugis positis, arma virûmque canas. SEE here that stately Muse, that erst could raise In lasting numbers great Elizaes praise, And dresse fair Vertue in so rich attire, That even her foes were forced to admire And court her heavenly beauty! Shee that taught The Graces grace, and made the Vertues thought More vertuous than before, is pleased here To slacke her serious flight, and feed your eare With Love's delightsome toys: doe not refuse These harmlesse sports; 'tis learned Spencer's Muse; But think his loosest poëms worthier then The serious follies of vnskillfull men.

BRITTAIN'S IDA. CANTO I.

THE ARGUMENT.

The youthly shepheards wonning here,
And beauties rare displayd, appeare;
What exercise hee chiefe affects,
His name and scornefull love neglects.

IN Ida vale (who knowes not Ida vale?)
When harmlesse Troy yet felt not Græcian spite,
An hundred shepheards wonn'd, and in the dale,
While their faire flockes the three-leav'd pastures bite,
The shepheards boyes with hundred sportings light,

The printer's assertion is the only authority on which this poem has been admitted into the edi

Gave winges unto the times too speedy hast:
Ah, foolish lads! that strove with lavish wast
So fast to spend the time that spends your time as fast.

Among the rest, that all the rest excel'd,
A dainty boy there wonn'd, whose harmlesse yeares
Now in their freshest budding gently sweld;
His nimph-like face nere felt the nimble sheeres,
Youth's downy blossome through his cheeke ap-
peares;

His lovely limbes (but love he quite discarded)
Were made for play (but he no play regarded)
And fit love to reward, and with love be rewarded.

High was his fore-head, arch't with silver mould,
(Where never anger churlish rinkle dighted)
His auburne lockes hung like darke threds of gold,
That wanton aires (with their faire length incited)
To play among their wanton curles delighted;
His smiling eyes with simple truth were stor'd:
Ah! how should truth in those thiefe eyes be stor'd,
Which thousand loves had stol'n, and never one re-
stor❜d?

His lilly-cheeke might seeme an ivory plaine,
More purely white than frozen Apenine,
Where lovely Bashfulnesse did sweetly raine,
In blushing scarlet cloth'd and purple fine.
A hundred hearts had this delightfull shrine
(Still cold it selfe) inflam'd with hot desire,
That well the face might seem, in divers tire,
To be a burning snow, or else a freezing fire.

His cheerfull lookes and merry face would proove
(If eyes the index be where thoughts are read)
A dainty play-fellow for naked Love;
Of all the other parts enough is sed,
That they were fit twins for so fayre a head!
Thousand boyes for him, thousand maidens dy'de;
Dye they that list, for such his rigorous pride,
He thousand boyes (ah, foole!) and thousand maids
deni'd.

BRITTAIN'S IDA.

CANTO II.

THE ARGUMENT.

Diones garden of delight

With wonder holds Anchises sight; -While from the bower such musique sounds, As all his senses neere confounds.

ONE day it chanc't as hee the deere persude,
Tyred with sport, and faint with weary play,
Faire Venus grove not farre away he view'd,
Whose trembling leaves invite him there to stay,
Aud in their shades his sweating limbes display;
There in the cooling glade he softly paces,
And much delighted with their even spaces,
What in himselfe he scorn'd, hee prais'd their kind
imbraces.

The woode with Paphian myrtles peöpled, (Whose springing youth felt never winters spiting) To laurels sweete were sweetely married, Doubling their pleasing smels in their uniting; When single much, much more when mixt, delighting:

No foot of beaste durst touch this hallowed place, And many a boy that long'd the woods to trace, Entred with feare, but soone turn'd back his frighted face.

The thicke-lockt boughs shut out the tell-tale Sunne,
(For Venus hated his all-blabbing light,
Since her knowne fault, which oft she wisht undon)
And scattered rayes did make a doubtfull sight,
Like to the first of day or last of night:
The fittest light for lovers gentle play:
Such light best shewes the wandring lovers way,
And guides his erring hand: night is Love's holly-
day.

So farre in this sweet labyrinth he stray'd
That now he views the garden of Delight,
Whose breast, with thousand painted flowers array'd,
With divers ioy captiv'd his wandring sight;
But soon the eyes rendered the eares their right;
For such strange harmony he seem'd to heare,
That all his senses flockt into his eare,
And every faculty wisht to be seated there.

From a close bower this dainty musique flow'd,
A bower appareld round with divers roses,
Both red and white, which by their liveries show'd
Their mistris faire, that there her selfe reposes;
Seem'd that would strive with those rare musique
clozes,

By spreading their faire bosomes to the light,
Which the distracted sense should most delight;
That, raps the melted eare; this, both the smel
and sight.

"Fond men! whose wretched care the life soone end-
By striving to increase your ioy, do spend it; [ing,
And, spending ioy, yet find no ioy in spending;
You hurt your life by striving to amend it;
And, seeking to prolong it, soonest end it:
Then, while fit time affords thee time and leasure,
Enioy while yet thou mayst thy lifes sweet pleasure:
Too foolish is the man that starves to feed his trea-

sure.

"Love is lifes end; (an end, but never ending ;)
All ioyes, all sweetes, all happinesse, awarding;
Love is life's wealth (nere spent, but ever spending)
More rich by giving, taking by discarding;
Love's lifes reward, rewarded in rewarding:
Then from thy wretched heart fond care remoove;
Ah! shouldst thou live but once loves sweetes to
proove,

Thou wilt not love to live, unlesse thou live to love."

To this sweet voyce a dainty musique fitted
It's well-tun'd strings, and to her notes consorted,
And while with skilfull voyce the song she dittied,
The blabbing Echo had her words retorted;
That now the boy, beyond his soule transported,
Through all his limbes feeles run a pleasant shaking,
And, twixt a hope and feare, suspects mistaking,
And doubts he sleeping dreames, and broad awake
feares waking.

BRITTAIN'S IDA. CANTO III.

THE ARGUMENT.

Faire Cythereas limbes beheld,
The straying lads heart so inthral'd,
That in a trance his melted spright
Leaves th' sences slumbring in delight.

Her full large eye, in ietty-blacke array'd,
Prov'd beauty not confin'd to red and white,
But oft her selfe in blacke more rich display'd;
Both contraries did yet themselves unite,
To make one beauty in different delight;
A thousand Loves sate playing in each eye;
And smiling Mirth, kissing fair Courtesie,
By sweete perswasion wan a bloodlesse victory.
The whitest white, set by her silver cheeke,
Grew pale and wan, like unto heavy lead;
The freshest purple fresher dyes must seeke,
That dares compare with them his fainting red:
On these Cupido winged armies led

Of little Loves that, with bold wanton traine
Under those colours, marching on the plaine,
Force every heart, and to low vasselage constraine.

Her lips, most happy each in other's kisses,
From their so wisht imbracements seldome parted,
Yet seem'd to blush at such their wanton blisses;
But, when sweet words their ioyning sweet disparted,
To th' eare a dainty musique they imparted:
Upon them fitly sate, delightful smiling,
A thousand soules with pleasing stealth beguiling:
Ah! that such shews of ioyes should be all ioyes
exiling.

The breath came slowly thence, unwilling leaving
So sweet a lodge; but when she once intended
To feast the aire with words, the heart deceiving,
More fast it thronged so to be expended;
And at each word a hundred Loves attended,
Playing i' th' breath, more sweete than is that firing
Where that Arabian onely bird, expiring, [spiring.
Lives by her death, by losse of breath more fresh re-
Her chin, like to a stone in gold inchased,
Seem'd a fair iewell wrought with cunning hand,
And, being double, doubly the face graced :
This goodly frame on her round necke did stand;
Such pillar well such curious work sustain'd;
And, on his top the heavenly spheare up-rearing,
Might well present, with daintier appearing,
A lesse but better Atlas, that faire Heaven bearing.
Lower two breasts stand, all their beauties bearing,
Two breasts as smooth and soft; but, ah, alas!
Their smoothest softnes farre exceedes comparing;
More smooth and soft, but naught that ever was,
Where they are first, deserves the second place;
Yet each as soft and each as smooth as other;
And when thou first tri'st one, and then the other,
Each softer seemes then each, and each then each
seemes smoother.

Lowly betweene their dainty hemisphæres,
(Their hemispheres the heav'nly globes excelling)
A path more white than is the name it beares,
The lacteal path, conducts to the sweet dwelling
Where best Delight all ioyes sits freely dealing;
Where hundred sweetes, and still fresh ioyes attend-
Receive in giving; and, still love dispending, [ing,
Grow richer by their losse, and wealthy by expending.
But stay, bold shepheard! here thy footing stay,
Nor trust too much unto thy new-borne quill,
As farther to those dainty limbs to stray,
Or hope to paint that vale or beautious hill
Which past the finest hand or choycest skill:
But were thy verse and song as finely fram'd
As are those parts, yet should it soone be blam'd,
For now the shameles world of best things is asham'd.