Mirror for Magistrates.

T. Bensley, Printer,
Bolt Court, Fleet Street, London.

Mirror for Magistrates.

EDITED BY
JOSEPH HASLEWOOD.

VOLUME II. PART II.

LONDON:
PRINTED FOR
LACKINGTON, ALLEN, AND CO. FINSBURY SQUARE;
AND
LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, PATERNOSTER ROW.
1815.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

Volume II.

[THE
Mirrour for Magistrates,
AS] A
WINTER
NIGHT’S
VISION
Being an addition of svch Princes especially
famous, who were exempted in the
former Historie.
PART IV.
By RICHARD NICCOLS,
Oxon. Mag. Hall.
From the edition imprinted by Felix
Kyngston, 1610.

TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE,
the Lord Charles Howard,
Earle of Notingham, Baron of
Effingham, Knight of the noble Order
of the Garter, Lord high Admirall of
England, Ireland and Wales, &c.
one of his Maiestie’s most
Honorable priuie
Counsell.

As once that doue (true honor’s aged lord)

Houering with wearied wings about your arke,

When Cadiz towers did fal beneath your sword,

To rest her selfe did single out that barke:

So my meeke muse, from all that conquering rout,

Conducted through the sea’s wilde wildernes

By your great selfe, to graue their names about

Th’Iberian pillars of Joue’s Hercules:

Most humblie craues your lordly lions aid

Gainst monster enuie, while she tels her storie

Of Britaine princes, and that royall maid,

In whose chaste hymne her Clio sings your glorie:

Which if (great lord) you grant, my muse shall frame

Mirrours more worthie your renowned name.

Your Honor’s euer most humblie
deuoted,
Richard Nicols.

TO THE READER.

Cvrteous Reader, before I enter into the discourse of what I haue written, I will acquaint you with the causes why I haue written. Hauing spent some truant houres in the study of this art, and willing to imploy my pen to the benefit of mine owne studies, and the profit and pleasure of others, I chanced in reading that worthy work, intituled, The Mirrour for Magistrates, to coniecture, if I should vndertake that imperfect historie, that not only experience, the mother of prudence, would furnish my priuate studies with better iudgement; but also that I could not better benefit others, by offering them a taste of the vnsauourie fruits of my labours; then by giuing them paternes to shun vice and follow vertue: in this coniecture my voluntarie will, not to do nothing, did set such edge vpon my desire, and the presidents of diuers learned, yea, some noble personages, pen-men of that worke, gaue me such encouragement, that though I wanted not iudgement to know, that I should want skill to compasse it; yet that want of skil, being supplied with good wil to do wel, I haue collected the liues of ten famous princes, worthie mirrours, omitted in the former part of this worke: which I present not in their proper places, as I did purpose, but as a part of themselues with dependancie vpon an Induction, that the reader may obserue that method of arguments before euery life, which I did intend to haue continued through the whole worke, if time and mine owne affaires would haue suffered me to proceed, but being called away by other employments, I must of force leaue it either vnto those, whose good opinion of so worthie an historie, may induce their endeuors towards the perfecting of the same, or vntil I shal find occasion hereafter to continue that, now almost finished, which I haue left vnaccomplished; of those ten, which I haue penned, the last, though it were written before in the former part, yet for that the matter and stile thereof were generally disliked of M. Ferrers, M. Baldwine, and others: and also for that many principall occurrents in the same were exempted, I haue written againe, placing it in his order, being the last of the ten. In the handling of which, not taking a poeticall licence to fashion all things after mine owne fancie, but limiting my selfe within the bounds of an historicall writer, I haue followed those authors, who in the censure of our best iudgements are the most authenticall. For the verse, I haue chosen the fourth proportion, which is the stanza of seuen, preferring it before the fift, which is the staffe of eight, because it is chiefly vsed of our ancient and best historicall poets; and though I confesse that of eight to hold better band, yet is it more tedious to a writer, being it binds him to the band of two foures intertangled, which if he obserue not, it is no huitaine or staffe of eight, but fals into the first proportion, making two quadreins. To the learned I only write, in whom is my chiefest hope, for that they be learned, a cause sufficient not to doubt any enuious construction, being a vice not proper to their good education: whom if I haue pleasured, I craue but their good word for my good will; if otherwise, their pardon for my paines. Farewell.

THE INDVCTION.

My muse, that mongst meane birds whilome, did waue her flaggie wing,

And cuckow-like of Castae’s wrongs, in rustick tunes did sing,

Now with the morne’s cloud climing lark must mount a pitch more hie,

And like Ioue’s bird with stedfast lookes outbraue the sunne’s bright eie:

Yea she, that whilome begger-like her beggers ape did sing,

Which iniur’d by the guilt of time to light she durst not bring:

In stately stile tragedian-like with sacred furie fed,

Must now record the tragicke deeds of great Heröes dead,

Vouchsafe then thou great king of heau’n, the heau’nly drops t’infuse

Of sacred iuyce into my pen, giue strength vnto my muse

To mount aloft with powerfull wings, and let her voice be strong,

That she may smite the golden starres with sound of her great song:

When loue-borne Phœbus fierie steeds about the world had bin,

And wearied with their yearely taske, had taken vp their inne

Farre in the south, when cold had nipt the hawthorne’s rugged rinde,

And liuely sap of summer sweet, from blast of blustring winde

Had sunken downe into the roote, whose thornie browes besprent

With frostie dew, did hang their heads, and summer’s losse lament;

My limbes benumb’d with vnkind cold, my life-blood waxing chill,

As was my wont I walked forth to ease me of such ill:

But when I came in fields abroad, and view’d the wastefull spight

Of wrathfull winter, grieu’d I was to see so sad a sight:

The shadie woods, in which the birds to build their neasts were seene,

Whose wauing heads in aire shot vp were crown’d with youthfull greene:

Now clad in coate of motlie hue did maske in poore array,

Rough Boreas with his blustering blasts had blowen their leaues away:

In stead of blossomes on the boughes, the spring whilome begun,

Which through the leaues did seeme to laugh vpon the summer’s sunne,

Now nought but hoarie frost was seene, each branch teares downe did send,

Whose dewie drops on ysiccles vpon each bough depend:

The mistresse of the woods quaint quire, the warbling Philomele,

That wont to rauish with delight, th’inhabitants, that dwell

About the greene wood side, forgot the layes she sung before,

For griefe of summer’s golden losse she now could sing no more:

And all the quire that wont with her to beare a part and sing

Concordant discords in sweet straine for welcome of the spring,

Sate silent on the frostie bow, and shuddering all for cold,

Did shroud the head beneath the wing, the day was waxed old,

None but the red-brest and the wren did sing the euen away,

And that in notes of sad record for summer’s late decay:

The field, which whilome Ceres crown’d with golden eares of corne,

And all the pasture-springing meades, which Pales did adorne,

Lookt pale for woe, the winterie snow had couered all their greene,

Nought else vpon the grasselesse ground, but winter’s waste was seene:

The shepheard’s feeble flocke pent vp within the bounded fold,

So faint for food, that scarce their feete their bodies could vphold,

Did hang the head with heauie cheare, as they would learne to mourne

The thrall in which they now did liue, by shepheard left forlorne:

All sweet delight of summer past, cold winter’s breath had blasted,

The sunne in heau’n shone pale on earth to see her wombe so wasted:

All which, as I grieu’d at such sight, the fields alone did range,

Did teach me know all things on earth were subiect vnto change:

How fond (me thought) were mortall men, the trustlesse stay to trust,

Of things on earth, since heere on earth all things returne to dust?

Who so in youth doth boast of strength, me thought the loftie oake

Would teach him that his strength must vade, when age begins to yoke

His youthfull necke, euen by it selfe, his leauie lockes being shed,

And branched armes shrunke vp with frost, as if they had been dead:

The louely lillie, that faire flower for beautie past compare,

Whom winter’s cold keene breath had kill’d, and blasted all her faire,

Might teach the fairest vnder heau’n, that beautie’s freshest greene

When spring of youth is spent, will vade, as it had neuer been;

The barren fields, which whilome flower’d as they would neuer fade,

Inricht with summer’s golden gifts, which now been all decay’d,

Did shew in state there was no trust, in wealth no certaine stay,

One stormie blast of frowning chance could blow them all away;

Out of the yeares alternate course this lesson I did con,

In things on earth of most auaile assurance there was none:

But fancie feeding on these thoughts, as I alone did wend,

The clocke did strike, whose chime did tell the day was at an end;

The golden sunne, daies guide, was gone, and in his purple bed

Had laid him downe, the heau’ns about their azure curtaines spread,

And all the tapers lighted were, as t’were the watch to keepe,

Lest past her houre night should vsurpe, while he secure did sleepe;

Then clad in cloake of mistie fogges the darke night vp did come,

And with grim grislie looke did seeme to bid me get me home;

Home was I led, not as before with solace from the field,

The wofull waste of summer past had all my pleasure spill’d:

When home I came, nipt with sharpe cold of Boreas bitter aire,

After repast to my warme bed forthwith I made repaire,

Where, for the nights were tedious growen, and I disturb’d in mind

With thoughts of that daies obiect seene, not vnto sleepe inclin’d,

I vp did sit, my backe behind the pillow soft did stay,

And call’d for light, with booke in hand to passe the time away;

Of which each line which I did reade, in nature did agree

With that true vse of things which I the day before did see

A Mirrour hight for Magistrates, for title it did beare,

In which by painfull pens, the fals of princes written were:

There, as in glasse, I did behold, what day before did show,

That beautie, strength, wealth, world’s vaine pompe, and all to dust do go:

There did I see triumphant death beneath his feet tread downe

The state of kings, the purple robe, the scepter and the crowne:

Without respect with deadly dart all princes he did strike,

The vertuous and the vicious prince to him been both alike:

Nought else they leaue vntoucht of death except a vertuous name,

Which dies, if that the sacred nine eternize not the same:

Why then (ye thrice three borne of Ioue) why then be ye despis’d?

Is vertue dead? hath daintie ease in her soft armes surpris’d

The manhood of the elder world? hath rust of time deuour’d

Th’ Heröe’s stocke that on your heads such golden blessings showr’d?

This silent night, when all things lie in lap of sweet repose,

Ye only wake, the powres of sleepe your eyes do neuer close,

To shew the sempiternitie, to which their names ye raise

On wings of your immortall verse that truly merit praise:

But where’s the due of your desert, or where your learning’s meed?

Not only now the baser sprite, whom dunghill dust doth breed,

But they that boast themselues to be in honor’s bosome borne,

Disdaine your wisdome, and do hold your sectaries in scorne:

No maruell then, me thought, it was, that in this booke I read,

So many a prince I found exempt, as if their names been dead,

Who for desert amongst the best a place might iustly claime:

But who can put on any spirit to memorize the name

Of any dead, whose thanklesse race t’whom learning shapes the leg

In humble wise, yet in contempt bids learned wits go beg?

As thus in bed with booke in hand I sate contemplating,

The humorous night was waxed olde, still silence husht each thing,

The clocke chim’d twelue, to which as I with listning eares attend,

As signes of fraile mortalitie all things I apprehend;

The daylight past, as life I deeme, the night as death to come,

The clocke that chim’d, death’s fatall knell, that call’d me to my doome,

Still silence rest from worldly cares, my bed the graue I thinke,

In which, with heart to heau’n vp-lift, at length I downe did sinke:

Where after still repose when as thin vapors had restrain’d

The mouing powers of common sense, and sleepe each sense enchain’d,

Whether the watchfull fantasie did now in sleepe restore

The species of things sensible, which I had seene before:

And so some dreame it only was, which I intend to tell,

Or vision sent I’le not discusse, to me it thus befell:

A sudden sound of trumpe I heard, whose blast so loud was blowne,

That in a trance I senselesse lay, fraile mortall there was none

That heard such sound, could sense retaine: my chamber wals did shake,

Vp flew the doores, a voice I heard, which thus distinctly spake:

“Awake from sleepe, lift vp thy head, and be no whit dismai’d,

I serue the deities of heau’n, their hests must be obei’d,

And now am sent from her that keepes the store-house of the mind:

The mother of the muses nine, for thee she hath assign’d

For her designe, the night to come in sleepe thou must not spend:

Prepare thy selfe, that gainst she come, her will thou maist attend.”

As to these words I listning lay, and had resumed spright,

I boldly looked round about, and loe, there stood in sight

True fame, the trumpeter of heau’n, that doth desire inflame

To glorious deeds, and by her power eternifies the name:

A golden trumpe her right hand held, which when she list to sound,

Can smite the starres of heau’n, and bring the dead from vnder ground:

Vpon her head a chaplet stood of neuer vading greene,

Which honor gaue, to giue to them that fauour’d of her been:

Her wings were white as snow, with which she compast heau’n and earth

With names of such, whom honor did renowne for deeds of worth:

As I beheld her princely port, yet trembling all for feare,

A sound of heau’nly harmony did pierce my pleased eare,

In rapture of whose sweet delight, as I did rauisht lie,

The goddesse dread whom fame forespoke did stand before mine eie,

The ladie of mount Helicon, the great Pierian dame,

From whom the learned sisters nine deriue their birth and name,

In golden garments clad she was, which time can neuer weare,

Nor fretting moth consume the same, which did embroydered beare

The acts of old Heröes dead, set downe in stately verse,

Which sitting by the horse-foot spring, Ioue’s daughters did rehearse:

Fiue damsels did attend on her, who with such wondrous skill

Do in their seuerall functions worke, to serue their ladie’s will,

That what she seekes on earth, to see, to heare, smell, taste or touch,

They can present the same with speed, their power and skill are such:

As in amazement at such sight I in my bed did lie,

She thus bespake: “I am,” quoth she, “the ladie Memorie,

Ioue’s welbelou’d Mnemosyne, that keepes the wealthie store

Of time’s rich treasure, where the deeds that haue been done of yore

I do record, and when in bookes I chance to find the fame

Of any after death decai’d, I do reuiue the same:

Turning the volume large of late, in which my Clio sings

The deeds of worthie Britaines dead, I find that many kings

Exempted are, whose noble acts deserue eternitie,

And mongst our Mirrours challenge place for all posteritie:

For which, my station I haue left, and now am come to thee,

This night thou must abandon sleepe, my pen-man thou must bee.”

To this said I: “O goddesse great, the taske thou dost impose

Exceeds the compasse of my skill, t’is fitter farre for those,

Whose pens sweet nectar do distill, to whom the power is giuen

Vpon their winged verse to rap their readers vp to heau’n:

The pinions of my humble muse be all too weake to flie

So large a flight; theirs be this taske that loue to soare on high:

But how can they such taske vp-take, that in a stately straine

Haue rais’d the dead out of the dust; yet after all their paine,

When their sweet muse in vertue’s praise hath powred out their store,

Are still despis’d and doom’d for aye with vertue to be poore.”

To this, “alas,” quoth Memorie, “it grieues me to behold

The learned wits left all forlorne, t’whom whilome it was told

Mæcenas was reuiu’d againe: yet grieue I more to see

The loathed lozell to prophane that sacred mysterie:

Each vulgar wit, that what it is, could neuer yet define,

In ragged rimes with lips profane, will call the learned nine

To helpe him vtter forth the spawne of his vnfruitfull braine,

Which makes our peerelesse poesie to be in such disdaine,

That now it skils not whether Pan do pipe, or Phœbus play,

Tom Tinkar makes best harmonie to passe the time away:

For this I grieue, for this the seed of Ioue are held in scorne,

Yet not for this our worthies dead are to be left forlorne:

For so no future age should know the truth of things forepast,

The names of their forefathers dead would in the dust be cast:

Then do not thou thy helpe denie, I will conduct thy pen,

And fame shall summon vp the ghosts of all those worthie men,

That mongst our Mirrours are not found, that each one orderly

May come to thee, to tell the truth of his sad tragedie.”

Thus hauing said, she tooke the booke from vnderneath my head,

And turning ore the leaues, at last, she thus began to reade.

THE FAMOVS LIFE AND
Death of King Arthvr.

THE ARGUMENT.

The first I find exempted in our storie

Is noble Arthur, Albion’s ancient glorie,

Who heere at home subdues the Saxon kings:

Then forren nations in subiection brings,

The Roman host with Lucius for their guide

To his victorious sword do stoope their pride:

But home-bred broiles call backe the conquering king,

Warres thunder 'bout the Britaine coasts doth ring,

Gawin’s firme loyaltie at his last breath,

Arthur’s last conquest, wounds and timelesse death,

The truth of which, that we may heare, let fame

Summon his ghost to come and tell the same.

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

Fame sounds her trumpe, king Arthur doth ascend

Tels Mordred’s treason, death, and his owne end.

1.

No age hath bin, since nature first began

To worke Ioue’s wonders, but hath left behind

Some deeds of praise for Mirrours vnto man,

Which more then threatful lawes in men inclind,

To tread the paths of praise excites the mind,

Mirrours tie thoughts to vertues due respects,

Examples hasten deeds to good effects.

2.

'Mongst whom, that I my storie so renown’d

May for a Mirrour to the world commend,

Summon’d the first by fame’s shrill trumpets sound:

Loe, I am come on earth to find a friend,

Who his assistance vnto me may lend,

And with his pen paint out my historie

A perfect Mirrour of true maiestie.

3.

In which the truth of my corrupted storie,

Defac’d by fleeting time’s inconstant pen

I will declare, nor to aduance my glorie

Will I present vnto the view of men

Ought, but the scope of what the truth hath ben:

Meane time thou pen-man of Mnemosynie,

Giue heedfull eare vnto my tragedie.

4.

As from aire-threatning tops of cedars tall

The leaues, that whilome were so fresh and greene,

In healthlesse autumne to the ground do fall,

And others in their roomes at spring are seene:

So proudest states amongst the states of men

Now mount the loftie top of fortune’s wheele,

Now fall againe, now firmely stand, now reele.

5.

Foure times the state of this same noble Ile

Hath changed been by froward fate’s decree,

And on foure nations fortune’s front did smile,

Gracing thir high attempts with victorie

Ouer this empire of Great Britanie:

Yet none but one the scepter long did sway,

Whose conquering name endures vntill this day.

6.

First the proud Roman Cæsar did oppresse

This land with tributarie seruitude:

Next those two Saxon brethren heauen did blesse,

Who in our Brittish blood their blades imbru’d,

And to their lordly will this land subdu’d:

Thirdly the Dane did heere long time remaine,

And lastly Normans ouer vs did raigne.

7.

Thus seest thou fortune’s vnimpeached force,

And what it hath been in our Britaine state:

By this thou seest her wheeles inconstant course,

And how on earth nor prince, nor potentate,

Can long withstand her ruine-thirsting hate,

Which my true storie’s sad catastrophe

Vnto the sonnes of men can testifie.

8.

I am that Arthur, who on honor’s wing

Did mount fame’s palace 'mongst the worthies nine

Fourth from false Vortigerne th’vsurping king:

Who, that he might with strong allies combine

His shaken state, which then began decline,

Wretch that he was into this land did bring

The Saxons with hight Hengist their false king.

9.

The sonne I was of Vter that stout knight,

Pendragon called for his policie,

Not in ignoble birth brought forth to light,

Though foes false imputation vilifie

My royall birth with taint of bastardie:

But in true wedlocke’s bands a noble dame

Bore me, the fruit of loue without defame.

10.

Whose former husband Goilen, that proud duke,

At Duuilioc in fight my sire strooke dead:

And 'mongst his spoiles Igren the faire he tooke,

With whom he did ascend loue’s amorous bed

And lest the fruit of his delight new bred

The time might turne to shame in lawlesse birth,

He took the dame to wife, who brought me forth.

11.

By peeres consent I in my youth began

Vpon the throne the supreame sway to beare:

And at that time against the boldest man,

That breath’d on earth my spirit did not feare,

In single fight the combatant t’appeare,

Skilfull I was in knowledge of all fights,

That then was vsed amongst martiall knights.

12.

And at that time my close-neere fighting men,

The frame of euery bloodie fight to know,

In martiall feates, haue exercised been,

And euery one would ’gainst the forren foe,

With emulation striue their deeds to show,

In courts where kings, adore Bellonae’s shrine,

There the bright blaze of chiualrie will shine.

13.

Vpon the mind, whose glorie-thirsting heart,

By deedes of armes did at true honor aime,

Such edge I set, that from each forren part,

The brood of Mars to Britaine’s Arthur came,

Of him to purchase the reward of fame:

And take that order, that I then did found,

Which till this day men call the table round.

14.

Vpon this table’s superficiall part

Statutes ingrauen were by my decree,

Vnto the which each man of valiant hart,

That of this famous fellowship would bee

At Camelot by oath did first agree,

And call’d they were amongst our chiualrie

Armes, seuen religious deeds of charitie.

15.

But where is now this honor’d dignitie,

That wont to be the care of noble kind?

Or is it dead, or will nobilitie

Let that, which only was to it assign’d,

Be now polluted by the baser mind?

Alas the while, that once the best reward

To vertuous deeds is now of no regard.

16.

No golden churle, no elbow-vanting Iacke,

No peasant base, nor borne of dunghill mould,

Could find such treasure in his pedler’s packe

To purchase that, which fame on high did hold

For true desart, aboue the reach of gold:

This order then dame vertue kept in store

For such, as did her sacred selfe adore.

17.

In this new flourish of my flowring spring,

When honor’s hopefull buds appear’d in mee,

And promis’d goodly fruit in time to bring,

My forward thoughts being set on fier, to free

My natiue land from Saxon tyrannie:

With phantasie still working ’gainst the foe,

In sleepe this spectacle to me did show.

18.

As I (me thought) did sit on royall throne

With peeres about me set, a ladie faire

In presence came and making pitious mone,

Tearing the tresses of her golden haire,

And wringing both her hands, as if despaire

Had her bereft of hope her griefe to show,

With teares did vtter forth these words of woe

19.

“Behold,” quoth she, “behold me wretched wight,

The forlorne ladie of this noble Ile,

From towring state cast downe by foes despight,

And of an empresse, which I was ere while,

Of Saxon yoke now made a subiect vile:

What bootes it what I was, sith now I am

The scorne of fortune and the Briton’s shame?

20.

O, noble prince, vnsheath thy conquering blade

And saue that little, which is left to mee,

Left not for aye my antient glorie vade,

Nor let me subiect liue, as thus you see,

To pride of barbarous foes, but set me free:”

Thus ended she her plaint, and in sad plight

With piteous lookes departed from my sight.

21.

The phantasie presenting euerie howre

Th’apperance of such thoughts did so excite

My furie ’gainst the foe, that all my powre

I muster’d for the field, and Howel, hight

Of litle Brittaine prince, a valiant knight,

Allide to me by blood, did crosse the maine

To purchase honor with his martiall traine.

22.

Here could I sing the deeds of warre to thee,

Whereby my famous conquests thou should know,

How heauen did grace me with such victorie,

That in twelue battailes I did ouerthrow

The mightie forces of my warlike foe;

And by my valor, how I did expell

Those Saxon foes, which here long time did dwell.

23.

Hight Colgrim greatest amongst Saxon kings

I first subdu’d with honour’d victorie,

But happie he vpon the wind-like wings

Of hastie speed to saue himselfe did flie

Ouer the seas broad backe to Germanie:

Yet could he not escape vntimely death,

But here in Britaine breath’d he his last breath.

24.

Vnto his friends, when he in safetie came,

He could not shun th’edict of destinie:

But backt by them he proudly did proclame

T’inferre swift vengeance on our Britannie,

If he were not restor’d to dignitie:

Which I disdain’d and did prepare for fight:

Because to that he claim’d he had no right.

25.

And in a faire field by those bathes apart,

Which Bladud sometimes king of Britanie

Had founded by the depth of powerfull art,

My tents I pight: for there did fates decree,

That great king Colgrim’s ouerthrow should bee:

Whose mightie force my folke at first did dread,

Which by three kings was in Battalia led.

26.

For first did Bladulf brother to this king,

Conduct the vaunt gard for this valiancie,

Next Chelderick vnto the field did bring

His Germaine powers, the strokes of death to trie,

Who was a mightie prince in Germanie,

And in the rereward Colgrim’s selfe did lead

The Picts to fight, a people full of dread.

27.

The battailes ioin’d, each aduerse part opposde

Their strength to strength, the aire with dreadfull sound

Of souldier’s shouts did echo as they closde,

And each one equallie gaue wound for wound,

Till with the foes fresh strength, which did abound,

My men opprest to flight began to fall,

Whom thus with mouing words I did recall.

28.

“Yee emptie harted sonnes of Brute,” quoth I,

“Not worthie valiant Brutus farre-spred name,

What great defame of your big formes will flie

Throughout this world’s whole round, if this great shame

Of shamefull flight, yee doe not streight reclaime?

Where will ye boldly fight and scorne recoile,

If not in fight for your owne natiue soyle?

29.

Are these th’effects of those same glorious words,

With which of late your tongues did oft abound,

Saying one hundred with their powerfull swords

A thousand hartlesse foemen should confound,

To your owne shame, alas, this shall redown’d,

Vnlesse with speed ye turne couragious hed,

And make them flie from whom yee lately fled.”

30.

All th’host applauding my high valiancie

With deepe impression of my words being driuen,

Did break into the midst of th’enemie,

Where cuffe for cuffe on either side was giuen,

The noise of which flew ecchoing vp to heauen,

And with the thunder claps of clashing armes

Made aire to sigh with sound of humane armes.

31.

The skirmish burn’d, both parts did equall beare

Their heads aloft in this daye’s bloodie fight,

All stood it out, none stoopt to seruile feare,

Their swords made mutuall wounds, and in their sight

Their friends each where in field lay reft of light:

The earth made drunke with blood did then abound,

With fruites of death thick strow’d vpon the ground.

32.

But when the trampling steedes of heauen’s bright sun

Fell to the seas and left Olympus steepe,

And when the king of flames began to run

His golden head into the wauie deep,

When out of east bright Venus gan to peep,

Our strength increast, which conquest did diuine,

Our foes shrunke back, their valor did decline.

33.

For when king Colgrim by my launce strook dead,

And Bladuff by my power cast downe as low,

With their gigantike bulkes the earth did spread,

The foes with one consent their backes did show,

To saue each other in that common woe:

With whom hight Cheldrike fled, who for the spoile

Of this our land had left his natiue soile.

34.

Who being shrouded with the night’s black wing,

Trusting that she would his designements hide,

Tooke towards the marrin strand, in hope to bring

His folk disperst, in darknesse vndescride,

Vnto his ships, which then at shore did ride:

But death betwixt them and their nauie stood,

Our natiue earth drunk vp their stranger blood.

35.

The stout duke Cador, that illustrate knight,

Pursu’d the flier till the rising sun

Descride the foes, who turning from their flight,

Both parts stood firme, the fight afresh begun:

But Cheldrik lost, the conquest Cador wonne,

Whose spoilfull sword did spare no foes in death,

For Cheldrick’s self did there expire his breath.

36.

Meane time to rescue that bold Britaine king,

Prince Howell, king of little Britanie,

Who ore the gulfie flood his folke did bring,

T’assist vs gainst our common enemie:

Towards Scotland’s bounds wee marched speedilie,

Where gainst the barbarous Picts he was the barre,

While gainst the Saxon we did wage the warre.

37.

But he vnable to sustaine their force,

Which th’Irish Guillamore, th’assistant king,

In person did support with foote and horse,

Of whose alarmes the countrie round did ring,

Did send to vs requiring vs to bring

Our powers, with expedition to suppresse

The foe’s haut pride, and succour his distresse.

38.

Of which when I did heare, as from the skie

A tempest stooping on the deepe’s profound,

Hurles waues on waues in heapes, and makes them flie

Before his rage, so with the horrid sound

Of dreadfull warre into the Pictish bound

I entred with my host, and in the way

For fire and sword made all the passage pray.

39.

The foe’s stout pride we did in field subdue,

And Gwillamore, that did escape the fight,

To his owne kingdome’s bounds we did pursue,

Where we did bring him to his heart’s despight,

Vpon his knees by warre’s impulsiue might,

Forcing him yeeld obedience to our crowne,

By golden tribute yearely paid vs downe.

40.

After this good successe, perceiuing well,

That heauen with sunshine lookes grac’d our affaires,

My hopefull heart with glorie gan to swell,

Bidding me seeke by fame in forren warres,

To fixe my name amongst the golden starres,

And leaue a name on earth to liue for aye,

When rapt in mould my limbes forgotten lay.

41.

This stout suggestion of my mightie mind,

Made me despise foule ease and pleasures light,

Which softens th’heart, strikes strong desier blind,

Drownes all eternitie in depth of night,

And leaues reproch for prise of such delight:

For fame liues not, except for vertue’s merit,

Deeds of delite on earth no place inherit.

42.

A king, that only liues a king in name,

That dull’d with ease and drown’d in fancie’s lust,

Can stile his title with no deed of fame,

Being dead, his name iron-eating time shall rust

And in the end obscure it in the dust,

When he, though meane, that vertue’s race doth runne,

Doth liue eterniz’d like th’immortall sunne.

43.

This was the winde that set my ships on saile,

In forren shoares true honor to obtaine,

This was the prize, for which with prosperous gaile,

I plow’d my passage through the liquid maine

Vnto the Arctike pole, where Charles his waine

Fixt fast in heauen, his station there doth keepe

With other starres neare diuing to the deepe.

44.

And there in that cold iland Island call’d,

Whose mountaines with high heads did heauen aspire,

Which white with snow as if they had been bald

Did yet breath forth blacke smoakes and burning fire,

A wonder strange for humaine sense t’admire,

I with my Britaines bold bore to the Strand

And vncontrol’d march’t vp into the land.

45.

Whose people rude and liuing in their kind,

As beasts that wander in the desert field,

The rationall and best part of the mind

In vse of heauenly things not being skill’d

Against blind ignorance the soule to shield,

We did in fight subdue, and by strong hand

Did them enforce to stoope to our command.

46.

Their king Maluasius noting well the oddes

Twixt vs and them in feats of martiall skill,

And finding, that no place of safe abodes

Was left to him, in feare of future ill

Did soone submit himselfe vnto our will,

And from that time vnto my name’s renowne

Did yeeld obedience to the Britaine crowne.

47.

The fame of this exploit being set on wing,

And through the iles adiacent taking flight,

Doldauius of the Gotland nation king,

And great Gunfacius king of Orkney hight

Despairing to oppose our force in fight,

Did yeeld to hold their crownes and dignitie

By tribute to the Britaine emperie.

48.

But should I vnto light assay to bring

Each fight then fought and euery deed of worth,

Had I the strength of thousand tongues to sing,

Or the shrill trumpe of fame to echo forth

My conquests, in those ilands of the north,

Yet would the glasse of time be quite outrun

Before that true report her part had done.

49.

Should I relate the many a field I fought

Against Aschillius that bold Danish king,

And ’gainst proud Lot the Norway king so stout,

Whom after thousand soules being set on wing,

We at the length did in subiection bring:

Scarce would the eares of fraile mortalitie

Giue credit to our noble historie.

50.

Yet thinke, what dread of death and dangerous wounds

We in those trauels then might vndergoe,

From Albion’s rockes vnto the Russian bounds,

And our great conquest ’gainst the northren foe,

The fame of our admir’d exploits will show:

For to the Lap-land kingdome’s vtmost end,

Our Britaine empire’s bounds I did extend.

51.

In deeds of fame, thus did I spend the prime

Of goden youth, which lul’d in pleasure’s bed,

Flies fast away vpon the wings of time,

And scarce is knowne t’haue bin, when th’hoarie hed

With white of wintrie age is ouerspred:

For age with shame of youth’s fond deeds strooke blind,

Doth oft abhorre to beare the same in mind.

52.

Who doth to sloth his yonger daies ingage

For fond delight, he clips the wings of fame:

For sloth the canker-worme of honor’s badge,

Fame’s fethered wings doth fret, burying the name

Of vertue’s worth in dust of dunghill shame,

Whom action out of dust to light doth bring

And makes her mount to heauen with golden wing.

53.

After my high atchieuements in the north

I being returned to my natiue land,

Fame through the world did so renowne the worth

Of these deeds done by my victorious hand,

That greatest kings did in amazement stand,

Strooke blind in looking at the sunshine blaze

Of my great worth, yet enuying at my praise.

54.

For when true vertue’s glorious excellence,

Mounts vp aloft, and like the sun in skies,

Breakes through the clouds of darkesome ignorance,

Then enuie rous’d from her darke den doth rise,

And dazel’d with the golden shine, that flies

From vertue’s splendor, seekes t’obscure the same,

And muffle it in her blacke clouds of shame.

55.

That enuious beast of twice fiue hornes of might,

Who ore the world did long time tyrannize,

From Rome’s high towres viewing the golden light

Of my great fame, which dazled her weake eies,

Selfe swolne with haughtie pride, rows’d vp did rise,

And at my state with her proud hornes did push,

In hope my fame being yet but yong to crush.

56.

The Roman king that bore great Cæsar’s name,

Twelue aged sires in senate did select,

Men of renowne and all of noble fame,

Who as graue legats his great will t’effect,

Through Neptune’s wauie empire did direct

Their course to our sea-bounded Britanie,

To menace vs with their proud ambasie.

57.

Where when they came, seeing our court abound,

With honor’s sonnes emploi’d in deeds of fame,

Not in still waues of court-deepe pleasures drown’d:

For vse in deeds of armes and martiall game

Exiling sloth the pride of lust doth tame:

They thought their antique Romane emperie,

Had been transferr’d from Rome to Britanie.

58.

Yet getting audience one amongst the rest,

With graue demeanor and great maiestie,

Thinking with words our greatnesse t’haue represt,

Began t’infold with high authoritie,

The thundring threatnings of his ambasie:

For he vnbidden boldly tooke his place,

And thus did threaten me vnto my face.

59.

“Arthur,” said he, “from ample-streeted Rome

Where mightie Cæsar thy liege lord doth reigne

T’effect his will, to thee, loe, we are come,

And in his name to claime our right againe,

Which wrongfullie from vs thou dost detaine:

For long time since ye Britaines well do know

That Britanie to Rome did tribute owe.

60.

He doth dislike thy farre commanding minde,

Nor thy proud bold attempts will he allowe

In any thing, by him not being design’d,

By vs he bids thy haughtie stomack bowe

Vnto the bending of his kinglie browe,

And wils thy kingdom stoop, though so renown’d,

To Rome, the mistris of the world’s wide round.

61.

But if thy hart do harbor haughtie pride,

And that thy people still stiffnecked bee,

If that our words in scorne thou set aside,

Then to thy face I here do threaten thee,

That ere thine eyes one summer more shall see,

More troopes of men gainst thee we will imploie

Then erst did Greekes against the sonnes of Troy.”

62.

This threatning speech did set my thoughts on fire,

And made me to returne this sharpe replie:

“Doting old wretch,” said I, “thou dost aspire

In vaine by vanting words to terrifie

The hart of him that scornes thy ambasie,

Nor can our person patiently permit

Those barbarous taunts, signes of thy doting wit.

63.

Do Romaines harbor such a base conceit

That Britain’s Arthur is of lesse renowne

Then is their king, in empire, though so great?

Or that vsurping Cæsar with a frowne

Can make vs yeeld the title of our crowne?

O sillie sots to thinke vs such a sort

As your base speeches whilom did import.

64.

Is not our noble nation by descent

Sprung from the warlike Troian’s roiall race?

And shall our thoughts be then so baselie bent,

As with subiection seruilie t’embrace

The yoke of loftie Rome the world’s disgrace?

Her fame shall fall, our Britaine state shall rise,

She ore the world no more shall tyrannize.

65.

With swiftest speed returne thou this replie,

That we a people free will still maintaine

’Gainst all the world our ancient libertie,

And that thou well maist know how wee disdaine

The seruile yoke of Rome’s insulting reigne,

Ile bring reuenge, which Rome shall neuer shun

For that great scath which Cæsar here hath done.”

66.

This said, they all amaz’d at my replie

Dismist, made no abode in this our land:

But with winde-winged sailes did swiftly flie

Ouer the depths of Neptune’s high command,

Of whom their Cæsar soone did vnderstand

How his command with scorne we did deride,

In tempting our disdaine with such vaine pride.

67.

A which inrag’d, he in a fatall houre

The tribune Lucius for the warre design’d,

Who into France came downe with all his power,

Where many legionaries he did finde

Vnto that quarter of the world assign’d,

To keepe it peacefull by warr’s threatfull stroke,

Which then began to shake off Roman yoke.

68.

And as he did prepare to greedie fight,

So did we arme vnto the bloodie field

And from each quarter of our land did cite

All such as able were with strength to wield

Or launce, or bowe, or dart, or sword and shield,

Whom we did muster vp in armes well dight

To make them apt and skilfull for the fight.

69.

And in our absence in those forren warres,

To guard our state against all aduerse feare,

We left at home to manage all affaires,

Mordred the brother of my Gawin deare,

Our faithlesse nephew, that false hearted peere,

Th’ignoble sonne of Loth the Pictish king:

From whose blacke treason my sad fall did spring.

70.

Whose loyaltie I little did suspect,

Though on my death his hopes did then depend:

But who so wise hath been that can detect

The meanes and houre, by which the fates intend

To mortall life to adde the finall end?

Though both the meanes and houre most certaine bee,

Yet most vncertaine is the time’s decree.

71.

But being most secure of future chance,

My thoughts to meete the foes being set on wing,

Who did ordaine, that Augustence in France

Should be the place for each assistant king,

Vnto the Romane aid their powers to bring:

With warre’s loud trumpe from all parts of the land,

I call’d my Britaines downe vnto the strand.

72.

Where our blacke barkes all readie furnish’t lay,

In which departing from the barren shore,

Wing’d with full gale, the ships did force their way,

So swiftly with their bending bulkes before,

That 'bout their brests the giuing waues did rore,

Through which we kept our course without mischance,

And did at Harflew safe arriue in France.

73.

Where thousands troop’t in armes the shoares did show

Sent from those princes by alleageance bound,

T’assist vs in our warres against the foe,

Who when our feet did presse the sandie ground,

Did welcome our approch with shouts loud sound:

In euery place Bellona loud did sing,

Of horse and foot the countrie round did ring.

74.

Our powers being ioyn’d and euerie seuerall band

Digested for the fight, without delay

We marched from the salt sea’s slimie strand,

And sent our scouts before vs in the way,

To know where Lucius host encamped lay:

But hearing nought we forward did aduance,

Vntill we came to Augustence in France.

75.

And there vpon a chosen plot of ground

The Roman host with their especiall aides

Arm’d in strong steele for fight prepar’d we found,

The blaze of whose bright shields and glittering blades,

Did cast a sunshine in the darkest shades:

With whom we thought t’haue then begun the fight,

Had setting sun not shew’d approching night.

76.

But when from vnderneath the siluer vaile

Of Thetis lap Apollo did arise,

And to the batlements of heau’n exhale

Night’s dewie drops, which fell before from skies,

Our bands t’applie for fight we did deuise,

And euerie one did buckle to the field,

Thirsting to bloodie fight their strength to yeild.

77.

Then did the trumpet shrill sound out alowd

To bring them bold to the insatiate field,

And on the plaine both parts in thickest crowd

Opposing sword to sword and shield to shield,

Not fear’d with death, but with stout courage fild,

Began the fight, and none their backs did turne,

In euerie place the skirmish hot did burne.

78.

But where the kinglie eagle Ioue’s faire bird

Great Cæsar’s standard did maintaine the fight,

There both on horse and foote the slaughtering sword

Made greatest hauock, where with most affright

To my bold Britons, Lucius, that stout knight,

Did beate the field or turning troops of men,

As if the battaile onlie there had ben.

79.

Which when I heard, with my victorious lance

Thirsting to do where deeds of worth were done,

I towards that part my standard did aduance,

The virgin mother of great Ioue’s owne sonne,

Vnder whose badge I many a field had wonne,

Where 'mongst the foes I rusht with my bold bands,

T’auenge my slaughtered friends at Lucius’ hands.

80.

Then prudent Ioue vpon the foes did frowne,

And in his ballance holding either fate

Of both our fortunes, made their lot sinke downe,

Vpon our steps in fight did conquest wait,

Death’s terror did the foe-men’s strength abate,

Whose hands fell strengthlesse downe, being all inclin’d

To flie with shame, and leaue vs fame behind.

81.

They fled, and we did eager pursuit make:

But sad report on fame’s vnluckie wing,

With fatall tidings did vs ouertake,

How all our Britaine ocean round did ring

With Mordred’s deeds aspiring to be king,

Which strooke more terror to my grieued mind,

Then if the world ’gainst me in armes had shin’d.

82.

Yet with late conquest won in mind made bold,

Returning to our fleet we launcht from land,

And being out at sea we might behold

Our owne rebellious kingdome’s rockie strand,

Strengthen’d about the coast with many a band:

Which did my vexed soule with sorrow sting,

To see false subiects bent to braue their king.

83.

As lions rob’d of yong with hideous rore

All raging wood, makes th’echoing forrest shake

And beasts to dread: so sailing towards the shore,

My souldiers charging, with loud shouts did make

The stoutest hearts on th’aduerse part to quake:

A wrongfull cause makes fortitude giue backe,

And guilt of treason courage doth aslacke.

84.

Yet on the land at Sandwich port, before

We could set foot, we lost much life and blood:

For with stones, darts, and shafts thicke sent from shore,

Our men as on the deckes they stoutly stood

Were ouerturn’d into the wauie flood,

'Mongst whom without all helpe before our eies,

Did many sinke, and neuer more did rise.

85.

For many 'mongst the rest being wounded sore,

Rising againe, to shun their timelesse graue,

Their fainting browes aboue the billowes bore,

And when their lips did ouerlooke the waue,

For helpe cri’d out their loued liues to saue:

But they, alas, made weake, with losse of blood,

Sinking, poore soules, were strangled in the flood.

86.

To wreake such harmes with sharpned arrowes store,

Steele-headed iauelins, stones and singing darts,

We charg’d the bold defendants on the shore,

Which did impresse deepe wounds in their best harts,

And made the rest retire t’escape such smarts,

From whom our men the firme land hauing won,

’Twixt them and vs a dreadfull fight begun.

87.

Where noble Anguisell the Scotish king,

Amidd’st the foes in fight incircled round,

Did in our cause endure death’s fatall sting:

And valiant Cador after many a wound,

Did sinke downe dead vpon the flowrie ground:

Whom my deare Gawin did consort in death,

And in our right, with them expir’d his breath.

88.

For making slaughter with his mightie lance

Vpon the aduerse troopes, though many a band

Inclos’d him from all helpe, where he by chance

Was wounded by a fatall souldier’s hand,

Yet ’gainst them all alone he made his stand,

And with his life halfe spent in their despight,

Did make retreate vnto his tent from fight.

89.

Where through his wound, before his life did fleet,

These words hee spake vnto the standers by,

“With sad farewell my soueraigne I doe greet,

In whose defence against his foes, though I

In death triumphant ouer death do die,

Yet brother’s treason wounds my heart with woe,

For which with griefe vnto my graue I goe.

90.

Yee powers of heauen, on whose dispose diuine

The gift of conquest doth depend alone,

Let our dread king in battaile victor shine

Against his foes, let traytors falling grone

Beneath his sword, that do aspire his throne:

But cease my words, death doth my breath exhale,

Adue my liege, I die, my life doth faile.”

91.

This said, he slept in death, yet neuer sleepes

The fame of his admired loyaltie,

Seal’d with his blood, record for euer keepes,

His name a mirror of true constancie

To his liege lord for all posteritie:

For vnto us he in true loyall loue

Gainst nature’s selfe to death did constant proue.

92.

Nature’s affect leuel’d by rule of reason,

The due respect of common good doth binde

Gainst nature’s selfe, and when the hand of treason

Inuades the state of kings, the noble minde

To shun the taint of blood ’gainst their owne kinde,

Aduerse in nature seeme, that loue to showe,

Which first to care of common good they owe.

93.

Which this illustrate knight in hart did keepe,

And with his blood in death did seale the same:

Which when I heard sad sorrowe seated deepe

In my grieu’d hart my thoughts did so inflame,

That on the foes I rusht with loud exclame,

And with heroicke wreake my harte’s true loue

To my deare Gawin dead, I did approue.

94.

In our reuenge such slaughter we did make