1
Of Amuraths yong spleenfull sonne I sing,
His sonne, who to the Strand of Hellespont
And to the great Sea-cost his bounds did bring,
Whose Empire so the Grecians did confront,
That euen from Pindus, and Thomao Mont.
From darke Morea to Corinthian streights,
From Burgon to Hungaria's broken wing,
His Nauy fetch'd contributary freights.
2
Yong Mahomet, the wanton of her eie,
Which teacheth wars, & caught his nonage daies
That gaue such hansell of his tyranny,
In those first battails, and apprentize sayes,
Which did so hotly dart their early rayes,
On Sigismond, or that wherein was tane,
Philip the noble Duke of Burgondy,
With him kept prisoner, Ô farre better slaine!
3
Yong Mahomet to Greece the fatall scourge,
Which thither death, and desolation brought,
Euen to the faire Constantinoples veirdge,
The Grecian Empires chaire, the which he sought
For which a huge digested army fought.
And at the last, distressed Constantine,
And of all Christians did the Citty purge,
O shame to Europes Peeres, and Kings diuine.

4
Let Italy take heed, the New-moone threats,
To reare his hornes on Romes great Capitall,
And doth not Rome deserue such rough defeats,
That should be mother of compassion all?
And coÜnite the states, and principall
In league, and loue, which now for trifles iarre,
The Persian Sophy shames our Christian feats,
Who with the Souldan ioynes gainst Turkish war.
5
Had Constantine, that three times sacred Prince,
Beene rescu'd then by power of Christendome,
Mathias neuer should haue cran'd defence,
Of Germans, English, Spanish, France, and Rome,
Taxes of warre, to these climes had not come:
Nor yet the Turke with all his barbarous hoast,
Durst with the Catholikes such war commence,
Where now they haue heard their drums, & feard their hoast.
6
Who reads or heares the losse of that great town
Constantinople but doth wet his eyes?
Where litle babes fr? windows were pusht down
Yong Ladies blotted with adulteries,
Old fathers scourg'd with all base villanies?
O mourne her ruine, and bewish the Turke,
eternall depriuation of his Crowne,
That durst for paganisme such outrage worke.

7
When Mahomet had man'd the wals, the towne surpriz'd
Great grew the slaughter, bloudy waxt the fight,
Like Troy, where all was fir'd, and all despis'd,
But what stood gracious in the victors sight.
Such was the wo of this great citty right:
Here lay a Saint throwne downe, & here a Nun,
Rude Sarazens which no high God agnis'd,
Made all alike our wofull course to run.
8
And in this deadly dealing of sterne death,
And busie dole of euery Souldiers hand,
Where swords were dul'd with robbing men of breath
Whil'st rape with murder, stalk't about the land,
And vengeance did performe her own command,
and where 'twas counted sin to thinke amisse:
There no man thought it ill to do all scath,
O what doth warre respect of bale or blisse?
9
There stood an ancient Chappell next the Court,
Where sacred Bishops said their morrow Masse.
And sung sweet Anthems with a loud report,
To that eternall God-head, whose sonne was,
Sequestred from the Trinity to passe,
Vnder the burthen of the holy Crosse,
For our redemption, whose death did retort,
The sting of Sathan, and restor'd our losse.

10
Hither was got of silly maides some few,
Whom happily no Souldier yet had seas'd,
Tendring their spotlesse vows, in child-cold dew,
Of virgin teares, to haue the heauens appeas'd
But teares too late, must be too soone displeas'd,
And hither, like a Tyger from the chase,
Recking in bloudy thoughts, and bloudy shew,
Came Amurath himselfe to sacke the place.
11
In Armour clad, of watchet steele, full grim,
Fring'd round about the sides, with twisted gold,
Spotted with shining stars vnto the brim,
Which seem'd to burn the spheare which did th? hold:
His bright sword drawn, of temper good and old,
A full moone in a fable night he bore,
On painted shield, which much adorned him,
With this short Motto: Neuer glorious more.
12
And as a Diamond in the dark-dead night,
Cannot but point at beames on euery side,
Or as the shine of CassiopÆa bright,
Which make the zodiacke, where it doth abide,
Farre more then other planets to be ey'd:
So did faire Hirens eyes encounter his,
And so her beames did terror strike his sight,
As at the first it made e'm vale amisse.

13
O that faire beauty in distresse should fall,
For so did she, the wonder of the east,
At least, if it be wondrous faire at all,
That staines the morning, in her purple nest,
With guilt-downe curled Tresses, rosy drest,
Reflecting in a cornet wise, admire,
To euery eye whom vertue might appall.
And Syren loue, inchant with amorous fire.
14
A thousand Bashawes, and a thousand more,
Of Ianizaries, crying to the spoile,
Come rushing in with him at euery dore,
That had not Loue giuen Barbarisme the foile,
The faire had beene dishonored in this while.
But Ô when beauty strikes vpon the heart:
What musicke then to euery sence is bore,
All thought resigning them, to beare apart.
15
For as amongst the rest, she kneel'd sad weeping,
In tender passion by an altars side,
And to a blessed Saint begins her creeping,
He stood loue-wounded, what should her betide,
Whilst she saw him turnd round, & well nie died.
Let darknes shroud quoth she, my soule in night,
Before my honor be in Mahounds keeping,
Prisoner to enuy, lust, and all vnright.

16
O, if thou beest a Souldier, lend thy sword,
To ope the bosomes, where yet neuer lay,
Ignoble Souldier, nor imperious Lord,
Of all whom war hath grip'd into her sway,
Onely remaine we few, let not this day,
Begin with vs, who neuer did offend,
Or else do all of vs one death afford,
If not, kill me, who ne'r was Pagans friend.
17
But now (said Mahomet) thou shall be mine,
Thine eies haue power to such a great mans hart,
If then they worke on me to make me thine,
Say thou art wrong'd? dishonor doth impart
No loue, where he may force: but mine thou art,
And shalt be only in thine own free choice,
What makes me speake, makes me speak thus diuine
Else could I threat thee with a conquerors voyce.
18
What you may do (said she) I do not know,
But know you this, there is a thousand waies,
To finde out night before my shamelesse brow,
Shall meet that day in guilt of such misrayes.
Oh how vniust art thou? the pagan sayes,
To him which sues for a respecting eye,
And no ignoble action doth allow,
But honor, and thy faires to gratifie.

19
The effect of both is one (said she) both spils,
And layes my shame o're mastred at thy feet,
But greatnesse (said he) doth outface all ills,
And maiesty (make sowre apparance sweete,
Where other powers

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