Minor Poems of Michael Drayton

APPENDIX

In this Appendix, I have collected certain fugitive pieces of Drayton's; chiefly commendatory verses prefixed to various friends' books. The first song is from England's Helicon, and is, I think, too pretty to be lost. Three of the commendatory poems are in sonnet-form, and their inclusion brings us nearer the whole number published by Drayton; of which there are doubtless a few still lacking. But I have tried to make the collection of sonnets as complete as possible.

From England's Helicon (1600) p. 97.

Rowlands Madrigall.

Faire Loue rest thee heere,
Neuer yet was morne so cleere,
Sweete be not vnkinde,
Let me thy fauour finde,
Or else for loue I die.

Harke this pretty bubling spring,
How it makes the Meadowes ring,
Loue now stand my friend,
Heere let all sorrow end,
10And I will honour thee.

See where little Cupid lyes,
Looking babies in her eyes.
Cupid helpe me now,
Lend to me thy bowe,
To wound her that wounded me.

Heere is none to see or tell,
All our flocks are feeding by,
This Banke with Roses spred,
Oh it is a dainty bed,
20Fit for my Loue and me.

Harke the birds in yonder Groaue,
How they chaunt vnto my Loue,
Loue be kind to me,
As I haue beene to thee,
For thou hast wonne my hart.

Calme windes blow you faire,
Rock her thou gentle ayre,
O the morne is noone,
The euening comes too soone,
30To part my Loue and me.

The Roses and thy lips doo meete,
Oh that life were halfe so sweete,
Who would respect his breath,
That might die such a death,
Oh that life thus might die.

All the bushes that be neere,
With sweet Nightingales beset,
Hush sweete and be still,
Let them sing their fill,
40There's none our ioyes to let.

Sunne why doo'st thou goe so fast?
Oh why doo'st thou make such hast?
It is too early yet,
So soone from ioyes to flit
Why art thou so vnkind?

See my little Lambkins runne,
Looke on them till I haue done,
Hast not on the night,
To rob me of her light,
50That liue but by her eyes.

Alas, sweete Loue, we must depart,
Harke, my dogge begins to barke,
Some bodie's comming neere,
They shall not find vs heere,
For feare of being chid.

Take my Garland and my Gloue,
Weare it for my sake my Loue,
To morrow on the greene,
Thou shalt be our Sheepheards Queene,
60Crowned with Roses gay.

Mich. Drayton.

FINIS.

From T. Morley's First Book of Ballets (1595).

Mr. M.D. to the Author.

Such was old Orpheus cunning,
That sencelesse things drew neere him,
And heards of beasts to heare him,
The stock, the stone, the Oxe, the Asse came running,
Morley! but this enchaunting
To thee, to be the Musick-God is wanting.
And yet thou needst not feare him;
Draw thou the Shepherds still and Bonny lasses,
And enuie him not stocks, stones, Oxen, Asses.

Prefixed to Christopher Middleton's Legend of Humphrey Duke of Gloucester (1600).

To his friend, Master Chr. M. his Booke.

Like as a man, on some aduenture bound
His honest friendes, their kindnes to expresse,
T'incourage him of whome the maine is own'd;
Some venture more, and some aduenture lesse,
That if the voyage (happily) be good:
They his good fortune freely may pertake;
If otherwise it perrish in the flood,
Yet like good friends theirs perish'd for his sake.
On thy returne I put this little forth,
My chaunce with thine indifferently to proue,
Which though (I know) not fitting with thy worth,
Accept it yet since it proceedes from loue;
And if thy fortune prosper, I may see
I haue some share, though most returne to thee.

Mich. Drayton.

Prefixed to John Davies of Hereford; Holy Roode (1609).

To M. Iohn Davies, my good friend.

Such men as hold intelligence with Letters,
And in that nice and Narrow way of Verse,
As oft they lend, so oft they must be Debters,
If with the Muses they will haue commerce:
Seldome at Stawles, me, this way men rehearse,
To mine Inferiours, not unto my Betters:
He stales his Lines that so doeth them disperse;
I am so free, I loue not Golden-fetters.
And many Lines fore Writers, be but Setters
To them which cheate with Papers; which doth pierse,
Our Credits: when we shew our selues Abetters:
To those that wrong our knowledge: we rehearse
Often (my good Iohn; and I loue) thy Letters;
Which lend me Credit, as I lend my Verse.

Michael Drayton.

Prefixed to Sir David Murray's Sophonisba &c. (1611).

To my kinde friend Da: Murray.

In new attire (and put most neatly on)
Thou Murray mak'st thy passionate Queene apeare,
As when she sat on the Numidian throne,
Deck'd with those Gems that most refulgent were.
So thy stronge muse her maker like repaires,
That from the ruins of her wasted vrne,
Into a body of delicious ayres:
Againe her spirit doth transmigrated turne,
That scortching soile which thy great subiect bore,
Bred those that coldly but exprest her merit,
But breathing now vpon our colder shore,
Here shee hath found a noble fiery spirit,
Both there, and here, so fortunate for Fame,
That what she was, she's euery where the same.

M. Drayton.

Among the Panegyrical Verses before Coryat's Crudities (1611).

Incipit Michael Drayton.

A briefe Prologue to the verses following.

Deare Tom, thy booke was like to come to light,
Ere I could gaine but one halfe howre to write;
They go before whose wits are at their noones,
And I come after bringing Salt and Spoones.

Many there be that write before thy Booke,
For whom (except here) who could euer looke?
Thrice happy are all wee that had the Grace
To haue our names set in this liuing place.
Most worthy man, with thee it is euen thus,
As men take Dottrels, so hast thou ta'n vs.
Which as a man his arme or leg doth set,
So this fond Bird will likewise counterfeit:
Thou art the Fowler, and doest shew vs shapes
10And we are all thy Zanies, thy true Apes.
I saw this age (from what it was at first)
Swolne, and so bigge, that it was like to burst,
Growne so prodigious, so quite out of fashion,
That who will thriue, must hazard his damnation:
Sweating in panges, sent such a horrid mist,
As to dim heauen: I looked for Antichrist
Or some new set of Diuels to sway hell,
Worser then those, that in the Chaos fell:
Wondring what fruit it to the world would bring,
20At length it brought forth this: O most strange thing;
And with sore throwes, for that the greatest head
Euer is hard'st to be deliuered.
By thee wise Coryate we are taught to know,
Great, with great men which is the way to grow.
For in a new straine thou com'st finely in,
Making thy selfe like those thou mean'st to winne:
Greatnesse to me seem'd euer full of feare,
Which thou found'st false at thy arriuing there,
Of the Bermudas, the example such,
30Where not a ship vntill this time durst touch;
Kep't as suppos'd by hels infernall dogs,
Our Fleet found their most honest wyld courteous hogs.
Liue vertuous Coryate, and for euer be
Lik'd of such wise men, as are most like thee.

Explicit Michael Drayton.

Prefixed to William Browne's Britannia's Pastorals (1613).

To his Friend the Avthor.

Driue forth thy Flocke, young Pastor, to that Plaine,
Where our old Shepheards wont their flocks to feed;
To those cleare walkes, where many a skilfull Swaine
To'ards the calme eu'ning, tun'd his pleasant Reede,
Those, to the Muses once so sacred, Downes,
As no rude foote might there presume to stand:
(Now made the way of the vnworthiest Clownes,
Dig'd and plow'd vp with each vnhallowed hand)
If possible thou canst, redeeme those places,
10Where, by the brim of many a siluer Spring,
The learned Maydens, and delightfull Graces
Often haue sate to heare our Shepheards sing:
Where on those Pines the neighb'ring Groues among,
(Now vtterly neglected in these dayes)
Our Garlands, Pipes, and Cornamutes were hong
The monuments of our deserued praise.
So may thy Sheepe like, so thy Lambes increase,
And from the Wolfe feede euer safe and free!
So maist thou thriue, among the learned prease,
20As thou young Shepheard art belou'd of mee!

Prefixed to Chapman's Translation of Hesiod's Georgics (1618).

To my worthy friend Mr. George Chapman, and his translated Hesiod.

Prefixed to Book ij. of Primaleon, &c. Translated by Anthony Munday (1619).

OF THE WORKE and Translation.

If in opinion of iudiciall wit,
Primaleons sweet Invention well deserue:
Then he (no lesse) which hath translated it,
Which doth his sense, his forme, his phrase, obserue.
And in true method of his home-borne stile,
(Following the fashion of a French conceate)
Hath brought him heere into this famous Ile,
Where but a stranger, now hath made his seate.
He liues a Prince, and comming in this sort,
Shall to his Countrey of your fame report.

M.D.

From Annalia Dubrensia (1636).

TO MY NOBLE Friend Mr. Robert Dover, on his braue annuall Assemblies vpon Cotswold.

Douer, to doe thee Right, who will not striue,
That dost in these dull yron Times reuiue
The golden Ages glories; which poore Wee
Had not so much as dream't on but for Thee?
As those braue Grecians in their happy dayes,
On Mount Olympus to their Hercules
Ordain'd their games Olimpick, and so nam'd
Of that great Mountaine; for those pastimes fam'd:
Where then their able Youth, Leapt, Wrestled, Ran,
10Threw the arm'd Dart; and honour'd was the Man
That was the Victor; In the Circute there
The nimble Rider, and skill'd Chariotere
Stroue for the Garland; In those noble Times
There to their Harpes the Poets sang their Rimes;
That whilst Greece flourisht, and was onely then
Nurse of all Arts, and of all famous men:
Numbring their yeers, still their accounts they made,
Either from this or that Olimpiade.
So Douer, from these Games, by thee begun,
20Wee'l reckon Ours, as time away doth run.
Wee'l haue thy Statue in some Rocke cut out,
With braue Inscriptions garnished about;
And vnder written, Loe, this was the man,
Dover, that first these noble Sports began.
Ladds of the Hills, and Lasses of the Vale,
In many a song, and many a merry Tale
Shall mention Thee; and hauing leaue to play,
Vnto thy name shall make a Holy day.
The Cosswold Shepheards as their flockes they keepe,
30To put off lazie drowsinesse and sleepe,
Shall sit to tell, and heare thy Story tould,
That night shall come ere they their flocks can fould.

Michaell Drayton.

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