That if it chance the turnes of time to brooke,
(Which grind to pouder all produced in time)
Thy name at least (which is my most) may looke
Like to itself, in my hard-favour'd rime.
If voice of those that love the voice Divine
Be true, (the truth whereof none ought to doubt)
Thou, like the moone among heav'n's lamps dost shine,
While Sol, thy sov'raigne, goes the globe about.
Long maist thou (as he doth) give light to all,
That pleas'd, or pain'd, do foote this earthly ball.
To the Rt. Honourable, and highly valued Lord, the Earle of Northumberland, &c.
Who cannot raigne in height of lofty stile,
That hath so high a subject for the same
As thy heroicke worth and glorious name,
Is abject; nay, than abject farre more vile.
Magnificke thoughts to think on, thoughts doth mount Above the spheare of common intellect ;
The thought of thy thoughts causeth this effect,
Which makes my tow'ring thoughts themselves surmount.
I thinke of thee and them, as of those things
That move to rest in honor's highest spheare;
Sith vertue is the scale the same to reare,
Which wil make thee as neere as deere to kings:
As long (great Lord) as vertue guideth thee,
Thou shalt be blest of GOD, King, State, and me.
To the Right Honorable the Earle of Worcester, &c.
Wert thou (most noble Lord) a scourge to me,
Plagueing my misses with an iron rod;
Yet would I, in my hart, still honor thee;
For, though he punish me, I honor God.
Thou dost burt no man simplie for his harme;
But as the surgeon doth, his hurt to heale:
Would wounded or diseased states did swarm
With no worse surgeons for their commonweale!
I honor thee for that, which God himselfe
Doth honor men; that is, for drawing neere
To his great goodnesse, (not for port, or pelfe)
I honor thee for that, deere Lord; and deere
Shall such be to me for their vertue sake,
Though I thereof no use at all do make.
To the Right Hon. the Earle and Countesse of Rutland.
For infinite respects to thee, (sweete Lord!)
My Muse doth consecrate these zealous lines;
Which is the all her nothing can afford,
Serving for nothing but for true love's signes.
To thee that dost enjoy fruite of his loines,
From whose worst parts proceeded nought but good,
Whose weakest worths brake envie's strongest foines,
These lines I send; and to his dearest blood.
Sweete couple! that have tasted sweete and soure,
The sweetest potion worldly weale can taste;
O let each other's sweetes that gall devoure,
Which with this sowre world's sweetes is interlac't:
And that you may doe so, your unknown yours
Will praie, so you vouchsafe to call him ours.
To the right Honorable the Earle of Cumberland.
Neptune's vice-gerent! sea-controlling spirit!
That makes her pay thee tribute, and thy land;
Of which thou dost, therefore, great honor merit,
And worthy art thou on both to command.
So long thou hast the northern pole regarded,
That Nature now hath made that pole thine head:
So, lookes are, with what was lookt for, rewarded;
Then by his light let thy course still be led.
If so, thy fame the world inviron shall;
For his light leades to glory infinite:
Then eie him well, and his staid motions all;
Yea, draw as neere him as is requisite:
So fame thy name will on the skies enrole;
So shalt thou honor'd be by this North Pole.
To the Right Noble Robert Lord Sydney, Baron of Penshurst, &c.
Thy vertue, and the conscience of the grace
Thou hast youchsaf'd me, not deserving it,
Doth like two spurres provoke my will and wit,
Thy name with my love's lines to interlace.
Thy honor'd name, name honored of all
That honors grace, by man made glorious,
Can of itselfe rouze up the dullest Muse
To make thereof divine memoriall.
Then, should I it commend to monument,
No miracle should I perfourme thereby,
Sith it by nature lives eternally,
Such life to Sydneys being incident:
And sith divine Sir Philip lives in thee,
Be thou that monument, and so ease me.
To the Right Noble, and no lesse learned than judicious Lord, William Earle of Pembroke, &c.
Deere Lord, if so I could, I would make knowne
How much I longe to keep thee still alive :
These lines, tho' short, so long shall be thine owne
As they have power vitality to give :
I consecrate this myte of my devotion
To the rich treasurie of thy deere fame;
Which shal serve, though nought else worth a notion,
For tyme to sever thy fame from thy name:
William, son's son of William, dreaded Earle
Of Pembroke, made by England's dreadful'st King :*
Neptune to Sidney, (rare worth's richest pearle)
That to this land her fairest fame did bring,
These worthies' worthes are treasured in thee,
So, three in one, makes one as deere as three.
To the Right Honorable and loiall harted Lord, the Earle of Clanricard.
Our English crownes approved Irish frend,
That raign'st in our true love; for, such thy truth,
Let thine owne rare perfections thee commend
For perfect praise, perfection still ensu'th.
I never was so happie as to see thee,
Much lesse to knowe thee, whom I longe to see,
But in thy predecessor did foresee thee;
For, if fame fable not, much like you be.
To add then to thy glory more bright beames,
Love his, thy other selfe, with deerest love;
For shee hath martir'd been with greefe's extreames,
Deere innocent! whose vertues all
Her love to thee doth argue thy hie worth,
Then love such love, that setts thy glory forth.
To the most heroick and meritoriously renowned Lord, the
Lord Mountjoy, Lord Deputy of Ireland.
To praise thee, noble lord! were but to doo
What all the world doth; and to do the same,
Were to offend, and that extreamely too;
And all extreame offence incurs defame.
Praise is not seemely in a wicked mouth;
The world is wicked, and her mouth is worse,
Full of detraction, false praise, and untruth:
Then should I praise according to her course?
O no! thy vertue merits more regard;
Let vertue praise thee, as thou her dost praise :
For sacred vertue is her owne reward,
And crowns herselfe, in spight of fortune's nayes.
She is thy guide; and glory her attends,
Which, her in thee, and thee in her commends.
To the right Honorable the good Lord of Kinlosse, &c.
Praise that proceedeth from a poet's pen,
That faines by nature, may want powre perchance
To add renowne to the renownes of men,
Whom goodnesse without glozing doth advance.
If then my pen (though it too open bee
To gloze) disabled be by envie's spight
To register the right that's due to thee,
Yet should it wrong thee to conceale thy right.
Thy world contemning thoughts the world do make
(As 'knowledging the ods 'twixt good and ill)
To rev'rence thee for thy rare goodnesse' sake,
Which harts with love, and mouthes with praise doth fill : They stile that praise, but with one only word,
Which being good, with God doth still accord.
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