There didst thou vanquish shame and tedious age, Grief, sorrow, sickness, and base fortune's might; Thy rising day saw never woeful night, But passed with praise from off this worldly stage. Back to the camp by thee that day was brought, First thine own death; and after, thy long fame; Tears to the soldiers; the proud Castilian's shame; Virtue expressed, and honour truly taught. What hath he lost that such great grace hath won? Young years for endless years, and hope unsure Of fortune's gifts for wealth that still shall dure: O happy race, with so great praises run! England doth hold thy limbs, that bred the same; Flanders thy valour, where it last was tried; The camp thy sorrow, where thy body died; Thy friends thy want; the world thy virtue's fame; Nations thy wit; our minds lay up thy love; Letters thy learning; thy loss years long to come; In worthy hearts sorrow hath made thy tomb; Thy soul and spright enrich the heavens above. Thy liberal heart embalmed in grateful tears, Young sighs, sweet sighs, sage sighs, bewail thy fall; Envy her sting, and spite hath left her gall; Malice herself a mourning garment wears. That day their Hannibal died, our Scipio fell,— Scipio, Cicero, and Petrarch of our time; Whose virtues, wounded by my worthless rhyme, Let angels speak, and heaven thy praises tell. IV. A VISION UPON THIS CONCEIT OF THE FAIRY QUEEN.' (1590.) ETHOUGHT I saw the grave where Within that temple where the vestal Was wont to burn: and, passing by that way, Where Homer's spright did tremble all for grief, 1 Appended to Spenser's "Fairy Queen," books i.-iii., 1590, p. 596. V. ANOTHER OF THE SAME.1 (1590.) HE praise of meaner wits this work like As doth the cuckoo's song delight when If thou hast formed right true virtue's face herein, Virtue herself can best discern, to whom they written bin. If thou hast beauty praised, let her sole looks divine Judge if aught therein be amiss, and mend it by her eine. If Chastity want aught, or Temperance her due, Behold her princely mind aright, and write thy Queen anew. Meanwhile she shall perceive how far her virtues soar Above the reach of all that live, or such as wrote of yore: And thereby will excuse and favour thy good will, Whose virtue cannot be expressed but by an angel's quill. Of me no lines are loved nor letters are of price, Of all which speak our English tongue, but those of thy device. From the same; signed W. R. VI. REPLY TO MARLOWE. 1. MARLOWE'S SONG. THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE.1 (Before 1593.) COME live with me, and be my love; And we will sit upon the rocks, And I will make thee beds of roses, A gown made of the finest wool Fair-lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold; Dyce's "Marlowe," iii. 299. An imperfect copy was printed in the "Passionate Pilgrim" in 1599, and it is quoted in the "Merry Wives of Windsor," iii. 1. It was printed at length with Marlowe's name in England's Helicon," 1600; and also in Walton's "Complete Angler," 1653, as "that smooth song which was made by Kit Marlow, now at least fifty years ago." Marlowe died sixty years before, in 1593. A belt of straw and ivy-buds, The shepherd-swains shall dance and sing 2. RALEIGH'S REPLY. (Before 1599.) F all the world and love were young, But time drives flocks from field to fold, The flowers do fade, and wanton fields 1 The first verse was printed in the "Passionate Pilgrim" in 1599, and the whole in " England's Helicon," 1600, where the signature is Ignoto. Also in Walton's "Complete Angler," 1653, as made by Sir Walter Raleigh in his younger days." |