Here, man doth sinne: And there, hee shalbee pure : Here, deathe hee tastes: And there, shall neuer die. Here, hathe hee griefe: And there shall ioyes possesse,
As none hath seene, nor anie harte can gesse.
Author of "The Schoolmaster," a work once highly celebrated. He was classical tutor to Queen Elizabeth.
On a favourite Pupil deceased.
The following stanzas are thus quaintly introduced by their learned Author:-" If in any cause, a man may without offence to God speak somewhat ungodly, surely it was some grief unto me, to see him hie so hastily to God, as he did. A court full of such young gentlemen, were rather a Paradise than a court upon earth. And though I never had a poetical head, to make any verse in any tongue, yet either love or sorrow, or both, did wring out of me then, certain careful thoughts of my good will towards him; which in my mourning for him fell forth more by chance, than either by skill or use, into this kind of misorderly metre.
MINE OWN JOHN WHITNEY, now farewell,
Since Death doth part us twain;
No death, but parting for a while,
Whom life shall join again.
Therefore, my Heart, cease sighs and sobs,
Cease sorrow's seed to sow;
Whereof no gain, but greater grief,
And hurtful care may grow.
Yet when I think upon such gifts
Of grace as God him lent;
My loss his gain, I must awhile
With joyful tears lament.
Young years to yield such fruit, at court,
Where seed of vice is sown,
Is sometimes read, in some place seen,
Among us seldom known.
His life he led Christ's love to learn,
With will to work the same;
He read to know, and knew to live,
And lived to praise his name.
So fast a friend, so foe to few,
So good to every wight;
I may well wish, but scarcely hope
Again to have in sight.
The greater joy his life to me,
His death the greater pain:
His life in Christ so surely set,
Doth glad my heart again.
Thus God the good, while they be good,
Doth take, and leave us ill;
That we should mend our sinful life,
In life to tarry still.
Thus we well left, he better reft,
In heaven to take his place,
That by like life and death, at last,
We may obtain like grace.
Mine own JOHN WHITNEY, again farewell,
Awhile thus part we twain;
Whom pain doth part on earth, in heaven Great joy shall join again.
Principal Works:-The Faerie Queene, the Shepheard's Callender, Miscellanies. Spenser is so rich, and even redundant, in illustration, on every theme which he celebrates, that it has been found necessary to give extracts only from the pieces which bear the titles following.
The Ruines of Time.
I saw an image, all of massie gold,
Placed on high upon an altare faire,
That all, which did the same from farre beholde,
Might worship it, and fall on lowest staire.
Not that great idoll might with this compaire,
To which the' Assyrian tyrant would have made
The holie brethren falslie to have praid.
But the' altare, on the which this image staid,
Was (O great pitie!) built of brittle clay,
That shortly the foundation decaid,
With showres of Heaven and tempests worne away;
Then downe it fell, and low in ashes lay,
Scorned of everie one, which by it went;
That I, it seeing, dearelie did lament.
Next unto this a statelie towre appeared,
Built all of richest stone that might bee found,
And nigh unto the Heavens in height upreared,
But placed on a plot of sandie ground:
Not that great towre, which is so much renownd
For tongues confusion in Holie Writ,
King Ninus worke, might be compar'd to it.
But, O vaine labours of terrestriall wit,
That buildes so stronglie on so frayle a soyle,
As with each storme does fall away, and flit,
And gives the fruit of all your travailes toyle,
To be the pray of Tyme, and Fortune's spoyle!
I saw this towre fall sodainelie to dust,
That nigh with griefe thereof my heart was brust.
Then did I see a pleasant paradize,
Full of sweete flowres and daintiest delights,
Such as on Earth man could not more devize,
With pleasures choyce to feed his cheerefull sprights :
Not, that, which Merlin by his magicke slights
Made for the gentle squire, to entertaine
His fayre Belphœbe, could this gardine staine.
But, O short pleasure bought with lasting paine!
Why will hereafter anie flesh delight
In earthlie bliss, and ioy in pleasures vaine,
Since that I sawe this gardine wasted quite,
That where it was scarce seemed anie sight?
That I, which once that beautie did beholde,
Could not from teares my melting eyes with-holde.
Soone after this a giaunt came in place,
Of wondrous powre, and of exceeding stature,
That none durst vewe the horror of his face,
Yet was he milde of spach, and meeke of nature:
Not he, which in despight of his Creatour
With railing tearmes defied the Iewish hoast,
Might with this mightie one in hugenes boast;
For from the one he could to the' other coast
Stretch his strong thighes, and the' ocean overstride,
And reach his hand into his enemies hoast.
But see the end of pompe and fleshlie pride!
One of his feete unwares from him did slide,
That downe hee fell into the deepe abisse,
Where drownd with him is all his earthlie blisse.
Then did I see a bridge, made all of golde,
Over the sea from one to other side,
Withouten prop or pillour it to' upholde,
But like the coloured rainbowe arched wide:
Not that great arche, which Traian edifide,
To be a wonder to all age ensuing,
Was matchable to this in equall vewing.
But (ah!) what bootes it to see earthlie thing
In glorie, or in greatnes to excell,
Sith time doth greatest things to ruine bring?
This goodlie bridge, one foote not fastned well,
Gan faile, and all the rest downe shortlie fell,
Ne of so brave a building ought remained,
That griefe thereof my spirite greatly pained.
Much was I troubled in my heavie spright,
At sight of these sad spectacles forepast,
That all my senses were bereaved quight,
And I in minde remained sore agast,
Distraught twixt feare and pitie; when at last
I heard a voyce, which loudly to me called,
That with the suddein shrill I was appalled.
“Behold" (said it)" and by ensample see,
That all is vanitie and griefe of minde,
Ne other comfort in this world can be,
But hope of Heaven, and heart to God inclinde;
For all the rest must needs be left behinde:"
With that it bad me, to the other side
To cast mine eye, where other sights I spide.
Upon that famous river's further shore,
There stood a snowie swan of heavenly hiew,
And gentle kinde, as ever fowle afore;
A fairer one in all the goodlie crew
Of white Strimonian brood might no man view:
There he most sweetly sung the prophecie
Of his owne death in dolefull elegie.
At last, when all his mourning melodie
He ended had, that both the shores resounded,
Feeling the fit that him forewarnd to die,
With loftie flight above the Earth he bounded,
And out of sight to highest Heaven mounted,
Where now he is become an heavenly signe;
There now the ioy is his, here sorrow mine.
Whilest thus I looked, loe! adowne the lee,
I saw an harpe stroong all with silver twyne,
And made of golde and costlie yvorie,
Swimming, that whilome seemed to have been
The harpe, on which Dan Orpheus was seene
Wylde beasts and forrests after him to lead,
But was the' harpe of Philisides now dead.
|