A poets vision, and a princes glorie Dedicated to the high and mightie prince, Iames, King of England, Scotland, France and Ireland. Written by Thomas Greene Gentleman.

A POETS VISION , AND A PRINCES GLORIE . WHEN Hesperus , the Harbinger of night , Had iustly ordred eu'rie burning light , My solitary chamber I forsooke , And musing went vnto a pleasant brooke ; Where , sitting downe vpon a hillocke by , To steale delight with a more quiet eye , Soft drizling droppes vpon my face did fall , Which sweeter were then that wee Nectar call . That tree that but one little droppe receiues , Though bare before , was spangled all with leaues , The ground where scarce before a grasse was seene , Reuiu'd with this , was mantled o're with greene . Long look't I not before my wondring eyes Were vnto Morpheus made a willing prize : Such shapes of ioy into each sence did creepe , As rock'd them all into a heauenly sleepe . For had mine eyes a little longer seene , With extreame rapture I had sencelesse beene , Sith nothing sooner can the sence destroy , Then taken by the eye too much of ioy . Scarce had the pale God with his sleepie dart Strooke through mine eyes my soft slumbering hart , When musique sweeter I may say right well , Then that which brought Eurydice from hell , Did all the powers in me possesse so whole , That through mine eares it stole away my soule ; To which a Ladie singing heare I might , The burthen of her song I pray thee write . Where-with I wak'd , and seeing nought , concluded My senses all were meerely but deluded : Or else the gods to banquet now addrest , Apollo gaue them musick to their feast . No creature sawe I yet , till looking round , Behinde me iust vpon the verdant ground I spide a Ladie sit , but such an one , As well might make Ioue to forsake his throne , And vtterly renounce his sisters bed , And all his want on trickes with Ganymed . Her garments all were white , her haire hung downe , Vpon her head she wore a Laurel Crowne , An Iu'rie Lute she with one hand did twine , And with the other Musick plaid diuine . Her Lute , to glut mine eares with different choyce , She did accord with her melodious voice . After her song she often had repeated , With this demaund I fairely her intreated ; Goddesse ( saide I ) for by thy heauenly face , I ghesse thou sprung'st not from a mortall race , Those lookes of thine serue as a warrant good , That thou no mixture hadst of humane blood , Neuer could Nature , of her selfe , bring forth A creature of such rare and Princely worth . Of fauour shewe to me , why at this time , Especially vnder this haplesse clime , Where neuer ioy yet peeped from the earth , But it was stifled fore it came to birth , Delight so prodigall it selfe doth wast , Spending in minutes that should ages last , As of necessitie it must be shone , Yet by extreames , showes it would faine be gone ? Is Earth ascended into Heauens place ? Or is 't your beautie doth enforce this grace ? Is Heaven descended to the lowest Earth ? Or is 't your Musicke that doth cause this Mirth ? Or is 't a Dreame , and doe I nothing see , That sweetely thus colludes my phantasie ? Or if none of these , what it then should bee , I pray thee , gentle Ladie , tell to mee ? Pausing a while , and looking in my face , Thus she bespake me with a modest grace ; Vainly to boast of my descent or blood , Would argue I did feare my proper good . For who his blood only and kin commends , Commends nought of his owne , but of his frends . Yet , were I so dispos'd my birth to prooue , I could deriue my selfe from highest Ioue : And I could say , and yet but truely say , My mother was the wise Mnemosyne ; Or I could call my name Calliope , And tell how once I with Apollo lay , From whose mixt pleasures , being then but young , The Thracian Orpheus naturally sprung . But farewell this : my purpose is to showe From whence my comming hither now doth flowe . Vertue confined in a narrowe roome , Farre in the North , where she doth only bloome , ( Where had she not contenting fauour seene , From all the world she had exiled beene , And long ere this had lost her glorious name , Had she not there reuiu'd her dying fame . O worthie place ! thy Epethite hence-forth Be sung by Poets thus ; The Vertuous North. ) Now breaking forth into a larger State , Which of all Lands is made most fortunate , Giues me the matter of this new delight , And doth my soule vnto this ioy excite , That houres vnnumbred hath beene lockt from light , And puzzled laine in darke obliuious night . Grosse Nature that hath many yeares laine sicke ( First wounded with leud vices stinging pricke ) On the corrupted bed of vaine desire , Without all shewe of hope , euer t' aspire , To blest fruition of her selfe , is now ( The thought whereof would smooth the agedst brow ) Cleane purged of her filth , from error led , As till this houre she were not perfect bred , But ages infinite had laine in earth , And by no meanes before could haue her birth , Euen as a Hauke new taken from the Mew Hath cast her old traine , and resum'd a new : So Nature now doth with fresh wings aspire , Whose old ones all were tainted o're with mire . Time , that before was baited with deceat , In the foule riuer of a forced sweate , To make simplicitie the sooner bite , That had no eyes , but bended on delite , ( Who would not liue in blinde credulitie , Rather then see what he would feare to see ? ) Is now full gorg'd with honorable zeale , Which lately proofe did to the world reueale . Now yet at last returned are those daies , That ancient Poets long agoe did praise , Which haue so many years beene kept from breath , Bard vp within the Iron caue of death , Which eating time , consenting with the Fates , Hath now enlarg'd , by bursting ope the gates . For ioy whereof , could but this dumbe earth speake , She would into an exultation breake : Yet , for she wants a tongue , to shew her pleasure She is inuested with her richest treasure . Erect thy face , and thou shalt see on high The starres do daunce proud Galliardes in the skie , Or else they all are forced thus to moue , Vnder the weight of Ioue dauncing aboue . Now Mercurie , heauens Orator alone , Perswades his Father leaue his sacred throne , And sweetly tels him with such mouing grace , He must descend vnto a better place : Which Ioue beleeuing , in Heauen makes a dearth , And Tuns of Nectar tumbles on the earth , As if he would vnfurnish heauen quite , And frame another on this earth to night . Now flattring Pride , and Ostentation vaine , Hath ( Peacocke-like ) pull'd in her painted traine . Couetousnesse is chang'd , yet keepes her name , Where she crau'd wealth , she onely craues but fame . Gluttonie feedes slightly vpon her owne , That was before with others cost full blowne . Drunkennesse , that aboue the rest excell'd , Is now vnto Sobrietie compell'd . Sloath , that till now lodg'd in her sleepie caue , By valour shewes she seekes an honour'd graue . Incontinence , her fires are somewhat drencht , But neuer will be altogether quencht . Black vile betraying Policie is dead , And meager Enuie hangeth downe her head . And wheresoere a vice hath raigned long , In that same place there is a vertue sprong . Now shall those young and vertuous plants arise , Which were destroyed by loathsom pois'nous eyes . Here Poets might extoll their excellence , If Barbarisme haue not exil'd them hence , If other Landes inioy not their blest sight , Whome barking ignorance hath put to flight , Their long-sheath'd Pens they might so exercise , As they should sit aboue the reach of eyes , And looking downe vpon their natiue earth , Should grieue to thinke they had so lowe a birth . Yet I haue one thing left surmounts the rest , Which tunes such Musick in my gladsome brest , That sorrowe cannot my least thought annoy , Each roome in me is so fill'd vp with ioy ; Nor can I tell it with my breaths faint story , I am so swell'd vp with immortall glorie . Can sence ( said I ) more of delight yet taste , Then that which hath thy lips alreadie past ? Thou tellest wonders , and I feare this night , My greedie eares will surfet on delight . Yet if vnspoken ioy doe liue in thee , Of it ( in kindnesse ) let me sharer be , Where-with to me she did her white hand reach , And sweetely thus continued on her speach . In Boeotia , my sisters eight and I , Which once ( said she ) were eleuated high , And well esteem'd in former ages past , Vntill these dead corrupted times came last , And eu'ry yeare to vs had tribute paide , By choycest wits , for lending them our aide , Haue long in stead of tribute beene disgrac't , And all our names from memory displac't . For want whereof , we all were growne so poore , That we could scarce keepe miserie from our doore . The chiefest pay we had to set vs forth In all our wants , came from the Princely North , And some from hence , from worthie Delia's store , From sweete Idaea , and from some fewe more : All which so short of that we had before , To those rich times so slender and so poore , That with it we our selues could scarce sustaine , Our number was so great , so small our gaine . Others here are which with their railing Muse Offend graue eares , and doe our names abuse In bringing forth such Monsters to the light , Whose ougly shapes doe terrifie our sight . But why should such my peacefull gall excite ? Well they may barke , but they shall neuer bite . The whips are made shal yerk them from their places , Whose roomes shall be adorn'd with better Graces . But now , ôeuer blest , eternall sweete ! The Lawrell and a triple Crowne doth meete . Now commeth in our long-detained Spring , Reduced back by a victorious King , Whose triple Crowne , to adde more glorious praise , Is triply Crowned with a triple Bayes , Which is the richest Crowne a King can haue , It keepes him from obliuion of the graue ; Where , after some expence of running time , Vpon whose backe doth dissolution clime , His other Crowne , that guilded but the eye , Will quickly fade , when fadeth Maiestie . But this so long as Heauen lends a breath , Shall freshly spring in spite of Fate and death . To be a Prince it is an honour'd thing , Yet eu'ry Poet to himselfe 's a King . But where in one they both commixed be , He then is equall with a Deitie . This caus'd vs all to leaue our Helicon , Our double-topped hill , our Cithaeron , That were nighe ruinated with disgrace , And hether come to a more worthy place , Where on the top of an Imperious Throne , We will build vp another Helicon . The Hilles we left were all compos'd of mould , But we will here erect a hill of gold , Which , where it stands , shall to such height arise , As it shal keepe the Starres from mortal eyes : And by these names it shall be call'd aboue , The Muses Tent , the golden walke of Ioue . From all my sisters haue I stolne away , Which maruell much of my so long a stay , To bring these glorious tidings vnto thee , The which haue infinitely rauish'd mee , That if thou couetst to haue thy name nere die , But wrap thy memorie in eternitie , Past depriuation of corrupting dust , When thou into thy latest bed art thrust , This place can yeeld thee such Promethean fires , As shall giue answere to thy blest desires . Therefore no longer hide thy Muse from light , But pray thee , pray thee , take thy pen and write . Nor thinke I would thus much to thee impart , But that I knowe thou dost affect this Art . Alas ( said I ) should I denie my loue . Of ignorance you might me then reprooue : Yet ( haplesse I ) nothing in me hath place More then my loue , with which I can it grace . Or if there were , I should not trace this way , For that I grieuing see how eu'ry day New swarmes of vertue-killing Drones appeare , Which vilely so vntune the gen'rall eare With harsh discording sounds , as who now sings , ( Although his lines were sweeter then the strings That play the morning vp ) gets no respect , And is not heard , or heard but with neglect ; But sooner farre may moue the stones to heare , Then carelesse men , who onely bodies beare Without true soules : for had they soules , they would With all their nerues the life of soule vphold , In giuing nutriment to Artes , from whence Man wholly doth deriue his excellence . These be the Hydra's of this age , the Apes , The monsters , rowl'd vp in mens pleasing shapes , Haue so infected with their tainted blood The nourishing fruits , which should feede the good , That vndeseruingly they now must stand Vnder the censure of too rough a hand , And for whole yeares of nights in labour spent , To giue the enuious idle world content , Must not for all those nights receiue more right Then he whose sleepie Muse nere saw the night . Which makes them chuse to be with ease infected , Rather then write , and haue their workes neglected . Where , might not eu'rie Cuckowe haue accesse , And bring vnsau'rie writings to the Presse , To dull the eares of men , alreadie slaine With poys'nous swellings of their rotten braine , What throngs of learned soules would then aspire , Toucht with this sacred and celestiall fire ? How manie would by this their heauenly skill , ( Hauing abilitie as great as will ) Infinitely vpraise themselues from earth , Making their beings farre higher then their birth ? But now they hidden lye from light exempt , Rak'd vp within the ashes of contempt . This maketh me that am with skill vnblest , To loue this Arte , but dare not ranke the best With childish issue of my fainter Muse , As poore ambitious ignorantes doe vse . Besides , what slender glorie can ensue His Muse , whereof the world tooke neuer viewe ? Fie fie ( said she ) thou art too Criticall , And dost consent vnto thine owne dread fall . Admit thy worth were vnder the degree Of toleration , which I knowe not to bee , Suppose that millions doe deserue more praise , Wilt thou for this forsake Apollos baies ? O doe not so ! thy Muse may once be blest , And gently fost'red in a Kingly brest . What though the world sawe neuer line of thine ? Nere can thy Muse haue a birth more diuine . And where these ougly imitating Apes Which ( as thou saist ) doe but vsurpe mens shapes , Haue so defil'd this Land , the time 's now come , Those bawling fooles shall quite be striken dombe , Or should they talke , what can it hurt the wise ? It is well knowne they but Idolatrise . For when true iudgement shall their errors find , T will adde more honour to the vertuous mind . Sweete Philomela that sings in the spring , Would lose some grace , did not the Cuckowe sing . Therefore no longer hide thy Muse from light , But pray thee , pray thee , take thy pen and write . With these enforcements was I wonne at length , Conuinced wholy by her powrefull strength , And newe inspired with a sacred light , Agree'd to write what I had seene to night , And if this prosper but successefullie , I will herein my further fortunes trie . FINIS .