Their heavenly vertues from these woes assoyling,
Caried to heaven, from sinfull bondage losed:
But their great sinnes, the causers of their
paine,

Under these antique ruines yet remaine.

XX.

No otherwise than raynie cloud, first fed
With earthly vapours gathered in the ayre,
Eftsoones in compas arch't, to steepe his hed,
Doth plonge himselfe in Tethys bosome faire;
And, mounting up againe from whence he came,
With his great bellie spreds the dimmed world,
Till at the last, dissolving his moist frame,
In raine, or snowe, or haile, he forth is horld;
This Citie, which was first but shepheards shade,
Uprising by degrees, grewe to such height,
That Queene of land and sea her selfe she made.
At last, not able to beare so great weight, [vade;
Her power, disperst, through all the world did
To shew that all in th' end to nought shall fade.

XXI.

The same, which Pyrrhus and the puissaunce
Of Afrike could not tame, that same brave Citie,
Which, with stout courage arm'd against mis-
Sustein'd the shocke of common enmitie; [chaunce,
Long as her ship, tost with so manie freakes,
Had all the world in armes against her bent,
Was never seene, that anie fortunes wreakes
Could breake her course begun with brave intent.
But, when the obiect of her vertue failed,
Her power it selfe against it selfe did arme;
As he that having long in tempest sailed,
Faine would arrive, but cannot for the storme,
If too great winde against the port him drive,
Doth in the port it selfe his vessell rive.

XXII.

When that brave honour of the Latine name,
Which mear'd her rule with Africa, and Byze,
With Thames inhabitants of noble fame,
And they which see the dawning day arize;
Her nourslings did with mutinous uprore
Harten against her selfe, her conquer'd spoile,
Which she had wonne from all the world afore,
Of all the world was spoyl'd within a while:
So, when the compast course of the universe
In sixe and thirtie thousand yeares is ronne,
The bands of th' elements shall backe reverse
To their first discord, and be quite undonne:

The seedes, of which all things at first were bred,
Shall in great Chaos wombe againe be hid.

Soone growes through humours superfluitie. That came to passe, when, swolne with plenties pride,

Nor prince, nor peere, nor kin, they would abide.

XXIV.

If the blinde Furie, which warres breedeth oft,
Wonts not t' enrage the hearts of equall beasts,
Whether they fare on foote, or flie aloft,
Or armed be with clawes, or scalie creasts;
What fell Erynnis, with hot burning tongs,
Did grype your hearts with noysome rage imbew'd,
That, each to other working cruell wrougs,
Your blades in your owne bowels you embrew'd?
Was this (ye Romanes) your hard destinie?
Or some old sinne, whose unappeased guilt
Powr'd vengeance forth on you eternallie?
Or brothers blood, the which at first was spilt
Upon your walls, that God might not endure
Upon the same to set foundation sure?

XXV.

O that I had the Thracian Poets harpe,
For to awake out of th' infernall shade
Those antique Cæsars, sleeping long in darke,
The which this auncient Citie whilome made!
Or that I had Amphions instrument,
To quicken, with his vitall notes accord,
The stonie ioynts of these old walls now rent,
By which th' Ausonian light might be restor❜d!
Or that at least I could, with pencill fine,
Fashion the pourtraicts of these palacis,
By paterne of great Virgils spirit divine!
I would assay with that which in me is,
To builde, with levell of my loftie style,
That which no hands can evermore compyle.

XXVI.

Who list the Romane greatnes forth to figure,
Him needeth not to seeke for usage right
Of line, or lead, or rule, or squaire, to measure
Her length, her breadth, her deepnes, or her hight;
But him behooves to vew in compasse round
All that the Ocean graspes in his long armes ;
Be it where the yerely starre doth scortch the
ground,

Or where colde Boreas blowes his bitter stormes.
Rome was th' whole world, and al the world was

Rome;

And if things nam'd their names doo equalize, When land and sea ye name, then name ye Rome; And, naming Rome, ye land and sea comprize:

For th' auncient plot of Rome, displayed plaine, The map of all the wide world doth containe.

Doth yet himselfe with fatall hand enforce, Againe on foote to reare her pouldred corse.

XXVIII.

He that hath seene a great oke drie and dead
Yet clad with reliques of some trophees olde,
Lifting to heaven her aged hoarie head,
Whose foote in ground hath left but feeble holde,
But halfe disbowel'd lies above the ground,
Shewing her wreathed rootes, and naked armes,
And on her trunke all rotten and unsound
Onely supports herselfe for meate of wormes;
And, though she owe her fall to the first winde,
Yet of the devout people is ador'd,

And, manie yong plants spring out of her rinde;
Who such an oke hath seene, let him record

That such this Cities honour was of yore, And mongst all Cities florished much more.

ΧΧΙΧ.

All that which Aegypt whilome did devise;
All that which Greece their temples to embrave,
After th' Ionicke, Atticke, Doricke guise;
Or Corinth skil'd in curious workes to grave;
All that Lysippus practike arte could forme;
Apelles wit; or Phidias his skill;

Was wont this auncient Citie to adorne,

And the heaven it selfe with her wide wonders fill.
All that which Athens ever brought forth wise;
All that which Afrike ever brought forth strange;
All that which Asie ever had of prise;
Was here to see. O mervelous great change!

Rome, living, was the worlds sole ornament;
And, dead, is now the worlds sole moniment.

Ne Afrike thereof guiltie is, nor Spaine,
Nor the bolde people by the Thamis brincks,
Nor the brave warlicke brood of Alemaine,
Nor the borne souldier which Rhine running drinks:
Thou onely cause, O Civill Furie, art!
Which, sowing in th' Aemathian fields thy spight,
Didst arme thy hand against thy proper hart;
To th' end that when thou wast in greatest hight
To greatnes growne, through long prosperitie,
Thou then adowne might'st fall more horriblie.

XXXII.

Hope ye, my Verses, that posteritie
Of age ensuing shall you ever read?
Hope ye, that ever immortalitie

So meane Harpes worke may chalenge for her meed?

If under heaven anie endurance were,
These moniments, which not in paper writ,
But in porphyre and marble doo appeare,
Might well have hop'd to have obtained it.
Nath'les my Lute, whom Phoebus deignd to give,
Cease not to sound these olde antiquities:
For if that Time doo let thy glorie live,
Well maist thou boast, how ever base thou bee,
That thou art first, which of thy Nation song
Th' olde honour of the people gowned long.

L'ENVOY.

Bellay, first garland of free Poësie

That France brought forth, though fruitfull of brave wits,

Well worthie thou of immortalitie,

That long hast traveld, by thy learned writs,
Olde Rome out of her ashes to revive,
And give a second life to dead decayes!
Needes must he all eternitie survive,
That can to other give eternall dayes:
Thy dayes therefore are endles, and thy prayse
Excelling all, that ever went before.
And, after thee, gins Bartas hie to rayse
His heavenly Muse, th' Almightie to adore.
Live, happie spirits, th' honour of your name,
And fill the world with never dying fame!

ONE day, whiles that my daylie cares did sleepe,
My spirit, shaking off her earthly prison,
Began to enter into meditation deepe

Of things exceeding reach of common reason;
Such as this age, in which all good is geason,
And all that humble is, and meane debaced,
Hath brought forth in her last declining season,
Griefe of good mindes, to see goodnesse disgraced !
On which when as my thought was throghly placed,
Unto my eyes strange showes presented were,
Picturing that, which I in minde embraced,
That yet those sights empassion me full nere.

Such as they were (faire Ladie !) take in worth, That when time serves may bring things better forth.

In summers day, when Phoebus fairly shone,
I saw a Bull as white as driven snowe,
With gilden hornes embowed like the moone,
In a fresh flowring meadow lying lowe:
Up to his eares the verdant grasse did growe,
And the gay floures did offer to be eaten ;
But he with fatnes so did overflowe,
That he all wallowed in the weedes downe beaten,
Ne car'd with them his daintie lips to sweeten:
Till that a Brize, a scorned little creature,
Through his faire hide his angrie sting did threaten,
And vext so sore, that all his goodly feature

And all his plenteous pasture nought him pleased:
So by the small the great is oft diseased.

Beside the fruitfull shore of muddie Nile,
Upon a sunnie banke outstretched lay,
In monstrous length, a mightie Crocodile,
That, cram'd with guiltles blood and greedie pray
Of wretched people travailing that way,
Thought all things lesse than his disdainfull pride.
I saw a little Bird, cal'd Tedula,

The least of thousands which on earth abide,
That forst this hideous beast to open wide
The greisly gates of his devouring hell,
And let him feede, as Nature did provide,
Upon his iawes, that with blacke venime swell.
Why then should greatest things the least disdaine,
Sith that so small so mightie can constraine?

That made all other foules his thralls to bee:
The silly Flie, that no redresse did see,
Spide where the Eagle built his towring nest,
And, kindling fire within the hollow tree,
Burnt up his yong ones, and himselfe distrest;
Ne suffred him in anie place to rest,
But drove in loves owne lap his egs to lay;
Where gathering also filth him to infest,
Forst with the filth his egs to fling away:

For which when as the foule was wroth, said love, "Lo! how the least the greatest may reprove."

V.

eye,

Toward the sea turning my troubled
I saw the fish (if fish I may it cleepe)
That makes the sea before his face to flye,
And with his flaggie finnes doth seeme to sweepe
The fomie waves out of the dreadfull deep,
The huge Leviathan, dame Natures wonder,
Making his sport, that manie makes to weep:
A Sword-fish small him from the rest did sunder,
That, in his throat him pricking softly under,
His wide abysse him forced forth to spewe,
That all the sea did roare like heavens thunder,
And all the waves were stain'd with filthie hewe.
Hereby I learned have not to despise
Whatever thing seemes small in common eyes.

VI.

An hideous Dragon, dreadfull to behold,
Whose backe was arm'd against the dint of speare
With shields of brasse that shone like burnisht golde,
And forkhed sting that death in it did beare,
Strove with a Spider his unequall peare;

And bad defiance to his enemie.

The subtill vermin, creeping closely neare,
Did in his drinke shed poyson privilie;
Which, through his entrailes spredding diversly,
Made him to swell, that nigh his bowells brust,
And him enforst to yeeld the victorie,

That did so much in his owne greatnesse trust.
O, how great vainnesse is it then to scorne
The weake, that hath the strong so oft forlorne!

VII.

High on a hill a goodly Cedar grewe,
Of wondrous length, and streight proportion,
That farre abroad her daintie odours threwe;
Mongst all the daughters of proud Libanon,
Her match in beautie was not anie one.
Shortly within her inmost pith there bred
A little wicked worme, perceiv'd of none,
That on her sap and vitall moysture fed :
Thenceforth her garland so much honoured
Began to die, (0 great ruth for the same!)
And her faire lockes fell from her loftie head,
That shortly balde and bared she became.
I, which this sight beheld, was much dismayed,
To see so goodly thing so soone decayed.

Soone after this I saw an Elephant,
Adorn'd with bells and bosses gorgeouslie,
That on his backe did beare (as batteilant)
A gilden towre, which shone exceedinglie;
That he himselfe through foolish vanitie,
Both for his rich attire, and goodly forme,
Was puffed up with passing surquedrie,
And shortly gan all other beasts to scorne.
Till that a little Ant, a silly worme,
Into his nostrils creeping, so him pained,
That, casting downe his towres, he did deforme
Both borrowed pride, and native beautie stained.
Let therefore nought, that great is, therein glorie,
Sith so small thing his happines may varie.

IX.

Looking far foorth into the ocean wide,
A goodly ship with banners bravely dight,
And flag in her top-gallant, I espide
Through the maine sea making her merry flight:
Faire blew the winde into her bosome right;
And th' heavens looked lovely all the while;
That she did seeme to daunce, as in delight,
And at her owne felicitie did smile.
All sodainely there clove unto her keele
A little fish, that men call Remora,

Which stopt her course, and held her by the heele,
That winde nor tide could move her thence away.
Straunge thing, me seemeth, that so small a thing
Should able be so great an one to wring.

X.

A mighty Lyon, lord of all the wood,
Having his hunger throughly satisfide

With pray of beasts and spoyle of living blood,
Safe in his dreadles den him thought to hide :

His sternesse was his prayse, his strength his pride,
And all his glory in his cruell clawes.

I saw a Wasp, that fiercely him defide,

And bad him battaile even to his iawes;
Sore he him stong, that it the blood forth drawes,
And his proude heart is fild with fretting ire:
In vaine he threats his teeth, his tayle, his pawes,
And from his bloodie eyes doth sparkle fire;

That dead himselfe he wisheth for despight.
So weakest may anoy the most of might!

XI.

What time the Romaine Empire bore the raine
Of all the world, and florisht most in might,
The nations gan their soveraigntie disdaine,
And cast to quitt them from their bondage quight:
So, when all shrouded were in silent night,
The Galles were, by corrupting of a mayde,
Possest nigh of the Capitol through slight,
Had not a Goose the treachery bewrayde:
If then a Goose great Rome from ruine stayde,
And love himselfe, the patron of the place,
Preservd from being to his foes betrayde;
Why do vaine men mean things so much deface,
And in their might repose their most assurance,
Sith nought on earth can chalenge long endurance?

XII.

When these sad sights were overpast and gone,
My spright was greatly moved in her rest,
With inward ruth and deare affection,
Thenceforth I gan in my engrieved brest
To see so great things by so small distrest:
To scorne all difference of great and small,
Sith that the greatest often are opprest,
And unawares doe into daunger fall.
And ye, that read these Ruines Tragicall,
Learne, by their losse, to love the low degree;
And, if that Fortune chaunce you up to call
To Honours seat, forget not what you be :
For he, that of himselfe is most secure,
Shall finde his state most fickle and unsure.

I.

It was the time when rest, the gift of Gods,
Sweetely sliding into the eyes of men,
Doth drowne in the forgetfulnesse of slepe
The carefull trauailes of the painefull day:
Then did a ghost appeare before mine eyes,
On that great riuers bank that runnes by Rome;
And, calling me then by my propre name,
He bade me vpwarde vnto heauen looke:
He cride to me; and, loe, (quod he) beholde
What vnder this great Temple is containde;
Loe, all is nought but flying vanitie.
So I, knowing the worldes vnstedfastnesse,
Sith onely God surmountes the force of tyme,
In God alone do stay my confidence.

II.

On hill, a frame an hundred cubites hie I sawe, an hundred pillers eke about,

All of fine diamant decking the front,
And fashiond were they all in Dorike wise.
Of bricke, ne yet of marble was the wall,
But shining christall, which from top to base
Out of deepe vaute threw forth a thousand rayes
Vpon an hundred steps of purest golde:
Golde was the parget; and the sielyng eke
Did shine all scaly with fine golden plates.
The floore was Iaspis, and of Emeraude.

O worldes vainenesse! A sodein earthquake loe,
Shaking the hill euen from the bottome deepe,
Threw downe this building to the lowest stone.

Made of the mettall that we honour most.
And in this golden vessell couched were
The ashes of a mightie Emperour.
Vpon foure corners of the base there lay,

To beare the frame, foure Great Lions of golde :
A worthie tombe for such a worthie corps.
Alas, nought in this world but griefe endures.
A sudden tempest from the heaven, I saw,
With flushe stroke downe this noble monument.

IV.

I saw raisde vp on pillers of Iuorie,
Whereof the bases were of richest golde,
The chapters Alabaster, Christall frises,
The double front of a triumphall arke.
On eche side portraide was a Victorie,
With golden wings, in habite of a nymph,
And set on hie vpon triumphing chaire;
The auncient glorie of the Romane lordes.
The worke did shew it selfe not wrought by man,
But rather made by his owne skilfull hands
That forgeth thunder dartes for Ioue his sire.
Let me no more see faire thing vnder heauen,
Sith I haue seene so faire a thing as this,
With sodaine falling broken all to dust.

V.

Then I behelde the faire Dodonian tree
Upon seuen hilles throw forth his gladsome shade,
And conquerers bedecked with his leaues,
Along the bankes of the Italian streame.
There many auncient trophees were erect,
Many a spoile, and many goodly signes
To shewe the greatnesse of the stately race
That erst descended from the Troian bloud.
Rauisht I was to see so rare a thing,
When barbarous villaines, in disordred heape,
Outraged the honour of these noble bours:
I heard the tronke to grone vnder the wedge,
And, since, I saw the roote in hie disdaine
Sende forth again a twinne of forked trees.

VI.

I saw the birde, that dares beholde the sunne,
With feeble flight venture to mount to heauen,
By more and more she gan to trust hir wings,
Still following th' example of hir damme:
I saw hir rise, and with a larger flight
Surmount the toppes euen of the hiest hilles,
And pierce the cloudes, and with hir wings to reach
The place where is the temple of the gods;
There was she lost, and sodenly I saw
Where tombling through the aire in lompe of fire,
All flaming, downe she fell vpon the plaine.

I saw hir bodie turned all to dust,

And saw the foule, that shunnes the cherefull light, Out of hir ashes as a worme arise.

Then all astonne'd with this nightly ghost,

I saw an hideous body big and strong,
Long was his bearde, and side did hang his hair,
A grisly forehed and Saturnlike face.
Leaning against the belly of a pot,

He shed a water, whose outgushing streame
Ran flowing all along the creekie shoare,
Where once the Troyan Duke with Turnus fought.
And at his feete a bitch wolfe did giue sucke
To two yong babes. In his right hand he bare
The Tree of peace, in left the conquering Palme;

Hard by a riuers side a wailing Nimphe,
Folding hir armes with thousand sighs to heaue,
Did tune her plaint to falling riuers sound,
Renting hir faire visage and golden haire.
Where is (quod she) this whilome honored face!
Where is thy glory and the auncient praise
Where all worldes hap was reposed,
When erst of gods and man I worshipt was?
Alas, suffisde it not that ciuile bate

Made me the spoile and bootie of the world,
But this new Hydra, mete to be assailde
Euen by an hundred such as Hercules,

With seuen springing heds of monstrous crimes,
So many Neroes and Caligulaes

Must still bring forth to rule this croked shore.

IX.

Upon a hill I saw a kindled flame,

Mounting like waues with triple point to Heauen,
Which of incense of precious Ceder tree,
With balme-like odor did perfume the aire.
A bird all white, well fethered on her winges
Hereout did flie vp to the throne of gods,
And singing with most plesant melodie
She climbed up to Heauen in the smoke.
Of this faire fire the faire dispersed rays
Threw forth abrode a thousand shining leames,
When sodain dropping of a golden shoure
Gan quench the glystering flame. Ogreuous chaunge!
That, which erstwhile so pleasaunt scent did yelde,
Of sulphure now did breathe corrupted smel.

X.

I saw a fresh spring rise out of a rocke,
Clere as christall against the sunny beames,
The bottome yellow like the shining land,
That golden Pactol driues upon the plaine.
It seemed that arte and nature striued to joyne
There in one place all pleasures of the eye.
There was to heare a noise alluring slepe

Of many accordes more swete than Mermaids songs.
The seates and benches shone as ivorie,
An hundred Nymphes sate side by side about,
When from nie hilles a naked rout of Faunes
With hideous cry assembled on the place,
Which with their feete vncleane the water fouled,
Threw down the seats and droue the Nimphs to
flight.

XI.

At length, euen at the time when Morpheus
Most truely doth appeare vnto our eyes,
Wearie to see th' inconstance of the heauens;
I saw the great Typhæus sister come,
Hir head full brauely with a morian armed;
In maiestie she seemde to matche the gods.
And on the shore, harde by a violent streame,
She raisde a trophee ouer all the worlde.
An hundred vanquisht kings gronde at her feete,
Their armes in shamefull wise bounde at their backes.
While I was with so dreadfull sight afrayde,
I saw the heauens warre against her tho,
And seeing hir striken fall with clap of thunder,
With so great noyse I start in sodaine wonder.