Classic Poem

Sonet I

Now for the last farewell I meane to make,
To all the troubles, of my tired thought:
This leaue at last, and this last leaue I take,
Of some and all that haue my sorrowe sought.

First youth farewell the fore Runner of wit,
A time more staide, hath taught me better stages,
Then where repentance doth with sorrowe sit
To shew the ruines of vnbridled Ages.

Next farewell Beautie thou bewitching glasse,
That blind'st the eye, of all unseason'd seeing:
Mine eye now sees, wherein my blindnesse was
I could not see my blindnesse in thy being.

Friendship farewell, where faith doth finde no trust
For men are Monsters, and then what are women?
Experience now prooues Iudgement was vniust,
Where wit was folly that made slaues of free-men.

And loue farewell, the Laborinthe of time,
Which killes the spirits with continuall care,
I now haue found the Snaile out by his slime,
And will not come where such slye creepers are.

And power farewell, the perill of conceite
Where pride is hellish in impatience:
Strong is my weakenes, that now bids me waite
But on the blessing of obedience.

And hope farewell, the weakest holde of wit
That euer help't the heart to happinesse:
For wisdome's care, that well hath sounded it
Findes it a flatterer but of idlenes.

And farewell fortune, the moste idle fiction
That euer fancy laide her labour on:
Truth, against whome there is no contradiction
Showes one of force but fortune there is none.

And arte farewell, the onely woe of wit,
That beates the Anuile of a busy braine
With simple skill I now had rather sit
Then work for grace and other get the gaine:

And farewell time, that neuer giuest rest
Vnto the body or the spirits paine:
Eternall blisse, hath so my spirite blest
I will not harken vnto time againe.

And farewell all that may be bid farewell,
Within this world of wretchednes and woe:
My spirit seekes but only there to dwell,
Where puer truth doth no corruption knowe

A Gowne of Veluet and a chaine of pearle,
Shall now bewitche mine eyes with folly gazes
When vnderneath, an idle headed girle,
May feede the minde but with dishonor's mazes.

The seate of power too neere the Sin of pride
Shall with Ambition, not infect my minde:
A foyfull peace, within my soule hath tride
The sweetest life is in the meane to finde

The filed tongue of fayning eloquence:
Shall now no more abuse my simple trust:
In yea and nay, I finde that excellence,
Where perfect iudgements cannot prooue vniust

The sound of warre shal not inchaunt mine ear
With honour's musicke, to abuse my heart:
The blessed peace, that patient spirits beare
In heauenly consortes haue no bloudy parte.

The long delaying studdie of the lawe,
Shall beate no hammers in my wearie braine
Nor loose my Corne in striuing for a strawe,
But keepe my right & hate a wrongfull gaine

The greedle labours, of the grumbling Chuffe
I will not followe, for a rusty wealth:
But in discretion thinke that worke enough,
That cloathes the flesh and keepes the soule in health.

And I wil leaue Court, Cittie, towne and fielde,
Warres, Lawe and traffique, pollycie and paine:
And see what life the country loue will yeelde,
Where Shepheards keepe the flockes vpon the plaine.

There will I sit and in the sacred sence
Of heauenly vertues high instructions:
Learne in Aglaias nature's excellence
Of Loue's conceites, to make the best constructions
Where God alone shall in my soule be loued
And faithe's affection in true fancy proued.

Which done, my heart shall lie vpon my brest,
That truth shall shewe the secret of my thought:
Where patience prooues the spirit onely blest,
That lookes at heauen and sets the world at nought.

Thus will I sit, and set my pipe in tune
And plaie as merry as the day is long:
And as in Aprill, so againe in Iune,
Fit both my spring and haruest with a song.

My Pipe shall bee but of a dainty reede
That growes within the Riuer of delight:
Where euerie stop shall stand my heart in steed
To guide the spirrit of my musicke right.

And for my ditties, they shall be diuine:
When time shall onely on Aglaia rest;
While fancy so shall euerie note refine,
That euerie passion shall be well exprest.

And when the Musicke of my pipe is done,
Then what is needefull to my flocke goe see:
And from the plant that prospers in the Sunne
Cut of the succors least they spoyle the tree.

And then goe Iooke vnto the worme and flie,
That may annoy my Lambkins, or their Dambes
And to each griefe such presente helpe apply
As may preserue the smallest of my Lambes.

And if I see the Wolfe, the Brocke, the Foxe
Or any varmin stealing downe a furrowe:
To make a praye among my prettie flocke,
Send out my Dog and beate him to his borough.

And when I heare the Nightingale recorde.
The Musicke, wherein Nature pleaseth Arte:
To trie how loue can with her tune accorde,
To sound the passions of a painting hearte:

And when that shee her warbling Tunnes doth ease
And shades her selfe from parching sommer's heate
Then learne of her, how I may holde my peace
While lesser Birdes, the idle ayre doe beate:

And when I sit vpon that sweetest mountaine,
Where growes the grasse, that feedes my fairest flockes,
And there beholde, that Christall cleerest fountaine,
That sendes her streames distilling through the Rockes.

And seeing there the heartes-ease growing by it
The onely flower of fancie's best affection:
And thinke how Nature in her pride doth die it:
To put downe painting in her Arte's prefection.

Then lift mine eye vnto that hande on high
That worketh all thinges by his holy will:
And giue all glory to this Maiestie:
Whose onely wisdome shewes all wonder skill.

Then on the earth fall humbly on my face
And pray to him that made both day and night:
First to inspire me with his holy grace
And then to blesse me in Aglaia's light.

And when I see the Trees beginne to Bud,
And euerye grasse, put foorth his fairest greene
And euerie kidde begin to chew the Cudde
And Flora haunt it like a Medowe Queene.

And all the Muses, dresse vp all their bowers
And set their Consorts in so high a Key:
As if they met in Musicke's sweetest powers
To play and sing some Princely Roundelay.

Then still againe vnto my God on high,
Giue all due prayse, who in his grace hath prooued
Aglaia blessed in his gratious eye:
That so doth liue of Creatures all beloued