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 fruite 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.
III.
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 Belphoebe, could this gardine staine.
But O short pleasure bought with lasting paine!
Why will hereafter anie flesh delight
In earthlie blis, 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 speach, 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 th' other coast
Stretch his strong thighes, and th' ocean over
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 t' upholde,
But like the coulored rainbowe arched wide:
Not that great Arche, with 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.
I saw two Beares, as white as anie milke,
Lying together in a mightie cave,
Of milde aspect, and haire as soft as silke,
That salvage nature seemed not to have,
Nor after greedie spoyle of bloud to crave:
Two fairer beasts might not elswhere be found,
Although the compast world were sought around.
But what can long abide above this ground
In state of blis, or stedfast happinesse?
The cave, in which these Beares lay sleeping sound,
Was but of earth, and with her weightinesse Upon them fell, and did unwares oppresse; That for great sorrow of their sudden fate Henceforth all world's felicitie I hate.
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, when 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 criew
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 th' harpe of Philisides now dead.
At length out of the river it was reard
And borne above the cloudes to be divin'd,
Whilst all the way most heavenly noyse was
heard
Of the strings, stirred with the warbling wind,
That wrought both ioy and sorrow in my mind:
So now in heaven a signe it doth appeare,
The Harpe well knowne beside the Northern
Beare.
Soone after this I saw on th' other side
A curious Coffer made of Heben wood,
That in it did most precious treasure hide,
Exceeding all this baser worldës good:
Yet through the overflowing of the flood
It almost drowned was, and done to nought,
That sight thereof much griev'd my pensive
At length, when most in perill it was brought,
Two Angels, downe descending with swift flight,
Out of the swelling streame it lightly caught,
And twixt their blessed armes it carried quight
Above the reach of anie living sight:
So now it is transform'd into that starre,
In which all heavenly treasures locked are.
Ar last he came unto a gloomy glade,
Cover'd with boughes and shrubs from heaven's
Where as he sitting found in secret shade
An uncouth salvage and uncivile wight,
Of griesley hew and fowle ill-favour'd sight: His face with smoke was tand, and eies were bleard,
His head and beard with sout were ill bedight, His cole-blacke hands did seem to have beene
In smythe's fire-spitting forge, and nayles like clawes appeard.
His yron cote, all overgrowne with rust,
Was underneath enveloped with gold;
Whose glistring glosse, darkned with filthy dust,
Well yet appeared to have beene of old
A worke of rich entayle and curious mould,
Woven with antickes and wyld ymagery:
And in his lap a masse of coyne he told,
And turned upside downe, to feede his eye
And covetous desire with his huge threasury.
And round about him lay on every side
Great heapes of gold that never could be spent ;
Of which some were rude oure, not purifide
Of Mulciber's devouring element;
Some others were new driven, and distent
Into great ingowes and to wedges square;
Some in round plates withouten moniment:
But most were stampt, and in their metal bare
The antique shapes of Kings and Kesars straung
and rare.
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