IN PRAISE OP THE RENOWNED LADY ANNE, COUNTESS OF WARWICK.
When Nature first in hand did take
The clay to frame this Countess' corse,
The earth a while she did forsake,
And was compell'd of very force,
With mould in hand, to flee to skies,
To end the work she did devise.
The gods that then in council sate,
Were half-amazed, against their kind,[1]
To see so near the stool of state
Dame Nature stand, that was assign'd
Among her worldly imps[2] to wonne,[3]
As she until that day had done.
First Jove began: 'What, daughter dear,
Hath made thee scorn thy father's will?
Why do I see thee, Nature, here,
That ought'st of duty to fulfil
Thy undertaken charge at home?
What makes thee thus abroad to roam?
'Disdainful dame, how didst thou dare,
So reckless to depart the ground
That is allotted to thy share?'
And therewithal his godhead frown'd.
'I will,' quoth Nature, 'out of hand,
Declare the cause I fled the land.
'I undertook of late a piece
Of clay a featured face to frame,
To match the courtly dames of Greece,
That for their beauty bear the name;
But, O good father, now I see
This work of mine it will not be.
'Vicegerent, since you me assign'd
Below in earth, and gave me laws
On mortal wights, and will'd that kind
Should make and mar, as she saw cause:
Of right, I think, I may appeal,
And crave your help in this to deal.'
When Jove saw how the case did stand,
And that the work was well begun,
He pray'd to have the helping hand
Of other gods till he had done:
With willing minds they all agreed,
And set upon the clay with speed.
First Jove each limb did well dispose,
And makes a creature of the clay;
Next, Lady Venus she bestows
Her gallant gifts as best she may;
From face to foot, from top to toe,
She let no whit untouch'd to go.
When Venus had done what she could
In making of her carcase brave,
Then Pallas thought she might be bold
Among the rest a share to have;
A passing wit she did convey
Into this passing piece of clay.
Of Bacchus she no member had,
Save fingers fine and feat[4] to see;
Her head with hair Apollo clad,
That gods had thought it gold to be:
So glist'ring was the tress in sight
Of this new form'd and featured wight.
Diana held her peace a space,
Until those other gods had done;
'At last,' quoth she, 'in Dian's chase
With bow in hand this nymph shall run;
And chief of all my noble train
I will this virgin entertain.'
Then joyful Juno came and said,
'Since you to her so friendly are,
I do appoint this noble maid
To match with Mars his peer for war;
She shall the Countess Warwick be,
And yield Diana's bow to me.'
When to so good effect it came,
And every member had his grace,
There wanted nothing but a name:
By hap was Mercury then in place,
That said, 'I pray you all agree,
Pandora grant her name to be.
'For since your godheads forged have
With one assent this noble dame,
And each to her a virtue gave,
This term agreeth to the same.'
The gods that heard Mercurius tell
This tale, did like it passing well.
Report was summon'd then in haste,
And will'd to bring his trump in hand,
To blow therewith a sounding blast,
That might be heard through Brutus' land.
Pandora straight the trumpet blew,
That each this Countess Warwick knew.
O seely[5] Nature, born to pain,
O woful, wretched kind (I say),
That to forsake the soil were fain
To make this Countess out of clay:
But, O most friendly gods, that wold,
Vouchsafe to set your hands to mould.
[1] 'Kind:' nature. [2] 'Imps:' children. [3] 'Wonne:' dwell. [4] 'Feat:' neat. [5] 'Seely:' simple.
* * * * *
In reference to the Miscellaneous Pieces which close this period, we need only say that the best of them is 'The Soul's Errand,' and that its authorship is uncertain. It has, with very little evidence in any of the cases, been ascribed to Sir Walter Raleigh, to Francis Davison, (author of a compilation entitled 'A Poetical Rhapsody,' published in 1593, and where 'The Soul's Errand' first appeared,) and to Joshua Sylvester, who prints it in his volume of verses, with vile interpolations of his own. Its outspoken energy and pithy language render it worthy of any of our poets.