1. A Truelove.
  2. The Lover to his Dear, of his Exceeding Love.
  3. The Lover Asketh Pardon of His Dear, For Fleeing From Her.
  4. N. Vincent, to G. Blackwood, Against Wedding.
  5. G. Blackwood to. N. Vincent, With Wedding.
  6. The Muses.
  7. Usonius the Philosopher's Saying.
  8. Marcus Cato's Comparison of Man's Life with Iron.
  9. Cleobulus the Lydian's Riddle.
  10. Concerning Virgils Eneids.
  11. Of Mirth.
  12. To l. I.S.
  13. To mistress D.A.
  14. Of mistress D.A.
  15. A New Year's Gift to the l. M.S.
  16. An Other to l. M.S.
  17. To l. K.S.
  18. To l. E.S.
  19. To m. D.A.
  20. To m. S.H.
  21. To His Familiar Friend.
  22. Description of Virtue

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Field of Gold
Tottel's Miscellany




Songs and Sonnettes

(1557)

Written by the right Honorable Lord Henry Howard, late Earl of Surrey, and others.




Edited for the Web
by Steve Spanoudis

[Publishing Notes]

A Truelove.

    [Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #128 --Steve]

    WHAT sweet relief the showers to thirsty plants we see:
       What dear delight the blooms to bees: my true Love is to me.
       As fresh and lusty vere foul winter doth exceed:             [spring]
    As morning bright, with scarlet sky, doth pass the evening's weed*:            [garment]
       As mellow pears above the crabs* esteemed be:           [crab apples]
    So doth my Love surmount them all, whom yet I hap to see.
       The oak shall olives bear: the lamb, the lion fray*:            [frighten]
    The owl shall match the nightingale, in tuning of her lay:
       Or I my Love let slip out of mine entire heart:
    So deep reposed in my breast is she, for her desert.
       For many blessed gifts, O happy, happy land:
    Where Mars and Pallas strive to make their glory most to stand
       Yet, land, more is thy bliss: that, in this cruel age,
    A Venus imp, thou hast brought forth, so steadfast and so sage.
       Among the Muses nine, a tenth if Jove would make:
    And to the Graces three, a fourth: her would Apollo take.
       Let some for honour hunt, and hoard the massy gold:
    With her so I may live and die, my weal* can not be told.            [happiness]

    Nicholas Grimald

The Lover to his Dear, of his Exceeding Love.

    [Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #129; based on a Latin epigram by Theodore de Beza --Steve]

    PHEBE twice took her horns, twice laid them by:
    I, all the while, on thee could set no eye.
    Yet do I live: if life you may it call,
    Which only hold my heavy heart, as thrall*.            [prisoner]
    Certesse* for death do I full often pray,            [certainly]
    To rid my woe, and pull these pangs away.
    So plaines Prometh*, his womb* no time to fail:             [Complaines Prometheus...stomach]
    And, Ayelife* left, had leefer*, he might quail*.            [forever...more gladly...die]
    I err, or else who this device first found,
    By that gripes name he cleped* love unsound.            [called]
    In all the town, what street have I not seen?
    In all the town, yet hath not Carie been.            [Carie Day, Grimauld's future wife]
    Either thy sire restrains thy free outgate*,            [exit]
    O woman, worthy of far better state:
    Or peoplepestered London likes thee not,
    But pleasant air, in quiet country sought.
    Perchance, in olds* our love thou dost repeat,            [woods]
    And in sure place would every thing retreat.
    Forth shall I go, ne* will I stay for none,            [nor]
    Until I may somewhere find thee alone.
    Therefor, keep you of hands, and neck, the hue:
    Let not your cheeks become or black or blue.
    Go with well covered head: for you in case
    Apollo spied, burn would he on your face.
    Daphne, in grove, clad with bark of baytree:
    Ay me, if such a tale should rise of thee.
    Callisto found, in woods, Joves force to fell:
    I pray you, let him not like you so well.
    Eigh, how much dreed*? Here lurks of thieves a haunt:            [doubt]
    Whoso thou beset, preyseeker*, proud, avaunt*.            [robber...boastful]
    Acteon may teach thee Dictynnaes* ire:            [Diana's]
    Of truth, this goddess hath as fierce a fire.
    What do I speak? O chief part of my mind,
    Unto your ears these words no way do find.
    Would God, when you read this, observe I might
    Your voice, and of your countenance, I have sight,
    Then, for our love, good hope were not to seek:
    I mought* say with myself, shee will be meek.
    Doubtless I come, whatever town you keep,
    Or where you woon*, in woods or mountains deep             [dwell]
    I come, and if all pear* not in my face,             [appear]
    Myself will messenger be of my case.
    If to my prayer all deaf, you dare say, no:
    Straight of my death agilted* you shall go.            [with guilt]
    Yet in mid death, this same shall ease my heart:
    That Carie*, thou wert cause of all the smart.

    Nicholas Grimald

The Lover Asketh Pardon of His Dear, For Fleeing From Her.

    [Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #130; based on a Latin epigram by Theodore de Beza; perhaps addressed to Carie Day --Steve]

    LOVERS men warn the corpse beloved to flee,             [body]
    From the blind fire in case they would live free.
    Ay me, how oft have I fled thee, my Day?
    I flee, but love bides in my breast alway.
    Lo yet again, I grant*, I gan* remove:            [confess...did]
    But both I could, and can say still, I love.
    If woods I seek, comes to my thought Adone*:             [Adonis]
    And well the woods do know my heavy moan.
    In gardens if I walk: Narcissus there
    I spy, and Hyacinths with weeping cheer*:            [face]
    If meads I tred, O what a fire I feel?
    In flames of love I burn from head to heel.
    Here I behold dame Ceres imp in flight:
    Here be, methink, black Pluto's steeds in fight.
    Strands if I look upon, the Nymphs I minde:
    And, in mid sea, oft fervent powers I find.
    The higher that I climb, in mountains wild,
    The nearer me approacheth Venus child.
    Towns if I haunt: in short, shall I all say?
    There sundry forms I view, none to my pay.
    Her favor now I note, and now her eyes:
    Her head, amiss: her foot, her cheeks, her guise.
    In fine, where mater wants, defautes* I fain:             [defects]
    Whom other, fair: I deem, she hath some stain.
    What boots it then to flee, since in nightide,
    And daytime to, my Day is at my side ?
    A shade therfore mayst thou be called, by right:
    But shadowes, dark, thou, Day, art ever bright.
    Nay rather, worldly name is not for thee:
    Since thou at once canst in two places be.
    Forgive me, goddess, and become my shield:
    Even Venus to Anchises herself did yield.
    Lo, I confess my flight: be good therfore:
    Jove, oftentimes, hath pardond me for more.
    Next day, my Day, to you I come my way:
    And, if you suffer me, due pains will pay.

    Nicholas Grimald

N. Vincent, to G. Blackwood, Against Wedding.

    [Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #131; based on a Latin epigram by Theodore de Beza --Steve]

    SINCE, Blackwood, you have mind to wed a wife:
    I pray you, tell, wherefore you like that life.
    What? that henceforth you may live more in bliss?
    I am beguiled, but you take mark amiss.
    Either your fear shall be deformed: (and can
    You blissul be, with flower of frying pan* ?)             [i.e. very ugly]
    Or else, of face indifferent: (they say,
    Face but indifferent will soon decay.)
    Or fair: who, then, for many men seems fine:
    Ne can you say, me is all wholly mine.
    And be me chaste (if no man chance to sow)
    A sort of brats she brings, and troubles new:
    Or fruitless will so pass long years with thee,
    That scant one day shall void of brawling be.
    Hereto heap up undaunted head, stiff heart,
    And all the rest: each spouse can tell a part.
    Leave then, this way, to hope for happy life:
    Rather be your bed sole, and free from strife.
    Of blessed state if any path be here:
    It lurketh not, where women wonne* so near.             [dwell]

    Nicholas Grimald

G. Blackwood to. N. Vincent, With Wedding.

    [Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #132; based on a Latin epigram by Theodore de Beza --Steve]

    SINCE, Vincent, I have mind to wed a wife;
    You bid me tell, wherfore I like that life.
    Foul will I not, fair I deslre: content,
    If fair me fail, with one indifferent.
    Fair, you alledge, a thousand will apply:
    But, ne'er so oft required, she will deny.
    Mean beautiy doth soone fade: therof plain* he,             [complain]
    Who nothing loves in woman, but her blee*.             [looks, beauty]
    Fruit if she bring, of fruit is joyfull sight:
    If none, what then? our burden is but light.
    The rest, you ming*, certesse*, we graunt*, be great,             [mention, certainly...confess ]
    Stiff heart, undaunted head cause soon to freat*.             [be angered]
    But, in all thinges, inborne displeasures be:
    Yea pleasure we, full of displeasure, se.
    And marvel you, I look for good estate,
    Hereafter if a woman be my mate?
    Oh straight is vertue's path, if sooth men say
    And likewise, that I seek, straight is the way.

    Nicholas Grimald

The Muses.

    [Proofed against the 1557 'B' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #133; based on the Latin poem Nomina Musarum --Steve]

    IMPS of King Jove, and queen Remembrance* lo,           [Mnemosyne]
    The sisters nine, the poets pleasant feres*.           [companions]
    Calliope doth stately style bestow,
    And worthy praises paints of princely peers.
    Clio in solemn songs, reneweth old day,
    With present years conjoining age bypast.
    Delitefull talke loves Comical Thaley:
    In fresh green youth, who doth like laurel last.
    With voices Tragical sounds Melpomen,
    And, as with chains, thallured ear she binds.
    Her stringes when Terpsichor doth touch, even then
    She toucheth hearts, and reigneth in men's minds.
    Fine Erato, whose look a lively cheer
    Presents, in dancing keeps a comely grace.
    With seemly gesture doth Polymnie stare:
    Whose words whole routes of rankes do rule in place,
    Uranie, her globes to view all bent,
    The ninefold heaven observes with fixed face.
    The blasts Euterpe tunes of instrument,
    With solace sweet hence heavy dumps to chase.
    Lord Phebus in the midst (whose heavenly sprite
    These ladies doth tnspire) embraceth all.
    The Graces in the Muses weed*, delight           [garments]
    To lead them forth, that men in maze* they fall.           [amazement]

    Nicholas Grimald

Musonius the Philosopher's Saying.

[Proofed against the 1557 'B' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #134; based on the Latin poem Nomina Musarum --Steve]

    IN WORKING well, if travel you sustain:
    Into the wind shall lightly pass the pain:
    But of the deed the glory shall remain,
    And cause your name with worthy wights to reign.
    In workyng wrong, if pleasure you attain:
    The pleasure soon shall fade, and void, as vain:
    But of the deed, throughout the life, the shame
    Endures, defacing you with fowl defame:
    And stil torments the mind, both night and day:
    Scant length of time the spot can wash away.
    Flee then ill-swading* pleasures baits untrue:           [tempting to evil]
    And noble virtues fair renown pursue.

    Nicholas Grimald

Marcus Cato's Comparison of Man's Life with Iron.

[Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #135 --Steve]

    WHO would believe man's life like iron to be,
    But proof had been, great Cato, made by thee?
    For if, long time, one put this iron in ore,
    Folowing each day his work, with busy cure:
    With daily use, he may the metal wear,
    And both the strength, and hardness* eke impair.           [also]
    Again, in case his iron he cast aside,
    And careless long let it untoucht abide:
    Since, cankered rust invades the metal sore,
    And her foul teeth there fastneth more and more.
    So man, in case his corpse he tire, and faint           [body]
    With labor long: his strength it shall attaint.           [harm, impair]
    But if in sluggard sloth the same doth lie:
    That manly might will fall away, and die:
    That body's strength, that force of wit remove:
    He shall, for man, a weakling woman prove.
    Wherfore, my child, hold twene these twaine the way:
    Neither with too much toil thy limbs decay,
    In idle ease nor give to vices place:
    In both who measure keeps, he hath good grace.

    Nicholas Grimald

Cleobulus the Lydian's Riddle.

[Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #136; translated from Greek --Steve]

    ONE is my sire: my sons, twice six they be:
    Of daughters each of them begets, you see,
    Thrise ten: whereof one sort be fair of face,
    The other doth unseemly black disgrace.
    Nor this whole rout* is thrall* unto deathday,           [crowd...prison]
    Nor worn with wasteful time, but live always:
    And yet the same always (strange case) do die.
    The sire, the daughters, and the sons distry*.           [destroy]
    In case you can so hard a knot unknit:
    You shall I count an Oedipus in wit.

    Nicholas Grimald

Concerning Virgils Eneids.

[Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #137; --Steve]

    BY HEAVEN's high gift, in case revived were
    Lysip*, Apelles, and Homer the great:           [Lysippus - a Greek artist]
    The most renowmed, and each of them sance pere*,           [without peer]
    In graving, painting, and the Poets feat:
    Yet could they not, for all their vein divine,
    In marble, table, paper more, or less,
    With chisel, pencil, or with pointel fine,
    So grave, so paint, or so by style express
    (Though they beheld of every age, and land
    The fairest books, in every tongue contrived,
    To frame a form, and to direct their hand)
    Of noble prince the lively shape described:
    As, in the famous work, that Eneids hight*,           [be called]
    The namecouth* Virgil hath set forth in sight.           [famous]

    Nicholas Grimald

Of Mirth.

[Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #138; --Steve]

    A HEAVY heart, with woe increaseth every smart:
    A mirthful mind in time of need, defendeth sorrow's dart.
    The sprite of quickness seems, by drery sadness slain:
    By mirth, a man to lively plight, revived is again.
    Dolour drieth up the bones: the sad shall soon be sick:
    Mirth can preserve the kindly health, mirth makes the body quick.
    Deep dumps do nought, but dull, not meet for man but beast:
    A merry heart sage Solomon countes his continual feast.
    Sad soul, before thy time, brings thee unto death's door:
    That fond conditions have bereft, late day can not restore.
    As, when the covered heaven, showes forth a lowering face,
    Fair Titan, with his leam of light, returns a goodly grace:
    So, when our burdened breast is whelmed with cloudy thought,
    A pleasant calm throughout the corps, by cheerful heart brought
    Enjoy we then our joys, and in the lord rejoice:
    Faith making fast eternal joy, of joys while we have choice.

    Nicholas Grimald

To l. I.S.

[Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #139; in modern spelling l. J.S. - believed to be Lady Jane Seymour --Steve]

    CHARIS the fourth*, Pieris the tenth, the second Cypris, Jane,           [i.e. you are the fourth Grace, the tenth Muse, the second Venus]
    One to assemblies three adjoined: whom Phebus fear, Diane,
    Among the Nymphs Oreades, might well vouchsafe to place:
    But you as great a goddess serve, the queen's most noble grace:
    Allhail, and while, like Terpsichor, much melody you make:
    Which if the field, as doth the court, enjoyed, the trees would shake:
    While Latin you, and French frequent: while English tales you tell:
    Italian whiles, and Spanish you do hear, and know full well:
    Amid such peers, and solemn fights, in case convenient time:
    You can (good Lady) spare, to read a rural poet's rhyme:
    Take here his simple saws, in brief: wherein no need to move
    Your Ladyship, but thus lo speakes the abundance of his love.
    The worthy feates that now so much set forth your noble name,
    So have inure, they still increast, may more encrease your fame.
    For though divine your doings be, yet thews* with years may grow:           [virtues]
    And if you stay, straight nowadays fresh wits will overgo.
    Wherfore the glory got maintain, maintain the honour great.
    So shall the world my doom approve, and set you in that seat,
    Where Graces, Muses,and Love's imp,the joyful Venus, reign:
    So shall the bacheler blessed be, can such a Nymph obtain.

    Nicholas Grimald

To mistress D. A.

[Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #140; D.A. is believed to be Damascene Awdley; damascene= damask = a pink rose (likely a nickname) --Steve]

    WHAT cause, what reason moveth me: what fancy fills my brains
    That you I mind of virgins all, whom Britain's soil sustains
    Both when to lady Mnemosyne's* dear daughters I resort,           [Memory's]
    And eke* when I ye season slow deceeive, with glad disport?           [also]
    What force, what power have you so great, what charms have you late found,
    To pluck, to draw, to rauvish hearts and stir out of their stownd*?           [place, position]
    To you, I trow, Jove's daughter hath the lovely girdle lent,
    That Cestos hight: wherin there be all manner graces blent,
    Allurements of conceits, of words the pleasurable taste:
    That same,I geuess, hath she given you, and girt about your waist
    Beset with suit of prescious pearl, as bright as sunny day.
    But what? I am beguiled, and gone (I wene) out of the way.
    These causes lo do not so much present your image prest,
    That will I, nill I, night and day, you lodge within this breast:
    Those gifts of your right worthy mind, those golden gifts of mind
    Of my fast fixed fancyform first moving cause I find:
    Love of the one, and threefold power: faith sacred, sound, sincere:
    A modest maiden's mood: an heart, from cloud of envy clear:
    Wit, fed with Pallas food divine: will, led with lovely lore:
    Memory, containing lessons great of ladies five, and four:
    Words, sweeter, than the sugar sweet, with heavenly nectar drest:
    Nothing but coomly* can they carp**, and wonders well exprest.           [comely...speak]
    Such damsels did the ancient world, for Poets' pens, suffice:
    Which, now a days, well neigh as rare, as Poets fine, arise.
    Wherfore, by gracious gifts of god, you more than thrise blest,
    And I well blest myself suppose: whom chasteful love imprest,
    In friendships lace, with such a lass, doth knit, and fast combine:
    Which lace no threatning fortune shall, no length of time untwine:
    And I that day, with gem snowwhite*, will mark, and eke depaint,
    With pricely pen: which, Awdley, first gan me with you acquaint,

    Nicholas Grimald
[* Romans marked their "lucky days" on the calendar with white chalk, and their unlucky days with black charcoal --Steve]

Of mistress D. A.

[Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #141; D.A. is believed to be Damascene Awdley; damascene= damask = a pink rose (likely a nickname); note that the first lines form an acrostic --Steve]

    DESERTS of Nymphs, that ancient Poets show,
    Are not so couth, as hers: whose present face,
    More, than my Muse, may cause the world to know
    A nature nobly given: of worthy race:
    So trained up, as honor did bestow.
    Cyllene*, in sugared speech, gave her a grace.           [Mercury]
    Excell in song Apollo made his dear.
    No fingerfeat* Minerva hid from her sight.           [handicraft]
    Exprest in look, she hath no soverign chere,
       As Cyprian once breathed on the Spartan bright.
    Wit, wisdom, will, word, work, and all, I ween,
    Dare no man's pen presume to paint outright.
    Lo luster and light: which if old time had seen,
    Enthroned, shine she would, with goddess Fame.
    Yeild, Envy, these due praises to this dame.

    Nicholas Grimald

A New Year's Gift to the l. M.S.

[Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #142; l. M.S. is thought to be Lady Margaret Seymour, sister of Jane Seymour --Steve]

    NOW flaming Phoebus, passing through his heavenly region high,
    The utterest* Ethiopian folk with fervent beams doth fire:           [most distant]
    And with the sun, the year also his secret race doth run:
    And Janus, with his doubled face, hath it again begun:
    O thou, that are the head of all, whom months, and years obey:
    At whose command be both the stars, and surges of the sea:
    By power divine, now prosper us this year with good success:
    This well to lead, and many more, us with thy favor bless.
    Grant, with sound soul in body sound that here we daily go:
    And, after, in that country live, whence banished is all woe:
    Where hunger, thirst, and sorry age, and sickness may not mell*:          [mingle]
    No sense perceives, no heart bethinks the joys, that there do dwell.

    Nicholas Grimald

An Other to l. M.S.

[Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #143; l. M.S. is thought to be Lady Margaret Seymour, sister of Jane Seymour --Steve]

    SO HAPPY be the course of your long life"
    So roon the year into his circle rife:
    That nothing hinder your well-meaning mind:
    Sharp wit may you, remembrance ready find:
    Perfect intelligence, all help at hand:
    Still stayed your thoughts in fruitful studies stand.
    Head framed thus may the other parts well frame,
    Divine demeanor win a noble name:
    By paised doom* with leisure, and good heed:          [deliberate judgement]
    By upright dole*, and much availing deed:          [living, dealing]
    By heart unthirled*, by undiscomfite cheer,          [unpierced]
    And breast discharged of any coward fear:
    By sober mood, and orders comely rate:
    In weal*, and woe, by holding one estate.          [happiness]
    An to that beauty's grace, kind hath you lent,
    Of bodies health a perfite plight* be blent.          [perfect]
    Dame Fortune's gifts may so stand you in stead,
    That well, and wealfully* your life be led.          [happily]
    And he, who gives thee graces not in vain,
    Direct your deeds, his honour to maintain.

    Nicholas Grimald

To l. K.S.

[Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #144; l. K.S. is thought to be Lady Katherine Seymour, sister of Jane Seymour --Steve]

    TO YOU, madam, I wish both now, and eke* from year to year,          [also]
    Strength with Debora, with Judith faith, with Maudle zeal, Ann's cheer
    With blessed Mary modes mood: like Sibyl life full long:
    A mind with sacred sprite enspired, wit fresh, and body strong:
    And, when of your forepointed fate you have outrun the race:
    Among all these, in Jove's high rain of blisses full, a place.

    Nicholas Grimald

To l. E.S.

[Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #145; l. E.S. is thought to be Lady Elizabeth Seymour, sister of Jane Seymour --Steve]

    AS THIS first day of Janus youth restores unto the year:
    So be your mind good in courage reunited, and hearty cheer.
    And as dame Tellus laboreth now her fruite conveived to breed:
    Right so of your most forward wit may great avail proceed.
    So lucky be the year, the momths, the weeks, ye days, ye hours
    That them, with long recourse, you may enjoy in blissful bowers.

    Nicholas Grimald

To m. D.A.

[Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #146; m. D.A. is believed to be Damascene Awdley; damascene= damask = a pink rose (likely a nickname); this is a paraphrase of "Xenium Candidae" by Beza --Steve]

    GORGEOUS attire, by art made trim, and clean,
    Chain, bracelet, pearl, or gem of Indian river,
    To you I nil, ne *can (good Damascene)           [to you I nothing, never can]
    This time of Janus Calends*, here deliver.           [January 1st]
    But, what? My heart: though long since certain
    Your own it was, aye present at your hest:
    Yet here doth it resign itself again,
    Within these numbers closed. Where, think you best
    This to repose? There, I suppose, where free
    Minerva you place. For it have you embraste,
    As the Helliconian Nymphs: with whom, even he,
    That burn for some, Apollo liveth chaste.
    Presents in case by rareness you esteem:
    O Lord, how great a gift shall this then seem?

    Nicholas Grimald

To m. S.H.

[Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #147; the identity of Mistress Susan H. is unknown --Steve]

    TO YOU this present year full fair, and fortunate fall,
    Returning now to his prime part: and, good luck therewithall,
    May it proceed: and end, and oft return, to glad your heart:
    O Susan, whom among my friends I count, by your desert.
    Joy may your heavenly sprite: endure fresh wit, in thy fine brain:
    Your knowledge of good things increase: your body, safe remain:
    A body, of such shape, as showeth a worthy wight by kind:
    A closet, fit for to contain the virtues of that mind.
    What shall I moreover add? God grant with pleasant mate
    A pleasant life you lead. Well may that man rejoice his fate.

    Nicholas Grimald

To His Familiar Friend

[Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #148; based on an epigram by Muretus --Steve]

    NO IMAGE carved with cunning hand, no cloth of purple dye,
    No prescious weight of metal bright, no silver plate give I:
    Such gear allures not heavily hearts: such gifts no grace they bring:
    I lo, yet know your mind, will send none such, what then? nothing.

    Nicholas Grimald

Description of Virtue

[Proofed against the 1557 'A' edition of Tottel's Miscellany, #149; this poem is in all of the editions, based on "Descriptio Virtutis" by Beza --Steve]

    WHAT one are thou, thus in torn weed* clad?           [cloth]
    Virtue, in price whom ancient sages had.
    Why poorly rayed? For fading goods past care.
    Why doublefaced? I mark each fortune's fair.
    This bridle, what? Mind's rages to restrain.
    Tools why bear you? I love to take great pain.
    Why wings? I teach above the stars to fly.
    Why tread you death? I only cannot die.

    Nicholas Grimald

Publishing Notes
This Poets' Corner Bookshelf Edition of Tottel's Miscellany was transcribed, edited, translated, and published for the Web in 2010 based on several sources, including page images several of the original editions, and the excellent notes compiled by Hyder Edward Rollins in Volume II of his comprehensive 1928-1929 version of the collection published by Harvard University Press (Cambridge). The Poets' Corner edition has largely modernized spelling throughout, though unique words have been retained and annotated to maintain rhyme and scansion reasonably consistent with the original; please be advised that this is intended as a generally accessible edition, and is not intended as a scholarly text. For research, please consult the text of Rollins, which frequently includes the original Latin works upon which many of these poems are based, as well as the related works referenced by the authors.

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