Song 19


The nineteenth Booke.


The Muse, now over Thames makes forth,
Upon her Progresse to the North,
From Cauney with a full carrere,
Shee up against the streame doth beare;
Where Waltham Forrests pride exprest,
Shee poynts directly to the East,
And shewes how all those Rivers straine
Through Essex, to the German mayne;
When Stoure, with Orwels ayd prefers,
Our Brittish brave Sea-voyagers;
Halfe Suffolke in with them shee takes,
Where of this Song an end shee makes.

eare bravely up my Muse, the way thou went’st before,
And crosse the kingly Thames to the Essexian shore,
Stem up his tyde-full streame, upon that side to rise,
An Iland lying in the
Thames, on Essex side.
Where * Cauncy, Albions child in-Iled richly lyes, Albion fained to be the son of Neptune, going over into France to fight with Hercules, by whom he was vanquished, is supposed to leave his children, the Iles of Thanet, Sheppey, Greane,
and this Cauney, lying in
the mouth of Thames, to
the tuition of Neptune
their grand father. See to
the latter end of the 18.
Which, though her lower scite doth make her seeme but meane,
Of him as dearly lov’d as Shepey is or Greane,
And him as dearly lov’d; for when he would depart,
With Hercules to fight, she tooke it so to heart,
That falling low and flat, her blubberd face to hide,
By Thames shee welneere is surrounded every tyde:
And since of worldly State, she never taketh keepe,
But onely gives her selfe, to tend, and milke her sheepe.
But Muse, from her so low, divert thy high-set song
To London-wards, and bring from Lea with thee along
The Forrests, and the Floods, and most exactly show,
How these in order stand, how those directly flow:
For in that happy soyle, doth pleasure ever wonne,
Through Forrests, where cleere Rills in wild Meanders runne;
Where daintie Summer Bowers, and Arborets are made,
Cut out of Busshy thicks, for coolenesse of the shade.
Fooles gaze at painted Courts, to th’countrey let me goe,
To climbe the easie hill, then walke, the valley lowe;
No gold-embossed Roofes, to me are like the woods;
No Bed like to the grasse, nor liquor like the floods:
A Citie’s but a sinke, gay houses gawdy graves,
The Muses have free leave, to starve or live in caves:
But Waltham Forrest still in prosperous estate,
As standing to this day (so strangely fortunate)
Above her neighbour Nymphs, and holds her head aloft;
A turfe beyond them all, so sleeke and wondrous soft,
Upon her setting side, by goodly London grac’d,
Upon the North by Lea, her South by Thames embrac’d.
Upon her rising point, shee chaunced to espie,
A daintie Forrest-Nymph of her societie.
The brave scituation of
Waltham Forrest.
Faire Hatfield, which in height all other did surmount,
And of the Dryades held in very high account;
Yet in respect of her stood farre out of the way,
Who doubting of her selfe, by others late decay,
Her sisters glory view’d with an astonish’d eye,
Whom Waltham wisely thus reprooveth by and by.
Deare Sister rest content, nor our declining rue,
What thing is in this world (that we can say) is new;
The Ridge and Furrow shewes, that once the crooked Plow,
Turn’d up the grassy turfe, where Okes are rooted now:
And at this houre we see, the Share and Coulter teare
The full corne-bearing gleabe, where sometimes forrests were;
And those but Caitifes are, which most doe seeke our spoyle,
Who having sold our woods, doe lastly sell our soyle;
Tis vertue to give place to these ungodly times,
When as the fostred ill proceeds from others crimes;
Gainst Lunatiks, and fooles, what wise folke spend their force;
For folly headlong falls, when it hath had the course:
And when God gives men up, to wayes abhor’d and vile,
Of understanding hee deprives them quite, the while
They into errour runne, confounded in their sinne,
As simple Fowles in lyme, or in the Fowlers gynne.
And for those prettie Birds, that wont in us to sing,
They shall at last forbeare to welcome in the Spring,
When wanting where to pearch, they sit upon the ground,
And curse them in their Notes, who first did woods confound.
Deare Sister Hatfield, then hold up thy drooping head,
We feele no such decay, nor is all succour fled:
Hatfield Forest lying
lower towards the East
betweene Stortford and
The nineteenth Song. 3
For Essex is our dower, which greatly doth abound,
With every simple good, that in the Ile is found:
And though we goe to wracke in this so generall waste,
This hope to us remaines, we yet may be the last.
When Hatfield taking heart, where late she sadly stood,
Sends little Roding foorth, her best-beloved Flood;
Which from her Christall Fount, as to enlarge her fame,
To many a Village lends, her cleere and noble name,
Which as she wandreth on, through Waltham holds her way,
With goodly Oken wreaths, which makes her wondrous gay;
But making at the last into the watry Marsh,
Where though the blady grasse unwholesome be and harsh,
Those wreaths away she casts, which bounteous Waltham gave,
With Bulrush, Flags, and Reed, to make her wondrous brave,
And her selves strength divides, to sundry lesser streames,
So wantoning shee falls into her Soveraigne Thames.
From whose vast Beechy bankes a rumor straight resounds,
Which quickly ran it selfe through the Essexian grounds,
That Crouch amongst the rest, a Rivers name should seeke,
As scorning any more the nickname of a Creeke,
Well furnisht with a Streame, that from the fill to fall,
Many Townes that stand
on this River, have her
name as an addition: as
Kythorp Roding, Leaden
Roding, with many other.
Wants nothing that a Flood should be adorn’d withall.
On * Benge’s Batfull side, and at her going out,
With Walnot, Foulnesse faire, neere watred round about.
Two Iles for greater state to stay her up that stand,
Thrust farre into the Sea, yet fixed to the land;
As Nature in that sort them purposely had plac’d,
That shee by Sea and Land, should every way be grac’d.
Some Sea-Nymphs and besides, her part (there were) that tooke,
As angry that their Crouch should not be cald a Brooke;
And bad her to complaine to Neptune of her wrong.
But whilst these grievous stirres thus hapned them among,
Choice Chelmer comes along, a Nymph most neatly cleere,
Which welneere through the midst doth cut the wealthy Sheere,
The fruitfulst Hundred of
By Dunmow gliding downe to Chelmsford hold her chase,
To which she gives the name, which as she doth imbrace
Cleere Can comes tripping in, and doth with Chelmer close:
With whose supply (though small as yet) she greater growes.
She for old * Maldon makes, where in her passing by,
Shee to remembrance calls that Roman Colony,
And all those ominous signes her fall that did foregoe,
As that which most expres’d their fatall overthrow;
Crown’d Victory reverst, fell downe whereas shee stood,
And the vast greenish Sea, discoloured like to blood.
Shreeks heard like peoples cries, that see their deaths at hand;
The pourtratures of men imprinted in the sand.
Chelmsford (abruptly
Cheyns-ford) as much to
say, as the Ford upon the
River Chelmer.
* Anciently called
Camolodunum where
these ominous signes
foreran that great
overthrow given to the
Roman Colony by the
Britans. See the 8. Song.
When Chelmer scarce arrives in her most wished Bay,
But Blakwater comes in, through many a crooked way,
Which Pant was call’d of yore; but that, by Time exild,
Shee Froshwell after hight, then Blakwater instil’d,
But few, such titles have the British Floods among.
When Northey neere at hand, and th’Ile of Ousey rung
With shouts the Sea-Nymphs gave, for joy of their arrive,
As either of those Iles in curtesie doe strive,
To Tethis Darlings, which should greatest honor doe;
And what the former did, the latter adds thereto.
But Colne, which frankly lends faire Colechester her name,
(On all the Essexian shore, the Towne of greatest fame)
Perceiving how they still in Courtship did contend,
Quoth she, wherefore the time thus idly doe you spend?
What is there nothing here, that you esteeme of worth,
That our big-bellied Sea, or our rich land brings forth?
Thinke you our Oysters here, unworthy of your praise?
Pure * Walfleet, which doe still the daintiest pallats please:
As excellent as those, which are esteemed most.
Walfleet Oysters.
The Cizic shels, or those on the Lucrinian coast;
Or Cheese, which our fat soyle to every quarter sends;
Whose tacke the hungry Clowne, and Plow-man so commends.
If you esteeme not these, as things above the ground,
Looke under, where the Urnes of ancient times are found:
The Roman Emp’rours Coynes, oft dig’d out of the dust,
And warlike Weapons, now consum’d with cankring rust:
The huge and massy Bones, of mighty fearefull men,
To tell the worlds full strength, what creatures lived then;
Cizicum is a city of
Bythinia. Lucrinia is a
citie of Apulia upon the
Adriatick Sea; the Oysters
of which places, were
reckoned for great
delicates with the
When in her height of youth, the lustie fruitfull earth
Brought foorth her big-limb’d brood, even Gyants in their birth.
Thus spoke shee, when from Sea they suddenly doe heare
A strong and horrid noyse, which struck the land with feare:
For with their crooked Trumps, his Tritons, Neptune sent,
To warne the wanton Nymphs, that they incontinent
Should straight repaire to Stour, in Orwells pleasant Road;
For it had been divulg’d the Ocean all abroad,
That Orwell and this Stour, by meeting in one Bay,
Two, that each others good, intended every way,
Prepar’d to sing a Song, that should precisely show,
The bones of Gyantlike
people found in those
That Medway for her life, their skill could not out-goe:
For Stour, a daintie flood, that duly doth divide
Faire Suffolke from this Shire, upon her other side;
By Clare first comming in, to Sudbury doth show,
The even course she keepes; when farre she doth not flow,
But Breton a bright Nymph, fresh succour to her brings:
Yet is she not so proud of her superfluous Springs,
Medway in the 18. Song,
reciteth the Catalogue of
the English Warriors.
The nineteenth Song. 5
But Orwell comming in from Ipswitch thinkes that shee,
Should stand for it with Stour, and lastly they agree,
That since the Britans hence their first Discoveries made,
And that into the East they first were taught to trade.
Besides, of all the Roads, and Havens of the East,
This Harbor where they meet, is reckoned for the best.
Our Voyages by Sea, and brave discoveries knowne,
Their argument they make, and thus they sing their owne;
In Severns late tun’d lay, that Empresse of the West,
In which great Arthurs actes are to the life exprest:
His Conquests to the North, who Norway did invade,
Who Groneland, Iseland next, then Lapland lastly made
His awfull Empires bounds, the Britans acts among,
This God-like Heroes deeds exactly have beene sung:
His valiant people then, who to those Countries brought,
Which many an age since that, our great’st discoveries thought.
See the 4. Song.
This worthiest then of ours, our * Argonauts shall lead.
Next Malgo, who againe that Conquerors steps to tread,
Succeeding him in Raigne, in conquests so no lesse,
Plow’d up the frozen Sea, and with as faire successe,
By that great Conquerors claime, first Orkney overran;
Proud Denmarke then subdu’d, and spacious Norway wan,
Ceasd Iseland for his owne, and Goteland to each shore,
Where Arthurs full-saild Fleet had ever toucht before.
And when the Britans Raigne came after to decline,
And to the Cambrian hils their fate did them confine,
The Saxon swaying all, in Alfreds powerfull raigne,
Our English Octer put a Fleet to Sea againe,
Of th’uge Norwegian Hilles, and newes did hither bring,
Whose tops are hardly wrought in twelve dayes travailing.
But leaving Norway then a Sterboard, forward kept,
And with our English Sayles that mightie Ocean swept,
Where those sterne people wonne, whom hope of gaine doth call,
In Hulkes with grapling hooks, to hunt the dreadfull Whall;
And great Duina downe from her first springing place,
Doth roule her swelling waves in churlish Neptunes face.
Then Woolstan after him discovering Dansig found,
The great river of Russia.
Where Wixels mighty mouth is powrd into the Sound,
And towing up his streame, first taught the English Oares,
The usefull way of Trade to those most gainefull shores.
And when the Norman Stem here strong and potent grew,
And their successefull sonnes, did glorious acts pursue,
One Nicholas nam’d of Lyn, where first he breath’d the ayre,
Though Oxford taught him Art, and well may hold him deare:
Ith’Mathematicks learnd, (although a Fryer profest)
To see those Northerne Climes, with great desire possest,
The greatest river of
Himselfe he thither ship’d, and skilfull in the Globe,
Tooke every severall height with his true Astrolobe;
The Whirlpooles of the seas, and came to understand,
From the foure Card’nall winds, foure indraughts that command;
Int’any of whose falls, if th’wandring Barque doth light,
It hurried is away with such tempestuous flight,
Into that swallowing gulfe, which seemes as it would draw
The very earth it selfe into th’infernall maw.
Foure such Immeasur’d Pooles, Phylosophers agree,
Ith foure parts of the world undoubtedly to bee;
From which they have supposd, Nature the winds doth raise,
And from them to proceed the flowing of the Seas.
And when our Civill warres began at last to cease,
And these late calmer times of Olive-bearing Peace,
Gave leasure to great Minds, farre Regions to descry;
That brave adventrous Knight, our Sir Hugh Willoughby,
Ship’d for the Northren Seas, mongst those congealed Piles,
Fashioned by lasting Frosts, like Mountaines, and like Iles,
(In all her fearefulst shapes saw Horror, whose great mind,
In lesser bounds then these, that could not be confin’d,
Adventured on those parts, where Winter still doth keepe;
When most the Icy cold had chaind up all the Deepe)
In Bleake Arzina’s Road his death neere Lapland tooke,
Where Kegor from her scite, on those grim Seas doth looke.
Two others follow then, eternall fame that wonne,
Our Chancellor, and with him, compare we Jenkinson:
For Russia both imbarqu’d, the first ariving there,
Entring Duina’s mouth, up her proud streame did steere
To Volgad, to behold her pompe, the Russian State,
Moscovia measuring then; the other with like Fate,
Both those vast Realmes survay’d, then into Bactria past,
To Boghors bulwarkt walls, then to the liquid wast,
Where Oxus roleth downe twixt his farre distant shores,
And o’re the Caspian Maine, with strong untyred Oares,
Adventured to view rich Persias wealth and pride,
Whose true report thereof, the English since have tride.
With Fitch, our Eldred next, deserv’dly placed is;
Both travailing to see, the Syrian Tripolis.
The first of which (in this whose noble spirit was showne)
To view those parts, to us that were the most unknowne,
On thence to Ormus set, Goa, Cambaya, then,
To vast Zelabdim, thence to Echubar, agen
Crost Ganges mighty streame, and his large bankes did view,
To Baccola went on, to Bengola, Pegu;
And for Mallaccan then, Zeiten, and Cochin cast,
Measuring with many a step, the great East-Indian wast.
The greatest wonder of
The nineteenth Song. 7
The other from that place, the first before had gone,
Determining to see the broad-wald Babylon,
Crost Euphrates, and row’d against his mightie streame;
Licia, and Gaza saw, with great Hierusalem,
And our deare Saviours seat, blest Bethlem did behold,
And Jourdan, of whose waves, much is in Scriptures told.
Then Macham, who (through love to long adventures led)
Mederas wealthy Iles, the first discovered,
Who having stolne a mayd, to whom he was affi’d,
Yet her rich parents still her marriage rites deni’d,
Put with her foorth to Sea, where many a danger past,
Upon an Ile of those, at length by tempest cast;
And putting in, to give his tender Love some ease,
Which very ill had brook’d, the rough and boystrous Seas;
And lingring for her health, within the quiet Bay,
The Mariners most false, fled with the Ship away,
When as it was not long, but shee gave up her breath;
When he whose teares in vaine bewayld her timelesse death:
That their deserved Rites her Funerall could not have,
A homely Altar built upon her honoured grave.
When with his folke but few, not passing two or three,
There making them a Boat, but rudely of one Tree,
Put foorth againe to Sea, where after many a flaw,
Such as before themselves, scarce Mortall ever saw;
Nor miserable men could possibly sustaine,
Now swallowed with the waves, and then spu’d up againe;
At length were on the coast of Sun-burnt Affrick throwne:
T’amaze that further world, and to amuse our owne.
Then Windham who new wayes, for us and ours to trie,
For great Morrocco made, discovering Barbarie.
Lock, Towerson, Fenner next, vast Guiney forth that sought,
And of her Ivory, home in great abundance brought.
The East-Indian Voy’ger then, the valiant Lancaster,
To Buona Esperance, Comara, Zanziber,
To Nicuba, as hee to Gomerpolo went,
Till his strong Bottome strucke Molluccos Continent;
And sayling to Brazeel another time he tooke
Olynda’s chiefest Towne, and Harbour Farnambuke,
And with their precious Wood, Sugar, and Cotton fraught,
It by his safe returne, into his Countrie brought.
Then Forbosher, whose fame flew all the Ocean o’r,
Who to the Northwest sought, huge China’s wealthy shore,
When nearer to the North, that wandring Sea-man set,
Where hee in our hotst Mon’ths of June and July met
With Snow, Frost, Haile, & Sleet, and found sterne Winter strong,
With mighty Iles of Ice, and Mountaines huge and long.
The wonderful Adventure
of Macham.
Where as it comes and goes, the great eternall Light,
Makes halfe the yeare still day, and halfe continuall night.
Then for those Bounds unknown, he bravely set againe,
As he a Sea-god were, familiar with the Maine.
The Noble Fenton next, and Jackman we preferre,
Both Voyagers, that were with famous Forbosher.
And Davies, three times forth that for the Northwest made;
Still striving by that course, t’inrich the English Trade:
And as he well deserv’d to his eternall fame.
Mœta Incognita.
There by a mightie Sea, Imortaliz’d his Name.
With noble Gilbert next, comes Hoard who tooke in hand
To cleere the course scarse knowne into the New-found Land,
And view’d the plenteous Seas, and fishfull Havens, where
Our neighbouring Nations since have stor’d them every yeare.
Then Globe-engirdling Drake, the Navall Palme that wonne,
Who strove in his long Course to emulate the Sunne:
Of whom the Spaniard us’d a Prophecie to tell,
That from the British Isles should rise a Dragon fell,
That with his armed wings, should strike th’Iberian Maine,
And bring in after time much horror upon Spaine.
This more then man (or what) this Demie-god at Sea,
Leaving behind his backe, the great America,
Upon the surging Maine his wel-stretch’t Tacklings flewd,
To fortie three Degrees of North’ly Latitude;
Unto that Land before to th’Christian world unknowne,
Which in his Countries right he nam’d New Albion;
And in the Westerne Inde, spight of the power of Spaine,
Hee Saint Iago tooke, Domingo, Cartagene:
And leaving of his prowesse, a marke in every Bay,
Saint Augustins surpriz’d, in Terra Florida.
Then those that foorth for Sea, Industrious Rawleigh wrought,
And them with every thing, fit for discovery fraught;
That Amadas, (whose Name doth scarsely English sound)
With Barlow, who the first Virginia throughly found.
As Greenvile, whom he got to undertake that Sea,
Three sundry times from hence, who touch’d Virginia.
(In his so rare a choyce, it well approov’d his wit;
That with so brave a Spirit, his turne so well could fit.
O Greenvile, thy great Name, for ever be renown’d,
And borne by Neptune still, about this mightie Round;
Whose Navall Conflict wanne thy Nation so much fame,
And in th’Iberians bred feare of the English name.
Nor should Fame speake her low’dst, Of Lane, shee could not lie,
Who in Virginia left, with th’English Colony,
Himselfe so bravely bare, amongst our people there,
That him they onely lov’d, when others they did feare.
Mare Davisium.
The nineteenth Song. 9
And from those Barbarous, brute, and wild Virginians wan
Such reverence, as in him there had been more then man.
Then he which favoured still, such high attempts as these,
Rawleigh, whose reading made him skil’d in all the Seas,
Imbarqu’d his worthy selfe, and his adventurous crue,
And with a prosperous Sayle to those faire Countries flew,
Where Orenoque, as he, on in his course doth roule,
Seemes as his greatnes meant, grim Neptune to controule;
Like to a puisant King, whose Realmes extend so farre,
That many a potent Prince his Tributaries are.
So are his Branches Seas, and in the rich Guiana,
A Flood as proud as he, the broad-brim’d Orellana:
And on the spacious firme Manoas mightie seat,
The land (by Natures power) with wonders most repleat.
So Leigh, Cape Briton saw, and Rameas Iles againe;
As Tompson undertooke the Voyage to New-Spaine:
And Hawkins not behind, the best of these before,
Who hoysing sayle, to seeke the most remotest shore,
Upon that new nam’d Spaine, and Guinny sought his prize,
As one whose mighty mind small things could not suffice,
The sonne of his brave Syre, who with his furrowing Keele,
Long ere that time had touch’d the goodly rich Brazeel.
Couragious Candish then, a second Neptune here,
Whose fame fild every mouth, and tooke up every eare.
What man could in his time discourse of any Seas,
But of brave Candish talk’d, and of his voyages;
Who through the South Seas past, about this earthly Ball,
And saw those Starres, to them that onely rise and fall,
And with his silken sayles, stayn’d with the richest Ore,
Dar’d any one to passe where he had been before.
Count Cumberland, so hence to seeke th’Asores sent,
And to the Westerne-Inde, to Porta Ricco went,
And with the English power it bravely did surprize.
Sir Robert Dudley then, by sea that sought to rise,
Hoyst Sayles with happy winds to th’Iles of Trinidado:
Paria then he past, the Ilands of Granado;
As those of Sancta Cruz, and Porta Ricco: then
Amongst the famous ranke of our Sea-searching men,
Is Preston sent to Sea, with Summers foorth to finde,
Adventures in the parts upon the Westerne-Inde;
Port Santo who surpriz’d, and Coches, with the Fort
Of Coro, and the Towne, when in submissive sort,
Cumana ransome crav’d, Saint James of Leon sack’d;
Jamica went not free, but as the rest they wrack’d.
Then Sherley, (since whose name such high renowne hath won)
That Voyage undertooke, as they before had done:
He Saint Iago saw, Domingo, Margarita,
By Terra firma sayl’d to th’Ilands of Jamica,
Up Rio Dolce row’d, and with a prosperous hand,
Returning to his home, touch’d at the New-found-land,
Where at Jamicas Iles, couragious Parker met
With Sherley, and along up Rio Dolce set,
Where bidding him adue, on his owne course he ran,
And tooke Campeches Towne, the chief’st of Jucatan.
A Freegate, and from thence did home to Britan bring,
With most strange Tribute fraught, due to that Indian King,
At mightie Neptunes beck, thus ended they their Song,
When as from Harwich all to Loving-land along,
Great claps and shouts were heard resounding to the shore,
Wherewith th’Essexian Nymphs applaud their loved Stour,
From the Suffolcean side yet those which Stour preferre
Their princely Orwell praise, as much as th’other her:
For though cleare Briton be rich Suffolkes from her spring,
Which Stour upon her way to Harwich downe doth bring,
Yet Deben of her selfe a stout and stedfast friend,
Her succour to that Sea, neere Orwels Road doth send.
When Waveney to the North, rich Suffolks onely meere,
As Stour upon the North, from Essex parts this Sheere;
Lest Stour and Orwell thus might steale her Nymphes away,
In Neptunes name commands, that here their force should stay:
For that her selfe and Yar in honor of the Deepe,
Were purposed a Feast in Loving-land to keepe.
Suffolke bounded on the
South and North.