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Title: Upon the Noble Lady Astons departure for Spain
Author: Michael Drayton [
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I many a time have greatly marvell'd, why
Men say, their friends depart when as they die,
How well that word, a dying, doth express,
I did not know (I freely must confess,)
Till her departure: for whose missed sight,
I am enforc'd this Elegy to write:
But since resistless fate will have it so,
That she from hence must to Iberia go,
And my weak wishes can her not detain,
I will of heaven in policy complain,
That it so long her travel should adjourn,
Hoping thereby to hasten her return.
Can those of Norway for their wage procure,
By their black spells a wind that shall endure
Till from aboard the wished land men see,
And fetch the harbour, where they long to be,
Can they by charms do this and cannot I
Who am the Priest of Phoebus, and so high,
Sit in his favor, win the Poets god,
To send swift Hermes with his snaky rod,
To AEolus's Cave, commanding him with care,
His prosperous winds, that he for her prepare,
And from that hour, wherein she takes the seas,
Nature bring on the quiet Halcyon days,
And in that hour that bird begin her nest,
Nay at that very instant, that long rest
May seize on Neptune, who may still repose,
And let that bird ne'er till that hour disclose,
Wherein she landeth, and for all that space
Be not a wrinkle seen on Thetis' face,
Onely so much breath with a gentle gale,
As by the easy swelling of her sail,
May at Sebastians safely set her down
Where, with her goodness she may bless the town.
If heaven in justice would haue plagu'd by thee
Some Pirate, and grim Neptune thou should'st be
His Executioner, or what is his worse,
The gripple Merchant, born to be the curse
Of this brave Island; let them for her sake,
Who to thy safeguard doth herself betake,
Escape undrown'd, unwreck'd, nay rather let
Them be at ease in some safe harbour set,
Where with much profit they may vent their wealth
That they have got by villany and stealth,
Rather great Neptune, then when thou dost rave,
Thou once shouldst wet her sail but with a wave.
Or if some prowling Rover shall but dare,
To seize the ship wherein she is to fare,
Let the fell fishes of the Main appear,
And tell those Sea-thiefs, that once such they were
As they are now, till they assaid to rape
Grape-crowned Bacchus in a striplings shape,
That came aboard them, and would faine have sail'd,
To vine-spread Naxus but that him they fail'd,
Which he perceiving, them so monstrous made,
And warnd them how they passengers invade.
Ye South and Western winds now cease to blow
Autumn is come, there be no flowers to grow,
Yea from that place respire, to which she goes,
And to her sails should show yourself but foes,
But Boreas and yee Estern winds arise,
To send her soon to Spain, but be precise,
That in your aide you seeme not still so stern,
As we a summer should no more discern,
For till that here again, I may her see,
It will be winter all the year with me.
Ye swanne-begotten lonely brother-stars,
So oft auspicious to poor Mariners,
Ye twin-bred lights of lovely Leda's brood,
Ioves egge-born issue smile upon the flood,
And in your mild'st aspect do ye appear
To be her warrant from all future fear.
And if thou ship that bear'st her, doe prove good,
May never time by wormes, consume thy wood
Nor rust thy iron, may thy tacklings last,
Till they for reliques be in temples plac't;
Maist thou be ranged with that mighty Ark,
Wherein just Noah did all the world embark,
With that which after Troys so famous wrack,
From ten yeares travel brought ulysses back,
That Argo which to Colchos went from Greece,
And in her bottom brought the golden fleece
Under brave Jason; or that same of Drake,
Wherein he did his famous voyage make
About the world; or Candishes that went
As far as his, about the Continent.
And yee mild winds that now I do implore,
Not once to raise the least sand on the shore,
Nor once on forfeit of yourselves respire:
When once the time is come of her retire,
If then it please you, but to do your due,
What for these winds I did, I'll do for you;
I'll woo you then, and if that not suffice,
My pen shall prove you to have dieties,
I'll sing your loves in verses that shall flow,
And tell the stories of your weal and woe,
I'll prove what profit to the earth you bring,
And how t'is you that welcome in the spring;
I'll raise up altars to you, as to show,
The time shall be kept holy, when you blow.
O blessed winds! your will that it may be,
To send health to her, and her home to me.
[The end]
Michael Drayton's Poem: Upon the Noble Lady Astons departure for Spain
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