"Goe fetch me forth my armour of proofe;
That gilded is with gold soe cleare:
God be with my brother John of Barton!
Against the Portingalls hee it ware;
And when he had on his armour of proofe,
He was a gallant sight to see:
Ah! nere didst thou meet with living wight,
My deere brother, could cope with thee."
"Come hither, Horseley," sayes my lord,
"And looke your shaft that itt goe right,
Shoot a good shoote in time of need,
And for it thou shalt be made a knight." "Ile shoot my best," quoth Horseley then, "Your honour shall see, with might and maine; But if I were hanged at your maine-mast,
I have now left but arrowes twaine."
Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree,
With right good will he swarved then:
Upon his breast did Horseley hitt,
But the arrow bounded back agen.
Then Horseley spyed a privye place
With a perfect eye in a secrette part;
Under the spole of his right arme
He smote Sir Andrew to the heart.
"Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes,
"A little Ime hurt, but yett not slaine;
Ile but lye downe and bleede a while,
And then Ile rise and fight againe.
Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew sayes,
"And never flinche before the foe;
And stand fast by St. Andrewes crosse
Untill you heare my whistle blowe."
They never heard his whistle blow,
Which made their hearts waxe sore adread:
Then Horseley say'd, "Aboard, my lord,
For well I wott Sir Andrew's dead."
They boarded then his noble shipp,
They boarded it with might and maine Eighteen score Scots alive they found,
The rest were either maimed or slaine.
Lord Howard tooke a sword in hand,
And off he smote Sir Andrewes head,
"I must have left England many a daye,
If thou wert alive as thou art dead.'
He caused his body to be cast
Over the hatchbord into the sea,
And about his middle three hundred crownes : "Wherever thou land this will bury thee."
Thus from the warres Lord Howard came,
And backe he sayled ore the maine,
With mickle joy and triumphing
Into Thames mouth he came againe.
Lord Howard then a letter wrote,
And sealed it with seale and ring;
"Such a noble prize have I brought to your grace, As never did subject to a king:
"Sir Andrewes shipp I bring with mee;
A braver shipp was never none:
Nowe hath your grace two shipps of warr,
Before in England was but one."
King Henryes grace with royall cheere
Welcomed the noble Howard home,
"And where," said he, "is this rover stout,
That I myselfe may give the doome?"
"The rover, he is safe, my liege,
Full many a fadom in the sea;
If he were alive as he is dead,
I must have left England many a day: And
your grace may thank four men i' the ship For the victory wee have wonne,
These are William Horseley, Henry Hunt,
And Peter Simon, and his sonne."
To Henry Hunt, the king then sayd,
"In lieu of what was from thee tane,
A noble a day now thou shalt have,
Sir Andrewes jewels and his chayne.
And Horseley, thou shalt be a knight,
And lands and livings shalt have store;
Howard shall be erle Surrye hight,
As Howards erst have been before.
"Nowe, Peter Simon, thou art old,
I will maintaine thee and thy sonne:
And the men shall have five hundred markes
For the good service they have done.”
Then in came the queene with ladyes fair
To see Sir Andrewe Barton knight:
They weend that hee were brought on shore,
And thought to have seen a gallant sight.
But when they see his deadlye face,
And eyes soe hollow in his head,
"I wold give," quoth the king, "a thousand markes, This man were alive as hee is dead:
Yett for the manfull part hee playd,
Which fought soe well with heart and hand,
His men shall have twelvepence a day,
Till they come to my brother king's high land."
COURAGEOUS CABOT, brave Venetian born,
Fostered with honour-breathing English air,
Victorious Henry's name the more t' adorn,
And to emblazon Troynovant the fair,
Unto the far-most climates made repair:
And by the Southern and Septentrion
Measured the fame of famous Albion.
Lightless and nameless Prima-vista lay,
Till from his eyes it borrowed name and light;
Flora did never Florida array,
Roses nor lilies shewed their shining sprite,
Till it was ros'd and lilied with his sight:
Thrice happy sight that verdant spring composes,
By strewing lands with lilies and with roses.
By Labrador's high promontory Cape,
Beyond the isles of Cuba, CABOT sailed,
Discovering Baccalaos uncouth shape:
The mighty Silver-River not concealed,
His tributary sands to him revealed,
Nor 'dained it to be a tributor
Unto the Ocean's mighty emperor.
Honour of England, brave Sebastian,
Mirror of Britain's magnanimity,
Although by birth a right Venetian,
Yet for thy valour, art, and constancy,
Due unto England from thy infancy:
Venice, thou claimst his birth, England his art,
Now judge thyself which hath the better part.
WYNDHAM, although thy rash temerity,
Hast'ning for endless gain, gain hast'ned end;
And through improvident celerity,
Too soon accelerated death did send :
Yet since so far thy valour did extend,
And death for rashness made full satisfaction,
Why should not fame advance thy valorous action?
With like misfortune (though unlike advise)
Did fame-ennobled WILLOUGHBY intend
A famous action's hapless enterprize;
Arzina saw his lamentable end,
Which her eternal winter's frost did send :
Though freezing cold benumbed his vital flame,
Heat shall not hurt, nor cold consume his Fame.
Fortune not alway good, nor alway ill,
Willing to show her mercy with her power,
Feasted on other's falls (as seemed) her fill,
Smiled with a mild aspect on CHANCELLOUR,
Making herself his daily oratour:
Hereby, quoth she, the world shall know my powers
How Fortune sometimes laughs as well as lowers.
Forthwith for him a bark herself she framed,
Enchanting it with an almighty charm;
Which she the blissful Bonaventure named,
Which wind, nor wave, nor heat, nor cold could harm.
While her omnipotence the same did arm,
Guiding it safely to Moscovia,
Safely reducing it from Russia.
Bold with success, and proud on Fortune's favour,
Again his lofty sails he doth advance,
Allured by silver's soul-attractive savour:
But fortune (like the moon in change and chance,
That never twice doth shew like countenance)
At Pettisligo drenched him in the seas:
Thus most she hurts, when most she seems to please.
Ask the Wingandicoa savages,
They can relate of GRENVILLE and his deeds;
The Isles of Flores, and Azores, these
Extol his valour and victorious meeds;
While Spain's griped heart fresh streams of anguish bleeds:
His worth with all the world his praise made even, But he scorned earth, and therefore went to Heaven.
What Time-out-sliding thought so far could fly,
As did heroic CAVENDISH drive his sails?
The great Magores' Kingdom did he see,
Where freezing Boreas rings his northern peals,
'Gainst whose benumbing blast no heat avails:
His prowess hath been known to Malacca
And to her neighbour-bordering Bengala.
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