Classic Poem

High flying mindes, cannot embase their eyes,
Vpon the obiects of vnworthy sence,
The stately Eagle gapes not after flies
Ambition reedes no rules of Patience;
While onely Honour aymes at Excellence:
And Valour sencelesse of the thought of feare,
Lookes at the Sunne & loues no lower Spheare.

Kings loue no equals, Phaebus shines alone
The Ocean sea disdaines the little brooke,
All gems are glasse vnto the Diamond stone
A Kingdome, to the world, is but a nooke,
Bloud is the Inke that writes the warlike booke,
Where truth deliuers to the trompe of Fame
The terniz'd Honour of a worthy name.

The trampling Steede treads out the way of terror
While Thundring Canon shootes no tennis Bals
And truth disdaineth to subscribe to error,
To bring the spirit to the fleshes cals;
No, the true Souldier scales the Castle wals,
Entreth the Fortes, and makes the Forces yeeld
Ruines the Campe and ouerruns the field.

No, no, it is a high Astronomy
That findes the starlight of a minde of State
Who in his strength will rather striue to die
Then hold his recknings at a lower rate,
Then that high loue that hath the world in hate;
Where dauntlesse valour duely doth aduance
Deserning spirits in despite of chaunce.

The Lyons eyes doe sparkle all like Fire,
The Phaenix dies and liues but in the Sunne
Aspiring spirits cannot but aspire.
And when they die, then all their world is done:
Yet after death a better life begunne:
Where loftie fame to longest memory,
Doth sound the Honour that can neuer die.

The mole-like mindes that digge but vnder drosse
Haue cursed eyes that cannot see the light;
And Soules that worship but the golden Crosse
In mortal warre make but a Coward fight:
The face of man was made to looke vp right.
Strong harted mindes had rather burst then bend,
Blest be the life brings honour in the end.

When fire and smoke do all bedimme the ayre,
And bloudied earth is with deade bodies paued
And valiant courage sits in conquests chaire
To heare the cries of mercy humbly craued
And harmlesse people by true pitie saued;
Then feels the heart the height of pleasures power
To haue the hap to liue to such an houre.

To take a Cock-boat in a Riuer Crooke,
Or breake a Bulrush on a coate of Steele;
To fish for honour with a siluer hooke
Or kill a Coward running, in the heele,
Or worke for threed but with a spinning wheele;
These haps may hit, but when that all is done
They are but all as Moates in honours Sunne.

The chamber musique that inchaunts the eare
Giues sodaine silence to the Trumpets sound;
And crying, Cupid doth but willow weare,
While worthy Mars is with the Lawrell cround;
The man of warre the Merchant runs aground
And Resolution cannot quench his fire
Till he haue either death or his desire.

Ease hath no part in Passions happinesse,
Nor safety luis the watchfull eye a sleepe,
And working spirits loues no idlenesse,
Which haue the Key of Honours care to keepe
The noble minde can neuer learne to creepe;
No, Princely Honour is the royall Prize,
For which true valour either liues or dies.

The slimy Snailes that slide along the ground,
And hide their heads with feare to shew their horns;
The heauenly thought of honour neuer found
But are, indeed, the Noble Spirits scornes:
No, Vertue so the valiant minde adornes.
And on his countenance sets so faire a grace
As makes the world reioyce to see his face.

Oh when a valiant heart holds vp the hand,
And chargeth on the vangard of a troope;
Sets both the foote and horsemen at a stand,
Mazeth the Gallant makes his feather stoupe
And puts his spirits vp into a Coope;
Then what a ioy the victor doth receiue,
Base mindes nor doe nor will nor can conceiue.

When Drum, and Fife, and the report of shot
Makes Musique for the eares of noble hearts
The thought of feare is vtterly forgot,
When mortal wounds doe shew but flea-bite smarts,
While Death keepes racket vpon either parts:
Then see how Valour fights in Honours field,
Spirits leaue bodies, ere true hearts can yeeld.

He that can bargaine for a bag of golde
Or shuffle cards to shift a cunning tricke,
Or plaie the Wolfe within a Sheepeheards foold
Or catch an Oyster and deuour him quick
Or hit a pinne vpon a twelue-score prick;
These may be men of shape, but for the minde
Where Honour goes they euer staie behinde.

He that dare fight and see his finger bleede
And can outscolde a begger in her brawle,
He that can scoure the Country for a neede
And put perhaps the weake vnto the wall;
And clyming Crowes neasts, venter for a fall;
These may, perhaps, be men and handsome men;
But neuer written with a noble Pen.

Hee that can sooth a lye, or tell a tale,
And sweetely fall into the sinke of sinne;
He that can rob the Parke and breake the Pale
Or tickle a great fish vnder the finne,
And like a huswife learne to card and spinne:
These may perhaps, haue prety apish graces;
But Honour truely neuer saw their faces.

Hee that can whistle at a Plowe and Cart
And catch a Weezle in a Cony hole;
Hee that can eate vp a whole aple tarte,
And ouerleape a blinde mare and her fole,
Or strike a football strongly through a goale;
These may be too, a kind of men, and so,
But no such men as euer honour knowe.

No, the base mindes of begger thoughts are bard
From the conceipt of Honours kingly blisse;
A Coward motion neuer can be heard,
Where Resolution knowes what Honour is:
Fortune and Feare can neuer kindly kisse.
Forward and firme and faithfull to the death
Proues Honours loue, vnto the latest breath.

The hate of wronge and the defence of right
The sparing dyet the true patience,
The burning lampe of Honours blessed light.
The pleasing toyle of hopes experience.
The royall seate of Honours residence;
These are the lines that lead the loftie minde,
To looke at heauen and leaue the world behinde.

The puffing fat that shewes the Pesants feede
Proues Iack a Lent was neuer Gentleman;
The noble Spirit hath no power to reede,
The raking Precepts of the Dripping pan;
A Hoppy horse best fits maid Marian ,
And Chantecleere if it be rightly bred,
With one true blowe will strike the dunghil dead.

The Copy wit doth no true wisdome holde
Babes will be frighted with a buzzing Flie,
True Honours title is not bought and sould
None sees the Sun but with an Eagles eye
Base is his life that is afraid to die;
While conscience cleare of villanous conceipt,
Holds Honours hopes at a most glorious height.

The silly hearts of simple witted heads,
That spend their spirits in a poore deuotion
Who lye and read old ballads in their beds,
Where plainnesse makes the way vnto promotion
While Folly poysons Reason with a potion:
These two may seem a kinde of humane creatures
But haue no name in notes of Honours natures.

The straining wits that stretch their braines so hie
As if their spirits spake by inspiration
Or with the wings of Phaston will fly,
To see the state of Ehaebus Constellation,
And onely worke for words of admiration;
These may be men, and in their humours rare
But truely Honour knowes not what they are.

Arte is but idle in a worke of case,
Time but mispent in middle humord thought;
Reason abus'd, that barely seekes to please,
Learning but lost in wit inclinde to nought
Wit but a Foole, that is so dearely bought;
Nature a Spirit, vnto nothing spent,
Till Valour compasse Honours continent.

That royall fancie that is voide of feare
That Princely spirit, that doth Fortune spight
That heauenly eye that seeth euery where,
That happie soule, that hath so sweete a sight,
Proue in the Lamp of the eternall light,
How Valours truth in Vertues quarrell proued
Doth make a minde, of God and man beloued.

Yea, the true bloud that tickles at the heart,
Strengthens the stomack, nourisheth the braine
Reuiues the spirit, runnes through euery part
Feedes euery muscle, swels in euery vaine,
Findes death a medecine rather than a paine.
Wil make the minde where Honour liues indeed
Leaue works of worth; for all the world to reede.

Oh the poore hearts of pitifull complaining,
That onely liue, and eate, and drinke, and die:
Honour, hath beene a Grace of Vertue gaining
When fooles knewe nothing of the mysterie
How Valour first began a Monarchie;
But, Wisdom knowes, whose Laurel cannot wither
Valour and Honour euer liue together.

The golden God, giues but an outward grace
Where bodies are but babies in attire;
But Spirits liue in a more glorious place
Whose substance is of a celestial fire,
The light of Angels in a heauenly Quire:
Where Phaebus shewes, the vertue is diuine
Where Valors actions do in Honour shine.

Oh that bright shining euer blessed Sunne.
Which in his Circle cannot bide a moate
But in the course which he hath euer runne
Gaue Mars his Acts, to Mercury to note,
Where Honours fame might neuer be forgot,
Blest be that light that shews where Vertue liues.
Honour true Valor. Valor Honour giues.

And by the beames of that faire sunny light,
Oh would the world did finde out honours way
That foggy mysts might not offend the sight
Of those cleere eyes where valours comforts stay;
But giue the night the night, the day the day:
The Eagle wings to mount the loftie skye
And on the Dunghill let the Buzzard die.

Then should not honour fall vpon a word
Few be by fauor, none by Fortune graced,
While trewest Honour groweth by the sword
Where trew dishonour iustly is defaced,
While Vertue is so high by Valour placed.
The earth may see how heauens the hearts aduace
Where Valour seekes the swords inheritance.

But let it not be in vsurping mindes:
For treason hath no place in honours truth
Ambition oft so much affection blinds,
As bringeth reason but to ruins ru'th;
Repentance euer rashnes so ensuth
That valour must but fight in honors right,
Or but receiue dishonor in the fight.

Let Vertue then a valiant spirit leade
Against thy Gods thy Kinges, and Contryes foes:
That Loue in life, and Fame when thou art dead,
May sound the noates, that Noble Vertue knowes
In Honors truth that time can neuer lose:
So liue, so die so die and euer liue,
While Vertue Grace, Valour doth Honor giue