Classic Poem

If I should now forget,
or not remember thee:
Thou (Spencer) mightst a foule rebuke
and shame impute to mee.
For I to open shew
did loue thee passing well:
And thou were he, at parture whom
I loathd to bid farewell.
And as I went thy friend,
so I continue still:
No better proofe thou canst desire
than this of true good will.
I do remember well
when needs I should away:
And that the poast would licence vs,
no longer time to stay.
Thou wroongst me by the fist,
and holding fast my hand,
Didst craue of me to send thee newes,
and how I likte the land
It is a sandie soyle,
no very fruitfull vaine:
More wast and wooddie grounds there are
than closes fit for graine.
Yet graine there growing is,
which they vntimely take:
And cut or ere the corne be ripe,
they mowe it on a stake
And laying sheafe by sheafe,
their haruest so they drie:
They make the greater hast,
for feare the frost the corne destrie
For in the winter time,
so glarie is the ground,
As neither grasse nor other graine
in pastures may be found
In comes the cattell then,
the sheepe, the colt, the cowe:
Fast by his bed the Mowsicke
then a lodging doth alowe.
Whom he with fodder feeds,
and holds as deare as life:
And thus they weare the Winter with
the Mowsicke and his wife
Eight monthes the winter dures,
the glare it is so great:
As it is May before he turne
his ground to sowe his wheate.
The bodies eke that die,
vnburied lie till then:
Laid vp in coffins made of firre,
as well the poorest men,
As those of greater state:
the cause is lightly found:
For that in winter time
they cannot come to breake the ground,
And wood so plenteous is
quite throughout all the land,
As rich and poore, at time of death,
assured of coffins stand.
Perhaps thou musest much,
how this may stand with reason:
That bodies dead, can vncorrupt,
abide so long a season
Take this for certaine troth,
as soone as heate is gone,
The force of cold the body bindes
as hard as any stone,
Without offence at all
to any liuing thing:
And so they lie in perfit state,
till next returne of spring
Their beasts be like to ours,
as far as I can see,
For shape and show, but somwhat lesse
of bulke and bone they bee
Of watrish taste, the flesh not firme,
like English biefe:
And yet it serues them very well,
and is a good reliefe.
Their sheep are very small,
sharpe singled, handful long:
Great store of fowle on sea and land,
the moorish reeds among.
The greatnes of the store
doth make the prices lesse:
Besides, in all the land they know
not how good meat to dresse.
They vse neither broach nor spit,
but when the stoue they heat,
They put their vitails in a pan,
and so they bake their meat
No pewter to be had,
no dishes but of wood:
No vse of trenchers, cups
cut out of birch are very good
They vse but woodden spoones,
which hanging in a case,
Each Mowsicke at his girdle ties,
and thinks it no disgrace.
With whittles two or three,
the better man the mo:
The chiefest Russies in the land,
with spone and kniues do go
Their houses are not huge
of building, but they say
They plant them in the loftiest ground,
to shift the snow away:
Which in the Winter time
eche where full thicke doth lie:
Which makes them haue the more desire
to set their houses hie
No stone worke is in vse,
their roofes of rafters bee:
One linked in another fast,
their wals are all of tree.
Of mastes both long and large,
with mosse put in betweene,
To keep the force of weather out:
I neuer earst haue seene
A grosse deuise so good:
and on the roofe they lay
The burthen barke, to rid the raine
and sudden showres away.
In euery roome a (stoue)
to serue the winter turne:
Of wood they haue suffising store,
as much as they can burne.
They haue no English glasse:
of slices of a rocke,
Hight Sluda, they their windowes make,
that English glasse doth mocke.
They cut it very thin,
and sowe it with a threed,
In pretie order like to panes,
to serue their present need
No other glasse, good faith,
doth giue a better light:
And sure the rocke is nothing rich,
the cost is very slight
The chiefest place is that
where hangs the God by it:
The owner of the house himselfe
doth neuer vse to sit,
Vnlesse his better come,
to whom he yeelds the seat:
The stranger bending to the god,
the ground with browe must beat.
And in that very place,
which they most sacred deeme,
The stranger lies, a token that
his guest he doth esteeme.
Where he is woont to haue
a Beares skin for his bed:
And must in stead of pillow
clap his saddle to his hed
In Russia other shift
there is not to be had:
For where the bedding is not good,
the bolsters are but bad.
I mused very much
what made them so to lie,
Sith in their countrey downe is rife,
and feathers out of cry.
Vnlesse it be because
the countrey is so hard:
They feare by nicenes of a bed,
their bodies would be marde.
I wisht thee oft with vs,
saue that I stoode in feare
Thou wouldst haue loathed to haue layd
thy limmes vpon a beare,
As I and Stafford did,
that was my make in bed:
And yet we thanke the God of heauen,
we both right wel haue sped.
Loe, thus I make an end,
none other newes to thee,
But that the countrey is too colde,
the people beastly be
I write not all I know,
I touch but here and there:
For if I should, my pen would pinch,
and eke offend, Ifeare.
Who so shal reade this verse,
coniecture of the rest:
And thinke by reason of our trade,
that I doe thinke the best
But if no traffick were,
then could I boldly pen
The hardnes of the soyle,
and eke the manners of the men.
They say the Lyons pawe
geues iudgement of the beast:
And so may you deeme of the great
by reading of the least.