“Description of Cooke-ham”
Farewell (sweet
Cooke-ham) where I first obtained
Grace from that grace
where perfect grace remained;
And where the muses gave
their full consent,
I should have power the virtuous to
content;
5 Where princely palace
willed me to indite,
The sacred story of the soul’s
delight.
Farewell (sweet place) where virtue then did
rest,
And all delights did harbor in her
breast;
Never shall my sad eyes again behold
10 Those pleasures which my thoughts did then
unfold.
Yet you (great Lady) Mistress of that
place,
From whose desires did spring this work of
grace;
Vouchsafe to think upon those pleasures
past,
As fleeting worldly joys that could not
last,
15 Or, as dim shadows of
celestial pleasures,
Which are desired above all earthly
treasures.
Oh how (methought) against you thither
came,
Each part did seem some new delight to
frame!
The house received all ornaments to grace
it,
20 And would endure no foulness
to deface it.
And walks put on their summer
liveries,
And all things else did hold like
similes.
The trees with leaves, with fruits, with flowers
clad,
Embraced each other, seeming to be glad,
25 Turning themselves to beauteous
Canopies,
To shade the bright sun from your brighter
eyes;
The crystal streams with silver spangles
graced,
While by the glorious sun they were
embraced;
The little birds in chirping notes did
sing,
30 To entertain both you and
that sweet spring.
And Philomela with her sundry
lays,
Both you and that delightful place did
praise.
Oh how me thought each plant, each flower, each
tree
Set forth their beauties then to welcome
thee!
35 The very hills right humbly
did descend,
When you to tread on them did
intend.
And as you set your feet, they still did
rise,
Glad that they could receive so rich a
prize.
The gentle winds did take delight to be
40 Among those woods that were so graced by
thee,
And in sad murmur uttered pleasing sound,
That pleasure in that place might more abound.
The swelling banks delivered all their pride
When
such a Phoenix once they had espied.
45 Each arbor, bank, each seat, each stately tree,
Thought themselves honored in supporting thee;
The pretty birds would oft come to attend thee,
Yet
fly away for fear they should offend thee;
The little
creatures in the burrough by
50 Would
come abroad to sport them in your eye,
Yet fearful of the
bow in your fair hand.
Would run away when you did make a
stand.
Now let me come unto that stately tree,
Wherein such goodly prospects you did see;
55 That oak that did in height his fellows
pass,
As much as lofty trees, low growing
grass,
Much like a comely cedar straight and
tall,
Whose beauteous stature far exceeded all.
How often did you visit this fair tree,
60 Which seeming joyful in receiving thee,
Would like a palm tree spread his arms abroad,
Desirous that you there should make abode;
Whose fair
green leaves much like a comely veil,
Defended Phoebus
when he would assail;
65 Whose
pleasing boughs did yield a cool fresh air,
Joying his
happiness when you were there.
Where being seated, you
might plainly see
Hills, vales, and woods, as if on
bended knee
They had appeared, your honor to
salute,
70 Or to prefer some strange
unlooked-for suit;
All interlaced with brooks and crystal
springs,
A prospect fit to please the eyes of
kings.
And thirteen shires appeared all in your
sight,
Europe could not afford much more
delight.
75 What was there then but
gave you all content,
While you the time in meditation
spent
Of their Creator’s power, which there you
saw,
In all his creatures held a perfect law;
And in their beauties did you plain descry
80 His beauty, wisdom, grace, love,
majesty.
In these sweet woods how often did you
walk,
With Christ and his Apostles there to
talk;
Placing his holy Writ in some fair tree
To meditate what you therein did see.
85 With Moses you did mount his holy hill
To know his pleasure, and perform his will.
With lowly David you did often sing
His holy hymns to
Heaven’s eternal King.
And in sweet music did your soul
delight
90 To sound his praises,
morning, noon, and night.
With blessed Joseph you did
often feed
Your pined brethren, when they stood in
need.
And that sweet Lady sprung from Clifford’s
race,
Of noble Bedford’s blood, fair stem of
grace,
95 To honorable Dorset now
espoused,
In whose fair breast true virtue then was
housed,
Oh what delight did my weak spirits
find
In those pure parts of her well framèd
mind.
And yet it grieves me that I cannot be
100 Near unto her, whose virtues did
agree
With those fair ornaments of outward
beauty,
Which did enforce from all both love and
duty.
Unconstant Fortune, thou art most to
blame,
Who casts us down into so low a frame
105 Where our great friends we cannot daily
see,
So great a difference is there in degree.
Many are placed in those orbs of state,
Partners in honor, so ordained by Fate,
Nearer in
show, yet farther off in love,
110
In which, the lowest always are above.
But whither am I
carried in conceit,
My wit too weak to conster of the
great.
Why not? although we are but born of
earth,
We may behold the heavens, despising
death;
115 And loving heaven that is
so far above,
May in the end vouchsafe us entire
love.
Therefore sweet memory do thou retain
Those pleasures past, which will not turn again:
Remember beauteous Dorset’s former sports,
120 So far from being touched by ill
reports,
Wherein myself did always bear a part,
While reverend love presented my true heart.
Those recreations let me bear in mind,
Which her
sweet youth and noble thoughts did find,
125
Whereof deprived, I evermore must grieve,
Hating
blind Fortune, careless to relieve,
And you sweet
Cooke-ham, whom these ladies leave,
I now must tell the
grief you did conceive
At their departure, when they went
away,
130 How everything retained a
sad dismay.
Nay long before, when once an inkling
came,
Methought each thing did unto sorrow
frame:
The trees that were so glorious in our
view,
Forsook both flowers and fruit, when once they
knew
135 Of your depart, their very
leaves did wither,
Changing their colors as they grew
together.
But when they saw this had no power to stay
you,
They often wept, though, speechless, could not pray
you,
Letting their tears in your fair bosoms
fall,
140 As if they said, Why will
ye leave us all?
This being vain, they cast their leaves
away
Hoping that pity would have made you stay:
Their frozen tops, like age’s hoary hairs,
Shows their disasters, languishing in fears.
145 A swarthy riveled rind all over spread,
Their dying bodies half alive, half dead.
But your occasions called you so away
That nothing
there had power to make you stay.
Yet did I see a noble
grateful mind
150 Requiting each
according to their kind,
Forgetting not to turn and take
your leave
Of these sad creatures, powerless to
receive
Your favor, when with grief you did
depart,
Placing their former pleasures in your
heart,
155 Giving great charge to
noble memory
There to preserve their love
continually.
But specially the love of that fair
tree,
That first and last you did vouchsafe to
see,
In which it pleased you oft to take the
air
160 With noble Dorset, then a
virgin fair,
Where many a learned book was read and
scanned,
To this fair tree, taking me by the
hand,
You did repeat the pleasures which had
passed,
Seeming to grieve they could no longer
last.
165 And with a chaste, yet
loving kiss took leave,
Of which sweet kiss I did it soon
bereave,
Scorning a senseless creature should
possess
So rare a favor, so great happiness.
No other kiss it could receive from me,
170 For fear to give back what it took of thee,
So I ungrateful creature did deceive it
Of
that which you in love vouchsafed to leave it.
And though
it oft had given me much content,
Yet this great wrong I
never could repent;
175 But of the
happiest made it most forlorn,
To show that nothing’s
free from Fortune’s scorne,
While all the rest with this
most beauteous tree
Made their sad consort sorrow’s
harmony.
The flowers that on the banks and walks did
grow,
180 Crept in the ground, the
grass did weep for woe.
The winds and waters seemed to
chide together
Because you went away they knew not
whither;
And those sweet brooks that ran so fair and
clear,
With grief and trouble wrinkled did
appear.
185 Those pretty birds that
wonted were to sing,
Now neither sing, nor chirp, nor use
their wing,
But with their tender feet on some bare
spray,
Warble forth sorrow, and their own
dismay.
Fair Philomela leaves her mournful
ditty,
190 Drowned in deep sleep,
yet can procure no pity.
Each arbor, bank, each seat,
each stately tree
Looks bare and desolate now for want of
thee,
Turning green tresses into frosty gray,
While in cold grief they wither all away.
195 The sun grew weak, his beams no comfort
gave,
While all green things did make the earth their
grave.
Each brier, each bramble, when you went
away
Caught fast your clothes, thinking to make you
stay;
Delightful Echo wonted to reply
200 To our last words, did now for sorrow
die;
The house cast off each garment that might grace
it,
Putting on dust and cobwebs to deface it.
All desolation then there did appear,
When
you were going whom they held so dear.
205
This last farewell to Cooke-ham here I give,
When I am dead thy name in this may live,
Wherein I
have performed her noble hest
Whose virtues lodge in my
unworthy breast,
And ever shall, so long as life
remains,
210 Tying my life to her by
those rich chains.