Then gan that Nation, th’earths new Giant brood,
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To dart abroad the thunder bolts of warre,
And beating downe these walls with furious mood
Into her mothers bosome, all did marre;
To th’end that none, all were it Ioue his sire
Should boast himselfe of the Romane Empire.
12
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Like as whilome the children of the earth
Heapt hils on hils, to scale the starrie skie,
And fight against the Gods of heauenly berth,
Whiles Ioue at them his thunderbolts let flie;
All suddenly with lightning ouerthrowne,
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The furious squadrons downe to ground did fall,
That th’earth vnder her childrens weight did grone,
And th’heauens in glorie triumpht ouer all:
So did that haughtie front which heaped was
On these seuen Romane hils, it selfe vpreare
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Ouer the world, and lift her loftie face
Against the heauen, that gan her force to feare.
But now these scorned fields bemone her fall,
And Gods secure feare not her force at all.
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Nor the swift furie of the flames aspiring,
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Nor the deep wounds of victours raging blade,
Nor ruthlesse spoyle of souldiers blood-desiring,
The which so oft thee (Rome) their conquest made;
Ne stroke on stroke of fortune variable,
Ne rust of age hating continuance,
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Nor wrath of Gods, nor spight of men vnstable,
Nor thou opposd’ against thine owne puissance;
Nor th’horrible vprore of windes high blowing,
Nor swelling streames of that God snakie-paced,
Which hath so often with his overflowing
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Thee drenched, haue thy pride so much abaced;
But that this nothing, which they haue thee left,
Makes the world wonder, what they from thee reft.
14
As men in Summer fearles passe the foord,
Which is in Winter lord of all the plaine,
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And with his tumbling streames doth beare aboord
The ploughmans hope, and shepheards labour vaine:
And as the coward beasts vse to despise
The noble Lion after his liues end,
Whetting their teeth, and with vaine foolhardise
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Daring the foe, that cannot him defend:
And as at Troy most dastards of the Greekes
Did braue about the corpes of Hector colde;
So those which whilome wont with pallid cheekes
The Romane triumphs glorie to behold,
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Now on these ashie tombes shew boldnesse vaine,
And conquer’d dare the Conquerour disdaine.
15
Ye pallid spirits, and ye ashie ghoasts,
Which ioying in the brightnes of your day,
Brought foorth those signes of your presumptuous boasts
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Which now their dusty reliques do bewray;
Tell me ye spirits (sith the darksome riuer
Of Styx, not passable to soules returning,
Enclosing you in thrice three wards for euer,
Doo not restraine your images still mourning)
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Tell me then (for perhaps some one of you
Yet here aboue him secretly doth hide)
Doo ye not feele your torments to accrewe,
When ye sometimes behold the ruin’d pride
Of these old Romane works built with your hands,
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16
Like as ye see the wrathfull Sea from farre,
In a great mountaine heap’t with hideous noyse,
Eftsoones of thousand billowes shouldred narre,
Against a Rocke to breake with dreadfull poyse:
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Like as ye see fell Boreas with sharpe blast,
Tossing huge tempests through the troubled skie,
Eftsoones hauing his wide wings spent in wast,
To stop his wearie cariere suddenly:
And as ye see huge flames spred diuerslie,
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Gathered in one vp to the heauens to spyre,
Eftsoones consum’d to fall downe feebily:
So whilom did this Monarchie aspyre
As waues, as winde, as fire spred ouer all,
Till it by fatall doome adowne did fall.
17
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So long as Ioues great Bird did make his flight,
Bearing the fire with which heauen doth vs fray,
Heauen had not feare of that presumptuous might,
With which the Giaunts did the Gods assay.
But all so soone, as scortching Sunne had brent
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His wings, which wont the earth to ouerspredd,
The earth out of her massie wombe forth sent
That antique horror, which made heauen adredd.
Then was the Germane Rauen in disguise
That Romane Eagle seene to cleaue asunder,
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And towards heauen freshly to arise
Out of these mountaines, now consum’d to pouder.
In which the foule that serues to beare the lightning,
Is now no more seen flying, nor alighting.
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These heapes of stones, these old wals which ye see,
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Were first enclosures but of saluage soyle;
And these braue Pallaces which maystred bee
Of time, were shepheards cottages somewhile.
Then tooke the shepheards Kingly ornaments
And the stout hynde arm’d his right hand with steele:
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Eftsoones their rule of yearely Presidents
Grew great, and sixe months greater a great deele;
Which made perpetuall, rose to so great might,
That thence th’Imperiall Eagle rooting tooke,
Till th’heauen it selfe opposing gainst her might,
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Her power to Peters successor betooke;
Who shepheardlike, (as fates the same foreseeing)
Doth shew, that all things turne to their first being.
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All that is perfect, which th’heauen beautefies;
All that’s imperfect, borne belowe the Moone;
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All that doth feede our spirits and our eies;
And all that doth consume our pleasures soone;
All the mishap, the which our daies outweares,
All the good hap of th’oldest times afore,
Rome in the time of her great ancesters,
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Like a Pandora, locked long in store.
But destinie this huge Chaos turmoyling,
In which all good and euill was enclosed,
Their heauenly vertues from these woes assoyling,
Caried to heauen, from sinfull bondage losed:
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But their great sinnes, the causers of their paine,
Vnder these antique ruines yet remaine.
20
No otherwise than raynie cloud, first fed
With earthly vapours gathered in the ayre,
Eftsoones in compas arch’t, to steepe his hed,
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Doth plonge himselfe in Tethys bosome faire;
With his great bellie spreds the dimmed world,
Till at the last dissoluing his moist frame,
In raine, or snowe, or haile he forth is horld;
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This Citie, which was first but shepheards shade,
Vprising by degrees, grewe to such height,
That Queene of land and sea her selfe she made.
At last not able to beare so great weight,
Her power disperst, through all the world did vade;
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To shew that all in th’end to nought shall fade.
21
The same which Pyrrhus, and the puissaunce
Of Afrike could not tame, that same braue Citie,
Which with stout courage arm’d against mischaunce,
Sustein’d the shocke of common enmitie;
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Long as her ship tost with so manie freakes,
Had all the world in armes against her bent,
Was neuer seene, that anie fortunes wreakes
Could breake her course begun with braue intent.
But when the obiect of her vertue failed,
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Her power it selfe against it selfe did arme;
As he that hauing long in tempest sailed,
Faine would ariue, but cannot for the storme,
If too great winde against the port him driue,
Doth in the port it selfe his vessell riue.
22
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When that braue honour of the Latine name,
Which mear’d her rule with Africa, and Byze,
With Thames inhabitants of noble fame,
And they which see the dawning day arize;
Her nourslings did with mutinous vprore
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Harten against her selfe, her conquer’d spoile,
Which she had wonne from all the world afore,
Of all the world was spoyl’d within a while.
So when the compast course of the vniuerse
In sixe and thirtie thousand yeares is ronne,
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The bands of th’elements shall backe reuerse
To their first discord, and be quite vndonne:
The seedes, of which all things at first were bred,
Shall in great Chaos wombe againe be hid.
23
O warie wisedome of the man, that would
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That Carthage towres from spoile should be forborne,
To th’end that his victorious people should
With cancring laisure not be ouerworne;
He well foresaw, how that the Romane courage,
Impatient of pleasures faint desires,
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Through idlenes would turne to ciuill rage,
And be her selfe the matter of her fires.
For in a people giuen all to ease,
Ambition is engendred easily;
As in a vicious bodie, grose disease
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Soone growes through humours superfluitie.
That came to passe, when swolne with plenties pride,
Nor prince, nor peere, nor kin they would abide.
24
If the blinde furie, which warres breedeth oft,
Wonts not t’enrage the hearts of equall beasts,
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Whether they fare on foote, or flie aloft,
Or armed be with clawes, or scalie creasts;
What fell Erynnis with hot burning tongs,
Did grype your hearts, with noysome rage imbew’d,
That each to other working cruell wrongs,
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Your blades in your owne bowels you embrew’d?
Was this (ye Romanes) your hard destinie?
Or some old sinne, whose vnappeased guilt
Powr’d vengeance forth on you eternallie?
Or brothers blood, the which at first was spilt
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Vpon your walls, that God might not endure,
Vpon the same to set foundation sure?
25
O that I had the Thracian Poets harpe,
For to awake out of th’infernall shade
Those antique Cœsars, sleeping long in darke,
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The which this auncient Citie whilome made:
Or that I had Amphions instrument,
To quicken with his vitall notes accord,
The stonie ioynts of these old walls now rent,
By which th’Ausonian light might be restor’d:
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Or that at least I could with pencill fine,
Fashion the pourtraicts of these Palacis,
By paterne of great Virgils spirit diuine;
I would assay with that which in me is,
To builde with leuell of my loftie style,
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That which no hands can euermore compyle.
26
Who list the Romane greatnes forth to figure,
Him needeth not to seeke for vsage right
Of line, or lead, or rule, or squaire, to measure
Her length, her breadth, her deepnes, or her hight,
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But him behooues to vew in compasse round
All that the Ocean graspes in his long armes;
Be it where the yerely starre doth scortch the ground,
Or where colde Boreas blowes his bitter stormes.
Rome was th’whole world, and al the world was Rome,
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And if things nam’d their names doo equalize,
When land and sea ye name, then name ye Rome;
And naming Rome ye land and sea comprize:
For th’auncient Plot of Rome displayed plaine,
The map of all the wide world doth containe.
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Thou that at Rome astonisht dost behold
The antique pride, which menaced the skie,
These haughtie heapes, these palaces of olde,
These wals, these arcks, these baths, these temples hie;
Iudge by these ample ruines vew, the rest
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The which iniurious time hath quite outworne,
Since of all workmen helde in reckning best,
Yet these olde fragments are for paternes borne:
Then also marke, how Rome from day to day,
Repayring her decayed fashion,
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Renewes herselfe with buildings rich and gay;
That one would iudge, that the Romaine Dœmon
Doth yet himselfe with fatall hand enforce,
Againe on foote to reare her pouldred corse.
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He that hath seene a great Oke drie and dead,
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Yet clad with reliques of some Trophees olde,
Lifting to heauen her aged hoarie head,
Whose foote in ground hath left but feeble holde;
But halfe disbowel’d lies aboue the ground,
Shewing her wreathed rootes, and naked armes,
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And on her trunke all rotten and vnsound
Onely supports herselfe for meate of wormes;
And though she owe her fall to the first winde,
Yet of the deuout people is ador’d,
And manie yong plants spring out of her rinde;
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Who such an Oke hath seene, let him record
That such this Cities honour was of yore,