OF SARDANAPALUS'S DISHONOURABLE LIFE AND MISERABLE DEATH.

TH' Assyrian king, in peace, with foul desire
And filthy lusts that stain'd his regal heart;
In war, that should set princely hearts on fire,
Did yield vanquish'd for want of martial art.
The dint of swords from kisses seemed strange,

And harder than his lady's side his targe:
From glutton feasts to soldier's fare, a change;
His helmet, far above a garland's charge;
Who scarce the name of manhood did retain,
Drenched in sloth and womanish delight;

Feeble of spirit, impatient of pain,

When he had lost his honour, and his right,

(Proud, time of wealth, in storms appall'd with dread), Murther'd himself to show some manful deed.

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HOW NO AGE IS CONTENT

WITH HIS OWN ESTATE, AND HOW THE AGE OF CHILDREN IS THE HAPPIEST IF THEY HAD SKILL

TO UNDERSTAND IT.

LAID in my quiet bed in study as I were,

I saw within my troubled head a heap of thoughts appear;
And every thought did show so lively in mine eyes,
That now I sigh'd, and then I smiled, as cause of thought
did rise.

I saw the little boy, in thought how oft that he

Did wish of God to 'scape the rod, a tall young man to

be;

The young man eke that feels his bones with pains oppress'd,

7

How he would be a rich old man, to live and lie at rest; The rich old man that sees his end draw on so sore, How he would be a boy again, to live so much the

more.

Whereat full oft I smiled, to see how all these three, From boy to man, from man to boy, would chop and change degree;

And musing thus I think, the case is very strange, That man from wealth,1 to live in woe, doth ever seek to change.

Thus thoughtful as I lay, I saw my wither'd skin, How it doth show my dented chews,2 the flesh was worn so thin;

And eke my toothless chaps, the gates of my right way, That opes and shuts as I do speak, do thus unto me

say:

"Thy white and hoarish hairs, the messengers of age, That show, like lines of true belief, that this life doth

assuage,

20

Bid thee lay hand, and feel them hanging on thy chin; The which do write two ages past, the third now coming

in.

Hang up therefore the bit of thy young wanton time : And thou that therein beaten art, the happiest life define.'

Whereat I sigh'd, and said: 'Farewell! my wonted joy ; Truss up thy pack, and trudge from me to every little boy,

And tell them thus from me, their time most happy is, If, to their time, they reason had to know the truth of this.'

1 Wealth' well-being.-2 Chews:' jaws.

BONUM EST MIHI QUOD HUMILIASTI ME.1

THE storms are past: the clouds are overblown;
And humble chere great rigour hath repress'd.
For the default is set a pain foreknown;

And patience graff'd in a determined breast; And in the heart, where heaps of griefs were grown, The sweet revenge hath planted mirth and rest. No company so pleasant as mine own.

Thraldom at large hath made this prison free.
Danger well past, remembered, works delight.
Of ling'ring doubts such hope is sprung, pardie !2
That nought I find displeasant in my sight,
But when my glass presented unto me

The cureless wound that bleedeth day and night; To think, alas! such hap should granted be

Unto a wretch, that hath no heart to fight, To spill that blood, that hath so oft been shed, For Britain's sake, alas! and now is dead!

10

EXHORTATION TO LEARN BY OTHERS'
TROUBLE.

4

MY RATCLIF, when thy rechless youth offends,
Receive the scourge by others' chastisement;
For such calling, when it works none amends,
Then plagues are sent without advertisement.
Yet Solomon said, the wrongèd shall recure :
But Wyatt said true, 'The scar doth aye endure.' 5

1 In English, 'It is good for me that thou hast afflicted me.'—2 'Pardie:' par Dieu.-3 3 Ratclif:' Sir Humphery, one of the gentlemen pensioners.4 Rechless' reckless.-5 The scar doth aye endure:' these words occur in a short piece of Wyatt's, headed, Wyatt, being in prison, to Brian.'

THE FANCY OF A WEARIER LOVER.

THE fancy, which that I have servèd long,
That hath alway been enemy to mine ease,
Seemed of late to rue upon my wrong,

And bade me fly the cause of

my

misease.

And I forthwith did press out of the throng,

That thought by flight my painful heart to please Some other way, till I saw faith more strong;

And to myself I said, 'Alas! those days In vain were spent, to run the race so long.'

And with that thought I met my guide, that plain, 10 Out of the way wherein I wander'd wrong,

Brought me amidst the hills in base Bullayne : 2 Where I am now, as restless to remain

Against my will, full pleased with my pain.

A SATIRE AGAINST THE CITIZENS OF

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LONDON.3

LONDON! hast thou accused me

Of breach of laws, the root of strife?
Within whose breast did boil to see,

So fervent hot, thy dissolute life,
That even the hate of sins, that grow
Within thy wicked walls so rife,

6 Fancy: love.- -2 Bullayne:' Boulogne. It appears, from an entry in the Privy Council book, that Surrey, along with two youthful companions, had to appear before the Council for breaking with stone-bows of certain windows.' They were confined for a month in the Tower; and as the complaint had been made at the instance of the city authorities, Surrey avenged himself by this satire. He tells the citizens that he gave them an alarm at midnight to frighten them amidst their sins.

For to break forth did convert so,

That terror could it not repress;

The which, by words, since preachers know
What hope is left for to redress,
By unknown means it liked me

My hidden burthen to express,
Whereby it might appear to thee
That secret sin hath secret spite;
From justice' rod no fault is free,
But that all such as work unright,

In most quiet are next ill rest.
In secret silence of the night

This made me, with a rechless breast,
To wake thy sluggards with my bow:

A figure of the Lord's behest,

Whose scourge for sin the Scriptures show :

That, as the fearful thunder's clap

By sudden flame at hand we know,

Of pebble stones the soundless rap,

The dreadful plague might make thee see
Of God's wrath, that doth thee enwrap;
That pride might know, from conscience free,
How lofty works may her defend;

And envy find, as he hath sought,

How other seek him to offend :

And wrath taste of each cruel thought,

The just shape higher in the end:

And idle sloth, that never wrought,
To heaven his spirit lift may begin :
And greedy lucre live in dread,
To see what hate ill-got goods win;
The lechers, ye that lusts do feed,
Perceive what secrecy is in sin:

And gluttons' hearts for sorrow bleed,