For transportation of blind souls to hell;
Whom fools do wise men call; give ear to me,
And in my wretched fate your follies see.
I was (woe's me, that still I was not so!)
When April buds of youth themselves did shew
Upon my chin, a student in the law;
From which fantastick thoughts my mind did draw
To the more pleasing study of that art
Of physick; to the which though little part
Of learning gave me help, yet strong desire
To know that worthy science set on fire
The fond affection of my forward will
To search the secrets of that noble skill:
But he, who from that faculty shall fall,
To which inevitable fate did call
Him at the first, forsakes that happy way,
Which he should go, and hapless run astray,
Diseas'd with vanity's fantastick fits,
Which, ague-like, doth vex our English wits,
Who think at home all homely, and do plow
Deep furrows upon Neptune's wať'ry brow,
From foreign shores to bring the worst of bad,
And, in exchange, leave there what good they had.
The seas I pass'd to help out my weak skill
In th' aromatick art; but, Oh! the ill,
Which there our ignorant English oft do find,
Did first corrupt my uncorrupted mind.
O vain conceit of those, that do repute,
In every art, the most admired fruit
Of any brain, if of domestick wit,
But base and trivial, if compar❜d to it
Of foreign heads! That only us can please;
And such hath been our England's old disease.
There did I find (Oh never had I found!)
Murder's close way to kill my foe, the ground
Of that device, thou wronged knight, whereby
Thou most untimely wast inforc'd to die.
There was I taught with vain words to command
The spirits from below, who still at hand
Will ready be, as seeming to obey
Those soul-blind men, whom they do most betray.
Thus having, as I thought, my mind inrich'd
With deepest knowledge, and with pride bewitch'd,
To blow that vain blast on the trump of fame,
Which through the world, I thought might bear my name
I back return'd for England, there to shew
That wond'rous skill which I would seem to know:
There, as the fowler doth with whistle call.
The silly birds, until they hap to fall
Into his net, so did my name each day,
Once blown abroad, lead simple fools away
From helpful heav'n to seek advice in hell,
And there, for toys, themselves and souls to sell :
But in this path long thus I did not tread,
Which down unto the house of death doth lead,
Before that old sly serpent did begin
T'entice me to that self-accusing sin
Of horrid murder, shewing me the way,
By art of poison, closely to betray
What life to death I would; nor did he leave,
Until my soul he did so far bereave
Of every feeling sense, that wicked I
Did closely poison her that us'd to lie
In my own bosom, that she, being dead,
Might, to me living, leave an empty bed.
After this fact, that to my guilty soul
It might not, as it was, seem ugly foul,
My subtle foe did whisper in my ear
These seeming happy news, how fame did bear
My name upon her wings, with loud report
Of my strange deeds, as far as to the court;
Where having been employ'd, I with all skill
Apply'd myself to please; no damned ill
I did refuse, not making any doubt,
While greatness' wings did compass me about.
Forman, that cunning exorcist, and I
Would many times our wicked wits apply
Kind nature, in her working, to disarm
Of proper strength; and, by our spells, would charin
Both men and women, making it our sport
And play to point at them in our report.
Thus, fatted with false pleasure for a while,
Still with good hope of hap, I did beguile
Myself in all employments, till at last
Thy death, thou injur'd knight, did with it haste
My unexpected fall: I was the man
That did prepare those poisons, which began
And ended all thy pain; which I did give
Unto that man who did attendant live
On thee in thy distress; who, since that time,
Was he that first did suffer for this crime.
O what a sudden change of chearful thought
So sadness self-accusing conscience brought
After this bloody deed! Before, all ease
Did seem to wait on me; for, what could please,
Which I did want? That idol gold, which all
Or most men closely worship, seem'd to fall
As thick upon me, as the golden shower,
That fell on Danae in the Dardan tower.
Swimming in streams of false delight, and prick'd
With pride and self-conceit, at heav'n I kick'd.
The names of God and Maker I did slight,
As bug-bear words the childish world t'affright.
I did impute the sphere's eternal dance,
And all this all, to nature and to chance;
But all men laugh my follies unto scorn,
For who so blind will say, being mortal-born,
He hath a reason, and will yet deny
The same to this universality,
Of which, alas! he is the lesser part?
As who should say, his feet, his hands, his heart,
Might well be wise, and he himself a fool:
Such is the wisdom of th' atheistick school.
'The eye of heav'n, from whom no heart can hide
The secret thoughts, my close intents espy'd;
And, when I did, with most inventive brain,
Devise to wipe away my conscience' stain,
And thy sad death most closely to conceal,
Heav'n forc'd myself my own self to reveal.
The shadow of the dead, or some foul fiend,
Or fury, whom revenge did justly send
To punish me for my detested sin,
With snaky whips did scourge my soul within;
Forbidding me my rest, or day, or night,
Till I had brought my own offence to light:
For which, condemn'd unto that shameful end
Of straggling torment, still the frantick fiend
Did follow me unto my life's last breath;
As was my life before, so was my death.
This said, he vanish'd; and, with him that night
The vision ending, our impoison'd knight
Thus spoke: O England, O thrice happy land,
Who, of all isles, most gracefully dost stand
Upon this earth's broad face, like Venus' spot
Upon her cheek; thou only garden-plot,
Which, as another Eden, heav'n hath chose,
In which the tree of life and knowledge grows;
Happy in all, most happy in this thing,
In having such a holy, happy king:
A king, whose faith, in arms of proof, doth fight
'Gainst that sev'n-headed beast and all his might:
A king, whose justice will, at last, not fail
To give to each his own in equal scale :
A king, whose love, dove-like, with wings of fame,
To all the world doth happy peace proclaim:
A king, whose faith, whose justice, and whose love
Divine, and more than royal, him do prove.
O thou just king, How hath thy justice shin'd
Upon my injur'd ghost! Which, being confin'd
From hence for ever, never had, unless
Thy justice had been great, obtain'd redress.
If earnest pray'rs with heav'n may aught avail
(And earnest pray'rs with heav'n do seldom fail)
Let all good men lift up their hearts with me,
That what I beg of heav'n may granted be.
If ever heart, with wicked thought, shall aim
To harm thy state, let heav'n reveal the same.
If ever hand, lift up with violent pow'r,
Shall seek thy life, heav'n cut it off that hour.
If ever eye of treason lurk about,
Or lie in wait for thee, heav'n put it out.
If heart, hand, eye, abroad, or here at home,
Shall plot against thee, never may they come
To their effect; as they have ever been,
So may they be: and let all say, Amen.
Here my dream ended: after which, a while
Soft slumber did my senses so beguile,
I thought the Tower gate was o'er my head,
Until I wak'd, and found myself in bed;
From whence arising, as the wronged knight
Had giv'n in charge, this vision I did write.
SIR WALTER RALEIGH, KNIGHT,
AS WELL IN HIS VOYAGE, AS IN, AND SITHENCE HIS RETURN;
TRUE MOTIVES AND INDUCEMENTS
Which occasioned his Majesty to proceed in doing justice upon him, as hath been done.
London, printed by Bonham Norton and John Bill, Printers to the King's most excellent Majesty, 1618, Quarto, containing sixty-three Pages.
The execution of Sir Walter Raleigh, for a crime of which he had been convicted fourteen years before, and then convicted without legal evidence against hin, and which, in the opinion of most, was pardoned by the commission, which
made him supreme Commander, and invested him with judicial authority, was an act so cruel in itself, so unusual in England, and so plainly intended for the gratification of the Spanish court, that it filled the whole nation with murmurs and discontent, and obliged the King to give his subjects an account, to which he appears not to think them intitled, of the reasons of his conduct. This account, whoever was the author, is very artfully and elegantly drawn up, nor can it be denied, that the whole behaviour of Raleigh, in his last attempt, appears sufficiently deceitful. Many circumstances are collected to prove that the mine was a mere fiction, and that his original and only design was to plunder the Spanish settlements, which was undoubtedly a violation of his commission, and of natural justice, since the English and Spaniards were then at peace. There is likewise a recital of the stratagems which he used to facilitate his escape, which, if these had succeeded, would have afforded very agreeable amusement; but the reflexion, that they were defeated by treachery, puts an end to all pleasing thoughts, and is not without a very melancholy kind of commiseration, that any man can behold the great Raleigh reduced to such little artifices, ap plauding these stratagems which his agent has discovered, and making sport for his enemies by those practices, by which he imagines himself deceiving them, more than once on the verge of liberty, and then hurried to prison and to death.
It is observed by the author of King James's character, that he naturally hated a man of valour, and it is probable that his own cowardice rather than his resentment of Raleigh's conduct, however unjustifiable, prompted the fatal sentence; for which he gives one reason very remarkable, that Raleigh attempted to escape, and declined his justice, that he was not willing to lie in prison fourteen years longer without a crime.
What were the real views of Raleigh in his pretended quest of the golden mine, it is not easy to determine; the auswer which is most obvious, that he hoped to find an opportunity of escaping, is by no means satisfactory, because he made no use of the opportunities that were offered him, but returned to England, when he might undoubtedly have landed in another country, where his reputa. tion would have secured him from being given up to a prince, who had so little influence among his neighbours. That he did not rather go to any country than his own, has been much wondered at, and sometimes censured; but it appears from Howel's letters, that several of his friends were bound for his return. The question then recurs, if he thought himself obliged to return, why did he set out? Perhaps he might propose the enterprise before that condition was re quired, and could not then recede from his own scheme, without betraying his design. The exact dates of all the occurrences would contribute very much to solve the difficulties that arise on every supposition.
Many more questions might be started, as, why, when he was at large, he could not escape, without such an undertaking? Why he projected a design that must necessarily end in his disgrace? And by what necessity he was reduced to trust Manonry, whom he knew but little? But these, and many others, it is perhaps now impossible to answer, and therefore superfluous to mention.
ALTHOUGH kings be not bound to give account of their actions
to any but God alone; yet such are his Majesty's proceedings, as he hath always been willing to bring them before sun and moon, and carefully to satisfy all his good people with his intentions and courses, giving as well to future times, as to the present, true and undisguised declarations of them; as judging, that for actions not well founded, it is advantage to let them pass in uncertain reports; but for actions, that are built upon sure and solid grounds, such as his Majesty's are, it be longeth to them, to be published by open manifests: especially his Majesty is willing, to declare and manifest to the world his proceed.
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