Excepting Clio did with mee remaine, Who being the first borne childe of Memorie, The ladie was of noble historie, A peerelesse dame past al compare to sing The deeds, that vertue vnto light doth bring: In comelie garments, like some virgin maid Of Dian’s troope, shee trimlie was arraid, Saue goddesse-like her globe-like head around With verdant wreath of sacred bay was crownd; From which downe either side her comelie face, Her golden lockes did flow with goodlie grace, And in her hand a lute diuinelie strung She held, to which oft times she sweetlie sung; With this she sat her downe vpon the ground, And with her fingers made the strings to sound, Vnto the which her sweet voice she did frame To sing the praises of _Elizae’s_ name. Which hauing done, shee thus did silence break; “Would God,” quoth shee, “her prayses I could speak, Who claimes a greater power her praise to sound, Then Phœbus self, if greater could be found: Yet will I triall make with all my might, With her great fame the golden starres to smite: Which while I sing, heark thou with heedful eare, And in thy mind the same hereafter beare:” This said, she lightlie toucht each trembling string, And with sweet voice did thus diuinelie sing. ENGLAND’S ELIZA. 1. When England’s Phœbus _Henrie’s_ hopefull sonne The world’s rare Phœnix, princely _Edward_ hight, To death did yeeld, his glasee of life outrun, And Phœbus-like no more could lend his light: Then men did walke in shades of darkesome night, Whose feeble sight with errors blacke strooke blind, Could in no place time’s faire _Fidessa_ find. 2. That blind borne monster, truthe’s sterne opposite, Begotten first in Demogorgon’s hall, Twixt vglie Erebus and grizlie night, The sonnes of truth did horriblie appall With her approch, much dreaded of them all: Who euer came in reach of her foule pawes, She in their blood imbru’d her thirstie iawes. 3. Witnesse may bee the manie a burning flame, Made with the limbes of saints to mount on high, Whose constant soules without the least exclaime, In midst of death downe patientlie did lie, And in bright flames did clime the clow’d-brow’d skie: Yea, let _Elizae’s_ woes in that blind age, A witnesse bee of bloodie error’s rage. 4. Whose deepe distresse and dolefull miserie, I not assay to sing, but leaue the same To our deare sister sad Melpomene, That she her sweet patheticke voice may frame In dolefull dittie to condole the same: I onely here in high heroick streine, Do striue to sing of her triumphant reigne. 5.