_To the worthy Knight, and my noble friend, Sir HENRY GOODERE, a Gentleman of His Majesty's Privy Chamber._ [Illustration] These Lyric pieces, short, and few, Most worthy Sir, I send to you; To read them be not weary! They may become JOHN HEWES his lyre, Which oft, at Polesworth,[12] by the fire, Hath made us gravely merry. Believe it, he must have the trick Of Ryming, with Invention quick, That should do Lyrics well: But how I have done in this kind, Though in myself I cannot find, Your judgment best can tell. Th' old British Bards (upon their harps For falling Flats, and rising Sharps, That curiously were strung) To stir their Youth to warlike rage, Or their wild fury to assuage, In these loose Numbers sung. No more I, for fools' censure pass, Than for the braying of an ass; Nor once mine ear will lend them: If you but please to take in gree These _Odes_, sufficient 'tis to me: Your liking can commend them. Yours, MICHAEL DRAYTON. FOOTNOTE: [Footnote 12: In Warwickshire.] WITH OTHER LYRIC POESIES. _To his Valentine._ [Illustration] Muse, bid the Morn awake! Sad Winter now declines, Each bird doth choose a Make; This day's Saint VALENTINE'S. For that good Bishop's sake Get up, and let us see What Beauty it shall be That Fortune us assigns! But, lo, in happy hour, The place wherein she lies; In yonder climbing Tower, Gilt by the glitt'ring Rise. O, JOVE, that in a shower (As once that Thunderer did, When he in drops lay hid) That I could her surprise! Her canopy I'll draw, With spangled plumes bedight: No mortal ever saw So ravishing a sight; That it the Gods might awe, And pow'rfully transpierce The globy Universe, Outshooting every light. My lips I'll softly lay Upon her heavenly cheek, Dyed like the dawning day, As polished ivory sleek; And in her ear I'll say: "O thou bright Morning Star! 'Tis I, that come so far, My Valentine to seek. "Each little bird, this tide, Doth choose her lovèd pheere; Which constantly abide In wedlock all the year, As Nature is their guide; So may we Two be true This year, nor change for new; As turtles coupled were. "The sparrow, swan, the dove, Though VENUS' birds they be; Yet are they not for love, So absolute as we! For reason us doth move; But they by billing woo. Then try what we can do! To whom each sense is free. "Which we have more than they, By livelier organs swayed; Our Appetite each way More by our Sense obeyed. Our Passions to display, This season us doth fit; Then let us follow it, As Nature us doth lead!