Poetry: The Doubt of Future Foes

As we have seen so far in the poetry we have explored, poems can portray strong emotions and themes. Love, sorrow, and looking back at one’s youth. However, poetry can also show strength and hope for one’s country. This poem, written by Queen Elizabeth I, shows her concern for “future foes” but also her desire to defeat them. It was written between 1568 and 1571. Elizabeth had many foes during her time as queen, but the only foreign foes during this time would be her cousin Mary, Queen of Scots and Pope Pius V.

During this time period Mary, Queen of Scots had abdicated her throne in Scotland, in 1567, and there was a Catholic uprising to put Mary on the English throne, instead of Elizabeth. To top it all off, Pope Pius V issued a papal bull called Regnans in Excelsis on February 25, 1570, which declared Elizabeth a pretender to the English throne and released any English Catholics from listening to her. Elizabeth could have cowered in fear, but she stood strong, which can be seen in this poem. It is a warning to future foes not to cross her and to give hope to those who followed her.  

The Doubt of Future Foes

The doubt of future foes exiles my present joy,

And wit me warns to shun such snares as threaten mine annoy;

For falsehood now doth flow, and subjects’ faith doth ebb,

Which should not be if reason ruled or wisdom weaved the web.

But clouds of joys untried do cloak aspiring minds,

Which turn to rain of late repent by changed course of winds.

The top of hope supposed the root upreared shall be,

And fruitless all their grafted guile, as shortly ye shall see.

The dazzled eyes with pride, which great ambition blinds,

Shall be unsealed by worthy wights whose foresight falsehood finds.

The daughter of debate that discord aye doth sow

Shall reap no gain where former rule still peace hath taught to know.

No foreign banished wight shall anchor in this port;

Our realm brooks not seditious sects, let them elsewhere resort.

My rusty sword through rest shall first his edge employ

To poll their tops that seek such change or gape for future joy.

Sources:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Regnans_in_Excelsis

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Doubt_of_Future_Foes

http://www.luminarium.org/renlit/doubt.htm

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44219/the-doubt-of-future-foes

Poetry: When I Was Fair and Young

Since April is Poetry Month, I wanted to focus on poetry that is associated with one of my favorite Tudor Queens, Elizabeth I. There is something special about reading her letters and her speeches since it shows us how she was when it came to interacting with others. However, her poetry is something different. It is a bit more private. This poem, in particular, was not discovered until after her death. There is some question about who was the poet who wrote this poem, but after reading it, I really do believe that Elizabeth I wrote this poem. Who do you think wrote this poem?

When I was Fair and Young

When I was fair and young, then favor graced me.

Of many was I sought their mistress for to be.

But I did scorn them all and answered them therefore:

Go, go, go, seek some other where; importune me no more.

 

How many weeping eyes I made to pine in woe,

How many sighing hearts I have not skill to show,

But I the prouder grew and still this spake therefore:

Go, go, go, seek some other where, importune me no more.

 

Then spake fair Venus’ son, that proud victorious boy,

Saying: You dainty dame, for that you be so coy,

I will so pluck your plumes as you shall say no more:

Go, go, go, seek some other where, importune me no more.

 

As soon as he had said, such change grew in my breast

That neither night nor day I could take any rest.

Wherefore I did repent that I had said before:

Go, go, go, seek some other where, importune me no more.

 

Sources:

https://aslevelliterature.wordpress.com/2014/07/14/when-i-was-fair-and-young-analysis-explanation-2/

http://www.luminarium.org/renlit/wheniwasfair.htm

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45657/when-i-was-fair-and-young

 

Poetry: Epitaphe upon the worthy and Honorable Lady, the Lady Knowles- By Thomas Newton

The next poem I wanted to explore is an epitaph for Lady Katherine Knollys. I found this particular poem in Sarah- Beth Watkins’ book, “Lady Katherine Knollys: The Unacknowledged Daughter of King Henry VIII”. An epitaph was a poem written in memory of a person who died, in this case, Lady Katherine Knollys, the daughter of Mary Boleyn. There are some who believed that she was the daughter of William Carey, while others believed that she was, in fact, the daughter of Henry VIII. She was a lady in waiting for Queen Elizabeth I, as well as her cousin, so it makes sense that Elizabeth would have made such a big deal for her funeral in 1569.

This epitaph was written by Thomas Newton, who was a poet and a clergyman who lived from 1542 until 1607. His major works included translations of the works of Cicero and the Seneca’s Tragedies. This is important because as you read this epitaph, which is one of the few that survive from the 1560s, you will notice a blend of Christian images with Roman images, with the mention of the “Muses” and the “Graces”. It is a unique epitaph for a fascinating woman.

Epitaphe upon the worthy and Honorable Lady, the Lady Knowles

Death with his Darte hath us berefte,

A Gemme of worthy fame,

A Pearle of price, an Ouche of praise,

The Lady Knowles by name.

A Myrroure pure of womanhoode,

A Bootresse and and a stay,

To all that honest were, she was

I say both locke and kaye.

 

Among the Troupes of Ladies all,

And Dames of noble race,

She counted was, (and was indeede)

In Ladie Fortunes grace.

In favoure with our noble Queene,

Above the common sorte,

With whom she was in credit greate,

And bare a comely porte.

 

There seemde between our Queene and Death,

Contencion for to be,

Which of them both more entier love,

To her could testifie.

The one in state did her advaunce,

And place in dignitie,

That men thereby might knowe, to doe,

What princes able be.

 

Death made her free from worldly carke,

From sicknes, paine and strife,

And hath ben as a gate, to bringe

Her to eternall life.

By Death therfore she hath receivde,

A greater boone I knowe:

For she hath made a chaunge, whose blisse,

No mortall wight can showe.

 

She here hath loste the companie,

Of Lords and Ladies brave,

Of husband, Children, frendes and kinne,

And Courtly states full grave.

In Lieu wherof, she gained hath

The blessed companie

Of Sainctes, Archangels, Patriarches,

And Angelles in degree.

 

With all the Troupes Seraphicall,

Which in the heavenly Bower,

Melodiously with one accord,

Ebuccinate Gods power.

Thus are we sure: for in this world

She led a life so right,

That ill report could not distaine,

Nor blemish her with spight.

 

She traced had so cunningly,

The path of vertues lore,

Prefixing God omnipotent,

Her godly eyes before:

And all her dedes preciselie were,

So rulde by reason Squire,

That all and some might her beholde,

From vice still to retire.

 

The vertues all, the Muses nine,

And Graces three agreed,

To lodge within her noble breast,

While she in Earth did feede.

A head so straight and beautified,

With wit and counsaile sounde,

A minde so cleane devoide of guile,

Is uneth to be founde.

 

But gone she is, and left the Stage

Of this most wretched life,

Wherin she plaid a stately part,

Till cruell Fates with knife:

Did cut the line of life in twaine,

Who shall not after goe?

When time doth come, we must all hence,

Experience teacheth so.

 

Examples daily manifolde,

Before our eyes we see,

Which put us in remembraunce,

Of our fragilitie.

And bid us watch at every tide,

For Death our lurking foe,

Sith dye we must, most certainely,

But when, we do not knowe.

 

Som which today are lusty Brutes,

Of age and courage ripe,

Tomorrow may be layd full lowe,

By Death his grevous gripe.

Respect and parcialitie

Of persons is there none,

For King, or Kaiser, rich or poore,

Wise, foolish, all is one.

 

God graunt that we here left behinde,

This Ladies steppes may treade,

To live so well, to die no worse,

Amen, as I have saide.

Then maugre Death, we shall be sure,

When corps in earth is closde,

Amonge the joyes celestiall,

Our Soule shal be reposde.  

 

Sources:

https://books.google.com/books?id=amZjDwAAQBAJ&pg=PA158&lpg=PA158&dq=Epitaphe+upon+the+worthy+and+Honorable+Lady,+the+Lady+Knowles&source=bl&ots=HXAUVDAhHn&sig=ACfU3U2g1k3vB6mPJQEjxlmdFIpPk4Bvbw&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwighKaB7fXgAhXGo4MKHZWRALMQ6AEwAnoECAYQAQ#v=onepage&q=Epitaphe%20upon%20the%20worthy%20and%20Honorable%20Lady%2C%20the%20Lady%20Knowles&f=false

http://ebba.english.ucsb.edu/ballad/32409/xml

Watkins, Sarah-Beth. Lady Katherine Knollys: The Unacknowledged Daughter of King Henry VIII. Winchester, UK: Chronos Books, 2015.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Newton_(poet)

https://www.westminster-abbey.org/abbey-commemorations/commemorations/katherine-knollys

Poetry: A Song of an English Knight

I believe that poetry can really help modern readers understand how historical figures and their legacies changed over time. That is why I have decided to start this project, to show poetry that people might not be familiar with to give us a new perspective about different Tudors. I have decided to include the entire poem so that others can read it.

The first poem I found in Sarah-Beth Watkins’ book, “The Tudor Brandons: Mary and Charles- Henry VIII’s Nearest and Dearest”.  According to Watkins, she found this poem in a book called “The Suffolk Garland: or, A collection of poems, songs, tales, ballads, sonnets, and elegies, legendary and romantic, historical and descriptive, relative to that county”, by James Ford. James Ford was an English antiquary, who compiled many antiquarian subjects into books for easy access for the public. This particular book was written in 1818. This poem is just one that he included in this book, but he sadly does not include the author of this poem. We may not know who wrote this poem, but we can take a guess that he might have been a Protestant by the last few lines of the poem. Who do you think wrote the poem and why do you think they wrote it?

A Song of an English Knight

Eighth Henry ruling this land,

He had a sister fair,

That was the widow’d Queen of France

Enrich’d with virtues rare;

And being come to England’s court,

She oft beheld a knight,

Charles Brandon nam’d, in whose fair eyes,

She chiefly took delight.

 

And noting in her princely mind,

His gallant sweet behaviour,

She daily drew him by degrees,

Still more and more in favour:

Which he perceiving, courteous knight,

Found fitting time and place,

And thus in amorous sort began,

His love-suit to her grace:

 

I am at love, fair queen, said he,

Sweet, let your love incline,

That by your grace Charles Brandon may

On earth be made divine:

If worthless I might worthy be

To have so good a lot,

To please your highness in true love

My fancy doubteth not.

 

Or if that gentry might convey

So great a grace to me,

I can maintain that same by birth,

Being come of good degree.

If wealth you think be all my want.

Your highness hath great store,

And my supplement shall be love;

What can you wish for more?

 

It hath been known when hearty love

Did tie the true-love knot,

Though now if gold and silver want,

The marriage proveth not.

The goodly queen hereat did blush,

But made a dumb reply;

Which he imagin’d what she meant,

And kiss’d her reverently.

 

Brandon (quoth she) I greater am,

Than would I were for thee,

But can as little master love,

As them of low degree.

My father was a king, and so

A king my husband was,

My brother is the like, and he

Will say I do transgress.

 

But let him say what pleaseth him,

He’s liking I’ll forego,

And chuse a love to please myself,

Though all the world say no:

If plowmen make their marriages,

As best contents their mind,

Why should not princes of estate

The like contentment find?

 

But tell me, Brandon, am I not

More forward than beseems?

Yet blame me not for love, I love

Where best my fancy deems.

And long may live (quoth he) to love,

Nor longer live may I

Than when I love your royal grace,

And then disgraced die.

 

But if I do deserve your love,

My mind desires dispatch,

For many are the eyes in court,

That on your beauty watch:

But am not I, sweet lady, now

More forward than behoves?

Yet for my heart, forgive my tongue,

That speaketh for him that loves.

 

The queen and this brave gentleman

Together both did wed,

And after sought the king’s good-will,

And of their wishes sped:

For Brandon soon was made a duke,

And graced so in court,

And who but he did flaunt it forth

Amongst the noblest sort.

 

And so from princely Brandon’s line,

And Mary did proceed

The noble race of Suffolk’s house,

As after did succeed:

And whose high blood the lady Jane,

Lord Guildford Dudley’s wife,

Came by decent, who, with her lord,

In London lost her life.

Sources:

https://archive.org/details/suffolkgarlandor00fordiala/page/120

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Ford_(antiquary)

Watkins, Sarah-Beth. The Tudor Brandons: Mary and Charles — Henry VIIIs Nearest & Dearest. Chronos Books, 2016.