To the right noble and beautiful lady,

MARY, COUNTESS OF PEMBROOK.

MOST honourable and bountiful Lady, there be long sithens deep sowed in my breast the seeds of most entire love and humble affection unto that most brave knight, your noble brother, deceased, which taking root, began in his lifetime somewhat to bud forth, and to show themselves to him, as then in the weakness of their first spring, and would in their riper strength (had it pleased high God till then to draw out his days) spired forth fruit of more perfection : but since God hath disdeigned the world of that most noble spirit, which was the hope of all learned men, and the patron of my young Muses, together with him both their hope of any further fruit was cut off, and also the tender delight of those their first blossoms nipped and quite dead: yet sithens my late coming into England, some friends of mine, (which might much prevail with me, and indeed command me) knowing with how straight bands of duty I was tyed to him, and also bound unto that noble house, (of which the chief hope then rested in him)

have sought to revive them by upbraiding me, for that I have not shewed any thankful remembrance towards him, or any of them, but suffer their names to sleep in silence and forgetfulness: whom chiefly to satisfy, or else to avoid that foul blot of unthankfulness, I have conceived this small Poem, intituled by a general name of, The World's Ruines; yet specially intended to the renowning of that noble race from which both you and he sprong, and to the eternizing of some of the chief of them late deceased: the which I dedicate unto your Ladyship, as whom it most specially concerneth, and to whom I acknowledge my self bounden by many singular favours and great graces. I pray for your honourable happiness, and so humbly kiss your hands,

Your Ladyship's ever

humbly at command,

EDMUND SPENSER.

IT chaunced me one day beside the shore
Of silver streaming Thamesis to be,
Nigh where the goodly Verlame stood of yore,
Of which there now remains no memory,
Nor any little monument to see,

By which the traveller, that fares that way,
This once was she may warned be to say.
There on the other side I did behold
A woman sitting sorrowfully wailing,
Rending her yellow locks, like wiry gold,
About her shoulders carelesly down trailing,
And streams of tears from her fair eyes forth railing;
In her right hand a broken rod she held,

IO

Which towards heaven she seem'd on high to weld.

Whether she were one of that river's nymphs,
Which did the loss of some dear love lament,
I doubt, or one of those three fatal imps
Which draw the days of men forth in extent,
Or th' ancient Genius of that city brent;
But seeing her so piteously perplexed,
I (to her calling) ask'd what her so vexed?

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"Ah what delight (quoth she) in earthly thing, "Or comfort, can I, wretched Creature! have? "Whose happiness the Heavens envying, "From highest stair to lowest step me drave, "And have in mine own bowels made my grave; "That of all nations now I am forlorn,

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"The worlds sad spectacle, and Fortune's scorn."

Much was I moved at her piteous plaint,
And felt my heart nigh riven in my breast,
With tender ruth to see her sore constraint,
That shedding tears awhile, I still did rest,
And after did her name of her request:
"Name have I none, (quoth she) nor any being,
"Bereft of both by Fate's unjust decreeing.

"I was that city which the garland wore
"Of Britain's pride, delivered unto me
"By Roman victors, which it won of yore,
"Though nought at all but ruines now I be,
"And lie in mine own ashes, as ye see:
"Verlame I was; what boots it that I was,
"Sith now I am but weeds and wasteful grass?

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“O vain world's glory, and unstedfast state "Of all that lives on face of sinful earth! "Which from their first until their utmost date 45 "Taste no one hour of happiness or mirth, "But like as at the ingate of their birth,

They crying creep out of their mother's womb, "So wailing back go to their woeful tomb.

"Why then doth flesh, a bubble-glass of breath, 50 "Hunt after honour and advancement vain, "And rear a trophee for devouring Death, "With so great labour and long-lasting pain, "As if his days for ever should remain ? "Sith all that in this world is great or gay, "Doth as a vapour vanish and decay.

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"Look back who list unto the former ages, "And call to count what is of them become, "Where be those learned wits and antique sages "Which of all wisdom knew the perfect sum? "Where those great warriors which did overcome "The world with conquest of their might and main, "And made one mear of th' earth and of their reign?

"What now is of th' Assyrian Lioness, "Of whom no footing now on earth appears? 65 "What of the Persian Bear's outrageousness, "Whose memory is quite worn out with years "Who of the Grecian Libbard now ought hears, "That over-ran the East with greedy powre, "And left his whelps their kingdoms to devour? 70

"And where is that same great Seven-headed beast, “That made all nations vassals of her pride, "To fall before her feet at her beheast, "And in the neck of all the world did ride?

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"Where doth she all that wondrous wealth now hide?

"With her own weight down pressed now she lies, "And by her heaps her hugeness testifies.

"O Rome! thy ruin I lament and rue, "And in thy fall my fatal overthrow,

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"That whilom was, whilst Heavenswith equal view "Deign'd to behold me, and their gifts bestow, "The picture of thy pride in pompous show; "And of the whole world as thou wast the empress, "So I of this small northern world was princess.