Poem by Barnabe Googe (Goodge)

The Preface of L. Blundeston

The Senses dull of my appalled muse
Foreweryed with the trauayle of my brayne
In scannyng of the argued Bookes difuse,
And darke for me the glimeryng syght to gayne,
Debated long what excersyce to use,
To fyle the edgeles partes of Wyl agayne
To clense the Heade from sleapy humours slyme.
To rouse the Hart from drowsye Dreames i time

The mind desyres to brek fro thoughtful denne
And tune requyres the painted felds to vewe.
The Eye procures to please the Fancie then
With fieldish sights of diuers colours newe.
The smelling likes the fauour swete of them.
The Eare agrees the pleasaunt laye anewe
Of Byrds to here. Thus these do all contryue,
With this disporte the Spirits to reuyue.

But Fancie then, by serche of selfe deuyse,
Renouncyng thus to spende the pleasaunt Maye
So vainly out with sport of fruteles Pryce
Found out at length, this practyse for thy playe,
To penne in Uerse, the toyes of her deuise,
To pas this tyme of Pentecoste awaye
Whose ydle dayes the wyld me thus to spende
And publish forth her doings in the ende.

Quod Reason no, (and brake her tale begon,
Wilt thou presume, lyke Bayarde blynd to presse,
Into the throng, of all the lookers on
Whose vewyng eyes, will wey thy wisdom lesse.
To se the threde of all thy workes yll spon
Drawen out at length, vnto the comon gesse,
Then if thou shuldst kepe to thy selfe thy ciewe
Where none thy works besydes thy self may vew

With this rose vp, from out her Seate behynde,
Dame Memorye, and Reason thus besought.
Since Lady chiefe of vs thou art assygnde
To rule and temper all my secrete thought
And to restrane affections Fancie blynde,
Let me entreate if I may perce the ought,
For to present a Solace very fytte
Our Sences dull with chaunged Muse to whet.

Lo here the Eye a Paper buntche doth se
Of fyled worke of Googes flowing Heade,
Lefte here behynde, when hence he past from me,
In all the stormes that Winter blastes bespreade
Through swellyng Seas & loftye moutains hye
Of Pyrenet the pathes vnknowen to treade.
Whose great good wyll I kepe, and in his place
His Uerses craue to represent his face.

Unfolde the trusse therfore and yf the Mule
Be setted so with this graue Study past
In so short space, or if we seke to chuse
To prynt our actes in safetie at the last
Cease of a whyle this Labor and peruse
These Papers left of suche delyghting taste
And put in prynt these workes of worthy Skyll
So shall we showe the fruytes of our good wyll.

This Fancie lykte, imagynyng aryght
Of her owne Ioye in hearyng of his Uerse
And pleasaunt Style, most pythyly endyght
whose Fame forth blowen, his deds could wel reherse
But for to paynt my name in open sight
with others Stuffe, this wold she fayne reuerse,
And thinkes I should in others Plumes so show
My selfe, to be a seconde Elops Crowe.

But after when the Eye had vewed eche Lyne.
That Googe had pend and left behynde with me,
when Memorye could all the effect refygne,
To Reasons Skyll, to weye them as they lye.
with long reherse of tryed Fayth by tyme
Then Fancie soone her Pryde, began to plye
And all receyued muche pleasure to the Mynde
More profytts farre then Fancye had assygnde.

And Fancie thus her selfe with blushyng face,
Condemned by Dame Reasons dome deuyne
To se thalluryng Style the cumly grace,
The sappye Sence of this his passyng Ryme,
So farre surmountynge her Inuention base,
And hearyng of his frendlynes in syne
whiche Memorye her Storehouse held full faste
Allowed well theyr Iudgements at the laste.

Since euerye Sence did wonted strength reune,
The Blud congeld, recoursed to his place
The wyts benomd brought to theyr propre quue
The Hart opprest with old delighting grace,
Unburdend nowe and puft with pleasure newe
By takyng of this Booke the vewyng gase
They all at ons Good wyll nowe calde vpon,
To wrest her selfe to quyght these works adon.

Thus pushte I forth strayghte to the Printers hande
These Eglogs, Sonets, Epytaphes of men
Unto the Readers Eyes for to be skande,
with Prayses suche as is doe vnto them
who absent nowe theyr Mayster maye comende,
And feade his Fame what soeuer fayleth him,
Gyue Googe therfore his owne deserued Fame,
Giue Blundeston leaue to wysh wel to his name.

Finis

1. An Epitaph on the Death of Nicholas Grimald
2. Coming Homeward out of Spain
3. Once Musing as I Sat
4. At Bonneval
5. To L. Blundeston

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