George Gascoigne Poems

IN haste, post haste, when first my wandering mind
Beheld the glistring Court with gazing eye,
Such deep delights I seemed therein to find,
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And every year a world my will did deem,
Till lo! at last, to Court now am I come,
A seemly swain that might the place beseem,
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To prink me up, and make me higher placed,
All came too late that tarried any time;
Piles of provision pleased not my taste,
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IF any flower that here is grown
Or any herb may ease your pain,
Take and account it as your own,
But recompense the like again;
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O knights, O squires, O gentle bloods yborn,
You were not born all only for yourselves:
Your country claims some part of all your pains.
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For why the gains doth seldom quit the charge:
And so say I by proof too dearly bought,
My haste made waste; my brave and brainsick barge
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All were too little for the merchant's hand,
And yet my bravery bigger than his book;
But when this hot account was coldly scanned,
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Before mine eye, to feed my greedy will,
'Gan muster eke mine old acquainted mates,
Who helped the dish (of vain delight) to fill
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In court whoso demaundes
What dame doth most excell;
For my conceit I must needes say,
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Fancy (quoth he) farewell, whose badge I long did bear,
And in my hat full harebrainedly, thy flowers did I wear:
Too late I find (at last), thy fruits are nothing worth,
Thy blossoms fall and fade full fast, though bravery bring them forth.
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