Biography of Michael Drayton
Drayton was born at Hartshill in Warwickshire and as a youth he became page to Sir Henry Goodere of Polesworth. He fell in love with Sir Henry's daughter, Anne, and worshipped her as 'Idea' in his poetry. Even after her marriage to Sir Henry Rainford he continued to celebrate her charms in verse, and he never married.
He had wanted to be a poet from the age of ten, and achieved his ambition through hard work and a succession of noble patrons, in spite of some ill-fortune. His first work was a verse paraphrase of parts of the Old Testament and Apocrypha, The Harmony of the Church. Ironically, the Harmony caused offence among the authorities and was banned. When James I became king in 1603 Drayton angled for royal favour with To the Majesty of King James: a Gratulatory Poem. Unfortunately he omitted to include the customary tribute to the late Queen Elizabeth, and this gaffe probably cost him an appointment at court.
In spite of this setback, Drayton had a fairly successful career as a poet, and he counted Ben Jonson and William Drummond of Hawthornden among his friends.
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Michael Drayton Poems
Sonnet Lxi: Since There's No Help
Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part, Nay, I have done, you get no more of me, And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free.
Sonnet Xxvi: I Ever Love
To Despair I ever love where never hope appears, Yet hope draws on my never-hoping care,
Sonnet Ii: My Heart Was Slain
My heart was slain, and none but you and I; Who should I think the murther should commit, Since but yourself there was no creature by, But only I, guiltless of murth'ring it?
Sonnet Lv: My Fair, If Thou Wilt
My Fair, if thou wilt register my love, A world of volumes shall thereof arise; Preserve my tears, and thou thyself shalt prove A second flood, down-raining from mine eyes.
Sonnet Li: Calling To Mind
Calling to mind, since first my love begun, Th'uncertain times oft varying in their course, How things still unexpectedly have run, As it please the Fates, by their resistless force.
How Many Paltry Foolish Painted Things
How many paltry foolish painted things, That now in coaches trouble every street, Shall be forgotten, whom no poet sings, Ere they be well wrapped in their winding-sheet!
Sonnet Iv: Bright Star Of Beauty
Bright star of beauty, on whose eyelids sit A thousand nymph-like and enamour'd Graces, The Goddesses of Memory and Wit, Which there in order take their several places;
Idea Li: Calling To Mind Since First My ...
Calling to mind since first my love begun, Th' incertain times oft varying in their course, How things still unexpectedly have run, As t' please the fates by their resistless force:
Sonnet Lix: As Love And I
As Love and I, late harbor'd in one inn, With proverbs thus each other entertain: "In Love there is no lack," thus I begin; "Fair words make fools," replieth he again;
Sonnet Vi: How Many Paltry Things
How many paltry, foolish, painted things, That now is coaches trouble every street, Shall be forgotten, whom no Poet sings, Ere they be well wrapt in their winding-sheet.
Sonnet Xi: You Not Alone
You not alone, when you are still alone, O God, from you that I could private be. Since you one were, I never since was one; Since you in me, my self since out of me,
Sonnet Xix: You Cannot Love
To Humor You cannot love, my pretty heart, and why? There was a time you told me that you would;
Sonnet Liv: Yet Read At Last
Yet read at last the story of my woe, The dreary abstracts of my endless cares, With my life's sorrow interlined so, Smok'd with my sighs and blotted with my tears,
Sonnet Lxii: When First I Ended
When first I ended, then I first began, The more I travell'd, further from my rest, Where most I lost, there most of all I wan, Pined with hunger rising from a feast.
Sonnet Liii: Clear Anker
Another to the River Anker
Clear Anker, on whose silver-sanded shore
My soul-shrin'd saint, my fair Idea, lies,
O blessed brook, whose milk-white swans adore
The crystal stream refined by her eyes,
Where sweet myrrh-breathing Zephyr in the Spring
Gently distils his nectar-dropping showers,
Where nightingales in Arden sit and sing