To The Deane, From Flower In Northampton Shire 1625. Now The Worthy Bishop Of Norwich Poem by Robert Gomersall

Still to be silent, or to write in Prose
Were a like sloath, such as I leave to those,
Who either want the grace of wit, or have
Vntoward arguments: like him that gave
Life to the flea, or who without a guest
Would prove that famine was the onely feast:
Selfe tyrants, who their braines doubly torment
Both for their matter, and their ornament.
If these doe stutter sometimes, and confesse
That they are tyr'd, wee could expect no lesse.


But when my matter is prepar'd and fit,
When nothing's wanting but an equall wit,
I need no Muses help to ayde me on,
Since that my subject is my Helicon,


And such are you: ô give me leave, deare Sir
(He that is thankfull, is no flatterer)
To speake full truth: where ever I finde worth
I shew I have it, if I set it forth:
You reade your selfe in these, here you may see
A ruder draught of Corbets infancy,


For I professe if ever I had thought
Needed not blush if publish'd, were there ought
Which was call'd mine, durst beare a Critick's view,
I was the instrument, but the Author you.


I need not tell you of our health, which here
Must be presum'd, nor yet shall our good cheare
Swell up my paper, as it hath done me,
Or as the May'rs feast does Stowes History,
Without an early bell to make us rise,
Health calls us up, and Novelty; our eyes
Have divers objects still on the same ground,
As if the earth had each night walk'd her round
To bring her best things hither: tis a place
Not more the Pride of Shires then the Disgrace,
Which Ide not leave had I my Deane to boot,
For the large offers of the cloven-foot
Vnto our Saviour, but you being not here,
Tis to me though a rare one but a Shire,
A place of good earth, if compar'd with worse,
Which hath a lesser part in Adams curse.
Or for to draw a simily from the Hig'st
Tis like unto Salvation without Christ,
A fairely situate Prison: When againe,
Shall I injoy that frendship, and that braine:
When shall I once more heare in a few words
What all the learning of past-times affords,
Austin epitomiz'd, and him that can
To make him cleare contract Tertullian,


But I detaine you from them: Sir adjeu
You reade their workes, but let me study you.