Written of a gentleman, whose name is in the verses.

MY happ was good, to finde a freende,
of sutche ripe sence and skill,
As could deserne by deepe foresight,
the weight of my good will:
The welcome greate, for small desarts,
and freendly fauour found,
Hath shriend my harte in Lambeth house,
and there my bodie bound.
En roule my name, emong those freendes, of whom a count ye make
Waie well my woords, and as you doe, of woorks some triall take:
Paies eury promes paste my mouthe, and you muste looke for then,
A deeper draught and higher stile, to come from Churchyards pen.
Receiue in gree, the offred gift, that Newe yeres daie brings forthe,
(Keepe these bare verses as a pledge, of matter muche more worthe)
And you shall heare the hammers beate, & thompe out other newes,
Releef is come to heauie hedde, and comforts now my mewes.
Gon is the greesly gloumyng daie, that kept the Sonne in shade,
Out stepps my hope with sailes a flant, that earst no triumph made:
Dispaire hath drounde hymself in seas, and as cold courage sailde,
Good Pilotts came and sturde the sterne, and so my Ship preuailde.
If Silla and Charibdes clies, could threaten my decaie,
Vaine were the braggs of rustie rocks, and mountains all I saie:
Except the Gods doe froune on me, the straits I minde to pas,
Though shipp be forste, to trie the tides, where neuer ship man was:
Hit glads me muche, that I shall saile, with winde & weather bothe.
Enbarkt with those that order kepes, and holds by right and trothe.
Giue sea roume Lorde in stormes distresse, if any tempestries,
Retourne I will not till it seems, my barke shall touche the Skies:
Aloufe ye mates, ron from the shore, my voiage holde I on,
Come from your cabbeus soldiours all, ere that the tide be gon:
Encreace your wealth, and worke a pushe, whiles others looke vpo.