The Fall of King Morindus, Devoured by a Monster

Let mee likewise declare my facts and fall,
And eke recite what means this slimy glere!
You neede not faine so quaynte a looke at all,
Although I seeme so fulsome euery where:
This blade in bloudy hand, perdy, I beare,
And all his gore bemingled with this glue,
In witnes I my deadly enmy slewe.

Then marke my tale, beware of rashnes vile,
I am Morindus once was Britayne King,
On whom did sweetely Lady Fortune smile,
Till shee mee to her top of towres did bring:
My fame both farre and neare shee made to ring,
And eke my praise exalted so to skye,
In all my time more famous none then I.

Some say I was by birth a bastard bace,
Begotten of the Prince his concubine,
But what I was declared well my grace,
My fortitude and stature Princely mine.
My father eke that came of Princely lyne,
King Danius gaue not so bace degree,
Nor yet the noble Britaynes vnto mee.

For feats of armes and warlike poynts I past,
In courage stoute there liu’de not then my peere,
I made them all that knewe my name agaste,
And heard how great my enterprices were,
To shrinke, and slinke, and shift aside for feare:
All which at length did mee such glory bring,
My father dead, the Britaynes made mee King.

But see how blinde wee are, when Fortune smiles,
How senceles wee when dignities increase,
Wee euer vse our selues discretely whiles
Wee litle haue, and loue to liue in peace:
Smale fauters facts with mercy wee release:
Wee vse no rigoure, rancoure, rapine, such
As after when wee haue our willes to much.

For while that I a subiect was, no King,
While I had nothing but my facts alone:
I studied still in euery kinde of thing
To serue my prince, and vnderfang his fone:
To vse his subiects friendly euerychone,
And for them all aduentures such to take,
As might them all my person fauoure make.

But when I once attained had the Crowne,
I waxed cruell tyranous and fell,
I had no longer minde of my renowne,
I vsde my selfe to ill, the trueth to tell:
O bace degree in happie case full well!
Which art not puft with pride, vaineglory, hate
But art beneath content to bide thy fate.

For I aloft, when once my heate was in,
Not rain’d by reason ruled all by might,
Ne prudence reckt, right, strength, or meane a pin,
But with my friendes in anger all would fight,
I strooke, kilde, slewe who euer were in sight,
Without respect, remorce, reproufe, regard,
And like a madde man in my fury far’d,

I deemde my might and fortitude was such,
That I was able thereby conquere all,
High kingdome’s seate encreast my pompe so much,
My pryde me thought impossible to fall:
But God confoundes our proude deuices all,
And brings that thing wherein we most doe trust,
To our destruction by his iudgement iust.

For when three yeares I ruled had this Ile,
Without all rule as was my rulesse life,
The rumour ranne abroade within a while,
And chiefly in the Norwest Countrey rife,
A monster came from Th’irish seas, brought griefe
To all my subiectes, in those coastes did dwell,
Deuouring man and beast, a monster fell.

Which when I knewe for trueth, I straight prepard
In warlike wise my selfe to trye the case,
My haste thereto a courage bold declard,
For I alone would enter in the place:
At which, with speare on horse I fet my race,
But on his scales it enter could no more,
Then might a bulrush on a brasen dore.

Agayne I prou’d yet, nought at all preuaylde,
To breake my speare and not to pearce his syde:
With that the roring monster me assaylde,
So terrifide my horse I coulde not ride,
Wherewith I lighted, and with sworde I tride
By strokes and thrustes to finde some open in,
But of my fight hee neuer past a pin.

And when I weried was and spent with fight,
That kept my selfe with heede his daunger fro,
As last almost ashamde I wanted might,
And skil to worke the beastly monster wo,
I gate me nerer with my sworde him to,
And thought his flankes or vnder partes to wounde,
Yf there for scales might any place bee founde.

But frustrate of my purpose, finding none,
And eke within his daunger entring quite,
The grizely beast straight seasoned mee vpon,
And let his talauntes on my corpes to light,
Hee gript my shoulders, not resist I might,
And roaring with a greedy rauening looke,
At once in iawes my body whole hee tooke.

The way was large, and downe he drewe mee in,
A monstrous paunche for rowmth, and wondrous wide,
But (for I felt more softer there the skinne)
At once I drewe a dagger by my side:
I knewe my life no longer coulde abide,
For rammish stench, bloude, poyson, slimy glere,
That in his body so aboundant were.

Wherefore I labouring to procure his death,
While first my dagger digde aboute his harte,
His force to cast mee welnigh drewe my breath,
But as hee felt within his woundes to smarte,
I ioyde to feele the mighty monster starte,
That roard, and belcht, and groande, and plungde, and cryde,
And tost mee vp and downe from syde to syde.

Long so in panges hee plungde and panting lay,
And drewe his wynde so fast with such a powre,
That quite and cleane hee drewe my breath away,
Wee both were deade well nigh within an howre.
Lo thus one beastly monster did deuoure
An other monster moodeles to his payne:
At once the realme was rid of monsters twayne.

Here mayst thou see of fortitude the hap,
Where prudence, iustice, temperaunce hath no place,
How sodaynly wee taken are in trap,
When wee dispise good vertues to embrace,
Intemperaunce doth all our deedes deface,
And letts vs heedeles headlong run so fast,
Wee seeke our owne destruction at the last.

For hee that hath of fortitude and might,
And thereto hath a kingdom ioynde withall,
Except hee also guide him selfe aright,
His powre and strength preuayleth him but small,
Hee cannot scape at length an haples fall:
You may perceiue a myrrour playne by me,
Which may with wisdome well sufficient bee.

Lenvoy.

Wee reade the valiaunt actes of Hercules,
His mighty labours all and woefull end,
But Samson’s conquests of his enemies,
The holy histories to vs commend.
Yet who so shal on fortitude depend,
Still trusting to obtayne the victory,
Let him beholde Morindus’ history.

Or of the death of Theseus they tell,
The fall of Brennus and his woefull end,
Though hee in force and powre bee nere so fell,
Hee cannot still on fortitude depend:
Tis vertue sole that all the wise commend:
Shee still obtaynes for aye the victory,
By true reporte of euery history.

Strength, beauty, wealth, facts, fauoure, fearcenesse fell,
All earthly pleasures feele a paynefull end,
Then happy thrice is hee (the truth to tell)
That onely can on heauenly powre depend:
But now I must to you the next commend,
In blacke, mee thought, appearing mournefully,
Declaring thus his woefull misery.