Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Edward Farr, ed. Select Poetry of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth. 1845.

The Inconstancy of Youth

LXXXII. Thomas Lloyd

THE RETCHLESSE race of youth’s inconstant course,

Which weeping age with sorrowing teares behoulds;

Their wretched will, their wofull sorrows’ source;

Their wanton wits, their errors manifoldes,

Hath reard my muse, whose springs wan care had dried,

To warne them flie the dangers I haue tried.

From cradle’s rock when childish I had crept,

And, May-like young, of pleasure ’gan to taste,

Seeing my fatall course, my reason wepte:

Toyes were my triumphes, will my woorth did waste,

And in the seas of pleasure whilst I sayld,

Small were my fruites, and yet my youth was quailde.

And now ’gan man-like vigor fill myne arme;

My harte was warmde with courage fit for loue:

Like wanton bird, exempt from fowler’s charme,

I soard aloft; but looking from aboue,

I saw on earth a fowler heauenly faire,

That made hir nets the trammels of hir haire.

Then, loe! my pompous plannes were layd apart;

Hir eyes were loadstars in this worldlie way;

My thoughts hir thraule, her prisoner was my heart:

But for my paines what payment but delay?

A lingring life I liude, to sorrow soulde,

A foe to wit, through follies waxing oulde.

When chillie age had seasure of this earth,

I felt a wound of sorrow in my brest;

I saw how iudgement quite was spoiled by death;

How vertue’s seedes by errors was supprest.

I cast the count, and see what I haue gotten:

Time lost; wits wast; and limmes with surfets rotten.

Now see I well that trauell is mispent,

Except in vertue it be well imployed:

What I in loue, had I in learning spent,

Oh what a ioy had wearie age enioyed!

Had I forseene the wastfull course of time,

I then had made my haruest in my prime.

But now, when feeble footsteps are allied

Vnto the graue, this sinfull bodie’s hould;

I cannot practise, though I haue espyed

The way of worth, the grace exceeding gould.

What only rests sweete young men that shall follow,

I know the sourse, and now will teach the shallow.

Preuent the time, the dayes are full of danger;

Whilst youthfull vigor yeelds you furtherance,

Make reason guide; let follie be a straunger;

Vertue is perfected by art and vsance:

Enritch your mindes with skill; for why? they must

Remaine eterne, when boddie is but dust.

Let not your eyes infeebled be by sinne;

Cut short presumption, for it will aspire;

Who takes aduice, amendment dooth begin:

Subdue your wils, and maister your desire.

A modest coat, chaste thoughts, and studious artes,

Adorne the boddie, minde, and inward partes.