Public Domain Poetry And Stories - From Annalia Dubrensia (1636). - TO MY NOBLE Friend Mr. ROBERT DOVER, on his braue annuall Assemblies vpon Cotswold. by Michael Drayton
Public domain poetry and public domain stories from the literary greats of yesteryear.
Custom Search
Main Menu

Home

Latest Poetry

Latest Authors

Authors Surname

Authors First Name

Poetry Title

Poetry First Lines

Latest Stories

Stories Title

Top Authors

Top Poetry


Top Stories Etc.

Search

Contact Us

Useless Information!!

Store



Top Sites, Click here to vote for our site

Sponsored Links

Read, Rate, Comment on or Submit your poetry

From Annalia Dubrensia (1636). - TO MY NOBLE Friend Mr. ROBERT DOVER, on his braue annuall Assemblies vpon Cotswold.

    By Michael Drayton



    Douer, to doe thee Right, who will not striue,
    That dost in these dull yron Times reuiue
    The golden Ages glories; which poore Wee
    Had not so much as dream't on but for Thee?
    As those braue Grecians in their happy dayes,
    On Mount Olympus to their Hercules
    Ordain'd their games Olimpick, and so nam'd
    Of that great Mountaine; for those pastimes fam'd:
    Where then their able Youth, Leapt, Wrestled, Ran,
    Threw the arm'd Dart; and honour'd was the Man
    That was the Victor; In the Circute there
    The nimble Rider, and skill'd Chariotere
    Stroue for the Garland; In those noble Times
    There to their Harpes the Poets sang their Rimes;
    That whilst Greece flourisht, and was onely then
    Nurse of all Arts, and of all famous men:
    Numbring their yeers, still their accounts they made,
    Either from this or that Olimpiade.
    So Douer, from these Games, by thee begun,
    Wee'l reckon Ours, as time away doth run.
    Wee'l haue thy Statue in some Rocke cut out,
    With braue Inscriptions garnished about;
    And vnder written, Loe, this was the man,
    DOVER, that first these noble Sports began.
    Ladds of the Hills, and Lasses of the Vale,
    In many a song, and many a merry Tale
    Shall mention Thee; and hauing leaue to play,
    Vnto thy name shall make a Holy day.
    The Cosswold Shepheards as their flockes they keepe,
    To put off lazie drowsinesse and sleepe,
    Shall sit to tell, and heare thy Story tould,
    That night shall come ere they their flocks can fould.



Extra Info:



Printable Page

Add Your Thoughts on this poem.



This page viewed 501 times.
Sponsored Links


Your Shops - Affordable Ecommerce stores and cheaper goods for customers - No listing fees!



Our Sites