The Leeds Review - Issue #1The following poem is known as 'Tichborne's Elegy', after Chidiock Tichborne, a plotter who composed the piece three days before his execution. Here the poem is reproduced in full with the original spelling and punctuation preserved. (1) Some brief notes follow to explain the setting of the poem, along with a letter from Tichborne to his wife, and the published response to the Elegy.
My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
my feast of joy is but a is but a dish of paine:
My Crop of corne is but a field of tares,
and al my good is but vaine hope of gaine
The day is past, and yet I saw no sunne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.
My tale was heard, and yet it was not told,
my fruite is falne, & yet my leaves are greene:
My youth is spent, and yet I am not old,
I saw the world, and yet I was not seene.
My thred is cut, and yet it is not spunne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.
I sought my death, and found it in my wombe,
I lookt for life, and saw it was a shade:
I trod the earth, and knew it was my Tombe,
and now I die, and now I was but made.
My glasse is full, and now my glasse is runne,
And now I live, and now my life is done.
Chidiock Tichborne (c.1558-1586)
The first publication of this poem (see Fig. 1) carried the following title: Tychbornes Elegie, written with his owne hand in the Tower before his execution. Although this is relatively self-explanatory, some notes should be made regarding the composition of this remarkable poem. First, Tichborne was indeed executed, for plotting, with a small group of men, to murder Queen Elizabeth I; the attempt came to be known as the Babington plot, after the leader Anthony Babington (1561-1586). Second, the poem is commonly held to be the only work by Tichborne; this would be even more remarkable than the truth: two poems are known to be by him, though they are not of the same quality or tone as the Elegy.
To supplement the reading of this seldom-published poem the following documents are invaluable. The first is the published version of a letter Tichborne wrote to his wife about the time the poem was composed. The second is a response to the Elegy, which was also published in Verses of Prayse and Joye, and which must have been required to limit the valorization of Tichborne, who had intended, after all, to assassinate the Queen.
The most loving wife alive I commend me to thee, and desire God to bless thee with all happiness. Pray for thy dead husband, and be of good comfort, for I hope in Jesus Christ this morning to see the face of my Redeemer, in the most joyfull Throne of his glorious kingdom.
Commend me to all my friends, and desire them to pray for me, and in all charity to pardon me if I have offended them. Commend me to my six sisters, poor desolate souls: advise them to serve God, for without him, there is no goodness to be expected. Were it possible (dear wife) my little sister Bab: (the darling of my care) might be bred by thee; it were happy for her, and God would reward thee. But I have done thee (poor soul) too much wrong, I must needs confess it, to hasten my death, and impair thy estate by that I should add a further charge unto thee. Dearest wife forgive me, that have by these means so impoverished thy fortunes: Patience and Pardon good wife, I crave, make of these our necessities a virtue, and lay no further burthen on my neck, than is laid already.
There be certain debts which I owe, and because I know not the order of the law, it hath taken all from me, as forfeited by the course of this my offence to her Majesty. I cannot advise thee what to do herein, but if there fall out wherewithal: let them be discharged, sweet wife, for God's sake: I will not that you trouble your self with the performance thereof (mine own heart), but make it known to my Uncles, and desire them for the honour of God to do their best in it. Now (dear heart) what is left me to bestow on thee, a small jointure (God knows), a small recompence for thy deserving: these legacies following to be thine own: God of his infinite goodness and mercy, give thee always his grace to remain his true and most humble servant, that through the merits of his bitter and blessed passion, thou mayest become an inheritrix of his kingdom with the blessed women in heaven. Jesus give thee of his peace, and to his glory all the benefits of this transitory life. The holy ghost comfort thee with all necessaries for the wealth of thy soul in the world to come: where until it please almighty God I meet thee, farewell loving wife, farewell the dearest to me in all the earth: farewell for ever in this world: farewell.
By the hand and the heart of thy
most loving husband,
Chidiock Tichborne.
Thy prime of youth is frozen with thy faults,
thy feast of joy is finisht with thy fall:
Thy crop of corne is tares availing naughts,
thy good God knowes, thy hope, thy hap and all[.]
Short were thy daies, and shadowed was thy sun[,]
T'obscure thy light unluckelie begun.
Time trieth trueth, & trueth hath treason tript,
thy faith bare fruit as thou hadst faithless beene:
Thy ill spent youth thine after yeares hath nipt,
and God that saw thee hath preserved our Queen[,]
Her thred still holds, thine perisht though unspun,
And she shall live when traitors lives are done.
Thou soughtest thy death, and found it in desert,
thou look'dst for life, yet lewdlie forc'd it fade:
Thou trodst the earth, and now on earth thou art,
as men may wish thou never hadst beene made.
Thy glorie and thy glasse are timeles runne,
and this, D[ear] Tychborne, hath thy treason done.
Sarah Blunt Info