To the Right Excellent Countess Rachel Wallace.
Madame, there is little I may hope to say that could fully or properly celebrate the most glorious duty which Your noble Excellence hath but recently executed and done for the gode of these lands that we do call our home. Likwise there is noght I can offer of any worthe to repay that kind labor. Yet I woulde entreat Your Excelence to enjoy this book of songs written in Your honor, for truly hath Your Excellencie ben an inspiration to all who dwelle within this finest of realms. I thank You most kindly for the chance to performe those services I coulde. Please know that, through the many songes and other ways through which Your Excelence is celebrated, You will remain a queene and inspiration for days ever still to come. I hope only to show mine afection, and that of countless others, within these simple leaves.
O.B.
soles occidere et redire possunt:
nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux,
nox est perpetua una dormienda.
The suns are able to fall and rise:
When that brief light for us hath fallen,
We will sleep in an unending night.
Catullus. (from his "Vivamus, mea Lesbia")
This short dedication (in my book Sonettes and Songs) was meant to mimic the dedication by William Ponsonby (Spenser's financial backer and patron) at the beginning of Spenser's Amoretti and Epithalamion. In it, Ponsonby thanks the person to whom the book is dedicated for his patronage and support; I (not having a printer upon whom to call) wanted to thank the Queen of Atlantia (at the time, Rachel) who was soon to be stepping down. As I have been well honored throughout her reign (first recognized as "baronial bard" in my local group, then as "Poeta Atlantiae," a royal poet position, then being made a member of the Order of the Pearl - an order for distinguished arts and sciences), I thought the least I could do would be to celebrate her inspiration upon myself and many others who are loyal citizens of the crown of Atlantia. In addition, I hoped to provide Denise (Rachel's successor) with a book of songs that she could look to for celebration of her own reign as well - the book is, after all, celebrating the Queen of Atlantia - but I promised to try and provide a second book (in a slightly different style) for when Denise stepped down.
The quote from Catullus does a good job of summing up my reason for deciding to write the book. The reign of the Atlantian sovereign is a short one and one that can never really be duplicated - every one is like a new sunrise, but it's not the same sunrise as the one before. I will never again get to live through the time of Queens Caia or Isabel II or Rachel. I may be lucky enough to witness future reigns from them, but not the ones I've been honored to have been present for already. Just like with the Anacreontic verses in the book, I feel like mortal Tithonis gazing at the goddess Aurora. She may love me (as the Crown loves its populace) but our happiness is destined to be tragic; the Queen passes on and the populace mourns her - even as it celebrates the ascension of the successor. The book of poems, then, allows me (and any who read it, including former queens) to hopefully feel that same joy that was once felt during a particular reign - after all, there is no real passage of time in poetry or literature. When you read it, the events and emotions described take place once again for the first time, just as vividly as ever. This, I hope, is the real gift I can give to the reader.
Ponsonby's dedication reads thus (any errors in the text are due to my transcription from a somewhat poorly-scanned copy of the 1595 edition):
To the Right Worshipfull Sir Robart Needham, Knight
Sir, to gratulate your safe return fro Ireland, I had nothing so readie, nor nor thought anything so meete, as these sweete conceited Sonets, the deede of that weledeserving gentleman, maister Edmunde Spenser: whose name sufficiently warranting the worthinesse of the work: I do more confidently presume to publish it in his absence, under your name to whom (in my poore opinion) the patronage ther of, doth in some respectes properly appertaine. For, besides your judgement and delighte in learned poesie: This gentle Muse for her former perfection long wished for in Englande, nowe at the length crossing the Seas in your happy companye, (though to your selfe unknowne) seemeth to make choyse of you, as meetest to give her deserved countenance, after her retourne: entertaine her, then, (Right worshipfull) in sorte best beseeming your gentle minde, and her merite, and take in worth my good will herein, who seeke no more, but to shew my selfe yours in all dutifull affection.
W.P.
And the verse which follows (G.W. Senior, to the Author):
Darke is the day, when Phoebus face is shrowded,
and weaker sights may wander soone astray;
but when they see his glorious raies vnclowded,
with steddy steps they keepe the perfect way:
So while this Muse in forraine landes doth stay,
inuention weepes, and pens are cast aside,
the time like night, depriud of chearefull day,
and few do write, but (ah) too soone may slide.
Then, hie thee home, that art our perfect guide,
and with thy wit illustrate Englands fame,
dawnting thereby our neighboures auncient pride,
that do for poesie, challendge cheefest name.
So we that liue and ages that succeede,
with great applause thy learned works shall reede.