TWO ELEGIES, On the late death of our Soueraigne Queene Anne.
With Epitapsies. Written by Patrick Hannay▪ M of Arts.
LONDON, Printed by Nicholas Okes▪ 1619.
To the most Noble Prince Charles.
DIsdaine not
Sir, this offering which I make,
Although the
incense smoke doth towre so black;
Northink my
fires faint, cause they darkly shine,
Tapers burne dimme, are set before a shrine.
Some better hap to haue their
first fruite glad,
This Common
woe maskes
mine in mourning shade:
Ana's strange,
You (solely left for
our reliefe)
For
salue, doe prooue a
cor'siue to our
griefe:
Weigh what it is to adde to those opprest,
Then by
Your woe, ours shall not be increast:
I grant nor
Sonne, nor
Subiect good, can smother
Griefe, for so
great, and
good, a
Queen & Mother.
Yet moderate this
sorrow, as
you reseene
to vse in
Joy, so vse in
griefe a
meane,
Ore match
thy matchlesse
selfe, that all may see
Her courage, worth and
loue, doth liue in
Thee.
Then may this
pen, which with
teares drawes my
[...]aint,
In gold
Thy glorious
actions after
paint.
Your Highnesse most humble seruant, Patrick Hannay.
The first Elegie.
AS doth a
Mother, who before her eyes,
Her
Ages hope,
her onely
Sonne espies,
Butcher'd, & bathing still in bloody strands,
Rauisht with sudden
griefe amazed stands▪
Nor
weepes, nor
sighes, nor lets one
teare distill,
But (with fixt
eye) still gazeth on
her ill:
But when with
time her smothred
griefe forth vents,
She wastes
her eyes in
teares, her breath in
plaints.
So
we astonisht could not tell
our woe;
Who doe grieue most, least signe of griefe doe show.
Yet
time to those, in
time, a
time affords,
To weepe and waile, and show
their woe in wards▪
Time grant
vs now this
time, least of
her praise
Our of spring hearing, and when
her swift dayes
Had run their course,
they heare none of
our plaints,
Doe either thinke some
Poets pen
her paints,
Or that they are of the same
stones all sprung,
Which backward
Pyrrha and
Ducalyon flung.
So that will seeme no fable, but a story,
If
we doe leaue no witnesse that
we're sorry,
And as lesse sensible (then
they) condemne.
Since in each
obiect offerd to the
eye,
Signes of sad
sorrow settled
there we see,
The
Heauens (though grac't with
her) for vs are grieued,
And weepe in showers for that we are bereaued
Of
her: in, and for
whom the
World was blest,
In
whom her kinds
perfection did consist.
Aquarius seemes to haue a solemne feast,
And that each other
signes his houshold guest.
Not one of
them now influence downe powres,
But what distils in liquid weeping showers.
The
Skies of
Clowds now make them mourning weeds,
And generall
darknesse all the
world ore spreads:
What? hath the
Sunne for a new
Phaeton
Abandoned the
Heauens, and beamy
throne?
Is the
cause theirs? or doth it touch
vs nie?
(Since with
their sorrow we so sympathie:)
No, its because our
Cynthia left this
spheare,
The
world wears blacke, because
she moues not here,
Her influence that made
it freshly flourish,
Leaues
it to fade, and will no more
it nourish.
Leaues
it? hath left▪ How can
it then subsist?
Can
that be sayd to
be, vvhich disposest
Of
soule, vvants
vigor? this
Queene was the
soule,
Whose
faculties worlds
frailties did controule;
[Page]Corrected the ill
humors, and mantain'd
In
it, a wholesome
concord, vvhile
she raign'd:
But now (
she gone) the
world seemes out of frame,
Subord'nate
passions now as
Princes clame
Signorie ore the
soule, vvhich doe torment
The
whole with anguish; make the
heart to faint,
Whose sad
infection generall's so spred,
Griefes Character on euery
brow is read.
Our
eyes so drop (vver't not God frees those
fears)
The
world might dread a new
deludge of
teares.
Dread? (thus distrest)
we rather should desire
With the
worlds dissolutions to expire
Our latest
woes, 'twere better haue no
beeing,
Then liue in
woe, so as
we are still dying.
Leaue foolish
passion, dares thou thus repine?
Gainst vvhat's enacted by the
powers diuine,
Humbly submit, yet
passion were a
word,
Vsles, a
nothing's name,
speech should afford▪
No place for
it, if
it should not now
show
Its beeing by
our grieuings in this
woe:
Yet the
wo's short, which on each
soule hath seaz'd,
It and the
cause can ne're be equaliz'd.
I will not blaze
her birth, descent or
State,
Her Princely
Progenie, her royall
mate:
They're knowne
best, and
greatest, yet these are
But accidentall
honours▪ but this
starre
[Page]With propper
beames vvas so resplendent here,
Others (though bright) yet when
she did appeare,
Did lose their luster:
she honour'd
her place,
Her place not
her: she Queene, was
Queen's sole
grace.
'Twas
she the Antique
Poets so admird,
When vvith prophetique furie
they inspird,
Did faine the heauenly
powers, they did see,
(As in a dreame) that
such a one should be:
And for each seuerall
grace, she should containe,
One
Dietie they did for
that ordaine,
Not one for all, for that too much had beene,
To faine
her like, vvhose
like vvas neuer seene.
Nor is
their number equall to
her merits,
For
she a farre off was shew'd to those
spirits,
Now had
they liu'd
her vertues to haue seene;
The
Goddesses sure numberlesse had beene,
But's vvell they did not, for then
she should be
(Though giltlesse) yet cause of
Idolatrie,
For
they who honoured
her shade before,
Seeing
her substance needs must
it adore.
The
Morallists did all of
her deuine,
When
they made euery
vertue foeminine;
And but
they knew that
such a one should be,
Doubtlesse with
them vertue should haue been HE.
Peruse all stories are compil'd by
Man,
Or
Poets fictions since the
world began:
Like
worth in
one, vvhose
all's in nought doth vary.
Nay, take the
abiects in these bookes reuil'd
For basest
parts, so vicious and defil'd,
As
they seeme
Natures monsters, made in scorne,
As
foiles, her other faire
workes to adorne,
(
Contrar's oppos'd doe others best set forth)
They serue not all, to parralell
her worth.
They are deceiu'd, vvho say the
world decayes,
And still growes vvorse and vvorse, as old with dayes:
For then this
Age could neuer
that haue showne,
Which vvas long since to
Salomon vnknowne,
A
woman: but had
he liued in our
times,
He might haue found
one, so deuoid of crimes,
That
her owne
merits (if
merits could saue)
Might iustly (as of due)
saluation craue.
I rather thinke the
worlds first
Infancie,
Growing more perfect vvith
Antiquitie
(As young lings doe) traueld till now at height,
Big of
perfection, brought this
birth to light:
This second to that
Maiden-Mother-Daughter,
She onely vvas before,
this onely after:
For on
this Grace and
Nature spent such store,
As after
her we need expect none more,
And those who read
her praise when
we are gone,
Would thinke
we but describ'd a
worthy one,
Left
part of
her, which and
its seed shall beare
Successiue witnesse, to all doubtfull
ages,
Of her rare
vertues, which in those deare
pledges
Still liue: they'le say
our praise came short,
we dull
With
speech defectiue, could not to the full
Set forth
her worth: vvhich
she at death did giue,
Others may
goods not
goodnesse of spring leaue.
But
she bequeth'd
her goodnes, for
her merit,
Obtain'd
her issue should that
wealth inherit,
Which
we possesse in
them, vvhile
they doe prease
(As vsurers) that
stock still to encrease:
Onely ambitious to augment that
store,
Robbing the
world, which either is but poore:
Or seemes so, set by
them, beggars may boast,
But
they alone haue all that
wealth ingrost:
And though that
God the vvorlds
gold hath refinde,
And tooke the try'd,
He left this
vaine behinde,
Pittying the
drosse the
luster should obscure,
Of
her bright
soule, vvhile flesh did it immure.
Yet did
He not vvith
it of all bereaue
vs,
But vvith
her of-spring, happinesse did leaue
vs.
For
her preferment, why then should
we tosse
Our
soules vvith torment? or grieue that
our losse
Hath
Heauen inricht? or 'cause
we held
her deare,
Wish
we her punisht, to be liuing here?
And nought but
Heauen alone of
her could reaue
vs.
O! since that
Cedar fell so right at last,
Which way
it standing lean'd, may well be ghest.
And since the
End doth crowne the
actions still,
How liued
she, vvho dying, dy'd so well!
For askt, if
she did willing hence depart,
Sayd, (rapt vvith heauenly
ioy) WITH ALL MY HART.
Though
flesh be fraile, yet
hers so voyd of
feare,
(For
death did not in
his owne shape appeare)
Did entertaine so kindly
its owne
foe,
(Who came to Court, but vnwares kild
her so)
As
she esteem'd
it onely one hard thrust,
At that strait
gate by vvhich to
life we must:
Faith, Hope, and
Loue possest
her heart and
minde,
Leauing no place for
fearefull thoughs to finde:
Troupes of vvhite
Angels did
her bed impaile,
To tend the
soules flight from the fleshy gaile,
It to conduct vnto that heauenly
throne,
Which
Christ prepar'd, vvith glore to crowne
her on.
O! how my flesh-clog'd
soule would scale the sky,
And leaue that
deare companion here to ly:
To see
her entertaind, vvith
glory crownd,
While troupes of
Angels her arriuall sound
To that
new kingdome: they all
God doe praise
For
her translation, and
their voyces raise,
Of vvhat
they make, for most to
them resort,
For, for the greater sinner,
Christ hath sayd,
That doth repent, the greater
ioy is made:
Yet
that's made vp in
glore, for
she so farre
Doth those exceed, as
one another starre:
What may
we thinke vnto
her soule is shone,
When from
her baser-part such
vertue's flowne;
As a sad reuerent
feare their
senses pierce,
Who sighing see
her sorrow-suted-
Hearse:
What would
they do, if their vaild
soule could spy
Her sitting crownd aboue the starrie
skie:
Sure
they would doe (nay in their hearts
they doe)
Euen at the thought thereof, with
reuerence bow.
But leaue to speake, nay, not so much as thinke,
Least of those
Ioyes which nere in heart could sinke.
Lets not enuy'
er, but inueigh gainst
our Fate,
That we behinde
her, are staid here so late:
And lets not mourne for
her, that
she's hence,
But for
our selues, that
we are kept from thenee
Whither
she's gone: yet let no
teare ore-flow,
(
Sorrow soone ceaseth that's disburdned so)
Let them straine inward, if they le needs distill,
And with their drops thy
hearts sad
center fill;
And when
its full,
it can no more containe,
Let the
caske breake, and drowne
thee in that
maine.
On the Queene.
THe world's
a Sea
of errors,
all must passe,
Where shelues and sands the purling billow blinds:
Mens bodies
are fraile barks
of brittle glasse,
Which still are toss'd with aduerse tyds
and winds:
Reason's
the Pylot
that the course directs,
Which makes the vessell (as its hieght) holde out,
Passions
are partners, a still-iarring-rout:
Succumbing-thoughts
are life-inuading leaks.
How built her body!
such a voyage made;
How great her reason!
which so rightly swayed;
How plyant passions!
which so well obayd;
How dantlesse thoughts,
vaine doubts durst nere inuade.
Her body, reason, passions, thoughts
did gree,
To make her life
the Art
to saile this Sea.
The second Elegie.
EAch
Countrey now contributes to the
Thames,
Which a support of euery
currant clames,
Why dost thou so sweet
Thames? Is not thy
sorrow
Sufficient for thy
selfe, but
thou must borrow?
Or wants thy
waters vvorth for such a
charge?
As to conduct great
Annes last body'd-
barge;
Or is it cause so iust and kind
thou art,
Thou'lt not incroach that, wherein each hath part?
Sure thats the
cause, the
losse is generall,
And that last
office must be helpt by
all.
Yet wonder not
they come not now so sweet,
As
they doe vse, when
they to sollace meet:
They're not themselues,
they are compounded things,
For euery
one, his latest offring brings
And sends it by these
brookes, vnto
her shrine,
Whose
waters with their teares are turned brine:
Each subiects cheeke such falling drops distaine,
As if to dew,
[...]ighes had dissolu'd the braine:
Which from their
eyes still in aboundance powre,
Like a moist haile, or liquid pearly showre:
[Page]Which in such haste, each one another chases,
Making swift torrents in late torrid places,
Disgorging in these
brookes, making them rise,
So's soueraigne
Thames almost feares a surprise:
Feare not faire
Queene, it is not their
ambition,
But swelling
sorrow, that breeds thy
suspition:
Its
sorrow feedes those currents and those rils,
Which thy vast channell vvith an
Ocean fils,
Which
eye-bred-humor so hath chang'd thy
Nature,
Thy fishes thinke they liue not in thy
water:
It, or
their taste is alterd, for they thinke,
For thy sweet
streames they briny
liquor drinke:
How vveari'd is thy sister famous
Forth,
Bringing sad
Scotland's sorrowes from the North,
Who comes not out of dutie, as the rest
Who vnto
Thames their carefull course adrest,
She comes,
her equall, will not yeeld in
teares,
In
subiects sorrow's, nor in
countries cares.
Great
Nephtun's selfe doth feare inuasiue wrong,
Seeing
her strange waues throw his
waters throng,
And causeth
Triton to sound an alarme,
To warne the
Sea-Gods in all haste to arme,
who bringing billowes in braue battell-ray,
Doe meane
Forth's fury vvith their force to stay:
But vvhen they see
her thus all vvrapt in
woe,
And the sad cause of
her iust sorrow know;
[Page]
They lay not their defensiiue armes aside,
But as a
guard, her through their gulfes do guide,
Striuing vvith all the pleasures of the
Maine,
This grieuing-stranger-
Queene to entertaine,
Out throw their boures of cleare transparent waues,
Christaline-wainscot, pearle the bottome paues:
Her they conduct, and to abate her
woe,
Their Sea-delights and riches all they show,
Which
Neptune (now in loue) vvould gladly giue
her
For
loue, yet dares not offer least
hee grieue
her;
Who loues and would not haue his loue vnkind,
Must wooe a pleasant humor, vacant minde:
This makes him stay his sute, and striue to please,
With all the
loue-alurements of the Seas:
Yet all doe not so much as moue one smile,
An anxious sorrow soone discouer'th guile,
Yet
he vvill guid & guard,
her grieuing streames,
Whom at
her entry in the vvished
Thames,
He leaues, and vowes in discontent to mourne,
Till fairest
Forth back to the
Sea returne.
Her sister
her receiues vvith kind imbrace,
Their liquid armes clasping, they interlace
In loue so straight, they cannot be vntwinde,
They seeme both
one, in
body and in
minde.
O happy
vnion! labour'd long in vaine,
Reseru'd by
God to
Iames his ioyfull
raigne,
[Page]And
Anne's; O blessed couple so esteem'd,
By all fore-knowing
Ioue, that
He them deem'd
Worthie
each other, and to vveare that
Iemme,
Blest
Britaines now vnited-
Diademe.
He esteem'd none, vvorthy to wear't before them,
But kept it still in store, for to decore them.
How did
He suffer those two
kingdomes try
All open
power, and priuate
policie;
Yet still increased
discord; others
force,
Made
seperation greater, su'd
diuorce.
How did
one teare the
other, spare no
toyle,
To bath in blood the neighbours fertill soile;
Wrath, discord, malice, enuy, rapiny, strife,
Thefts, rapes, and
murderous mischieues were so rife,
None liu'd secure, while each
King did protect
The others fugitiues, (for
his respect)
Thus looking for no rest, or end of
hate,
But with the ruine of the aduerse
State.
God, he effects
it (that to
him alone,
We might ascribe the
honour; and being
one,
We might loue better:
Twixt vnited foes,
And seperated friends, loue and hate growes
To greatest heights:) And for this end doth raise,
(
Vsing the meanes) the
honour of
his dayes;
Great
Iames, the
ioy presaging Northrene
starre,
Whose radiant light illuminates so farre.
[Page]As it doth warme with
its all-quickning-beames,
The frozen-loue betwixt the
Tay and
Thames;
With
wonder and
delight, drawing all
hearts
And
eyes, to loue and see
his Princely
parts.
And (what is strange)
who hated most before,
With
admiration, most
his worth adore,
Wishing
they were
his subiects:
He is King
Already of
their hearts; the poyson'd sting
Of
rancor is remoou'd, for
loue they call
him,
And with
their kingdoms ornaments install
him,
Great confidence
his vertous life must bring,
Whom such old
foes, loue forces make their
King.
Where vvas ere heard, of emulating
foes,
(Rooted in hate with others, ouerthrowes
Such and so long) that did
their wrath apease,
And yeeld (won but by
loue) to
right, as these.
Yet doe
they not repent; they finde report
Sometime is vvrong'd, and may indeed come short
In commendations; yet its rare (as here)
For she's a
woman, and (by kinde) vvill beare
More then
she should: but
his last subiects find
Themselues with
Saba's Queen of self-same mind,
That
fame (though saying by beliefe) had wrong'd
Two
Kings, not telling halfe to
each that long'd;
For
England heard not, nor could
it haue thought,
That
Scotlands king such wonders could haue wrought▪
[Page]Long may
he liue, and die vvell, full of yeares,
And vvhen
his death shall draw
vs dry vvith teares,
On
Brittaines Throne may
his seed euer raigne,
Till
Christ doe come (to iudge the vvorld) againe.
Who vvould haue thought from the
Scot-hated-
Dane,
Whom vanquish'd
England so much did disdaine,
(Opprest with base succesion)
they did turne,
(Being freed)
Lord-dane to
lurdane for a scorne;
Who would haue thought (I say) frō
Dane should spring
One, vvho from
Scots and
English eyes should vvring
Such hearty
teares; must not
her worth be much,
Since
we doe find
its-loue-effects proue such,
Hovv great that
worth (in
such, such loue could breed)
O let
it liue for euer in
her seed:
And let that
loue in
our hearts neuer
die,
But euer liue to
her Pesteritie:
And those sweet streames
her mate and
she conbinde
In
loue, O let their armes be nere vntwinde
From kind imbraces, and though now
their greetings
Be not so ioyfull as at other meetings,
Yet is their
loue all one, they take one part,
The
one ioyes not, the
other sad at heart:
They surfeit now in
sorrow, then in
pleasure,
Ioy then exceeds,
griefe now is aboue measure.
To honour
Charles (our
hope) vvhen
they met last,
How did
they rob each
meadow as they past,
[Page]Of
sweets, each banke a posie did bestovv,
Of fairest
flowers, that on his brim did grovv:
These & such like,
they brought from euery part,
And gratulations from each
subiects heart:
They swell'd vvith
pride, rising in loftly vvaues,
And all the neighbour bordring banks out-braues
Their
fishes frolick'd, showing
ioy by
gesture,
The
waters (vvantonizing) vvoo'd their
Maister;
So fast their billowes 'bout
his blest barge throng'd,
They hurt
themselues oft, oft their
fellowes vvrong'd:
Each vvould be first, on others backs
some ride,
Some vnder others slippry shoulders slide,
Though beat with
oares, yet vvill they not turne backe,
For they
their humble prostrate
homage make,
The
Sun then guilt each glistring-glassie-coat,
Those
Marin-masquers wore, dans'd bout his boat,
Who by the
musicke measur'd not their paces,
Deaf'd vvith a confus'd
cry from diuerse places,
Of
maidens, matrons, aged
men, and
boyes,
Which from each quarter made a confus'd
noyse,
Of hearty
Aue's, vvelcomming their
Prince,
Eccho (vvith answering tyrd) was mute still since,
The
Citie with the
suburbs did appeare,
Like a large
Theater vvhen
he came neare:
Each
window, wall, each
turret top and
steeple,
Was fild with euery
age, sex, sort of
people:
[Page]So as
some thought (vvho earst had neuer seene
Such numbers) that the
buildings all had beene,
Of
Imagry contriu'd, by cunning
Art:
For on the ground, the
Brewer in his cart,
The
Sculler, Carman, and the
baser sort,
Seem'd strong and rudely caru'd
clownes, to support
The stately frame:
Maides, Prentises and
groomes,
Made
shop-dore, window, stale, and lower
roomes:
The
batlements, house-couerings and the
leads,
As
tyles or
slates, young
boyes &
girles ore-spreads:
(The middle
roomes all round about the
Thames,
Which
Ladies held, and choiser
Citie-Dames)
Such tooke for
spaces, vvhich faire
statues held,
Where
Caruer and the
Painter both exceld;
So pure
complexions these seem'd made by
Art,
As
Nature neuer did the like impart
To louely
youth, The large, low, open breast,
Full, white, round, swelling, azure-vain'd, increast
The
error, for
they thought none liuing vvould
Lay out such
parts, for all
eyes to behold:
So curious were the
colours which vvere showne,
As Nature hardly could from
Art be knowne:
So that
they could adiudge
them due to
neither:
But
participles, taking part of
either,
Yet all by
voyce and
gesture seemed glad,
Wonder it was to see a thing looke sad.
The
sighes, and
groanes, of
Brittaines blest-reft sheres
Are now the
acclamations; these two
streames,
Compounded
waters of mixt
sorrow seemes,
Yet walke,
they hand in hand with equall pace,
T'wards that late pleasant, but now pensiue
place
Where
sorrow sutedin a sable weed,
Doth vvith a mourning vaile each
heart ore-spread,
And
Phoebus for to make the
world and
minde,
To vveare one
liuery, all
his beames confinde,
Dimming each
eye in darknesse of the
night,
Either asham'd to mourne in open sight,
Or loth to alter with
his brighter
streames,
Our late obscured
Cyntia's lesser gleames;
For
her fled
soule vvhich doth with
glory shine,
Left with
its lodging something thats diuine,
Which vvith reflection smileth on these rayes,
Which
her bright
soule now frō the
skies displeas.
And these light
orbes which vvith such swiftnes roule
About the
Heauens, acquainted vvith
her soule,
To light
her corps, doe set in euery
porch
Of the damantine
Heauen, a starry
torch,
Which darkned with the weeping
Earths moist
vapours,
Are
her last
lampes and neuer dying
tapers,
Thames trembles,
Forth doth feuerise for
feare,
Both roare to see
their soueraigne thus appeare▪
Their
fishes faint (yet cannot tell wherefore)
But vvhen
they float vpon the
water crop,
And see the
teares from
eyes and
oars which drop;
They thinke them all to few, and adde
their owne,
And swimme in proper
waters (earst vnknowne)
The
water-Nymphes now round about
her boat,
Cloath'd in sad sable mourning habits float,
The
Hamadryads, and the
Siluans all,
To beare apart in this
complaint they call.
Who since
her death, had practis'd in
their teares,
Streames deep enough:
none now the water fears,
They brought with
them sweet
Camomile and
Rew,
Mint, Spicknard, Marioram, her way
they strew,
With
flowers of choicest
colour and of
sent,
Which from the slender-weeping-stalk was rent.
Her Exequies these
Nymphes together sing,
Till vvith this
consort Heauen &
Earth doth ring:
Heauens in uying our waters, walkes, and woods,
Hath reft our ioy, and plac'd her 'mongst the Gods.
No more
our wandring
waues shall wantonize,
No more shall swelling
billowes braue the
skies,
No more shall purling
Zephyr curle
our head▪
No more
we'l foamy-powders thereon spread,
No more shall now
Meandrian walkes delight
vs,
No more
despaire vvith
death shall now affright
vs,
[Page]Since heauen inuying our late happie floods,
Hath reft our ioy, and plac'd 'mongst the Gods.
Wee'l take no sport now to persue the
Fawne,
Wee'l no more tread light measures on the
Lawne,
Wee'l deck
our heads no more with
Flora's flowres,
Wee'l vvooe no more our vvooddy
Paramours,
Wee'l beare no part hereafter vvith the
birds,
Wee'l vveep for
woe, and teach
them vvaile in vvords;
Since heauen enuying our late happy woods,
Hath reft our ioy, and plac'd her 'mongst the Gods.
Wee'l hide
our heads within our shores & shelues.
Wee'l dwell in darkest cipresse groues with elues.
No more
wee'l sollace in great
Nephtunes hals.
No more
wee'l dance at
Syluanes festiuals.
Because she's gone, whose glory grac'd our floods,
Because she's gone who honour'd walkes and woods.
Thus sung
they her along, but come to shore,
Where
she must leaue
them, they nere see her more,
They sinke to bottome, either in a swone,
Or else
themselues (now loathing life) to drowne.
The
Forth and
Thames losing
their so lou'd-
sight,
Vow, yearely to renew
their woes, that
night.
An Epitaph.
POwer
to doe ill,
and practise
onely good,
Humblest
in heart, highest
in place
and blood,
Fairest,
and freest
from loose-desires in thought,
Pleasures
to tempt, yet not distain'd in ought:
With anxious care,
in courage
nere deiected,
Though cause
of ioy,
with no vaine-ioy
affected.
Know Reader,
whensoere these lines
you scan,
Such (
and none such
but she)
was our Queene Anne▪
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
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An Epitaph.
A Wife, a Daughter, Sister
to a King,
Mother
to those,
whose hopes doe higher spring▪
Chaste, faire, vvise, kind;
first, Crowne-vnited
w
[...]r
[...]
We knew her
such, and held her
for no more.
That she
was more: Gods daughter,
and heauens heire,
We know, since parted hence, He
crownes her there.
FINIS.