VIRTVS POST FVNERA VIVIT Or, Honour Tryumphing over Death. Being true EPITOMES of Honorable, Noble, Learned, And Hospitable Personages

VVILLIAM SAMPSON.

Printed by JOHN NOR­TON. 1636.

A Proeme.
To the right Honorable, and most nobly deserving Lord, WILLIAM Earle of New-Castle, Barron Ogle &c.

Right Honorable.

CAESAR did adventure to write his owne acts, & hero­icke deedes by commentary (and very well he might) I, that with Virgils gnat, have nothing to write of my selfe (save misery) have assaied to write the lives, Pious, and vertuous deedes of others (not that by this they are immortalizde) for their owne Worthes, Vertues, Hospitable, and Pious deedes united have eter­nized themselves. My full scope, & modest aime is to perpetuate them on Earth, that posterities unborne may not let such Honorable, Religious, & vertuous acts, as your nobleprogeni­to [...]s have done, & daily do performe, [Page] slip into oblivion, but as in a christ­all mirror we may here behold them (as from the beginning we had our sa cred lawes in the first table writte) your Honour is the Sanctuary to whose high Altar of goodnes, I al­waies flie too for redresse in all ex­treames [...]one, whom I know with

Anaxeritis had rather receive a cruse of cold water from your Poore Sinetis, then a goblet of rich aroma­ticke, or cretan wine, from a flatter­ing Gnatho, the God of Heaven, & earth blesse you, my honorable. Lady my Honorable Mecenas, and all your noble, and Honorable families, and posterities, sending you your harts wish Temporall, & Eternall.

Your Honours humblest Creature. WILLIAM SAMPSON.

To the right Honorable most Religious, and truly noble Lady CARISTIAN DOVVAGER Countesse of Devon: Mother to the right honorable WILLIAM Earle of Devon: and to the right Honorable the Lady, A [...]n: Ri [...]h, her honours sole Daughter.

Right Honorable.

Fame, and Envy that usd to be sworne enemies of the dead (either in detracting, or saying too much, (in this place subject themselves) Envy submits, and fame continues her resolution, which is to div [...]lge unto the world, deedes of Ho­nor,, Piety, and Truth worthy of Fames Trumpet! To your families, your Honour, and your issue these properly belong! you are the needle by whom these Sun-dialls of Charity houre­ly, and daily goe, 'tis you that lengthen, and not lessen these Charitable, and most Religious deedes begun by your progeni­tors of blessed memory! I neede not say with Horace. Tn recte vivis, si curas esse quod audis. For the lives, and actions of this family, all tend to divine honour; Heaven continue it, and with it long daies, and happy ones, and send that noble stem your Honourable Son that lovely branch of Honour, a H [...]lcyon gale, that he may safely arrive at your feete for a blessing and continue an arme of comfort to your Hnnor., and all this most Honorable family.

To whom, and to your Honor I rest an humble servant. WILLIAM SAMPSON.

To the right Honorable CHARLES Lord Vis-count Mansfeild, Son, and heire to the right Honorable my singular good Lord WILLIAM Earle of Now-castle, Barron Ogle, &c. Lord Leiftennant of his Majestics too famous Counties Nottingham, and Derby.

SOle heire of thy great fathers vertues! I
Present these Funerall odes unto thine eie,
Wherein though young, like to Tully's Son
You may perceive, what great deedes have ben don
By your progenitors! deigne then to read
These living Trophees of true honour dead.
Though wise Cratippus reach you, yet behold
How vertue robes nobility in gold.
We know there is a Sun, because his light
Ap [...]'y distinguishes twixt day, and night.
Your Ancestors like to th glorious Sun
Have led the way, (you Honours race m [...]st r [...]n.
Your infant Honours like to a welcome Spring
Are by the Graces mark'd for vertues King.
Live there, and grow there! never may I see
A fall'oth Leafe, in your progenitrie.
Shine in thy Princes favours, and appeare
Like the bless'd Sunne, when as hetrotes the spheare.
Let no cloud blemish thee! still may your e [...]e
Aime at the graces of high Majesty.
Out-grow thy honord fathers goodnes! then
Th art honours Map, the non-p [...]reill of men.
Your Mother weares the wreath of goodnes! you
From such faire Trees must neede a Trophy grow.
Bless [...]d be you ever, may I still deserve
Next my devotions (them, and theirs to s [...]rve)
Your honours servant till Death.VVilliam Sampson.

In laudem Authoris.

LAudabunt alii vel Classica vatis Achaei, Phaliscus.
Vel Dircaei Candida Cigni
Carmina, sive Lyrâ Flaccum, Sophoclemve Cothurno
Insigneis, aut pectine Bassum.
Sunt quibus unum opus est numeros celebrate Maro nis;
Plurimus in Nasonis honorem
Aptum dicit amoribus alter: singula singlî.
Me nec tam lasciva Propertî
Cynthia, Teia fides nec tam percussit, avena
Quam nostratis moesta poetae.
Quicquid habet Laurus, Jovis arbor, Populus, Ilex,
Hac Cupressi fronde plicatur.
Hic gravis, et brevis est, operosus, castus, acutus;
Tales lectores facit Autor.
Ph. K. M r in ar t•.

An Elegie.

ON THE RIGHT HONORA­ble Elizabeth Countesse of Shrews­bury wife to the right Honorable GEORGE Earle Shrewsbury Mother to the right Honorable William Earle o [...] Devon: Sir Charles Cavendish who married Katherine Bar­ronnesse Ogle, Henry Cavendish who married the Lady Grace Talbot, and Mary Countesse of Shrewsbury wife to the Lord Gilbert which Mary was Sole builder of the second Court of St. Iohns in the famous Vniversity of Cambridge, Frances Lady Peirpoint This Coun­tesse Elizabeth was Erectoresse of the two famous fabricks of Chatts-worth, and Hard-wicke, and sole foundresse of the famous Almes­house in Derby. Grand-Mother

  • To the right Honorable William last Earle of Devon:
  • VVilliam Earle of Newcastle
  • Robert Earle of Kingstone
  • Sir Charles Cavendish.
  • Countesse of Pembrooke
  • The Countesse of Arundell
  • Countesse of Kent

Great Grand-mother to the right Honorable

  • VVilliam Earle of Devon-shire
  • The Lord Matreve [...]s
  • Charles Lord viscount Mansfield
  • Henry Viscount New warke
  • Charles Cavendish, & Henry Cavendish. Esquires.
WHile Scottish Angus up to heaven doth raise
Hector Boctiu [...] and, Aenca [...] Sylvius in their descriptio [...] of the Rivers of Scotland.
Her River Tay with inexpressable praise,
While Bamfe, & Louthan, Fife, and Devern sing
And ould Legea braggs of her Dane King
While Northern Tweede disjoyning them, & us
Saith of her selfe sl [...]ees most conspicuous,
Shall I our silver Thames, Severn, and Dee,
Trent, Owze, and Avon, of one qualitie
Forget? nay to your praise I'le bring
My Alpine peakish Dove, whose fertile wing
Yeeldes Milke, and Honey, till her selfe shee trill
Into swift running Darwent on the hill.
And lastly though a litle rivolet
T [...]out yeelding Crawley shall in measure jet,
You boast of stately Turrets, births of high rate,
There in an equippage I'le meete your state,
You bragge of stately fabricks, guilded Towres,
Whose splendor both the eye, and sense devoures,
My Muse shall meete you there too; but her wing
Must some sad Funerall notes, and dirges sing.
This blest Eliza this bright Diamond,
Which long-time grew upon our peakish stronde
Graceing the serti [...]e quarries! wast not strange
That Hills, and Rocks their sterilnesse should change
Yeelding a fruitfull eedenes; as if shee
By natures helpe had wrought maturitie,
And from rough quarries taught the ploughshare goe
[Page 2] (Some deity for her sake form'd it soe)
She like a Sea Nymph deck'd the River sides
With Trees like garlands, ornaments for Brides.
The wanton sis [...] would leave the baite, and hooke,
And dance in aie rie bubles, on her to looke
As when the Sunne his fiery beames displaies,
And o're sweet Rivers castes his golden raies,
Then every beame seemes double: so did they
In thousands in their Icy Kingdomes play,
As if conceited that their gazer on
Was Queene of them, and their low region,
Nor were they couzend much in her great worth,
For like a Queene shee long liv'd in the North,
Grac'd by her noble vertues! shee alone
Shone in her owne orbe (ungrac't by none)
Free from Ambition, or thoughts to aspire
Yet was her temper all celestiall fire,
Her glory was in children, happy she
That left behinde her such a progeny!
Three noble Earles sonnes of her great bloud,
Whose perfect Honour writes her Honours good,
Sixe Countesses descended all from her,
Whose names, and fames deserve a Chronicler
Whose births, and worths in future times shall stand
Enrold within the volumes of our Land,
What neede I speake of them? their worths are knowne:
Their birthes were hers (their vertues are their owne)
Such up-rightnes of faith, purenes of soule,
The World beneath her feete she did controule,
Her O [...]isons like incense offred up
Ascendant were to drinke salvations cup.
The mighty Orbe was witnes of her power,
With whom she sat in counsell every houre,
The starres to her an everlasting booke,
Whose mighty volumes she did over-looke.
Knowing that there she was appointed one
[Page 3] To sit in splendor, adding to the zone.
Now while that Thames boastes of her buildings hie,
Whose Turrets seeme themselves to stellifie.
Tay said to bee the most noble River in Angus.
Though Angus boast of her strong maiden Tower,
Yet comes it short of Rosamonds faire Bower,
My litle River shall compare with them,
Yet ne're reflect upon the diadem.
Iohannes Ma­jor.
Darwe [...]t thy Chat-worth I will call upon:
Thy structure merits admiration.
Thy situations faire, hills like to cloudes
On every side thy guilded [...]urrets shroudes,
Th art like the [...]unne when he is going VVest
Rowzing Aurora from her silver nest.
Amid thy valleys Da [...]went s [...]iftly runnes,
Who like a tender Mother to her sonnes
Yeelds foo [...]ds, and springs, and waters sweet, and cleare,
As the b [...]essed Sunne in his meridian spheare.
There may you see the Salmon, Tench, and Trout,
Like Neptun's Tri [...]ons nimbly friske about.
Sometimes along the flower enameld vales
Shee d [...]es inundate, and tells wanton tales
Vnto the Medowes: f [...]r she takes a pride
Her crystal limbes on pearly sands to glide.
As if she were enamored on the Hills,
Whose steepe descents her water courses fills.
As loath she were to leave the continent,
And thrust her head into her sister Trent.
Who sometimes angry doth her course forsake,
Thrusting her head into the German lake.
Above her valley the [...]e you may deserie
As in a Land-skip t [...]ings beyond the eie.
The Alpes themselves you'ld thinke were thether come
And Ponto Angelo remov'd from Rome,
I glance but at the outside, for within
Those be the Judges [...]ave that structure seene.
And next to thee, faind Hard-wick, which dost stand
[Page 4] Like to a promont peering o're the Land:
Or like a quarrie that's unpenetrable
Gainst pick, or crowe rest unvulnerable.
Or like a Diamond's glittering in the night
Which in the darkest roome gives greatest light.
Or like a perspicill that doth descrie
Things faire remote, and bring's them to the eie,
So stand's this second Colosse built by her,
By this blest Woman this world's wonderer.
Distant foure Miles, there stands her truest lover,
Guiccardine: [...] Gildas in the Expul. of the Danes.
The stately Cabinet of Bouls'over,
Whence the insulting Danes by force, and might
Were last expuls'd, and beaten out in fight.
Those that like Gyants 'gainst great Jove did war,
And darted rocks against the thunderer,
Here their aspiring purposes were void,
Their Lives, and their intentions all destroid.
Thence came the priviledge those Pheeres enjoy
'Cause they those Fin-land Gyants did destroy.
Beneath our Hard-wike, in the Valey trills
The Becke of Crawley fed by springs, and rills.
Whose watry course, no river can beget
Till in the Rother she her head does set.
Sometimes she's wanton too, and loves to kisse
The Daizy medowes. when her Verdure is.
You'd take her for an in-land fen, or meare,
When Hyems does the frigid Solstice steare;
But when faire Sol hath burnished the fields.
Not Zephyres Botles so much calmnesse yields.
Yet in this litle rill we Troutes doe finde,
Harmlesse Mullets, and Crevise in their kinde.
Pike, Tench and Barbell, Pickrels of high price,
Which live within her watery Paradice.
For which, and for those Fabrickes, which you beare,
Within my fansies you shall still appeare.
Darwent my Tempe thou shalt be, or non.
[Page 5] Soft purling Crawley thou my Helicon,
Enrich'd with minerals thy valleys are,
Iron, Wood and Coales, Creatures that are rare
In other climes, though not esteemd with us:
For plenty ever was contagious.
Things facilely come by we nothing deeme,
But what we cannot get we most esteeme.
Her bounty fame, and liberality,
With all those Types of hospitality
Were so inimitably absolute,
A Parliament cannot that state refute,
A most pious Princely gift 100. per An­num, and con­firm'd by Charter.
With all the house-hold gods that mournd her fall,
To whom she was the full materiall.
Witnesse that Almse-house which in Derby stand's,
Where every houre with pure religious hand's
Twelve Almners habited in azure blue
Yield's their oblations tributaries due
To her their foundresse, where they have their pay
By deede confirmd them at a certaine day,
With Gardens to delight them, and sweet Bowers,
Where harmlesse soules there spend their pious houres.
Our swelling Darwent is their neighbour there,
Who often feastes them with her Icy cheare.
Within All-hallowes Church entomb'd she lyes,
As if she here dreamd of that Paradice
Above she was ascertain'd! her eyes run
Like to the larkes observant of the Sunne.
Like fire in some fatte minerall of the earth,
Finding the least vent, she would finde new birth.
Rest sweete Eliza; againe I say goe rest,
Sleepe with the Phoenix in thy spycie nest,
Embalm'd in thine owne mirrhe! merit, and fame
As thine owne attributes attend thy name.
Though Mankind be but dust, yet by decree
In every earth there's a diversitie,
Some soft, some hard, some sanded, some all Clay
[Page 6] For sev'rall countries sev'rall soiles display,
Thine was a hard one, yet it brought forth lead
Surpassing silver fin'd, and polished.
Those Margaretas preci [...]us in the VVest
Compar'd with thy worth are unworthiest,
Those Cassiopean jemmes, deerer then gold
Laid to her vertnes were for nothing [...]old.
The spirit of Tagus, Opsi [...], Ind [...]a free
Are grosse and vile of no validitie.
Yet when all's done, Man is but kneaded dust,
Subject to wither, canker, dy [...] and rust.
Like to the Helitropium or go [...]d Flow [...]r,
That Sunne that warmes him needs must him devoure.
Her vertues this Imperious ensigne beares,
Glory to her, and Honour' to her heires.

On the Right Honorable the Lady Katherin Baronesse Ogle, worker to the right Honorable William Earle of Newcastle and the most noble Gentle­man Sr. Charles Cavendish.

VVHen the two Tables first were writ in stone
By the All-mighty (which made all of none)
They certainly were left us for to show
How in this life our times we should bestow.
Why may n [...]t [...] then boldly forrage on
To write a truth without detraction?
Thy sacred vertues cannot lodged be
Surer in Grave then in the memorie
Of thy deare issue [...] that emboldens me
[Page 7] To write thy merits in an elegy.
That Tree must needes be good, when as the fruit
Is alwaies ready for the taste, and tooth:
I meane in leason. For Divinity
Allowes to each plant full maturity.
Hadst thou bene one of common birth, or gone
Above thy female sexe (in but in one
Rare gift) my mournfull elegies then might
As offred incense doe thee funerall rite,
But when so many rarities conspire
In one selfe person, fit for all t'admire,
Small wonder then if my amazed eies
Are dazel'd with diviner rarities.
And I of sense, and wonder quite bereft,
Si ce for to praise thee, ther's scarse one way left.
For thou wert all divinity, so rare
Few earthly creatures might with thee compare,
So sil'd with knowledge, sanctitie, love, zeale,
As if by prophesie thou couldst un vaile
All holy mysteries! thy every word
Had reference to the Almighty Lord:
In Hymns, and Soliloquies thou didst pay
Thy Orisons, as incense every day,
Or balme powr'd on his Altars! therefore we
Counte it a blessing to remember thee,
Whose good deedes we may aime at, but not touch,
'Twere a Herculcan labour; and too much
For women to aspire, or match thy worth:
One Phoenix dead, ther's yet no more come forth
Out of thy ashes, and yet thine owne faire birth
Has brought a second blessing to the Earth
Like spreding Vines they bout his tables grow,
And like the lovely Olives stand in row.
In these thou still dost live, thou art the Tree
These stemmes of honour all are growne from thee.
'Tis not a few poore lines that can pourtray
[Page 8] Thy ample worth; the Muses lost their way
Seeking to discribe thee! then blame not me
If I come short of thy known memory,
Whose every word was all perfection,
And what I now write meere detraction.
I cannot reach unto thy ample story
That was so fraughted with Zeale, Goodnes, Glory,
Humility was thy hand-maide, and she
Has wafted thee to immortalitie,
Where sacred ravishing [...]s thou hear'st above,
Whiles we on Earth doe memorize thy love,
Bouls o're retaines thy Corpes, the whole VVorld thy fame
Ther's nothing here dead of thee (not thy Name.)

On the right Honorable WILLIAM last Earle of Devon-shire who married the most noble Lady CHRISTIAN Sister to the Lord BRVSE and lyes inter [...]d in DERBY.

I Make no doubt but from the Muses quire
Some more sweet singers nobler, and higher
Have offred to thy shrine! yet let not me,
When others pay, live in obscuritie,
Without acknowledgment! 'twere a sin indeede,
At which even Heathens doe us farre exceede.
Ingratitude is ba [...]e, my treas'ry poore,
Yet [...] ▪le l [...]nd some things from my Muses store.
Thy honours gain▪d not more unto thy name,
Then did thy vertues in thy Funerall flame.
Nay wert thou now alive, there is none that dare
[Page 9] Thy living vertues then for to compare.
For thou wouldst thinke we flattered! but now,
Thy death shall all suspition disavow.
Tis sin for to bely the dead! yet we,
Hold goodnes speakes all truth (not flatterie)
I want that rhetorique, which the men of Rome,
Did joyntly beare unto dead Tullies tombe.
Yet i'le not danbe thy utne; (since that there
Can be no fowle things, where ther's no fowle eare.)
Thine ancestors of noble birth, and fames
Whose good deedes have eternized their names.
Whose zeale of faith, fealty to Prince,
Detracting envy can no whit convince.
With all those stratagems she workes to eate
Into a free brest void of malices seat.
Th'art not more honourd by thine ancestrie,
Than they are triply dignifi'd by thee.
Since all their honours thou didst multiply,
And soe didst leave them to posterity.
For to be great-borne is not the meere cause
Why men receive lowd popular applause,
But to be good-borne does transcend the great;
(Goodnes makes greatnes for to be compleat.)
And she was thine inherent, vertue strove
In various waies, all vices to remove.
In France thy honours there did gaine renowne
From the most Christian wearer of that Crowne,
Those courtly favorits that gazde on thee
Said that thy lookes promisd maturitie.
E [...]en the greatst Pheeres of France, no more did wish
But the Alliance of a Cavendish.
They thy admirers were, and thou the Man
In whom whole rivolets of vertue ran.
Not by conceiv'd hopes! for in thy face
Were Characters of honour set in grace
With vertues never found out, nor yet thought
[Page 10] With sacred sanctity thy hart was fraught:
With còurtesie courage, bounty, wisdome.
What greater trophies can adorne a tombe?
Honour, learning, knowledge, piety,
The holy blessings of some deity,
But that which makes these to perfection grow
He who had all these could be humble too.
But thats a blessing from eternity
Successively given to thy family.
Humility is a robe of high renowne
And 'mongst the card'nall vertues weares the Crowne.
These made the Princely Dolphin t'admire thee
And all the French Pheeres in love desire thee.
And with a mourners sorrow waile thy losse
When thou from France the English seas did crosse.
Thy parting from them was, as if some groome
Should leave his Bride, and journey farre from home.
Yet hoping to enjoy her lord againe
In 'midst of anguish gave release to paine.
He that from strangers had these favours showne
VVhat graces then deserv'd he from his owne?
As great Embassadours of eminence
From forreigne Princes doe their suites commense,
Are in all pompe, and honourable port
Receiv'd, and grac'd by persons of the Court,
Such is the Princes will! soe was this Man of men.
Vnto his native home receiv'd agen.
And married unto the Princely line
Of noble Bruise beyond the River Tine,
Of whom some noble branches still remaine
The Lord Rich married the Lady Anne daughter of William Earle of Deton shire
Whose honours part of their great worths retaine.
The one engraffd in warlike Rich's Armes
The other ready to sing warr's Alarmes.
Then came each Poet with his sprigge of Bayes
With all the Muses to set forth his praise.
Into whose Palmes he evermore did powre
[Page 11] Such heapesas Jove in Danaes lap did showre.
Thus like a goodly Fabricke did he stand
Admirde, and honord by all in our Land.
Especially by sacred majesty
In whose true service he did live, and dy.
Lov'd of his Country, honour'd of the state,
And his mortality dide free from hate;
For which the Muses to his memory
Have now noe other song but Elegy.

On the right Honorable JANB Countesse of Shrews­bury Wife to the right Honorable EDVVARD Lord TALBOT of Shrewsbury last of that family dedicated to the right Hono­rable the Lady JANE CAVENDISH Daughter to the right Honora­ble WILLIAM Earle of New-Castle:

YE sonns of Phoebus, were ye drownd in Sacke
Or Lethe? did dull security slacke
Your feeble spirits? knew ye not she was gone
That was sole governesse of Helicon:
She was the soule of learning, love, and grace,
Row [...]e up your sack-braines, die not in disgrace,
Let not each misers Herse adorned ly
With your strong Verses, stead of heraldry
She was sole Queene of the Castalian spring,
Then to her feete your flowing numbers bring.
[Page 12] Come sprightly on, and offer here your Bayes
For she deservedly was worth your praise.
Since most ingratefull braine-sicke murtherers,
Court Parasites, Vertues smotherers,
False Sonnes of Phoebus, bastards of the Nine,
Since they their own worthes sing, and conceale thine.
May that rare miracle, ne're Created be
Nor found amongst'em (wealth in Poetrie)
Well, though I cannot sing, yet you shall see
Honour, and [...]ruth, kisse in an Elegie.
Thy funerall Ode was not more full of fame
Then mine shall be of truth (let spite spite shame)
For Temper, Goodnesse, Liberality,
Stedfastnesse in faith, Hospitality
She was inimitable! beyond compare,
No earthly Saint was so compleated rare.
Each day the poore kept market at her gates,
And tasted largly of her wonted Cates,
Had all commodities the mart afforded,
Yet payd for nothing, all went backe rewarded.
Rich Charity the whiles, when every buyer
Has all for nothing, and is payd for hyre.
Here goodnesse floated, Hospitality
Is the first staire leades to Eternity.
These she at Rufford every day did show,
As duely as she payd her morning Vow,
Which sweet Oblations every day did fly
As incense offered to the Trinity.
Her soule set in her body, was a Jem
Inclosd within a Glorious Diadem.
Whose sparkling Inster, reachd unto the Skyes,
Where like a starre it stands fix'd in our eyes.
Her minde was the gold cabinet of Art
Richly compleated in every part.
Love, Honour, Knowledge, Learning, farre beyond,
The common straine of Ladies in our Land,
[Page 13] Who are not so annexed to the tie
Of sacred knowledge, as to nicetie.
Her youth spoke rare things, her vertues greater,
She was rare 'ith first 'ith last compleater.
Such sacred comforts her sweet soule did give.
As that she fear'd not death 'twas feare to live,
Was her affliction! honoured she
No TALBOT left of that great progenie:
That progenie, I say, even at whose looke
All France have stood, as with an earth-quake shooke.
Not of him that was the Terror of France though all the rest were brothers of his Line,
Like crazy buildings when their pillars gone
So have they trembl'd, and for refuge flowne.
The name of TALBOT, as a Bugge-beare still
Affrightes their children from attempting ill.
If twatling rumour said but TALBOT's come,
At her report all mutinies were dumbe.
That famous TALBOT whose authentique name
Was never touchd, by tainture, blot nor staine.
Not to historifie their high renowne.
(A Shrewsbury was keeper of the Crowne.)
Such were the unstain'd TALBOTS honours there
Though now scarse mention of them is made here
But honourd urnes, and ashes! what are those
But reliques which our rotten tombes enclose?
What can out-last time, rust weares l'ron away
Small wonder then, if our great names decay.
And yet her name, and honourd memory
Shall never fade, till all consume, and dy.
Her servants are her Chroniclers, they found
Those vertues from her, cannot fall to'th ground.
Northumberland thy deere losse does lament
In them thy goodnes still is eminent.
What shall I say of her? she was compleat
And in two Maxim's rare (borne good, and great)
Great-borne by birth, joynd with that stile of bloud
But that which nobler was, (she was borne good.)
[Page 14] Nay adde to that which may all mankinde vexe
All vertues liv'd in one of weaker sexe.
Then sweetest Madam, noblest Lady JANE,
You beare her memory, her worth, and fame.
And may you fairest Lady ever be
As neere to her in deeds as pedegree.
You cannot misse her worth, you have the shrine
Of goodnes in you, (all parts speake Divine.)

On the right Honorable ELIZABETH Countesse of Huntington Wife to the right Honorable FERDINAND Earle of Huntington.

VVomen lament her losse, for here she lyes,
That from your female sexe deserv'd the prize.
The Graces met in this bright paragon
And but for her had perishd long agon.
The Lacedemonians usde to sacrifize
Vnto the Muses in most solemne wise
To th'end their deedes might all be registred
And Chronicl'd, for theirs (when they were dead)
If they did thus, Ladies why should not you
Pay to this pious Dame a holy due?
She to her sexe did all their vertues give,
Envy cannot deface them! they shall live
Till Time dissolves, and this huge fabricke passe,
And all to Chaos turne, as first it was.
What s'ever worth, or merit, could define
[Page 15] In her, as in a mirrour, cleare did shine.
Those rich endowments sacred vertue claimes
To be sole Queene of; those she wore as chaines
Making a true loves knot of goodnes! she
The Lady was of bles'd Humilitie.
Charity, Love, Zeale, Religion,
Were the Ideas that she doated on.
Shee knew Court Ladies faults, and did not tie,
Her faith unto her fashion! her eye
Aimd at the starry Court of Majesty
Absolute in Love, Zeale, Brightnes, Glory,
Honour loves not applausive multitudes,
But vertues selfe, which verity includes.
Her soule was so engraffd in piety
That she despisd all popularity
She needed not those Platonicall Rings
Of whom an ould Philosopher thus sings
The vertue made invisible; no no she
Express'd all vertues in her modestie.
She on true honours Maxime did depend
That conscience was the honorablest friend.
From dead Eliza of bles'd memory
She did receive her Christianity.
A happy Mother makes a happy Childe
She had her spirit, and her nature milde.
Till pale Consumption made the way for Death,
Then sweet Eliza, yeelded up her Breath.

On ELIZABETH WILLOVGH BY First Wife to HENRY WILLOVGH BY of RISLEY Baronet who lieth interr'd in the Parish of Wilne in Derby-shire.

VVHy did the birds 'ith hight of Summers prime
Their wonted Chirpings leave; which usd to chime
Like silver sounding bells, from springs or woods
Which Echo iterates from running floodes.
The sil'y robinet did leave to hop
And senseles sat upon the cold house top.
The Larke lay downe lothing to get on winge,
The Thrush had quite forgot her sonneting.
Sad Philomela from her pensive brest
In all dull sorrows tunes her notes exprest.
Such mournfull dirges were by her begun
As if that sorrow sorrow would strike dumbe.
Thy losse best woman, was the cause why thus
Both man, and creatures were incongruous.
The Birds bless'd woman ruefully did mone
Thinking their Phoenix was to Ashes stone.
But from thy flames few more such will arise.
In thee th' Arabicke perfection dies.
Thou Orphant's Mother, and the Churches praise,
Great pity Time did not protract thy daies.
But let a stocke of vertues fall in thee,
Which able were to make an Historie
Of ample goodnes! these for to looke upon
And dare to write 'em were detraction.
Thou hast bene long lamented, yet no verse
[Page 17] Nor showres of rhetorique can grace thy Herse?
Thou hast out-gone all eloquence; and we
Neede no invention, thy Historie
Will finde us worke enough! and that we read
Of thee at Risley, though that thou be dead.
The neighbour Villages, that round are there,
Receive thy bounteous almes, three times a yeere,
Paid from thy Husbands open treasurie,
Whose soule sweet, Saint, hath long lamented thee.
That wert the true Idea of his soule
A famous Chappell, and the Tombe of his noble an­cestours by him erected over her in the Parish Church of Wilne in Derby-shire
Whose pious actions doe all ills controule.
He o're thy Funerall Herse a Fabricke fram'd
A Chappell at Wilne! what needes that be nam'd?
All buildings come too short of that great worth,
Which thy most honourd birth-right did bring forth.
And therefore dead thou canst not lodged be
More in thy Grave, then in our memorie.

On the Right Honorable the Lady CLIFTON second Wife to Sir GERVASE CTIFTON Baronet, daughter to the Earle of Cumber-land.

VVOnder, and Beauty did contest,
Which of them too should grace her best.
Wonder then said that shee alone
Was fit to write on her owne stone.
Pride, and she at difference were,
Vanity must not dare come neere.
[Page 18] Divinity, and she were one
And best were pleasd when most alone.
Contemplation was the ty
Which bound her thoughts in vnity.
For poverty she had a band
Which like a harvest eare did stand
Full, and open! her marble stone
Still invites a parting groane.
Beauty said she would not vie
For out ward parts to please the eye.
The in-ward beauties of the minde
Soule Magazines she there did finde.
There were honours, riches, plenty,
Grace, and goodnes, glories dainty,
Charity in a robe of Gould
Sat their enthron'd, all might behould
They mentall vertues did not weepe,
Her Leet, or Court, did justice keepe:
There were all that might be saide
Of goodnesse in a wife or maide.
Beauty said, there was her store,
And wonder cry'd, enough, no more.
These are enough to build a tombe
That shall out-last the day of doombe
Natures Darling, Vertues Glory,
Thy best selfe, is thy best story.

On the never dying memory of ould Sir JOHN HARPER of Swarkeston Grand-father to the noble Gentleman Sir JOHN HARPER dedicated to him, and his most nob [...]c Lady.

To number out thy Birth, thy yeeres, and age,
Each leafe would be a Chronicle, and each Page
[Page 19] A volume! where our Patriots might read
Thy living actions though thou long since dead.
I shall want Trophees to adorne thy Herse,
Rather some pen of silver for thy verse.
Silver, said I? nay sparkling diamond
Or some more rare, if rarer can be found,
For to engrave thy worth! a goulden pen
Well poyn [...]ed with some glittering diadem,
VVill best become thy anthentique story,
If that it faile not thy great history.
Our Antiqua [...]es to thy seat may come,
And offer volumes up unto thy tombe.
And yet fall short of thee! nay sadly mourne
O're those few ashes strewde about thy urne.
Their mystick Caracters thou couldst make sense,
And never wrest Case, Gender, Moode nor Tense.
All forreigne broyles, and eke domestique jarrs
Thou couldst by policy appease from warrs.
Such were thy sacred treasures in the law
That ev'n dissension thou couldst keepe in awe,
Setting at peace the uncontrouled splcene
Of those thy neighbours which in suites have beene,
As lawiers did their Tully imitate,
Yet could not reach unto his sugred fate:
So now those imitators follow thee,
Yet cannot reach thy sweet serenitie:
Justice in even scales thou long didst beare,
At which Astrea joyd, set in her Chayre,
For she rejoyceth when her scale is ev'n,
And registers her up-right Judge in Heav'n.
Our ancient Heralds to discourse with thee
Thought it as much as to Historifie.
The Muses lost a father, for thy hand
Did their necessities, and wants withstand,
Yet thy benevolence as freely came
As dew from Heaven upon this Earthly frame.
[Page 20] Each brow was lawrell'd, and each sprigge of Baies
Was tipd with gould, fore-telling Halcyon daies;
The gods of musicke since that thou went hence
Have quite unstring'd their sacred instruments.
And tooke them to the Melancholy vales
And there to one another tell sad Tales.
Yet there's faire hopes their states they will resume
And with their straines strike Melancholy dumbe.
Filling the groves with their harmonious sound
Striking a double echo from the ground.
A house as free, and open as a Court
Manag'd by industry; not by report,
Seeking to gaine a populare applause,
But cheifely aiming at Charities Lawes,
The poore, and needy every day are fedde
Though thou be gone they still eat of thy breade
This president was un-matchable, Ages to-fore
Nay, and to come, cannot the like tell o're.
A family so guided, man'd, and gouern'd
As that dissension scarsely was discern'd,
For twice sixe yeeres, a house kept, and maintain'd,
As if the master still on earth had raign'd.
If after-ages doe not record this
Our Chronicles are faulty, and remisse;
No servant from his Master went away,
Nay there are still maintain'd unto this day
By thy successors! whose faire hopes doe give
Large testimonies that thou still dost live.
And may they ever in thy goodnes shine,
For thou on Earth wert heavenly divine.
Send them, great God, a many happy sonnes
And all like thee (the y will be holy ones.)
Where Vbrious Trent her swelling veines does spred,
Within a narrow roome lyes entoombed
This noble president! and while Trent their flowes
All ages honour to thy memory owes.
[Page 21] I will not longer trouble thy dead earth.
Sleepe on bless'd IOHN, sleepe till a second birth.
If good mens prayers to Angells have accesse,
Thou hast in heaven perfect happinesse.

On the renowned gentleman ould Sir JOHN BYRON of Newsteed-Abbey.

LIke to the silly freckled Butterfly
Oblivious winter long hath let thee ly.
But now the Sunne his beames hath darted forth,
And most illustriously guildes thy worth.
'Tis not a marble Tombe, nor some few lines
Writ with a golden pensill, that confines
Our good or bad actes: tis memory
That record's them unto posterity.
And that we have from thee, for thou wert all
That can be said of goodnes naturall.
Lives he that will not justifie, how fame
Rais'd early Trophees to the BYRONS name?
How by desert, thy noble vertues shone
In their owne orbe, rectifi'd by none.
He truely serv'd his Country, nobly the state,
And was for both like Basills magistrate,
Free from Corruption, Avarice, or Pride,
His vertues not his vices, he did hide.
When Roiall Anne was pleased for to trie
Diana-like her strong Artillery,
In spatious Sherwood! famous'd for the fame
Of Robin-hood, whose bowre still beares the name.
Then had you seene our BYRON with what port
[Page 22] He entertaind her Majesty to th' Court.
With musicke sweet, as if in harmonie,
The Earth, and Heavens in confort did agree,
To speake a bounteous welcome [...]uch a one
As well might vivifie a hart of stone,
How every office in its owne spheare mov'd,
Admir'd by all, and of the whole Court lov'd,
Freedome, and plenty strove which should exceede,
Bounty p oclaim'd full wellcomes to Newsteede,
Yet with a free, and sparing hand! for shee
Saucde every juncket with sweet temp'rancie.
But what of these? why nothing, all is gone:
These are but shadowes to perfection.
He was religions friend, and with a sword
And shield of faith did ever man Gods Word.
He liv'd till in the Autumne of his Age
Death sign'd his Exit off this fraile world's stage.
But though hees gone, he that so dies, dies not,
But lives, and never can be here forgot.

On Sir GEORG MANNORS of Haldon, father of the noble Gentleman JOHN MANNORS Esquire.

ANd shall thy honours which like Land-marks stand
To guide the Sea-man? shall those be writ in sand
Or Carracts of oblivion? then let my pen
Lose her sweet candor, and ne'r dare agen
To draw spruise Nectar from the Thespian springs
Where merit freelie sip's, and cleerely sings.
[Page 23] Were all wits frosty, and to Ice congeal'd
That thou brave JOHN so long shouldst lie conceal'd,
And not a memory sent to thy vrne
To blaze thy worth? did there so many mourne,
And can so few remember? barren age
When vertues must be sent on pilgrimage,
Ne're to returne liurely it was our clime
Made with so barren, that nothing in due time
From any Muse was offred to thy shrine,
That wert on Earth so heav'nly divine.
Frostes dri'd our Springs, Mountainous heapes of snow,
Vpon our peakish Alpes did seeme to grow,
Which made our wits, as barren, leaden, dry,
As that which on her Alpine browes did lie.
Vntill Vertumnus with his luke warme veines
From rockie springs bedewed all our plaines.
Till then our wits, like spring's chain'd up in frost,
Or chillish thawes were sterill, drein'd, and lost.
Then let my Muse, though weak'st in all the quire,
Vnto thy Herse offer Phoebean fire,
Yet without Marts of oile, or flattr'ies Inke,
My smooth El [...]gies never us'd to drinke
Affections liquor, truth play thou thy part,
And Muse brave envy, write thou from thy hart.
Some things oft times doe simply good befall,
And somtimes goodnes happens accidentall
In out-ward gifts! use makes them good, or nought.
As if a man his Country save, tis thought
His strength is good! but if by violence
His valor wounds the guiltlesse innocence
Then is his valour nought! absolute fame
Lov's all, hurts none, and gain's a glorious name.
In this he did transcend, for in the fielde
He never did to any foe-man yielde.
Valiant, yet seldome angry, valour showes
Most cleerely perfited in smooth-fac't browes:
[Page 24] The embleme of an honest harted minde
Is to be valiant, yet to all men-kinde.
As starr's in magnitude, and splendor showe
Each from other; so mortalls ever growe
In goodnes or in vices. Oft we see
Two men in all things never did agree.
If this has height, th'other wants his stature
Deform'd the one, th'other full of feature.
Some Starr's are fixed, so are some mens minds,
Others all motion: so are most by kinds.
Some starr's are bigger, so are some men by birth,
And some show lesser that are high'st from Earth.
As the fixde starrs ne'r from their centers move
But in their Epicycles rowle: such was his love
A Rocke unmoveable, a Bullworke of defence,
A Fort of Love, Armes, Arts, and Innocence.
Just to his God, Religion, Piety:
For all mens griefes, full of anxiety.
His whole existence, this way was enclind,
T'adorne his soule, more then to please his mind.
Pride as a leprosie he still abhor'd
With all their vanities that sinne ador'd.
In spir'd by sacred knowledge from above
That proud men never liv'd in perfect love.
This Maxim's undenieable by disdaine.
(Prides pension, and reward is called paine.)
From that if out-ward signes doe blazon forth,
What the interior is addicted too: then worth
Speake for thy selfe! I neede no soothing laies
Daub'd with Encomiums to set forth thy praise.
Thy Country knowes it, that thy garments were
For warmth, not wantonnesse; such as might out-beare
Stormes, and tempests! some say pride lives in raggs
Yet thine were never cut in Flashes, Jaggs,
Not like our gallants, at whose vanities,
Ever sits blushing the poore taffaties,
[Page 25] Whom though they cannot speake their collor rises
To see Apes dress'd in severall disguises.
Vertue is home spunne, needing no gould lace
To guild her russet coat with, Sacred grace
With all the Card'nall Vertues shee's indu'd,
Her cabinet all goodnes doth include,
Bounty, Greatnes, Hospitality,
Vnfaigned love, and liberality
And that which under foote, does all els tread
(A hand still ready to give poore men bread.)
But I have lost my selfe, and my faint Muse
Is so short of thy worth, shee does abuse
Thy memory: then let thy Country speake;
And they'ill strike envy dumbe, make malice breake
Her necke; if she dare to oppose them,
For all these worthes, and more he did enclose them.
Charity was his robe, peace was his crowne
Good workes the sword, with which he won renowne.
He Philips Motto, every morne did scan
(Remember mortall thou art but a man.)
Therefore he knew that mans selected good
Was his last act (which was to lose lives bloud.)
Repaying nature that which mortalls must,
A forefeiture call'd life, most true, and just,
Therefore he arm'd himselfe with innocence,
Love, zeale, humility, and patience,
Strong Porters for to beare a sinfull man
Vp to the portalls of Elizium
Where like the Bay Tree, though to us unseene
Though winter allwaies were, (yet he lives Greene.)

On Sir GEORGE PERKINS of Bunny.

STay passenger, for there he lies.
VVho for his merit, gain'd the prize.
[Page 26] Belov'd ith City, fam'd ith Court
Vertue makes the tru'st report.
Such his gesture grace, behave'our
From his Prince he had the favour,
Of a servant! but noe Court grace
Can the rough hands of Death displace.
His sandy houres doe fleeting runne,
As snow dissolving 'fore the Sunne.
The greatest Pheeres, and Potentates
Are all but subjects to the fates.
But noble Perkins did not fall
Hee mounted to the Tribunall,
He serv'd his Country, Prince, and state
And did free from the Commons hate.
An Almes he ever freely gave
And those that wanted there might have.
He was wise, judicious, strong,
And yet he feard for to doe wrong.
Rich in sacred wisdomes store
VVhich makes his Country him deplore,
And adorne her selfe in blacke,
For many such she now does lacke.
Such faire modells, such briefe stories
As doe heape on her more glories.
And still adde in worth, and fame
More honours to his Funerall flame.
But he is gone, and fates are just,
For as he is, so mankinde must.
Yet this I say though he be gone
His vertues shall strike Envy dumbe.

On the right Honorable WILLIAM CAVENDISH second sonne of that name to the right Honorable WIL­LIAM Earle of New-Castle. 1633.

WILLIAM CAVENDISH

Ana gramma

All my will is Heaven.

IT was heavens will, and sure it was performd,
And thou in heaven art certainly adorn'd
Amongst those Angells, whose bright Coronets.
Transcend the Sunns, and brighter ray's begets.
Sure Nature was empoverished, and her store
Most certainly enfeebled, and growne poore,
And therefore to enrich her treasury
She sent her messenger pale death for thee,
Making that Axiome from her owne sexe good,
(All purity was borne in innocents blood)
Thrice happy he that so departed hence
In lambe-like patience, Sacred innocence.
Before he ever tastes earths pompous drosse
So to gaine heaven (a happy saint like losse)
Conspir'd you all, did you oh fates conspire
To crop this goodly tender growing spire?
Did you and death Herodian like agree
To worke on innocents a Tragedie?
Could no low Brambles but the talest Tree
In all the forrest give satietie
To your dire vengeance? is Bloud, Honors, State
At no more price then Birthes of meaner rate.
Since Adams mourn'd fall, was there noe degrees
[Page 28] No diff'rence in bloud? no diversities
'Twixt Kinges, and Cottagers? no, not with death,
His paile-eyd horse rides mortals out of breath,
And 'tis small wonder, for 'tis often seene
Rough Winter blowes upon the Summers Queene.
The youthfull Spring growne almost to his prime
By Northren blasts does instantly decline.
Both ould, and young are equall in degrees,
For death saies mortalls are but Natures fees.
She keepes her Courtes. At her exchequor day
All must receive (or if they owe all pay)
Her rowles are open, every man may read
Her just allowance, how her pathes to tread.
And he that derogates from her behests.
Is streight way summond to her court of questes.
Somtimes her tearmes she warily rejournes,
Making the dead tree live that sadly mourns.
Lives sap being spent! contrarily
The plant new grafted she makes for to dy.
As she has done this noble Impe of fame
Just when his lives bright candle 'gan to flame.
Life like a Taper that gives others sight
Consumes, and wasts in lending its owne light.
For all estates at Deathes shrill Trumpets call
In her star-chamber must be personall.
The bodys goods, as beauties strength, and health
Which alwayes are esteemd the bodys wealth,
And eke the soules as (manners milde, and art)
Which still doe governe mans diviner part,
Also the wills, as Justice Wit, and Vertue,
Which unto her as attributes are due,
Are of no prise, nor vigor in the scale.
(For when death comes theres nothing can prevaile
His bounds are boundlesse, his malitious Ire
Is like an Aetna, or consuming fire.
All mortalls are his buts, all lives the aime,
[Page 29] At which he shootes, and never loses game.
Death's an engrosser still; say what man list
He scornes his lawes, is a monopolist:
What greater malice could a Tyrant showe,
That had the whole world set his gesse to goe.
Where he might finde soules pinch'd with poverty
That s [...]de, and prai'd, each minute for to die.
Sape-gode usurers that ne're did make
An honest act, for Law, or conscience sake.
These were no diet for thee, mischiefes sonnes
The aptest are for thy companions.
Those second helpes which Nature does bestow
Which in her treasury of Earth still grow
Ordaind for mankinde, could not physicke make
From her large store, one compound that would take
His dainty palat? no 'twas then in vaine,
For he did Physicks helpe, and life disdaine,
And like a man enforced for to goe
A longer journey, then he first did know
Cries Doctor spare thy physicke for to day,
(To morrow I'le take all, and thee obey.)
Sweet divinity, when so sweet a child
Reproves Hippocrates with speeches milde,
Presageing that his Esculapian
Was absolute, his soules Physitian;
Yet knew not he to sinne his tender yeeres
(Though all were borne in sin) that ambage cleares.
His mothers griefes, and honourd fathers praires,
Vnpenetrable were in thy dull eares,
Thou hast no hart, and pity cannot enter
In any bosome where there's no center.
Dull is my Muse, yet my prophetique fire
That slowly flames burnes constant in desire
To quench thy malice? monster now I see
Why thou hewdst downe this goodly growing Tree
This Princely, lovely, gall-lesse, harmelesse dove
[Page 30] Mirrour of infancy, patience, and love.
I've found the cause of thy invetraterage
Thou killd'st his brother 'bout the selfe same age.
And 'cause the Conquerour of Brittains Ile
Was nam'd William, famous'd for his stile,
Therefore successively thy malice runnes
To kill two Williams natures champions
For as th'one Phoenix out of flames did rise
The other Phoenix into Ashes flyes,
And like Joves Eagle leaves this vale of Earth
Mounting Elizium for a second birth.
Where death, nor time, nor envy candeface,
Nor ought diminish of his heavenly grace.
Farewell blest babe, lawrell decks thy browes,
Deathes live'ry ours, the saddest cipres boughes.

Epitaph on the same.

REader behold a wonder here
A childe here lyes, that did not f [...]are
Pale death [...] hee valiantlie
Spurnd fate, death, and destinie,
Warriour-like he met his soe,
The aged wretch dares not doe soe.
See what a guarde has innocence!
O're all it beares preeminence.
It loves not life, cares not for breath
It conquers sinne, Hell, Paine, and Death.
It is the Sword, and Shield of Faith
The just man there his ground-forme laith.
Then happy thou bless'd honour'd jem
Sweet morning Starre, bright Diadem
Th'ast gainde a Conquest by thy fall
For Earth, the Heavens high tribunall.
Death surely was in love with thee
[Page 31] Cybele on Atys doated (so did hee.)
Her love transform'd him to a Pine.
Soe death did thee 'mongst pow'res divine.
Marble will moulder, thy name will live
And harbour unto vertue give.
Then Reader, underneath doth lie
As much Innocence as could die.

On the well learned, and truely noble Gentleman Sir PETER FRETCHVILLE of Stalie.

COttons great fame, learning birth, and worth
The Genti of our Nation hath set forth.
And worthily compared him to a booke
Writ by the thrice three maids? On which to looke
Is full perfection? why may not we
Renown [...]d Peter reade thy Historie?
Each word containd a subject, every line
Was worth a Kingdome that was all Divine:
His body, natures noblest frame, was strong,
His silver haires proclaimd him ever young.
The Graces throng'd together him to court
Nay you would sweare this man was vertues foart.
Where learning, bounty, courage met in one
Striveing to place themselves in vertues Throne.
There all the lies of goodnes joyntly grew
Dressing themselves to render merit due.
Each limbe of him, each arter, nerve, and veine
Did in themselves a Microcosme containe.
[Page 32] There charity in her rich robe was dress'd
Here liberality at full express'd
VVithin his bosome there lay aptitude
And there sat bounty kissing fortitude,
Hospitality almost dead, and gone
He did againe bring to perfection.
Adorning her in Heavens Skie colloured hue
(For poverty is characterd in blue)
She at his gates was answerd every day
Before she knock'd she had her Almes, and pay.
Where others stretch their lands as men wrest cloth
Stretching it on the tenter-hookes! when both
The Farmer, and the keeper cursing cry
Their hands are barrd from publicke charity.
Yet then this Nestor of experience,
Tooke pity on his tennants indigence,
The third part he enjoyd, he had no more,
Such Land-lords never did make Tennants poore.
Aged he was if reckond by his yeeres
But you would deeme him young seeing his haires,
More white then Snow or Milke! his gratefull worth
Got him the name (of white Knight of the North)
His Country still laments him, and doth weepe
Since he that was her eie is falne asleepe.
Staley retaines but his impurer part
Heaven hath his soule, his best part we in hart.

On the right Honorable HENRY Lord, STANHOT of the North, Knight of the Bath, Son to the right Honorable PHILIP Earle of Chesterfield, and KATHERIN his noble Countesse. Anno. 1634.

LIves there an eye of Honour did not weepe
'Cause thou so suddenly did'st fall a sleepe?
Oh yes, even Vertues selfe did sadly mone,
'Cause thou so suddenly to heaven was gone.
And yet this Crowne shee sets upon thy head,
Thy Vertues are alive (though thou be dead)
Who ever knew thee did not waile thy fall,
Or wept not at thy solemne funerall?
Such hopes thy Country had, such joyes the state,
And yet to see, they both unfortunate.
Hopes had thy Country of a Patriot,
The state a Counsellour though new begot.
Borne Man even from his Cradle; yet oh see
How sudden vanishes maturitie!
Just like the Lilly fairest of the field
Which does her bravery to th'sickle yield
Or like the flower that opens with the Sunne,
And falls, and dies, before his course is runne.
Thus did this noble sprigge of honour fall
Even from perfection to a Buriall.
And yet to say so were detraction,
Since he is gone hence to perfection.
For so much goodnes, wisedome, knowledge, arts,
Such rare endowments, and such sacred parts,
Such gravity, as if experience had
[Page 34] Invested him, and in her robes him clad,
Such Activenes of body, acute wit
As if the Muses in his brest did sit.
And there kept court, instructing him all rules
And abstruse secrets of their holy schooles.
Nay what unto him did not they impart?
Urania had enshrind him in her hart.
And all these rarities to be complide
In one, not twenty one before he dide.
Great pity that a fabricke of this state
Should crazy fall, and subject be to fate.
But vaine are teares, there's litle to be sed
For each of him is disinherited.
Being his [...]der brother
He had a brother who in's prime of youth
Allmost arriv'de unto his perfect grouth.
Pale death and time cut off: whose most deere losse
He did embrace with such a heavinesse:
That from his day of death, unto his owne,
His Brothers dying day was ever knowne.
Entombd that day oth' weake, ins chamber he
Solemnely kept his brothers Obsequie:
There did his owne true worth his worth confine
In meditations siting a Divine:
Rare presidents of Honor, chiesly young,
What would his age have brought, had he liv'd long?
But he is g [...]ne, and with him went our teares,
For certainly he now needs not our prayers.
Yet such rare presidents, ought not for to lye
Entombd, and buried in obscurity.
His joyes are full, and now we may expresse
More joy in him then cause of heavinesse.
He dies not that so dies, but lives againe
Immortally, from anguish, griefe, or paine.

On CHARLES STANHOP first brother to the Lord HE­NERY, and third Son to PHILIP Earle of Chesterfield. KATHERIN his noble Countesse.

NO sooner are my Summer blessings come
But streight comes Autumne, and rough Hyems on.
Whose rugged browe proclaim's sadde disasters,
Nights, stormes, tempests, day-consuming wasters.
No sooner did our Sunne of comfort shine
Nor bright Aurora with her silver shrine,
After tempestuous daies, and dim-eide nights,
By their fresh beames, and rarified lights
But newly perfected! in comes a storme
Allmost as great as that but newly borne.
Eclipsing our fresh glories, and in cares
Makes us a fresh for to begin ould teares.
No sooner was our honourd HENRY gone
And our late mourning weeds past putting on
Our memory or backs I streightway does come
The death of CHARLES that strikes all joyes dumbe.
Oh thou most sacred Jewell; golden Time
Thou pretious Jem of Jems, thou all divine,
Thou fleeting shade, unsubstantiall thing
Thou that art nothing, yet of all the King,
Whoo'd be lavish of thee? this president
Should make us chary how our Time is spent.
We may in thee behold, how vaine is man
In all his actions, doe the best he can.
This goodly slower, but yesterday new blowne
By Times untimely sythe to day cut downe.
This goodly Garden in whom searse grew weedes,
[Page 36] This lovely full-eard corne, that ne're lent seedes
Fitting a seedenesse! is tane from th' earth
Before it had maturity or birth.
This lovely Pine-tree when his Aples shone
With rosy cheekes like Phoebus in the Zone.
Is hewd, and falne just in his Prime, and growth,
Even in the early spring time of his youth.
But Death and Time are Twinns, if one cryes on,
Thought is not swifter then the act is done.
Death thou art mercilesse, and thy rigor such
As makes us raile (though it availe not much)
Me thinkes those paire of noblest brothers gone
Those that of Vertue had Dominon;
Might have suffizd thy wrath! or if not those
Their Vertues might, which did all worth enclose.
All worthes, I say, that might be thought or found
In two so young there could not more abound.
Of if not those, their Mothers showers of tears,
Which fell like raine sent from the weeping Sphears
Who wept in pity too, or if not these,
The new chang'd Virgins prayers might appease.
No sooner were they ty'd in wed-lockes bandes
But thy inveteracies untwines their handes,
No sooner were those lovely Turtles pairde,
Scarse of those rites, and ordinations sharde
Which God for man decreed I streight way thy Ire
Sweepes all before thee, like Promethean fire.
Virgins will curse thee ever, and forbeare
The sacred Jugall wedding Ring to weare.
And so empoverish nature of her wealth
Because thou rak'st up all her joyes by stealth.
But these cou'd not suffize thee; he alone
Was the Idea [...] [...] thou doatedst on.
His brothers like the two great Lampes of light
That guilde the heavenly Orbes by day, and night,
So grac'd thy Trophes, wonne thee such renowne,
[Page 37] Without this third thou couldst not winne the Crowne.
But thou dealtst poorely to insinuate
Enseebleing him I nay with the selfe-same fate,
And cause of sicknes, which our Barons killd,
Killd him? high providence must be fullfilld,
No strugling 'gainst the streame, no stopping tide,
Birthes of this nature mortalls cannot hide.
The end of our creation was to die
Death being the fine of all mortalitie.
Then cease to waile his losse, his soule's a Je [...]
Fixde in the Sun-rai [...]s like a Diadem.
Thrice honoured Lady, count not that a losse
Which even the Angels cover to engrosse.
With Davids sorrow mourne him while alive,
But dead, doe not against your knowledge strive.
The losse of friends, more sorrowes doe not get
If rightly understood, then benefit.
We sorrow for them, when we thinke of Earth,
But when of Heaven, and that most sacred birth
We doe rejoyce? and their joyes emulate
Till we in happinesse possesse like state.
You have more sonnes, and many more may have
Leave mourning these then (Earth is mankinds Grave.)

On ROBERT POVVTRELL of Westhallam Esquire.

IF love to knowledge, or good partes
The Muses friend, and true deserts,
A man enshrind in all mens hartes
Liberall, and Authenticke Artes.
If love to musique does deserve
A thankefullnes from every nerve.
Chiefly the Organ of the eare
Whose atribute is all to heare.
If charity deserve to be
[Page 38] A vertue for necessity,
Since hee that gives unto the poore
Hourely encreaseth his large store,
He wisely does his Talent lend
And may it doubly so expend,
If love to subject, Prince, and state
Free from envious pride or hate.
One that ne're us'd for to oppresse
Without thoughts of covetousnesse.
One that his whole life so d [...]d sway
As meerely careing for to day.
If one in whom these worthes did dwell
Deserv'd to bee the non Pareill
Of goodnes: surely such a one
Deserv'd from us a parting groane.
Nay a Rich Trophe o're his herse
Adorned round with his owne Verse,
If such a one was worthy praise
Then he deserv'd the sprig, and Baies.
For he had these from natures store
And a thousand vertues more.
Which ab [...]e are to tell his story,
Fraught with honour, fame, and glory.
Which are able for to depaint
His life a mans, his death a Saint.

On William Willoughby of Mascam Esquire, who died at Celson.

SOme say Death does brave things, I thinke it true
[...]nd yet it stands ambiguously too.
Some say thou slew [...] w [...]th a sling
(A tricke to scare P [...]ds with) a pretty thing.
[Page 39] And bravely thou knockest Sisera ith'head
(A manly part to Naile a man starke dead.)
Wolves facilely doe prey upon the sheepe,
When as the carelesse Shepheard lies asleepe.
'Mongst multitudes of Pagans Sampson fell,
Bragge of that Trophe, there thou quit'st thee well.
Yet boast not much of that poore sacrifize,
He would have killd thee (had he had his eies)
Great Alexander of an Ague dide,
And Tailour-like thou bodkindste Casars side.
And Troyes great Hector fell too, not alone
Thou kill'dst him cowardly (hundreds to one)
But here thou kill'dst perfection, in this man
Rivolets, nay Seas of sacred vertue ran.
For this sweet man of men, this Willoughby
The Graces mourn'd, and cruell Destiny,
That never yet did good, for him did moane,
'Cause he from earth so suddenly was gone:
Just in the Summer of his growing age
Began thy malice to breake forth in rage.
And like a trembling theefe thou didst steale in
And murder'dst him (that scarse knew how to sin)
Well, thou hast done thy worst, the best is ours:
He lives in spight of thee 'mongst sacred Powers,
Time will not court thee as she us'd to doe
Because thou kill'dst his Sonne (not twenty two)
Thrice happy he that lives well, and so dies
Growing a Prime-rose in Gods Paradice.
Reader behold that Pho [...]n [...]x here he lies,
Vntill another from his ashes rise.

On HENRY VVORRALL of wysoll Esquire.

VVHo lies there thinke von! Read, and see,
'Tis not the Map of miserie,
Nor he which does this world controule
[Page 40] Whose money is his life, and soule.
His feeling, sense, his eies, and eares,
Hees dumbe, hees deafe, he nothing heares
Without it: beyond these tis his god
For that absented he lives odde.
Tenne i'th' hundred, hundreds to one
His god, and he will keepe one roome.
Thou art deceiv'd, hees not here
Then reade not, lest thou shed a teare,
This sacred place affoords not rome
For such a one to reare a tombe.
No Tempe ever had a birth
Of so much goodnes, love, and worth.
Who though in honour hees not great,
In goodnes he is all compleat.
VVoo't have mee speake a verity
Here lies the Mappe of charity,
One that did daily at his Doore
VVith his owne hands releive the poore.
One that did never lend on use
And yet to lend did ne're refuse.
One that did never once engrosse
Yet sould to all (and liv'd by losse.)
One of those men, lov'd not to make
Actes for Law, but conscience sake.
He 'mongst the wisest was held one
Most fit to write on his own stone.
For which high heavens have enrold
Him in a Throne of purest gould.
From hence he was translated, there
To be a Starre fixde in the spheare,
For us to wonder, and admire,
A man compos'd of heavenly fire.
He never did the poore oppresse,
But in their wants did give redresse.
His countries griefe he left behinde
[Page 41] They can no more such fathers finde.
Worrall though dead we have thee still
In thought, in word, in deed in will.
Thy memory cannot decay
Till all dissolves, and turnes to clay.
Wood'st thou have truths Epitomie
Know Vertue dy'd (and then dy'd hee.)

On the Worshipfull M rs GREASLEY Mother of the Lady BVRDEAVT of Formarke.

LEt it suflize that all I speake of thee
Will come farre short of thy great memory,
But as small briefes great Volumes do containe:
So those few lines may at thy goodnesse aime,
In part though not in whole [...] and therefore I
Offer up these to thy posterity.
Thy Birth was noble, thy education such
As had from Vertue Vertues sacred touch.
In truth, and true religion thou did'st stand
Full many yeeres, as Sea-markes to the land,
Guiding the Mariners that in dangers were
Vnto their wished Ports, and havens cleare.
And unto those that did the truth approve
Thou wert a lampe of faith, burning in love
With Christ, and with his spouse, the Bride and Groome,
What greater Pillars can support thy tombe?
She needes not many beautys t'adorne her
That has the Bridegroome for her chiefe mourner.
She was in Children happy, in parents bless'd
Of her cheife happynes she's now possess'd.
In patience calme as sleepe, her Love, Zeale,
True emblemes of a pious common weale,
[Page 42] To Anger flow, the winds did not contract
More swift motion, then she to a good act.
Then Madam 'tis your comfort that she is
To the Lady Bur [...]ut.
Emparadic'd in perfectnes of blisse,
No soothing after Toombes, and ashes! shee
Is absolute in true felicitie.
For which in stead of Cipres, Olive, Baies
May best be worne by you that live her praise.

On the Renowned JOHN Lord DARCY of the North.

GReat buildings by their owne contexture stand,
So doe thy honours propp'd up by no hand.
True glory was thy aime, marke, and renowne,
And thou in heaven hast a glorious Crowne.
Great vessells of their owne weights never sinke
'Tis overpoising, or that which they drinke
Which makes them sande; thy well trim'd Boate,
Did on this Worlds Sea a long time floate.
Ballans'd with honour! without wracke or leake,
No stormes nor tempests could her strong keele breake.
Till heaven emparadic'd her in the haven
Of blesse eternall making all joyes even.
What was her fraught? Religion, Piety,
Repentance, servent Zeale, Anxiety:
Goodnes, Grace, and Honour Pilots were
Guiding the ste [...]ne vnto the Starry Spheare.
Where Angell brightnes yields reflexion
Ambassadour-like to greet this paragon.
The cardinall Vertues follow Humility
That sacred sister of Nobility:
True love in whom all noble honour staith
Sweet Charity the first borne child of Faith.
[Page 43] Patience, Diligence, Liberality,
That yields a hand to due necessity:
Rich Temperance that does all ills controule,
And Chastity the Beauty of mans soule.
A happy guard, but thrice more happy he
That thus is guarded to Eternity.
He had three Wives of blessed memory,
Who certaine are in heavens rich treasury.
By two he issue had, by th'ould one none,
They, and their of-sp'ring all to blisse are gone.
In peace they liv'd, in love, and peace they di'de
Enjoying honse-roome with the lambe, and bride.
Dame Fretchvill, Bowes, and Bellis were their names
Whose good deedes doe perpetuate their fames.
A fourth survives, whose goodnes 'mongst the rest
From all the foure winds stiles her selfe by West.
She ranck'd in honours file does claime due share
From the ennobled house of Dela-ware.
Deathes Image sleepe hath stolne his soule away
His body till the last Trumpe restes in clay.

On Sir GILBERT KNIVETON Knight, and Baronnet.

VVHen first thy active person made resort
Both to the English, and the Danish Court.
No favorite then liv'd in more reguard
Then noble Kniveton! Or freer gave reward
Vpon desert, and merit! The stately Court
Where men of all degrees, of garbe, and port,
Extant to practise! some for complement
Yet runne at randome from the Element,
Some to make faces, Curtifies, and Congees,
[Page 44] As if they were disjoynted in their knees.
Some meerly study fashions, some paynt
At pleasure making of a divell a Saint.
And some more sacred wits, purer, and fine
That studied nothing but what was divine.
For theres of all trades, like a Mart or Faite,
And thither all so [...]tes of people make repaire.
Retir'd from thence thy [...]leasures tane away
Thou practis▪d gratitude a neerer way.
Zeale to thy God which evermore shall prove
A living Monument of lasting Love.
A hand like harvest, alwayes free, and open.
Affable in lookes, curteously spoken.
In thy Converse the poorest swaine might be
Allow'd all language, open, firme, and free.
An eye, and brow, that never frownd! but when
Grosse appetites predominated men.
A tongue that wisely could with cares dispence
To'th people love, allegeance to his Prince.
Not covetous of Honor, Pompe, or State,
As free from enmity, as love from hate.
Wise in thy countrys cause, yet now, and then
Subject to errours like to other men.
Yet those that knew how faire a treasury
Of goodnesse in thy noble brest did ly,
What all refined sweetnes? well might sweare
Thy rarenes thee proclamd they Muses heire.
Thy noble off-spring still does droope, and groane
Like crazy buldings thou there pillar gone.
Bradley laments thy losse, for there thy name
Long time hath livd in King and countrys fame.
But vaine are stately fabricks, narrow roomes
Will serue to beare us, and our rotten toombes.

On the Lady Greffith Wife to Henry Greffith Baronnet, and daughter of Henry Willoughby Baronnet.

TIs not a sin thus to expostulate,
And aske the causes, why untimely fate
Crops the bladed corne, before 'its eard.
Kills fruite ith blossome, and Lillies new appeard.
But 'tis great pity that these goodly creatures
The braverys, and raritys of natures
Should be untimely by Times Sythe cut downe
Before their perfitenes, and worthes are knowne
Vnto the world, and thereby to deprive
The earth, and Nature of what worthes they give.
If this be sin, and pity, then pale Death,
Ile dare thee to a combat, which whiles breath
Retaines this mansion, till thy fatall dart
Those ould companions soule, and body part,
Shall ne'r be finished: and I know till then
Thy hatred cannot cease to mortall men.
Yet I defie thee, knowing that here tody
Is but a preface to eternity.
Here has thy malice showd it selfe, to steale
That sacred lampe of love, and perfect zeale.
Honors perfection, patterne of Piety
Light unto Grace, Goodnes, Nobility
Was there one riches, which this world did foulde
That in her litle world she did not hould?
Yet rave'nous Tyger thou did'st her annoy
Before she tasted of an earthly joy.
Just in the early Spring-time of her age
Thou sent'st her on her short liv'd pilgrimage.
Hence questionles she did on Cherubs fly
To the great Palace of eternity.
Where 'mongst the Hierarchies she sings in partes,
[Page 46] Joyes inexpessible by men, or artes.
But that's no thanks to death; for the best will
Thou hast in doing well, is doing ill.
And how can that be good; since theres a text.
Divinely contradicts it, and has annext
Curses unto it! but I waste my breath
The law has limits (none must kill save Death.)
Thy sting oh Death, thy cruell sting I say,
Destroid this goodly parragon of May:
This lovely Juni'an Rose that did display
Those Cretan spices sweeter nor the day,
Those sacred leaves of honour, lampes of love,
Which made pale Envies selfe her selfe reprove.
Earth held no ric [...]es, which she could not finde,
For she had cabin'd goodnes in her minde,
Yet lent it out still I not on usury
But for th'encrease of goodnes treasury!
Vnsated Caniball I'le raile on still
Although I know th'art limited to kill.
Could not the Earth suffize thee, there to roame
But that thy meager paunch must build a tombe
Robbing a consecrated Temple, thereby
To steale true goodnes sacrilegiously?
Nay to subvert posterities, that's a bane
That will perpetually on thee remaine.
She the faire prop of foure faire goodly towres
Is undermind and falne: but God-like powres
Have left one goodly branch, which spite of thee
May propagate, and make posterity
Vn-numberlesse. so shall Willoughby
In Willoughby beget new heraldraie:
And Knowles shall tell thy malice, and I pray
The G [...]ffin may of thee beget the day.
As questionlesse th'All-seer has assignde it,
And t [...]y posterity shall surely finde it.
Then shall the Bird of Pallas change her note
[Page 47] And clutch the Hare out of the Greyhoundes throate,
And the gould Griffin which is foe to none
Still shall innovate this noble union.
The Elephant with his vast truncke shall turne
Those eys to laughter that in sorrowes mourne.
All shall consigne in one, and with this Ave
Caution each other (adsum cave)
Thus great destroyer, know that silly I
Lesse feare thy malice, then did feare to dy
This noble Lady! all have from nature breath,
And all are sure, nought's certainer then death.

On WILLIAM FARRINGTON of Salterstord Esquire March the, 14. 1633.

WILLIAM FARRINGTON

Anagramma

Farwell I am gon.

Which Anagramizde by conversion even, (Farwell. I am gon) from Earth to Heaven.

VVHat Epithete more shall I give
Then for to say thou still dost live?
The Reader saith how may that be?
Does that man live? noe man can see.
I answer thus, all die to live,
Therefore that Epithete i'le give.
I neede not praise thee, goodnes known
Needs no Laudare's. But her own.
I must lament thee 'cause the Earth
Growes barren, and yields no such birth.
Known griefes are dumbe, and such are mine
[Page 48] Thy joyes aboundantly doe shine.
I adde but coale to flaming fuell,
Death has stolne away my jewell.
I dare not wrastle 'gainst harsh fate,
Yet needes must waile thee (though to late.)
Thou wert no wrangling contester
No covetous, poore-molester.
No plodding polititian.
But plainly a right honest man.
Say more that list, more will not I,
Truthes Epitomy here doth lie.

On that worthy woman CASSANDRA POVVTRELL of Westhallam.

THough she be gone, her goodnes, fame, and birth
Left not a second paragon on Earth.
Tis said the Phoenix into ashes flies,
And from her flames another Bird doth rise,
If our Arabian England can affoard
From all her borroughes such another Bird
Weele banish forreigne groves, ours their shall shame
Of thy great worth, Religion, breeding fame.
Where are the Muses? are they all asleepe?
Do they their fathers high holiday keepe?
Have they forgot their nursing mother's gone
Which kept a house as free as Helicon?
Where every thirsty soule might drinke his fill,
And make him apt for the Castalian quill.
True knowledge base ingratitude doth shunne
When learning growes ingrate, the World is done.
Others their fame, and glories gaine by chance,
But she did never her great birth advance
[Page 49] From others names: that worth is profitlesse
That comes by chance, not by vertuousnesse
Hers was inherent, given her from above
Filld with sanctity, piety, and love.
Yet I dare boast, and will not be denide
Shee could say that, few women can beside,
Great Aunt, and Mother to so many Sonnes,
Earles, Lords, and Knights, Vertues companions.
Honourd Countesses, Ladies of great worth,
Our Herraldries cannot the like bring forth.
Greater her honour, could so closely hide
Her noble birth-right, free from thought of pride.
Yet was contented in a pious life
With one sole husband, thou his onely wife.
Thy patience as a Land marke still doth stand
To be a president to this whole Land.
Bless'd with so many children; yet to see
That they should all claime aprecedencie
Of place before thee! but 'tis natures will
Death both the younge, and [...]uld alike doth kill.
Our persons he respects not, natures pay
Is what she lent us (life) at our just day.
Her coate like vertues was un-alterable.
A dy that never staind un-coulourable.
No mortall saw her change, eve'n such her life,
Even such a Maide, a VVidow, and a VVife.
Her garments, and her faith both were one,
Vnchangeable in love, life Religion.
Her charity like to the Queene of heaven
To needy beggers every houre was given
They knew their martes, and where thy well might buy
Sustenance for their meere necessity.
'I was not extended barely at the doore
Where they that ask'd receiv'de, but to the poore
Her neighbours, who sicke in bed ost lay
Through hunger starv'd, almost cast away
[Page 50] For lacke of succor! thither still went shee
While she could goe, and ease their miserie.
Happy Cassandra, Happy thrise I say,
Thy Almse deedes never can be tane away.
One part thou hast, th' other still we have
Bless'd in thy Birth, thy Cradle, Life, Death, and Grave
She had her servants harts, her tenants praise,
And never raisd a rent in all her dayes,
Remarkable signe of goodnesse, this age wantes such,
Tho'ther way they multiply too much.
My Muse wantes not rare matter, but a pen
To crowne her with a Glorious Diadem,
But that shee needes not, for her sacred parts
Have stellifide her 'bove the reach of arts,
Nay I dare bouldly to the world proclaime
Her likewill scarse be found on earth againe.
Her braine a Chronicle, her minde a volume
Her Vertues a pillar her goodnesse a columne
For great ones for to build on! if goodnes rest
In any of thy sexe, 'twas in thy brest.
Shee did not hoorde it there but freely gave
To any one that askt wha [...] they would have.
True patterne of the blessed, so did shee
(Whos ever thirsty was might there drinke free)
Cassandra mournd to see Troyes misery,
Thy Troy, Cassandra, now does mourne for thee.
And yet those honor'd Branches left behinde
Will ever imitate thy nobler minde.

On Mrs. ELIZABETH WOODVVARD Wife of THOMAS WOODVVARD Esquire.

THy Countries losse, and griefe of minde,
The [...]ame mans hands, eyes of the blinde,
[Page 51] The widowes joyes, and cure for griefe,
The Tennants harts-ease, and reliefe.
Thou Growne of women, and good dayes,
The fatherlesse, and orphants praise,
Thou that inspight of death did'st live
To praise his name, that long did give
Thee being! think st thou that thy name
Though dead is gone? no 'tis the same
It was, and ne [...] shall wast away
Till all dissolves, and Time decay.
Thou mappe of women and good name,
Sleepe on with Time; rest still with fame,
Thou which most Scriptures had [...]st by hart
Now hast it for thy better part.
Marble empounded converts to dust
Thy memory can never rust.
Who 'ere thou be that vewes this herse,
And with a sad eye reads this herse,
Know underneath this clod doth ly
Eliza of bless'd memory,
Zealous in life, happy in daies,
Worth all mens loves, and Angells praise.

On Sir HENRY SHERLEY of STAVNTON Baronnet buried at Breedon in Leicester shire.

VVHy who would thinke it, say the passers by,
That underneath this Marbled stone should ly
So rich a treasurie? can so small Earth
Containe a spirit of so great a birth?
Can such a slender hill keepe in command
Him that could tread o're leagues of his own Land?
Can honour, and worship thus be undertrod
[Page 52] And throwne as reliques, under a poore clod.
Weake is the greatest Prince, and cannot stand
The angry darts, of deaths, commanding hand.
For he that treades o're Kingdomes of his owne,
In some few feet of Earth must be trod downe.
And therefore Sherley, 'twas in vaine for thee
T'oppose the mast [...]r of a monarchie.
Let it suffize thy goodnes shall out-live
All those inveteracies, the world can give,
Thy love thy learning, goodnes, merit, fame,
Shall as preservatives, live in the name
Of thy posterity! and may they shine
In Saint-like goodnes, farre transcending thine.
That to their fathers name they may gaine praise
And centuple their honord mothers dares.
Thus passenger when thou reflects thine eies
Vpon this hill, know that here under lies
Thrice noble Harrie, but all teares are vaine.
Hees seated higher then we yet can gaine.
Waile thou his losse, but still say Death is just
For Sherley is (what all the World once must:)

On that much lamented gentleman Sir HENRY LEIGH of Egginton.

VVHy droope you Muses; have you solely cause
To blame the destinies, whose fatall lawes.
Have wrought privation, from us tane away
Vertues Map! like the Meridian day
In up-right goodnes? I must confesse
Great are your griefes, mine greater, and not lesse.
Rivers lose course, when trilling springs grow dry
Life must decay, when all our vitalls dy.
[Page 53] Yet though our bodies fall, and spirits passe
Our vertues live transparent in the glasse
Of our lives steeradge; though our losse be great
Lend me your aides solemnly to entreat
Of your deere losse, and mine! mine is asmuch
And has like Marble a true N [...]obes touch.
Three things there are indivisibly plast
Which still in order stand; first, mid'st, and last,
These he was all; his parentage goodnes bred
A midst he was nobly educated,
Lastly, he was most zealous to his God,
With lambe-like patience, he did beare his rod.
Attributing Time tardy, 'cause that he
No sooner went to heave'ns felicity.
I heard him sighing say, good God that I
Should languish in this vaile of misery
Seeing so many able, lusty, and strong,
Some powerfull in estates, great yet young.
Some tympani'de with honours, potentates,
Grand Seigneiores, governours of states
That Midas-like with an Elixar touch
Turn'd all to gould they handled (quoth he that such)
As these can dy, and leave this vaile of cares,
And I that loath it, languish still in teares
Because I cannot leave it. love to my God
Hath made my soule, and body fall at od?
And from my dying breath I this impart,
Wishing those ould companions now depart.
Base fortunes goodes, which to their harts men binde
He estimated not! Vertues of the minde
Were his endowments! his purchas'd store
Gave sustenance, and still releiv'd the poore.
With open hand, and hart just like a ashowre
Sent in dry Aprill, so did he freely powre
His bounteons almes! like as the free Sunn
Gives to all earthly things Vegetation
[Page 54] Life, and full growth, shining alike on all
From the lowest brambles to the Cedars tall.
So did his Charitable hand to all expresse,
Where just necessity was, due cheerefulnes.
His garments were for warmth, not wantonnesse,
By which he did humility expresse,
Implying vertue needed no gould lace
To guild his russet coate with; sacred grace
Was his best suite! there did he contemplate,
And in goodnes his soule ingratiate,
Loathing all vanities beneath the Moone,
Which are like shadowes after Sun set downe.
Night, stormy tempests, dangerous heats that fall,
Labour, greise, misery, death the fine of all,
Him he most hated, 'cause he dar'd not venter
And with his pale dart, naile him to the center.
Bringing him to those Moone eclipsed lights.
Where day light ever shines excluding nights.
Where peace, and joy perpetually remaine
Where death nor age, nor any thing is vaine,
Vertue's a castle which hardly can be wonne,
Till Death gives the retrait, and cries be gone.
Or those Erispelas, statuous tumours
By long consumptions bred, purgd ill humours
Subjecting natures strong enforced meane,
Yet then in three things he wishde to be cleane,
Cleane in th'exterior part, cleane in minde
His soule assuredly he cleane did finde.
See what divinity pale weaknes brings.
(Cleane soules delight not in corruptible things.)
But faithles World who shin's most in thy grace
Must expiate, ('tis God and natures race.)
Life like an Autumne leafe shakeing flyes
Now on the Tree it growes, now falls, now dies.
One minute brings us life that minute paine,
One minute brings us death, that life againe.

On the right Honorable H [...]N [...]Y P [...]I [...]POINT Father to the right Honorable ROBERT Earle of Kingston.

VVHat siere thou be, that hap's to cast an eye
Vpon this monument, Know here doth lie
Vertues unparalleld piece! goodnes, grace
Were hand maides to attend him! in his face
In never dying carracts thou mightst reade
How meekenes and humility were displaide.
His charity I neede not here proclaime,
The needy handed by truth speake the same.
In courage Mars, in patience Zephyrs winde
Botl'd not so much sweetnes, calme, and kinde.
Judgements sole ground, his tongue did solely speake
And since hees gone, best judgments are grown weake.
Smooth Plato's stile, and Cicere's Eloquence
Survivde by him, in him they did commence.
For from his lip's such honnyde stile did come
As would make Tully mute, strike Rhetorique dumbe,
Not Ae [...]chilus such wanton laies did sing
As he did heavenly sacred ravishing.
This makes the Muses mourne, 'cause he is fled
And not their tongues alone, but phrase is dead.
Plato held swarmes of Bees! so did not he,
Yet he from Plato gaind the maistery
In his familiar speech! now liv'd those Swans
That of him sung heavenly Io Paeans.
Our latter age for Stile, Sound, Case, and Tense
Of former times would gaine preeminence.
Bounty, Goodnes, Hospitality
The poores friend, Foe to prodigality.
Patience, neighbour-like Love, and all Artes
[Page 56] The Card'nall vertues of the inward partes.
Sweete consolations of all holy mindes
Which like to chaines man to heaven bindes.
All mentall Vertues soveraignes of the soule
He had in hart, and did in minde en-roule
What goodnes man could boast, merit, or raise,
In him th' Epitome was well worthy praise,
And yet he bragd not: ostentation
And his free thoughts were at disunion
Farewell thrice happy Harry, happy hee
That leaves behinde him, such a memorie
Then reader, when thou read'st, and this name heares
On this thou canst not looke without soome teares.

On the worthy Gentleman Sir HENRY A [...]ARD of Fauston, 1635

AS the poore Birde when Summers height resignes
Her high Meridian to the [...]cy signes
VVhich scornefully dart through the watry Clouds,
To see Earths braveries in witherd shroudes.
The silly Larke then to salute the day
Gets upon wing! as though she would assay.
Some cheerefull notes to sing! then beholding
Faire Summer spent, after the cheerefull spring
Downe falls her notes, a cherripping she keepes
Yet knowes not well whether she sings or weepes.
She sings in thought of Summer, but she cries
To thinke of Winters [...]ragicke miseries.
In this extreame, all mourne for thy depart
That living knew thee (though now dead thou art.)
Muse thou hast had much worke, but now thy Pen
Hath found a subject worth a Diadem.
Two noble Heuries worthes thou late didst sing
[Page 57] This third deserves thy best of sonnetting.
Sad fate it proves to us, when as your eyes
From comicke streines sing tragicke Elegies.
Yet though we cannot contradict the Fates
In spight of them, we can bewaile our states.
Methinkes I heare the neighbour habiting groves
Where with shrill bugles he did chant their loves,
In piteous order say! who now shall guide
Or man our harmelesse heards from being destroyde?
The brawny Oake, growne Ash, the Elme, and Yewe.
In this sad season quite have lost their hue.
Their mountant armes like hunts-men alwaies seene
Apparelled in Summers livery greene,
Looke not like July, but Septembers wane,
When every flowre from Tellus brests are tane?
Thus every signe contrariously does goe
Prefiguring calamity, and woe.
Whence growes the cause, why nature had assignd
Thy losse deare Agard, by them thus divin'd,
Yet th'art not lost, thy one part lives on Earth
Thy other in Elizium has new birth
For thy unparalleld goodnes needes must stand
As a remarkeable mirrour to this Land.
Let gentiles view their faces there, they'le finde
An un-faind purity, an up-right minde,
A conscience never went without a feast,
A happy burthen for a troubled brest.
A brow that never frownd upon the poore
But where necessity was, there went his store.
His fleece was apt for clothing, and his purse
Was ever open to the Orphants nurse.
And since we are dissecting, let his ese
Stand for a patterne of humility.
Where he himselfe annua'ly did read
Those principals that now last, though hee's dead.
His hands bore justice scales, his countries cause
[Page 58] Ev'nly he manadged by her just lawes.
Not sparing greatnes feareing power, or might.
But scorning favour did to all men right.
The scales of justice here he carride even,
And questionles hee findes them now in heaven.
For upright justice is the path that bringes
Man to the presence of the Kinge of Kinges.
He [...]uilyes Motto every morne did scan,
(None feedes on justice, but the upright man)
He serv'd our Soveraigne James, our lawrell, Kinge
[...]ke him that did our Israell [...] gloryes sing.
He Knight-hood gave him for his Zeale, Love, Truth.
And dignifi'd him in his prime of youth.
Honors doe seldome come without desert
For time makes vice, or Vertue most apert.
Truth like a Columne does the one support,
Time Lawier-like does the other court.
His Love, Zeale, Goodnes, Truth, Piety,
Strong creditors with Soveraignity.
So pleas'd our glorious King, Charles of same
For to investe on him, a servants name.
In his new fabrick! in which mystery
He ended life in great Tranquillity.
Which [...]bury the house of Lan [...]aster,
And Iohn of Gauntes! shall evermore ever [...]
Not coveting honour for the Agardes names,
But it perpetuating to their fames.
Muse thou art in a Lab'riuth' an Maze
His Vertues questionles thy spirits daze.
For thou hast lost thy supine major part.
Th'unbounded, boundlesse goodnes of his heart.
There Vertue kept her seat! Apolles line
In his contention was not halfe so fine.
So true refined, and so full of grace,
The Carde'nall Vertues there strove for a place.
Thrice happy he that liveing loveing dyes,
[Page 59] When Vertue strives for due preeminencies.
This Maxime to his age even from his youth
He did prefer, (friendship goes still with truth)
Reguardlesse of a t [...]e friendes small offence,
True friendship aimes at perfect eminence,
Those Centryes where thou liv'dst doe blazon forth
Thou liveing had'st their harts, now dead thy worth
Lives still with them! that time cannot decay
Till all dissolves, and time sweepes all away.
Thou liv'dst in peace, and so dide; and like thee
May all men goe to true Eternitie.

On the same.

IF Marble monuments tell to future daies
Th' [...]habiters good deedes, glories, honour, praise,
Why should not thine say something since in thee
Goodnes rests to perpe [...]e?
Thou had'st a schollers knowledge, and best parts
And liv'dst sole M [...]. of the liberall Arts
Thy goodnes needs hoe testate, for thy deedes
Like a true Gard'ner, rooted [...] ill weedes,
Leaving the supple plantes; Herbes, and Flowers,
Befiting coronets of vertues bowres.
No tribulations ever shooke thy brest
Patience did evermore support thy creste.
Resolvde on that ould S [...]crates did sing
(Meekenes 'is the greatst. Trophe of a King)
Where power wantes, there E [...]y son'st is knowne,
But where thine lay thy mercy was most showne.
Thy love, charity, liberality,
Were all express'd in true humility.
The just mans merits by his deudes are sound
[Page 60] The bad mans are like waters cast on ground.
Thy life unspotted was, thy end as cleare
As Jupiters in his ascendant spheare.
The Romans when their famous Consulls dide
Petitioned their Oracles to divide
Their goodnes 'mongst their kindred! so may thine,
By that meanes they will all be made divine.
Wert not a sin to wish, we should desire
Aectias Botles, againe for to inspire
Fresh life? 'tis said that they are stuff'd with breath.
But theres no conqueror comes after death.
Ould Faussons joy farewell, for there thy name
Shall last as long as honour, time, or fame.
To thy dead Herse thy honourd friend this gives,
That love is firmest after death still lives.

On the pattern of modesty ELIZA: TEVERY daughter of GERVASE TEVERY of Staplefoord Esquire.

VVHy did the Lilly, Paunce, and Violet weepe
The Marigold ere Sun-set in did creepe
At whose refiexion she us'd for to rise
And at his way-gate to close up her eies.
Why were the beaten waies with flowers strovvne
And set with needy Lazars, hanging downe
Their mournefull heades? why did the Pulpit mourne
At if prepared for some Funerall urne,
And yet the Temple was with garlands hung
Of swee [...] smelling Flowers, which might belong
Vnto some bridall! not! heaven knowes the cause
T'was otherwise decreed in Natures Lawes.
Those smelling sweetes with which our sense was fed
[Page 61] Were for the buriall of a maiden-head.
Which made an Antumne just in the mid-spring,
And all things contrary their birthes to bring,
Herbs, Plants, and Flowers, contrariously grew
Because they now receiv'd not natures devv,
The needy beggers hung their heads for thee
Thou matchlesse Map of maiden modesty.
From whose faire handes they had an almners pay
As often as they met thee every day.
The sacred Temple, where thy holy fires
Of incense was powr'd on, in chast desires,
Was thus prepard, and deek'd, on every side
To welcome thee, as her sole soveraigne Bride.
Whose goodnes was inimitable, whose vertues shone,
Like to the Sun in his bright Horizon.
The maiden vestalls, that with watry eies
Bore thee to'th Church for Vesta's sacrifize.
Were all in white! carracts of innocence,
Prefiguring thy greater eminence.
So great their losse that with watery eiene
They offer teares still to thy Virgin shrine,
And if that teares; sighes, or prai [...]es could save thee
What would not they expresse now to have thee?
Sacred divinity allowes of no such wish.
Therefore emparadie'd soule rest thou in blisse.
Thy neighbours- [...]d a share in thy great fall,
But most thy parents in thy funerall.
Vnparallel'd piece farewell! ther's no Grace
But was transparent in thy maiden face.
And when thy Virgin blushes did appeare
They show'd like Phoebus in our hem [...]phere.
Or like the [...]ofie blushes of the morne
When he th' enameld Zodiacke does adorne.
Her tender yeeres were free from hatefull pride.
Nor were her lookes with red-look'd anger dy'd.
She had with Martha a most zealous hart
[Page 62] But did with Mary choose the better part.
Her losse was piteous, yet lesse to be wailde
Since she on Cherubins high heaven scalde.
Where 'mongst the Hierarohies she sits, and sings
Sweet Hymenealls with the King of Kings.

On ould JOHN CVRS'EN of KEDLESTON Esquire.

IOHN CVRSON.

Anagramma.

So I runne on.

IOHN CVRSONE.

Anagramma.

Honour is sure.

Which Anagrammi [...]de thus, 'tis cleere, and pure,
So hee ranne on. His honour now is sure.

On the same.

THy childrens losse, and countries praise
Thou Crowne of age, life, and long daies,
In thee a happines still appeares
That could'st tell o're so many yeeres,
Achilles in thy prime of youth
U [...]sses in thy sager grouth.
Lib rall, yet fiugall, foe to none
Vertues choise companion,
Enrich'd with all her sacred partes
The Muses friend, and nurse of Artes.
Earth use him gently for his fate
Never livde at under-rate
The VVorme, scarse so much goodnes joy'd
Since the great deluge earth annoy'd.
Gone is the hospitable cloake
And where fire was thers now no smoke.
Then that in [...]ll things did'st excell
I wish mee with thee, so farewell.

On that renowned, and Hospitable Gentleman JOHN PALMER of Kegworth Esquire.

SMall briefes containe large matters; and
By some partes the, whole we understand.
Rich Diamonds, though set In lead
Are not for worth lesse valued.
Their sparkleing beauties most are seene
When night would hide them with a Skreene.
Though earth hath hid thee in her womb [...]
Yet thy great worth lives in thy tombe.
Thy goodnes was unparalleld
Thy charity by no [...]e excelld.
Thy bounty learning, love, and name
Are Trophes of thy countries same.
They have more recordes of thee two
For thou did'st that none ells did doe.
The poore man welcome had from thee
Before the rich mans bravery.
He on thy bounteous Table fed
And was with all things cherished.
Nay Palmer-like thou did'st assay
To fetch them in from the high way.
And with thine owne sleece made, and spun
Cover the lame, the blinde, and dumbe.
The Lazar might not starveingly
Thou coverdst his necessity.
The rich might not the poore oppresse
The just mans cause thou didst redresse.
Thy house was made an hospitall
And plenty cride, 'yare welcome all.
The stranger might not thirsty passe
For there was Tempors full brim'd glasse,
[Page 64] Prefiguring his thirsty soule
Might be refresh'd, but not made fowle.
As Zephyrs bottles, such was his minde
Sweet, calme, and free, loveing, and kinde.
Great, pity Death did in a rage
Send Palmer on a pilgrimage,
Nere to returne for in his losse
He Kegworthes sorrow did engrosse.
And yet he left a merry one
Whose worth's inferiour to none
A Patriot of true deserts.
A nursing father to all arts.
All men are Palmers, Pilgrime meeke
He compass'd earth high Heav'n to seeke,
The Saints receiv'd him into blisse;
The earth her Palmer still doth misse
FINIS.

Imprimatur Exaedib. Londin. Sa. Baker.

Apr. 22. 1636.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.