A FVNERAL ELEGY.
THe greatest of the Kingly Race is gone,
Yet with so great a reputation,
Layd in the earth, we cannot say hee's dead,
But as a perfect Diamond set in lead,
(Scorning our foyle) his glories do breake forth,
Worne by his Maker, who best knew his worth:
Yet to our fleshly eyes, there does belong
That which we thinke helps griefe,
a passionat tongue.
Me thinkes I see mens hearts pant in their lips,
" We should not grieue at the bright Sunnes Ecclips
" But that we loue his light. So trauellers stray
Wanting both guide, and conduct of the day:
Nor let vs striue to make this sorrow old,
" For wounds smart most, when that the bloud growes cold.
If Princes thinke that Ceremony meet
To haue their corps imbalm'd to keepe them sweet:
Much more they ought to haue their Fame exprest
In
Homer, though it want
Darius Chest
[Page]To adorne which, in her deserued Throne,
I bring those colours, which
Truth calles her owne.
Nor gaine, nor praise, by my weake lines are sought,
" Loue that's borne free, cannot be hir'd nor bought.
Some great inquisitors in nature say,
Royall and Generous formes, sweetly display
Much of the heauenly vertue, as proceeding
From a pure essence, and elected breeding.
How ere, truth for him thus much doth importune,
His forme, and vertue, both deseru'd his fortune:
For 'tis a question, not decided yet,
Whether his
Mind, or
Fortune were more great.
Me thought I saw him in his right hand weild
A
Caduceus; in th'other
Pallas shield:
His minde quite voyd of ostentation,
His high erected thoughts look't downe vpon
The smiling valley of his fruitfull heart.
Honour and
Curtesie in euery part
Proclaim'd him, and grew louely in each lim,
He well became those vertues which grac'd him.
He spread his bounty with a prouident hand;
And not like those that sow th'ingratefull sand.
His rewards followed reason, nere were plac't
For ostentation, and to make them last,
He was not like the mad and thriftlesse Vine,
That spendeth all her blushes at one time:
Simile.
But, like the
Orange tree, his fruits he bore;
Some gather'd, he had greene▪ and blossomes store.
[Page]Wee hopt much of him, till death made hope erre,
Wee stood as in some spacious Theater
Musing what would become of him; his flight,
Reacht fuch a noble pitch aboue our sight.
Whilst he discretly wise, this rule had wonne,
Not to let fame know his intents, till done.
Men came to his Court as to bright Academies
Of vertue and of valour, all the eies
That feasted at his Princely exercise:
Thought that by day
Mars held his launce, by night
Minerua bore a torch to giue him light.
As once one
Rhodes Pindar reports of old,
Soldiers expected 'twould haue raign'd down gold:
Old husbandmen 1'th Country gan to plant
Lawrell in steed of
Elme, and made their vaunt
Their sons and daughters shold such
Trophies weare
When as the Prince return'd a Conquerer
From Forraine Nations:
The Character of
Edward the blacke Prince.
For men thought his starHad markt him for a iust and glorious war.
And sure his thoughts were ours, he could not reade
Edward the blacke Princes life, but it must breed
A vertuous emulation to haue his name
So lag behind him both in
Time and
Fame.
Hee that like lightning did his force aduance,
And shook to th' Center the whole Realm of
France▪
That of warme bloud open'd so many sluces,
To gather and bring thence sixe
Flower de Luces.
[Page]Who ne're saw feare but in his enemies flight,
Who found weak nūbers conquer arm'd with right,
Who knew his humble shadow spread no more
After a victory then it did before.
Who had his breast instated with the choice
Of vertues, though they made no ambitious noise:
Whose resolution was so fiery still,
It seem'd he knew better to die then kill:
And yet drew Fortune, as the Adamant, Steele,
Seeming t'haue fixt a stay vpon Her wheele.
Who iestingly, would say it was his trade
To fashion death-beds, and hath often made
Horror looke louely, when i'th' fields there lay
Armes and legges, so distracted, one would say
That the dead bodies had no bodies left:
He that of working pulce sicke
France bereft,
Who knew that battailes, not the gaudy show
Of ceremonies, do on Kings bestow
Best Theaters, t'whom naught so tedious as Court
[...]port
That thought all faun's and ventoies of the Court
Ridiculous and loathsome to the shade
Which (in a March) his wauing Ensigne made.
Him did He striue to imitate, and was sorry
Hee did not liue before him, that his glory
Might haue bene his example; to these ends,
Those men that followed him were not by-friends:
[Page]Or letters prefer'd to him: he made choice
In action, not in complementall voice.
And as
Marcellus did two Temples reare
To
Honour and to
Vertue, plac't so neare
They kist; yet none to
Honours got accesse,
But they that past through
Vertues: So to expresse
His VVorthinesse, none got his Countenance
But those whom actuall merite did aduance.
Yet, alas! all his goodnesse lies full low.
O Greatnesse! what shall we compare thee to?
To Giants beasts, or Towers fram'd out of Snow,
Or like wax-guilded Tapers, more for show
Then durance? Thy foundation doth betray
Thy frailty, being builded on such clay.
This shewes the al-controuling power of Fate,
That all our Scepters and our Chaires of State;
Are but glasse-mettall that weare full of spots,
And
[...]hat like new writ Copies, t'auoid blots,
Dust must bee throwne vpon vs: for in him
Our comfort sunke and drown'd learning to swim.
And though he died so late, hee's no more neere
To vs, then they that died three thousand yeare
Before him; onely memory doth keepe
Their
Fame as fresh as his from death or sleepe.
Why should the
Stag or
Rauen liue so long?
And that their age rather should not belong,
[Page]Vnto a righteous
Prince? whose lengthned yeares,
Might assist mens necessities and feares.
Let beasts liue long, and wilde, and still in feare,
The
Turtle Doue neuer out-liues nine yeare.
" Both life and death haue equally exprest
" Of all, the shortest madnesse is the best.
Wee ought not thinke that his great triumphs need,
Our withred taunts, Can our weake praise feed
His memory, which worthily contemnes,
Marble and
Gold and
Orientall Gemmes.
His merits passe our dull inuention,
And now me-thinkes I see him smile vpon
Our fruitlesse tears, bid's vs dispeirce these showers,
And say's his thoughts are farre refin'd from ours.
As
Rome of her beloued
Titus said,
That from the body the bright soule was fled.
For his owne good and their affliction,
On such a broken
Columne we leane on.
And for our selues, not him, let vs lament,
Whose happinesse is growne our punishment.
But surely God gaue this, as an allay,
To the blest vnion of that nuptiall day
VVee hopt, for feare of surfet, thought it meete
To mittigate, since we swell with what is sweete.
And for sad tales, suite griefe, 'tis not amisse
To keepe vs waking, I remember this.
[Page]
Iupiter one some businesse once sent downe
Pleasure vnto the world, that shee might crowne
Mortals with her bright beames, but (her long stay
Exceeding farre the limite of her day.
Such feasts and gifts were numbred to present her,
That shee forgot heauen and the God that sent her,)
Hee cals her thence in thunder, at whose lure,
Shee spreds her wings and to returne more pure:
Leaues her eye-seeded roabe wherein shee's suited,
Fearing that Mortall breath had it polluted.
Sorrow that long had liu'd in banishment,
Tug'd at the oare in
Gallies, and had spent
Both mony and her selfe in Court delaies:
And sadly numbred many of her daies,
By a prison Kalender, though (once she brag'd
She had bene in great mens bosomes:) now all rag'd
Crawl'd with a Tortoise pace or somewhat slower,
Nor found shee any that desired to know her:
Till by good chance, (ill hap for vs) shee found,
Where
Pleasure laid her garment from the ground:
Shee takes it, done's it, and to adde a grace,
To the deformity of her wrinkled face.
An old Court Lady, out of meere compassion,
Now paints it or'e or puts it into fashion,
When straight from
Country, Citty, and from
Court,
Both without wit or number there resort,
[Page]Many to this imposter, all adore
Her haggish false-hood,
Vsurers from their store
Supply her and are cosened,
Citizens buy
Her forged titles, riot and ruine flye,
Spreading their poison vniuersally.
Nor are the bosomes of great
Statesmen free
From her intelligence, who let's them see
Themselues and fortunes in false perspectiues,
Some landed Heires consort her with there wiues,
Who being a baud corrupts their all spent oathes
They haue entertain'd the diuill in
Pleasures cloaths.
And since this cursed maske, which to our cost
Lasts day and night, we haue entirely lost
Pleasure, who from heauen wils vs be aduis'd,
That our false
Pleasure is but
Care disguis'd.
Thus is our hope made frustrate, ô sad ruth!
Death lay in ambush for His glorious
Youth.
And finding him prepar'd was sternely bent,
To change his loue into fell rauishment.
O cruell Tyrant, how canst thou repaire
This ruine? though hereafter thou shouldst spare
All mankind; break thy Dart & Ebon Spade,
Thou canst not cure, this wound, which thou hast made.
Now view his death-bed; and from thence let's meet
In his example our owne winding sheete.
There his humility, setting apart
All titles did retire into his heart.
[Page]O blessed solitarinesse that brings,
The best content, to meane men and to Kings.
Manna their fates, from heauen the
Doue there flies
With
Oliue to the
Arke (a sacrifice
Of Gods appeasement)
Rauens in their beaks
Bring food from heauen, Gods preseruation speaks
Comfort to
Daniel in the Lyons den,
Where contemplation leads vs, happy men
To see God face to face: and such sweete peace
Did he enioy, amongst the various presse,
Of weeping visitants, it seem'd he lay
As Kings at Reuels sit; wisht the crowd away,
The tedious sports done, and himselfe a sleepe,
And in such ioy did all his sences steepe:
As great Accountants (troubled much in mind)
When they heare newes of their
Quietus sign'd.
Neuer found prayers, since they conuerst with death
A sweeter aire to flye in then his breath.
They left in's eyes nothing but glory shining,
And though that sickenesse with her ouerpining
Looke gastly, yet in him it did not so,
He knew the place to which he was to go.
Had larger titles, more triumphant wreathes,
To instate him with; and forth his soule he breaths
Without a sigh; fixing his constant eie,
Vpon his triumph, immortality.
[Page]He was raign'd downe to vs out of heauen, & drew
Life to the spring, yet like a little dew
Quickly drawne thence; so many times miscarries
A Christall glasse whilst that the workeman varries,
The shape i'th' furnace (fixt too much vpon
The curiousnesse of the proporrion)
Yet breakes it ere't be finisht, and yet then
Moulds it anew, and blowes it vp agen,
Exceeds his workemanship and sends it thence,
To kisse the hand and lip of some great Prince.
Or like a dyall broke in wheele or screw,
That's tane in peeces to be made go true.
So to eternity he now shall stand,
New form'd and gloried by the All-working hand.
Slander which hath a large and spacious tongue,
Farre bigger then her mouth to publish wrong.
And yet doth vtter't with so illagrace
Whilst she's a speaking no man sees her face.
That like dogges licke foule vlcers not to draw
Infection from them, butto keepe them raw.
Thogh she oft scrape vp earth frō good mens graus
And wast it in the standishes of slaues,
To throw vpon their inke, shall neuer dare
To approach his Tombe, be shee confin'd as farre
From his sweete reliques as is heauen from hell.
Not witchcraft shall instruct her how to spell
[Page]That barbarons language which shall sound him ill,
Fames lips shall bleed, yet nere her trumpet fill
VVith breath enough, but not in such sicke aire,
As make waste Elegies to his Tombe repaire,
VVith scraps of commendation more base
Then are the ragges they are writ on, ô disgrace:
To nobler Poesie. This brings to light,
Not that they can, but that they cannot write,
Better, they had, nere troubled his sweet trance,
So, silence should haue hid their ignorance:
For hee's a reuerend subiect to be pend
Onely by his sweet
Homer and my frend.
Most sauadge Nations should his death deplore;
VVishing he had set his foot vpon their shore,
Onely to hane made them ciuill. This blacke night
Hath falne vpon's be Natures ouer-sight:
Or while the fatall sister sought to twine
His threed, and keepe it eeuen, she drew it so fine,
It burst. O all compos'd of excellent parts,
Yong, graue
Me
[...]anas of the noble Arts,
VVhose beames shall breake forth from thy hollow Tombe,
Staine the time past, and light the time to come.
O thou that in thy owne praise still wer't mute,
Resembling trees, the more they are tane with fruit,
The more they striue to bow and kisse the ground.
Thou that in quest of man, hast truly found,
[Page]That while men rotten vapours, do persue,
They could not be thy friends, and flatterers too:
That despight all iniustice wouldst haue proued
So iust a
Steward for this Land, and loued
Right for it owne sake: now ô woe the while,
Flet'est dead in teares, like to a mouing lle.
Time was when Churches in the land were thought
Rich Iewel-houses, and this Age hath bought
That time againe, thinke not I faine, go view
Henry the seuenths Chappell, and you'le find it true,
The dust of a rich Diamond's there inshrind
To buy which thence, would begger the
West-Inde.
What a darke night-peece of tempestious weather,
Haue the inraged clouds summon'd together,
As if our loftiest Pallaces should grow
To ruine, since such Highnesse fell so low.
And angry
Neptune makes his Pallace groane,
That the deafe Rockes may Ecco the Lands moane.
Euen senceles things seeme to haue lost their pride,
And looke like that dead month wherein he died,
To cleare which; soone arise that glorious day,
VVhich in her sacred Vnion shall display
Infinite blessings that we all may see,
The like to that of
Virgils golden Tree.
A branch of which being slipt, there freshly grew
Another that did boast like forme and hew.
[Page]And for these worthlesse lines, let it be said,
I hasted, till I had, this tribute paid
Vnto his graue, so let the speede excuse,
The zealous error of my passionate
Muse.
Yet though his praise heere beare so short a wing,
Thames hath more
Swannes, that will his praises sing
In sweeter tunes, bee-pluming his sad Hearce,
And his three fethers, while men liue, or verse.
And by these signes of loue let great men know,
That sweete and generous fauour they bestow
Vpon the
Muses, neuer can be lost:
For they shall liue by them, when all the cost
Of guilded Monuments shall fall to dust,
" They graue in metle that sustaines no rust.
" Their wood yeelds hony and industrious Bees,
" Kills Spiders, and their webs like Irish Trees.
" A Poets pen like a bright Scepter swaies,
"And keepes in awe dead mens dispraise or praise.
Thus tooke He acquittance of all worldly strife,
" The euening showes the day, and death crownes life.
My Impresa to your Lordship, a Swan flying to a Lawrell for shelter; the Mot.
Amor est mihi causa.
FINIS.