AN ELEGIE, On the most Barbarous,Vnparallel'd, Vnsouldiery, Murder,
Committed at COLCHESTER, upon the persons of the two most incomparable, Sir CHARLES LUCAS, AND Sir GEORGE LISLE.
LONDON. Printed in the Year, 1648. ⟨Sept 28⟩
AN ELEGIE On the most Incomparable, Sir CHARLES LUCAS, and Sir GEORGE LISLE.
THough all the
Trophies Rebels can bring in,
Are but
succesfull guilt, and
prosperous sin:
And each defeat their savage heat can buy,
But
outrage be, and
high-way victory:
Though there be
Juries due for all they've flaine,
And the
just Bar each conquest must
arraigne:
Though what they
Charge, and
vigorous Onset call,
Is down-right,
Stand, Deliver, and that's all:
Though
Forts reduc'd, and
Holds suppress'd by awe,
Here's
S
[...]
[...] Siege, but
Burglary i'th'
Law:
And COLCHESTER it self, in Truth's free scope,
Is no
Towne Taken, but a
Towne Broke ope
That from the Booty gain'd, and wealthy prize,
Not their
renowne, but their
Indictments rise.
Whence they can naught but
Tyburne Triumphs raise,
And
Sessians-Laurell, where the
Hemp's the
Bayes:
Yet they had some Pretext, some Title still,
Though not to
virtue, yet to
generous ill:
And the next Age, by our Records, might say,
They went
well on, though they
mistooke their way.
So
aged Rome ev'n in her
out-lawes shines,
Some lustre gaines ev'n from her
Cataline's.
But ours are
sunke and
falne, have stain'd their Name,
Things
beneath Rebels, bashfull Annals shame.
Traytour! though the wild sound affrights beget,
Though it be
Villaine deep, 'tis
Manly yet:
And in the
Herauldry of Crimes may find
Kin and Allyes 'mongst
Sins of humane kind.
But this
unpattern'd By-blow, base offence,
Must flie disclaim'd, and unaffianc'd hence.
Chain'd and immur'd in un-frequented Cell,
And live an
Anchorite in
Populous Hell.
The stout Besieg'd, whom Force could ne're subdue,
Now long begirt with Foes, and Famine too,
When the last drop lay gasping in the cruse,
And no accession worne supplies renewes,
While clean, and unclean they alike imbarke,
Like the Creations shelter (once) the Arke,
When the exhausted Town defended hears,
'Bove the
distresse of
Troy, though not the
years:
At last they doe subscribe, but leave this Fame,
They knew no
Conquerour, till Hunger came:
So
Tyre yeilds to th'
Pellaean Youth at length,
The purchase of his
patience, not his
strength;
When now dis-abled, they for
rescue come,
To private Shrines, to publique Altars some,
The Victor check'd their
flight, and bade them know,
No
Sanctuary saves like a
just Foe.
But oh the difference 'twixt two Heathens gon,
'Twixt him of old, and Fairfax
Macedon!
In
doubtfull conflict, where the equall day
Smiles fair on both sides, and gives neither sway,
Slaughter may
prudence seem, and
bloud allure,
Since 'tis not then to
kill, but to
secure.
But all
contest laid by, and
steele let go,
To
cull, and
slay! the
Shambles vanquish so.
A
Coward's still
unsafe; but
honour knowes
No other Foe, but him that doth
oppose.
Nor would this blasted act such field afford,
Were't the
Escape or
Heat of some
Rash Sword,
The gastly monster might be then disguis'd,
And savage
Murder sound but
Un-advis'd.
But this was
Tame debate, and was let fall,
Thy
coole result, deliberate Cannibal.
Is this the
Mercy? are we pitied thus?
Had your
Committee-Prisoners such from us?
We grant ten thousand such heap'd in one pile,
Can never poize a
Lucas, or a
Lile:
Yet be the
diff
[...]rence vast, the
change is
true,
And you are pay'd, if those be
deare to you.
If
Aesop's Cock for
Pearle would
Barley get,
Who makes that change is nothing in his debt.
Persons and things are as their
Prizers deem,
Not rated from their
Worth, but our
Esteem.
With
Indians Beads of Glasse 'bove Diamonds go,
The
Traffick's just, because they count them so.
Safe and untouch'd we sent your men in peace,
And must our Bloud requite for their Release?
We not expect Returns in our own way,
For then we must be
Free as well as They.
Yet sure a
full compleat discharge from thrall,
May for
un-injur'd Bondage safely call.
But since no danger in their
Lives remains,
Since shackles scare not, and none awes in chains:
Nay since their
Safety, is their
Purchase now,
And equall Trade will
men for
men allow:
Since their comerce doth on a
levell stand,
And all's but
ware for
ware at strictest hand;
Why then these
crimson streamas, this
Sea of Bloud?
Is there no
Head, no
Spring derives this
Floud?
Yes, a pale hoofe the Ruthlesse mountaine hit,
And rising thence, proclaim'd
Revenge was it.
Revenge is she, that
great incensed Pow'r,
Whose Altars
humane sacrifice devour.
Revenge is
Honour, Justice, Country, Laws;
Your selves at least should have conceal'd this clause.
Say, was that
Scar receiv'd from
Lucas hand,
(That which was once a
Scar, but now a
Brand)
Receiv'd in Fight, when what he then did give
They
Cheek, had sped thy
Heart, but He cry'd,
Live?
Was it a crime thou could'st so not indure,
That
Bloud must balsome it, and his
Life cure?
Hast thou
complexion, lines, or ought to passe
For lesse then Vizour in thy affrighted Glasse?
Then we might prize, not think the damage small,
But waile the losse of
Lady Generall.
But in thy
course, tought visage, home-spun face,
Wounds may
imprint, and
scar, but ne're
disgrace.
Yet know, who muse why
Lisle and
Lucas die,
They fall to
Fairfax injur'd symetry.
That
beauteous feminine Buffe dispatch'd them hence,
That
featur'd Generall,
He Her Excellence.
But, there were
friendship yet in
destinie,
If those who
kill, would but
lend space to die:
Mark then how they are
hudled to their fate,
How the
next Sun would call their murder
late:
To live till morne would seem a
slow Reprieve;
To
respite Death is almost to let
live.
No, they are
posted hence, and
butcher'd go,
E're they can
fansie you can
murder so.
This tyranny alone belongs to you,
To slaughter
Men, and
expectations too.
On to the
Tragick Amphitheater,
And see these
Hero's in the
Bassive War,
Whose fortitude had deep this bottome laid,
The Valiant must
affright, not be
affraid.
E're this, your busie care sweats to digest,
Some that can
ayme, and act the Villains best.
Can single out the
eye, the
braine, the
heart.
(For
Murder now is but their kind of Art)
Know each recesse, and all deaths secret maze,
Which path leads to
Dispatch, which to
Delaies.
With nice
Dissectors they must enter Lists,
And
Naked combate arm'd
Anatomists.
When
Force doth
force, and
Army Army meets,
Where
wounds give
wounds, &
slaughter slaughter greets,
Blind Fortune Fate in her own darknesse wraps,
Our falls are oft not
Courage, but
Mis-haps.
But here the guided ruine none can shun,
Keen death must on, and hath no track but
one.
No Bullet
reaves or
wanders in the dark,
But
unperplex'd designes
one single Mark.
While they i'th threatning storm undaunted rest,
And taketh' whole peal of thunder on their Brest.
To
Gideon's fleece alone the Show'r did flie,
While the
whole World was else untouch'd, and drie.
Thus
Peasants, England's
Worthies veines doe broach,
Who were their
Terror once, now their
Reproach.
Whom to
Subdue, their Foes must first
Betray,
Whom
Fairfax durst
assault no
other way.
Whom
Norwich, Capel, Loughborough, Compton, all
Must see
aveng'd, or in that Justice
fall.
Two of a
matchlesse, yet a
different heat,
A various mingled flame, where both defeat.
LUCAS, possess'd a stout
Majestick fire,
Wound up to a
just pitch, but yet no
high'r.
Not shunning
pride as he his
worth not spi'd,
But making it his
Worth to scorn all
Pride.
Where
Vigorous was
Assisting: to be strong
Inabled not t'
Inflict, but
Shrowd from wrong.
Not
sterne, yet
fit to have
instructed sway,
To make none
Tremble, yet make all
Obay.
LISLE,
Soft ev'n to
tears, yet
stout as
Adamant:
So nature doth
stiffe Rocks 'mongst
Waters plant.
Gentle and
Melting into
Valiant came,
As supplest
Oyle draines in and heightens
Flame.
Slaine in his
Friend, expiring in
his groane;
Tender of all mens
bloud, besides his
owne.
Both were so Peerlesse such, 'twas fit that they
Had not falne this, and yet this onely way.
Vespasian thus when his renown was
full,
And could not adde to his
throng'd Chronicle:
Surpris'd, despises fate, and
Rouzing, cries,
The Valiant falls
Erect, and
Standing, dies.
THE END.