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A68543
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Death repeal'd by a thankfull memoriall sent from Christ-Church in Oxford celebrating the noble deserts of the Right Honourable, Paule, late Lord Vis-count Bayning of Sudbury. Who changed his earthly honours Iune the 11. 1638.
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Christ Church (University of Oxford)
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1638
(1638)
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STC 19042; ESTC S113861
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19,163
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56
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Learning He thought no Burden or to know In Theoricke Vertues which He meant to show Nor took 't a Blemish to Nobility To have a Schollar's merited Degree Esteem'd it not sufficient to heare Compleate at home and move but in one Spheare This Nation 's too Contract He does goe o're Laden with Vertues to a Forreigne Shoare Not to exchange for Vice or leave behind To them the qualities of His Vertuous Mind As if He could no Traveller appeare If He return'd the same man He was here But He addes to it all the good France can Call Proper Hers all the Italian Which without Stay so easily He cou'd As if He were by Inspiration good To them He seem'd a Native they would sweate He never was in any part but there He was so perfect without travell we In Him both Kingdomes Vertue here did see Thus fully furnish't with all nature's dowre With Art Experience and Uertue's Power We saw him flourishing but nature here Begins her bounty quite exhaust to feare And being of her lavish store now dry She cuts Him downe full in Felicity Thus the best Fruits just ripe are crop't although Without corruption they might longer grow But let this serve to stop our flowing teares That he dy'd Full Age is not Numerous yeares Nor are they only Old that longest live Perfection and Uertue Fulnesse give THO. ISHAM of Ch. Ch. Vpon the Death of the Lord Viscount BAYNING TO weep one Great and Good t' adorn his Hearse Whose Life was above Chronicle or Verse Requireth those whose fancies could create A subject like to Him as Good and Great These Lines alas they are not meant to give Life to that Name by which themselves must live That Name Which doth employ each tongue each Quill To sing His Praises write his Chronicle BAYNING Whose very sound perfumes the Ayre Commands a Reverence and a listning eare Books were a Guide t' his Youth and Company He thought of them with greater Charity Then those who think them fit to entertaine Only the houres of a hot Sun or Raine When He perus'd great Acts of History His large thoughts did suggest them Prophecy And Types of Him when He the Uertues read And saw himselfe transcrib'd and copied He with a modesty admir'd to find Men so familiar with His Thoughts and Mind Season'd and ballasted with these He then Leaving our Athens went to studie Men. Not like to those who travell to bring home A Fashion or to say they have seene Rome But to observe each State and Policy T' enrich his Mind more then Geography And now returned home when he begun To practise here each Observation While we behold Europes Epitome Of Men in Him of States in 's Family While Charles expects his aid the Realme no lesse Death stops his Glory and our Happinesse But Good Men have liv'd long when e're Fates come Their Age by Vertues not by Yeares we summe SAM IACKSON of Ch. C Vpon the Death of the honourable Lord Viscount BAYNING GReat Lord of Ghosts we sigh not out Thy Fall As only Thine But th' Muses Funerall We weepe our Colledge second Ruines and May Question chiefly Death's erroneous Hand That yet we boast Intents alone an Heape And Breaches only not entitled cheape That Those who entring Srangers here would look Doe Passe ours as a Colledge but mistooke Yet Orphan-like w' are not bereft of All The same that waile share too Thy hastned Fall Thy Piles bequeath'd yet which shall firme and safe With Wolseys stand thy larger Epitaph But we not misse His Gifts alone nor weepe Mercy and Bounty only fallen asleepe We boast no Scutchions nor admire Thy Blood Great Soule but best descent by Learning Good Though Noble mourning not the Losse of Thee As of a man but Vniversitie Who grac'd our Schooles with a Degree All Parts Arriv'd A Breathing System of the Arts. Not like our Silken Heires who only bound Their knowledge in the Sphear of Hauke or Hound And there confin'd limit their scant disourse Know more the Vaulting then the Muses Horse Who if They rescue Time from Cards or Dice To Lance or Sharpes or some such manly Prize Advance Their Lineage raise Their Stock if They But more severely loose the Precious Day He could unriddle each Schoole-knot untie All but Death's sad contrived Fallacie For th' Stroke was Project Here no Siege no Art Of lingring Death or Preface to His Dart No tedious knotty Gout or feverish Drought But all as Soft and Peacefull as His Youth He only slept in Hast as if to Die Had no Departure been but Extasie So gliding we descry a starry Ball Which fâ—om it 's Sphear doth rather Shoot then Fal. Yet Thy short Thread wee 'le not revile nor vexe ' Cause Th' art not imag'd in the Nobler Sexe For such Transcriptions wee 'le not anxious be Where we discover full Maturitie Ripened for Death Thou art Deceas'd not Kill'd Nor is Thy great Name Perish'd but Fulfill'd For what can adde unto the justest Height Who Hopes encrease to Glorie 's perfect Weight To Him that had survei'd all Forreigne parts Extracting not Their Vices but Their Arts Th' Italian Brain not Heate was skil'd from Rheine In Their exactest Manners not Their Vine Their Deepest Mysteries did only reach And Had more Languages then others teach All Worth His Eye He view'd that such a Fall Might share a sorrow Epidemicall FRAN. POWELL of Ch. Ch. Vpon the Death of the Lord Viscount BAYNING DEath's Chambers are enrich't and we may say He did not Kill but Stole This Prize away For th'now pale Mansion where his Soule abode Does make the Coffin precious by it's Load Yet that was but His Drosse search you will find Him at Fifteene a Sophy 's Nonage Mind Made the Schooles boast Him Graduate and 's Wit Writ Him th' reviv'd refined Stagerite And lest the Sophisters might erre in this Granted Platonicke Metempseuchosis And did conclude Maugre their Brains and Books Arts doe not alwaies lie in ill-fac'd looks And th'totred Gowne no longer now should be Held for an Embleme of Philosophy He did adorne the Scarlet which he wore And made them Robes which were but Cloth before Titles were truths in him Young Fair Rich Learn'd No complements but Purchase truly earn'd No Would-be-Wits maintain'd Hee at His Board Nought was in him suspitious but The Lord Yet no Braines cloth'd or Phancy fed Him Hee Rich in Estate as Ingenuitie And might have without doubt of missing it Petition'd for th' Monopoly of Wit To this vast masse of Wealth He had assign'd As ample thoughts no narrow griping Mind Mansions by Industry compos'd not Hands He fed on and devour'd His Books not Lands To whose large Guifts we of this place must owe Since that He thought His Owne He did bestow Thy Volumes nam'd Our Library and We As well for Stones as Bookes indebted be For though no Founder of the place yet must We say thou rays'dst our Buildings out o' th' Dust Thou
but fill the Traine Nor must we Grieve His Titles losse and tell The vainer World that 't was a Great Man Fell T is not enough that we His Birth rehearse And only Write His Armes insteed of Verse Or Steale Notes from His Scutcheon perhaps we Might Mourn Him thus in perfect Heraldry But 't is a Strain too low nor wil't suffice For Epitaph that Here His Lordship Lyes Thus I could be content to Weep His Fame Where nothing else was great besides the Name Whence Learning felt an Exile where That Word Of Vertue sounded Lower then my Lord He whom we sadly Mourne hear this all You Wrapt up in Chaines was Rich in Learning too A Colledge was His Home He did not here Sit still a while and only change His Ayre As some who Iourney hither and are grown But to this Art of wearing a silk Gowne Who ' mongst Their other losse of Time doe still Count the halfe-year thus spent against Their Will Who fain would crosse the Seas think that They Have Travell'd thus far only out o' th' way Nor did he count a Lord in a Degree A Learned Monster of Nobility As if some Envious Fate strove to Maintaine That only Ignorance should wear a Chaine Gold was not all His Treasury We may Reckon His Wealth in more then shining Clay Summe up His Stock of Arts and Knowledge you That prize th' Estate count in His Study too This is the Style of Honour which we boast In Him whose Fame doth still Survive His Ghost Nor quarrell We with Fate for we should wrong His Vertues now to grieve that He Dy'd Young One of His worth is alwaies full of Yeares He Dy'd too soon by nothing but our Teares Ripe Early and prepar'd for Heaven He Had all of Age but the Infirmity He was Religious and Stay'd as One Whom Four-score years thrust to Devotion One of That flowing Charity as if still In ev'ry Guift He did intend a Will How He Bequeath'd His Almes to all so free What ever He Bestowd was Legacy Thus He had Many Heyres and the blest Poore Did only Multiply His Successour But I 'le not summe His Vertues H'embrac't more Then all Philosophy did Talk before They only did Dispute His Life and might Had They known Him been better Skild to Write W. TOWERS of Ch. Ch. Vpon the Death of the Lord Viscount BAYNING VVErt Thou an ancient Corse of a gray head So spent as to be thought run out not dead Had'st Thou endur'd long gowtes or longer rage Of Aches and at last dyed of long age At such a funerall our Teares were lost Where the grave makes not but receives a Ghost Thou when not ripe enough to live didst fall Even when thy Lady might Thee Lady call And like an early spring didst show to th' eye Signes of a fruitfull Autumne and then dye Yet though Thou dy'dst a Blossome we were those Who could foresee Thee blown and judge Thee Rose Thy after life was wrapt up in this bud As in a sprout a faire flower 's understood And as when men file rocks for Iewels th'Ore Shows sparks which would be stones two Ages more So we might say had this young Diamond grown That which now twinkled then had lightning thrown And as rich Exudations sweat from th' Tree Are first soft gumms not toucht would Amber be Or as in th'Indyes men finde wealthy Mould Which the next generation diggs up gold So Thou lack'st but Concoction seaven years more Had made those vertues true Mine which died Ore Nay thou wert Bullion now and we had seen Hadst Thou liv'd longer Masse had Medalls been Thy forwardnesse lackt only stampe and rate Thou wert true silver but uncoyn'd by th' State Which did perceive thy title was as good To honours by thy Hopefulnesse as blood And had'st Thou staid but to be call'd to th'Board The Worthy Man had taken place o th' Lord. Then had we seen from Letters ' mongst us sowne Thy Prince had Embassyes and Counsells mowne When that which Thou Philosophy took'st in Had come forth great Example and Life bin Thy vertues were not lesse because yet greene They might more season'd but not more have been Broader they might have bin shown more sweld Yet had the Leafe not more then th'Ingot held As from a clue Workmen large hangings call Yet all the silke in th' Arras was i th' Ball. In short lives great parts hasten and come quick And where they want roome to be vast are thick Even thy raw promises were perfect lackt Time but to make them aged not exact Vntraveld Thou wert Learned yet the Book In Thee fresh learning from thy Travells took Thou cam'st home sober froÌ„ light Nations France Taught Thee to sit in Councell not to dance Italian Policy Thou brought'st away Yet wert not made more able to betray Their Plots had been made Service and that skill Had been taught to Preserve which us'd to Kill Thy Merit not thy Bowle had made Thee Great No Office had fal'n to Thee by thy Meat Thou didst returne so innocent we could call Nothing Italian but thy Funerall That was so sudden no successours pill Did Pope with more hast then thy surfet kill Prophets translated were so ravish't bate The sense oth'pang thy death was change not fate Had'st Thou bequeath'd us nought thy name had still Bin Legacy t' have bin o th' house was Will And we in thy deare losse think w' are bereft Of more then if Thou had'st us whole heyres left Now since like Wolsey th' art expir'd and gone We only can pay Reverence to thy Stone Which equall to His will this glory winne Thou help'st to Finish what He did Beginne IASPER MAYNE of Ch. Ch. PENELOPE Multùm Deflendi Domini VICECOMITIS BAYNING Relictae Fidelissimae Haec sacro VIvida quae Castos Tibi Flamma accendit Ocellos Accendit illa Conjugis Pectus Tui Et quos Ipsa geris radiantes or be Genarum Hos Ille Flores Moribus gessit suis Quique Tibi Cander totos illuminat Artus Diem per Animum Lucidi sparsit Viri Sic Artus excudit Amor sic pingit Ocellos Sic spectatintus simul scribit Genas Sic Te Te exhausit Coniux Te Teimbibit Vnam Partemque quivis Actus emisit Tui Archetypa Amissam plorabis maesta Tabellam Excripta tanquam posset Imago Mori Quantus erat Coniux certè Tuus integer Ille Vt Quanta Imago est Corporis tota est sui In Te dicatur tantùm hinc Redijsse Maritus Vt Vmbra nocte Corpus unde exît petit Si Vultus si Verba ejus si Basia quaeraes Te Cerne Te Affare Tibi signes Labra In Te splendet adhuc adhuc in Te sonat Ille Amatque vel adhuc Ipsa si Teipsam Ames Cuncta tamen maestum dices habet ista Sepulchrum Annon Sepulchrum Pectus est istud Tuum Sic quod Tudefles in Te spectamus Amoris Solamen hoc est grande dum Quaerit Frui GVIL CARTVVRIGHT ex Aed Ch. Illustrissimo Domino Vicecomiti BAYNING QVuantusque restat Posteris Hic est Ille Alterius Orbis Fama sed Stupor Nostri Vindex Potentum Purpuram Scholis donans Opumque vindex Seque nec Opibus tradens Censum Domare gnarus Frui Partis Impertiendo Gentium videns Ritus Uitiis Sequester Pervigil sui Custos Peregrè profectus tamen Domi semper Interque Mores Exteros Suis vivens Revehens Amorem quem extulit Foris Conjux Non Circinalis iunctior Pedi Pes est Dominus Omnes allevans Gravis Nulli Satur viarum Raptus satur Dotum Aetate justâ vegetus at magis Mente Non plura Merito at Gloriae dari possent Cunctis Dolorem Mortuus facit Vivâ—… Fecit nec Vni Levior incubes Tellus Non Ipse Quenquam Tuque nec Premas Ipsuâ—… Sic Parentat GUIL STOTEVILE ex Aed Ch. To the Right Vertuous and my much Honoured the Lady PENELOPE BAYNING Most Honour'd Madam TO All that hath been said I Eccho am Though with an hoarser Voice return the same But His was Clean and Faire as his Intent And His Performances His Complement Who had more Vertue then deriv'd froÌ„ th'wombe And more Perfections then are writ on 's Tombe Honour such as the King could not bestow Vnlesse his Great Example made him so Who brought froÌ„ Rome as did his Prince froÌ„ Spain Religion and His very selfe againe Here lies That Lord All This who had been more Had time but lent concoction to his Ore Be witnesse ô my Griefe then for I may Now challenge something in Him being Clay What Thoughts what Spirits what InteÌ„ts what Seeds What Acts what CouÌ„sels what Designes what Deeds Are blasted in His fall But least I may Encrease your Night by telling what great Day Would hence have risen let me only beare Sad witnesse that All which you have read here Is modest and His own and though we find His ' State was Vast 't was Narrow'r then His Mind Look then into His Will not Testament And judge not what He Did but what He Meant RICH CHAWORTH of Ch. Ch. FINIS