Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
Text snippets containing the quad
|
ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
|
A08187
|
The three sisters teares Shed at the late solemne funerals of the royall deceased Henry, Prince of Wales, &c. R.N. Oxon.
|
Niccols, Richard, 1584-1616.
|
1613
(1613)
|
STC 18525; ESTC S113235
|
10,952
|
42
|
mee more Then this for him whom dead I doe deplore How can the Nurse but wayle her infant lost Tooke from the breast whom she shall neuer see And of his birth who but my selfe can boast Who was so hopefull when hee went from me That neuer Mother had more hope of childe Alas that of such hopes I am beguild When time at first his birth to light did bring Those three faire twines from whom to vs is giuen All good and vertue that of grace doth spring To rocke his royall Cradell came from heauen And by degrees their graces did bestow As he from leafe and bud to flower did grow His leafe was louely as the spring of day His bud peept forth as doth the bashfull morne His flower began most goodly to display And much this Ilands garden did adorne But death that wilde Boare entered in anon And now his liues leafe bud and flower are gone Not in that gardens plot which we be-hight Of Yorke and Lancaster did euer grow Amongst so many Roses red and white Any Rose-bud that made a fairer show So faire it show'd earth was enui'd to beare it Now therfore heauen doth in her bosome weare it Not all the Forrest of great Albion Did euer any Lordly Lyon know More like then that of his to set vpon That Beast of Rome and all her Pride orethrow And therefore now a place to it is giuen Aboue the Lyon that great starre in heauen If he had liu'd beneath his royall Sire Our Kingly shepheard who with care doth keepe The flocke of Israell from raging Ire Of rauening Wolues that would destroy the sheepe Then then should all our Brittaine borders be As once they were from VVolues secure and free But what so strong or stedfast is whose state Stands vnder heauen built vpon earthly mould That can indure firme is the doome of FATE To Prince and Poore alike to young and old Nor wisedome honour beautie gold or strength To mortall life can adde on day in length VVho that hath eyes but sees the day begunne Peepe forth from East like childe from Mothers wombe And yet in West ere many howers be done Her life and light being lost shee seekes her tombe Hee that sees this vnto himselfe may say Death is not farre my life is like the day For if ought mortall could haue wrought such wonder As to haue bought a little Lease of life Sterne Fate should not so soone haue cut in sunder Our deare dead HENRIES thred with cruell knife Yea many liues could liues preuaile with death Would for his one haue offerd vp their breath But that which grieues a tender Mother most And heapes huge Sorrowes on her mournfull breast When she her deare beloued Sonne hath lost Is now the cause of my mindes most vnrest I was not by to close dead HENRIES eyes When enuious Fates did make his life their prize I that did beare him was too farre away To mourne his dolefull Fate when as hee di'd Death like a Theefe vpon his life did pray And stole him hence to mee it was deni'd Vnto my Lord to speake my last Farewell And bid him sleepe where peace doth euer dwell Yee Sisters three that still in fatall hand The Twist and Spindle of mans life doe hold To whom the power is giuen to command The breath of this or that man vncontroul'd Amongst so many liues why did you chuse That life of his and all the rest refuse Was it to make your dreaded power knowne In him alone to men in Fortunes grace Mongst whom flesh proud by Nature few or none Obserue it in the men of meaner place If so he being spar'd why was not then Your doome decreed against those wretched men Those wretched men of all that liue this day Who vainely thinke themselues then most secure When soothing Sycophants to them doe say They shall not dye but euermore indure Of such may HENRY gone the eyes vnblinde And make them know they must not stay behinde But thus why with ineuitable Fate Doe I dispute why doe I thinke in hart To preordaine the time of finall date And point whom death shall strike with deadly dart Since mortall men such secrets may not know And heauen keepes hid such things from earth below Yet if that any wretch whose cankered brest Is deepely wounded with the deadly sting Of monster Errours foule seauen-headed beast Shall dare to aske why such a hopefull spring In prime of all his youth was taken hence And falsely thinke the cause was his offence Such barking Curres if barking Curres there be That dare in priuate our dead Lyon bite Know that the chiefest cause why wretched we Haue lost in Israell our second light Is their false wicked close commerce with those That are their God their King and countries foes Although I not excuse these impious times VVhich vnto heauen for vengeance daily call For know deere country for thy odious crimes This heauy losse vpon thy head did fall Not that braue Prince though borne with sinfull breath VVith crying crimes did hasten his owne death Then with thy sister England turne from sinne That Heauen may turne her threatfull plagues from thee And blesse thy Soueraignes Charles who doth begin To bud apace and in each grace to be The Image of his Noble Brother dead For whom these teares his Albana doth shed This said the rest in silence she did drowne And sighing from her breast a grieuous groane As if it would haue broke she sat her downe VVith whom her Sisters did lament and mone Vntill the third and youngest vp did rise VVho did expresse her Sorrowes in this wise Cambera IF euer heauen did shed a weeping showre Compassionating things on earth below If earth or any thing therein haue powre T' augment my griefe or adde vnto my woe In my sad passions let them beare a part That these my teares may pierce the worlds hard hart The man that wayles the losse of such a thing Which he hath sought and yet could neuer see which was the life from whence his hopes did spring And findes it dead that man is like to mee Of HENRY dead the garland of my glory Neare seene by mee must be my mournfull story I am the yongest Sister of the three Yet equall to the best of both in fame As in all antique stories men may see And Cambera is my true auncient name So cal'd of Noble Camber Brut's third Sonne When ouer me to raigne hee first begunne And since that time my state oft times cast downe On lowly dust by hand of irefull FATE I neuer had more hope to calme her frowne And rayse againe the glory of my state But death that daily workes this worlds decay With Henries life hath blowne my hopes away Twice thirty times and fiue the radiant Sunne His Inne hath taken with the golden Ram And euery time his yeares iust race hath runne Since any Prince was titl'd by that name VVho then more teares should to this Herse afford Then I for losse of my late liuing LORD The blacke Prince Edward whose victorious Lance Spaines bastard Henry did in battell quell And made blacke daies and bloody fieldes in Fraunce VVhen French King Iohn beneath his valor fell In Henry liu'd for hee againe did rayse My plume forgot which Edward crown'd with praise As when in golden Summer wee doe see A dainty Palme high mounted on the head Of some greene hill to daunce for iollity And shake her tender lockes but new dispread So stood my Estrich plumes on Henries crowne VVauing aloft like ensignes of renowne Had I but seene what fame so high resoundes Had Ludlow with his presence once beene blest Or had his foote steps toucht my borders boundes I should not yeeld vnto my thoughts vnrest But with my Sisters seeke t' appease my ruth VVho did inioy the glory of his youth Then for this losse 'gainst whom shall I complaine To lessen griefe shall heauen appeached be Or death accus'd of wrong that were prophane Our Princes are their subiects and as hee So others shall that are and ere haue beene Like vapors vade and neuer more be seene No no my country thou the blame must haue Thy sinne aboue the cloudes her head did show And there the King of GODS did proudly braue Who for that cause did scourge thee with this woe Which euer beare in thought least at the last Thou feele the smart of that thou thinkst is past Lift vp thine eyes to heauen all prayses giue Seeke with sad teares t' appease IEHOVAHS wrath And that thy Royall DAVID long may liue To try thy cause against that man of Gath Bring downe the length of dayes vpon his head And blesse the partner of his Royall Bed Blesse hopefull CHARLES that we may want no heyre Of his to weare this Kingdomes Diadem Great Heauen looke louely on that louely payre Strike Enuy dead if it but point at them And let their Sunne of IOY be neuer set Though HENRY dead we neuer may forget Thus hauing vtter'd forth her pittious mone She with her Sisters vanished away And left me there in Sorrow all alone At which amaz'd I durst no longer stay Else I did thinke vpon that Royall HERSE To haue left behinde this sad acrostike Verse An EPITAPH Here lyes a Prince that was the Prince of Youth Expert in Arts his age doth seldome know Noble his Nature and the shield of Truth Religions stedfast friend and Errors foe In Vertues wayes hee kept as he begun Euen in that path his Royall Sire had done Parted hee is from vs and yet not gone Rapt vp to heauen his heauenly part there liues In earth his earth lies dead for 't is her owne Name and Renowne the World to him still giues Count this true Parradox if truely read Euer Prince HENRY liues and yet is dead FINIS
still Against the mallice of Proud Ignorance Then to him dead who gaue while he did liue Such grace to you all gracefull glory giue On you disdain'd of golden vanitie He dain'd to looke and knowing sapience To be the Garland of Nobility Did daily seeke your wisedomes influence But he is gone and few doe now remaine That doe not you and all your Arts disdaine Where are the worthies of those antique dayes Who woont their Crownes and Scepters laid aside To girt their conquering browes with sacred Bayes For which their names be now eternized They late did liue in him that now is dead And are with him againe rapt vp in lead For few doe now the sacred Nine esteeme That haue the gift of Mydas golden touch Science diuine a fruitlesse thing they deeme And count the learned base for being such O then let all that learned are lament His losse whose life was learnings ornament And you braue spirits of the warre-Gods traine That loue to beare the bold Bellonaes shield And with your swords eternitie to gaine Delight in battels and in bloodie field Mourne you with vs your Mars hath lost his light And in deaths clouds is now extinguisht quite Who like himselfe is like to looke on you That with an open hand and minde so free Will giue to men of Armes their prayses due Which woont great Brittaines brasen wals to be Now in the Helme the glory of the field Foule spiders still their mansion house may build If death had giuen him leaue to lead you on And guide you through the crimson paths of warre Against the sonnes of strumpet Babilon Or those Philistines that her Champions are You with your swords were like to dig a Tombe Wherein to burie all the Pride of Rome Of Rome that would and will be Monster-head Of all the world who was so holy giuen That she of late with hot deuotion led VVould with one blast haue blowne me vp to heauen Such hot hell-fierd zeale let all times know Since time before the like could neuer show For this had HENRY liu'd to lift his hand To hunt from hence Romes Rats that daily feed Vpon the fat and glory of my land And in my wounded bosome daily breed I by his arme like euer to be strong Vpon the gates of Rome had grau'd this wrong For I did thinke and who but so will thinke Had he but liu'd that neuer in this land A fuller cuppe of glory I should drincke Then that which I did hope from HENRIES hand For twice foure Henries haue beene Lords of mee All which could not show greater hopes then hee Not Edwards battailes when such deeds were done That Cressies and Poiteres were drown'd in blood Nor those of Henry when such fame hee woone That France did stoope and at his mercy stood I did not thinke should be so great in fame As those which hope did promise in his name Him oft though young vpon a war-like steed Like Ioue-borne Perseus mounted I haue seene VVhom with such goodly grace he hath bestrid As Horse and man had but one body beene Teaching him stand stoope stop turne leap and spring Caper curuet pace praunce and trot the ring His riper iudgement in such vnripe yeeres And knowledge in the Theoricke of warre Which as I feare when future ages hears They hardly will beleeue wee may compare To th' ancient Romans whose graue wisedome gaue Rome all her Pride and made the world her slaue As bounteous Heauen with vertues and with arts Th' immortall part of man in him did grace So Nature in constructure of those parts VVhich death too cruell did too soone deface The grace of all good feature gaue to him In euery Muskle member ioynt and limbe A manly sternenesse sat vpon his brow Yet mixed with an aemiable grace The silken blossomes gan to bud but now Vpon his downy chin yet in his face Was seene such iudgement as in age appears How then could death destroy such hopeful yeeres But why doe I like man made out of dust Seeme 'gainst great heauen vaine arguments to frame Nor highest Ioue nor Death haue beene vniust Taking from earth what earth could neuer claime His soule from vs for our foule sinnes complaints Is rapt to heauen to dwell among the Saints Ah wretched England now I turne to thee To sound heauens iudgements in thy sottish eares And if still deafe thou Adder-like wilt be And not be mou'd with pitty of these teares Yet on thy selfe some kinde compassion take Doe not sleepe dead in sinne at last awake Why dost thou hug thy sinnefull selfe as safe In the soft bosome of securefull sloath Dreadlesse of thine owne danger why do'st laugh In face of heauen whose lookes are full of wroth Why dost thou seeke to make thy euill good As vice in vertue should be vnderstood Turne yet deare country turne thee now at last Be mou'd with this late sudden blow from heauen And let these teares still tell thee what is past Least carelesse found a greater blow be giuen For though thy losse be now laid out on beere Forget him not thou canst not finde his peere Except his royall Brother who begins Like hopefull bud to promise goodly fruit For whose deere life repentant of thy sinnes Offer to heauen thy prayers and suppliant suite For now on Charles my hopes transferred be Since Henry dead I neuer more shall see Thus sad shee sigh'd and downe her selfe did throw Euen downe againe vpon the cold hard stone With whom her Sisters as wood-Culuers doe Vpon the bared branch made pitteous mone Vntill at length the second Sister rose And in these words did vtter forth her woes Albana A Mournfull subiect should with mournfull skill Be painted forth in letters fraught with tears then help soone help me to some turtles quil Who for her deare loues losse griefes burthen beares VVhich with sad Sorrowes drops may euer flow That with true Passion thou mayst write my woe Neuer did Turtle mourne on branchlesse bow Her deerest make dead dropping from the tree With more lamenting griefe then I doe now Deere HENRY dead dead HENRY deere to mee For though thou hast my Sisters teares before Yet I haue cause to mourne as much or more To Albion Monarch of this Iland all Till death his life vntimely did exspell VVhen with Alcides on the coast of Gaule Fighting beneath his conquering Club he fell I wretched I the second Daughter am And at the first hight Albana my name Of Noble Abanact Brutes second Sonne I was so nam'd who ouer me did raigne Till slaine in battaile by the barbarous Hume His Brother Locrine did my cause maintaine And on proud HVMBER did reuenge his blood Who drown'd did leaue his name vnto that flood And since that time though wrathfull heau'ns haue frown'd With many a bitter storme vpon my coast Though in the depth of woe I haue beene drown'd For many sonnes whom I haue timelesse lost Yet neuer any griefe did touch