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A84145 An elegie and epitapth [sic], upon the Right Honourable the Lord Francis Villars: written by an affectionate servant to his family, kinsman to his person, and prisoner for the same caus this noble lord so bravely dyed in. 1648 (1648) Wing E344; Thomason 669.f.12[99]; ESTC R211010 1,251 1

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An Elegie and Epitapth upon the Right Honourable the Lord FRANCIS VILLARS Written by an affectionate Servant to his Family Kinsman to his person and Prisoner for the same Cause this Noble Lord so bravely dyed in WHat are the crying sins of this our State Which such great losses cannot expiate No sacrifice for sin wee know is good No propitiation can be without blood But if wee mix not teares with blood wee may Spend all our stock of Loyall blood not pay The debts wee owe but still increase the score Let 's adde teares to our blood and sin no more Our thanklesse Kingdom's Antichristian growne Wee cannot broak the Miter nor the Crowne Christ was anointed King and Priest to show What duties wee to God's Anointed owe The people have set up two Idolls now And made a Proclamation all must bow Unto their Idolls which they did create Not God the first a Hydra call'd a State Another Idoll call'd a Presbyt'rie As great a Monster in Divinitie In heaven there is a Monarchie wee know Which is the Type of all these here below So is the Church Christs Monarchie and wee Know all the world was Adams Monarchie Let us then to offended Christ fall downe And begge of him the Miter and the Crowne May prosper still for if these doe not stand Wee loose the strength and glory of our Land How dearely hath this Quarrell England cost How many Loyall Subjects have wee lost This brave Lord who enrich't great Rutland's blood And made that better was before so good Nay did the name of Buckingham sublime Was cut off by our sins scarce neere his prime Why should such Noble blood by such a hand Be shed and guiltlesse blood polute the Land But pardon me there were more hands then one A Squadron joyn'd though he was left alone This Noble Lord so like Great Caesar stood The Earth was scarleted with Loyall blood So have I seene a peale of Axes fell A starely Oake ringing it 's fatall knell With direfull blowes giving it many a wound Such mercie at their hands this brave Lord found They pleas'd themselves as much with every b●ow And wish't that all great Lords might fall just so Looke too t my Lords in time I am afraid The axe unto your root 's alreadie layd They have deserv'd it have abjur'd their King Like those proud Rivers which deny their Spring Besides the head abjur'd doe wee not see They have cut off the Sacred Hierarchie Pray heaven my Lords this Antichristian sin Bring not the Sacrilegious Levellers in I love the King such Levellers I hate Would not have Lords stand next the Chaire of State Ad viatorem STay passer by and pay thy teare To him who lyes entombed here 'T is Villars Buckinghams brave Sonne Who hath this Gole of Honour wonne No Champion at the Olympick Game E're gain'd a greater Stock of Fame No Loyall Subject to his King E're did to grave more Honour bring If thou be'st Loyall thus much know Thou teares to this sad shrine doest owe This Noble Lord dy'd in thy Cause For God his Church his King his Lawes If thou a Covenanter be Then farre more teares are due from thee For those who Covenanters are Ingag'd us in this bloodie Warre And sure no Contract can be good Which must be seal'd with Loyall blood Then like those Meteors travellers call The Indian Spouts let your teares fall No more by drops but raise a Flood Of teares to wash away the blood Aug 4 Printed at LONDON 1648.