Shepherdesse to sing She blusht and sung while they with words of praise Contend her songs aboue their worth to raise Thus being chear'd with many courteous signes She takes her leaue for now the Sunne declines And hauing driuen home her flocks againe She meets her Loue a simple Shepherd Swaine Yet in the Plaines he had a Poets name For he could Roundelayes and Carols frame Which when his Mistresse sung along the Downes Was thought celestiall Musick by the Clownes Of him she begs that he would raise his mind To paint this Lady whom she found so kind You oft saith she haue in our homely Bow'rs Discours'd of Demi-gods and greater pow'rs For you with Hesiode sleeping learnt to know The race diuine from heau'n to earth below My Deare said he the Nymph whom thou hast seene Most happy is of all that liue betweene This Globe and Cynthia and in high estate Of wealth and beauty hath an equall mate Whose loue hath drawne vncessant teares in floods From Nymphs that haunt the waters and the woods Of Iris to the ground hath bent her bow To steale a kisse and then away to goe Yet all in vaine he no affection knowes But to this Goddesse whom at first he chose Him she enioyes in mutuall bonds of loue Two hearts are taught in one small point to moue Her Father high in honour and descent Commands the Syluans on the Northside Trent He at this time for pleasure and retreate Comes downe from Beluoir his ascending seate To which great Pan had lately honour done For there he lay so did his hopefull Sonne But when this Lord by his accesse desires To grace our Dales he to a house retires Whose walles are water'd with our siluer Brookes And makes the Shepherds proud to view his lookes There in that blessed house you also saw His Lady whose admired vertues draw All hearts to loue her and all tongues inuite To praise that ayre where she vouchsafes her light And for thy further ioy thine eyes were blest To see another Lady in whose brest True Wisedome hath with Bounty equall place As Modesty with Beauty in her face She found me singing Floraes natiue dowres And made me sing before the heau'nly pow'rs For which great fauour till my voice be done I sing of her and her thrice-noble sonne On the Anniuersary day of his Maiesties reigne ouer England March the 24. written at the beginning of his twentieth yeere THe world to morrow celebrates with mirth The ioyfull peace betweene the heau'n earth To day let Britaine praise that rising light Whose titles her diuided parts vnite The time since safety triumph'd ouer feare Is now extended to the twenti'th yeere Thou happy yeere with perfect number blest O slide as smooth and gentle as the rest That when the Sunne dispersing from his head The clouds of Winter on his beauty spred Shall see his Equinoctiall point againe And melt his dusky maske to fruitfull raine He may be loth our Climate to forsake And thence a patterne of such glory take That he would leaue the Zodiake and desire To dwell foreuer with our Northerne fire A thanksgiuing for the deliuerance of our Soueraigne King Iames from a dangerous accident Ianuary 8. O Gracious Maker on whose smiles or frownes Depends the Fate of Scepters and of Crownes Whose hand not onely holds the hearts of Kings But all their steps are shadow'd with thy wings To thee immortall thanks three Sisters giue For sauing him by whose deare life they liue First England crown'd with Roses of the Spring An off'ring like to Abels gift will bring And vowes that she for thee alone will keepe Her fattest Lambes and Fleeces of her sheepe Next Scotland triumphs that she bore and bred This Iles delight and wearing on her head A wreath of Lillies gather'd in the field Presents the Min'rals which her mountaines yeeld Last Ireland like Terpsichore attir'd With neuer-fading Lawrell and inspir'd By true Apollos heat a Paean sings And kindles zealous flames with siluer strings This day a sacrifice of praise requires Our brests are Altars and our ioyes are fires That sacred Head so oft so strangely blest From bloody plots was now O feare deprest Beneath the water and those Sunlike beames Were threat'ned to be quencht in narrow streames Ah! who dare thinke or can indure to heare Of those sad dangers which then seem'd so neare VVhat Pan would haue preferu'd our flocks increase From VVolues VVhat Hermes could with words of peace Cause whetted swords to fall froÌ„ angry hands And shine the Starre of calmes in Christian Lands But Thou whose Eye to hidden depths extends To shew that he was made for glorious ends Hast rays'd him by thine All-commanding arme Not onely safe from death but free from harme To his late Maiesly concerning the true forme of English Poetry GReat King the Sou'raigne Ruler of this Land By whose graue care our hopes securely stand Since you descending from that spacious reach Vouchsafe to be our Master and to teach Your English Poets to direct their lines To mixe their colours and expresse their signes Forgiue my boldnesse that I here present The life of Muses yeelding true content In ponder'd numbers which with ease I try'd When your iudicious rules haue been my guide He makes sweet Musick who in serious lines Light dancing tunes and heauy prose declines When verses like a milky torrent flow They equall temper in the Poet show He paints true formes who with a modest heart Giues lustre to his worke yet couers Art Vneuen swelling is no way to faâ—â—â— But solid ioyning of the perfect frame So that no curious finger there can find The former chinkes or nailes that fastly bind Yet most would haue the knots of stitches seene And holes where men may thrust their hands between On halting feet the ragged Poem goes With Accents neither fitting Verse nor Prose The stile mine care with more contentment fills In Lawyers pleadings or Phisicians bills For though in termes of Art their skill they close And ioy in darksome words as well as those They yet haue perfect sense more pure and cleare Then enuious Muses which sad Garlands weare Of dusky clouds their strange conceits to hide From humane eyes and lest they should be spi'd By some sharpe Oedipus the English Tongue For this their poore ambition suffers wrong In eu'ry Language now in Europe spoke By Nations which the Roman Empire broke The rellish of the Muse consists in rime One verse must meete another like a chime Our Saxon shortnesse hath peculiar grace In choise of words fit for the ending place Which leaue impression in the mind as well As closing sounds of some delightfull bell These must not be with disproportion lame Nor should an Eccho still repeate the same In many changes these may be exprest But those that ioyne most simply run the best Their forme surpassing farre the fetter'd staues Vaine care and needlesse repetition saues These outward ashes keepe those inward
sauage Feudes and shall those lets deface Which keepe the Bordrers from a deare imbrace Both Nations shall in Britaines Royall Crowne Their diffring names the signes of faction drowne The siluer streames which from this Spring increase Bedew all Christian hearts with drops of peace Obserue how hopefull Charles is borne t' asswage The winds that would disturbe this golden age When that great King shall full of glory leaue The earth as base then may this Prince receiue The Diadem without his Fathers wrong May take it late and may possesse it long Aboue all Europes Princes shine thou bright O Gods selected care and mans delight Here gentle sleepe forsooke his clouded browes And full of holy thoughts and pious vowes He kist the ground assoone as he arose When watchfull Digby who among his foes Had wanderd vnsuspected all the night Reports that Richard is prepar'd to fight Long since the King had thought it time to send For trusty Norfolke his vndaunted friend Who hasting from the place of his abode Found at the doore a world of papers strow'd Some would affright him from the Tyrants aide Affirming that his Master was betray'd Some laid before him all those bloody deeds From which a line of sharpe reuenge proceeds With much compassion that so braue a Knight Should serue a Lord against whom Angels fight And others put suspicions in his minde That Richard most obseru'd was most vnkind The Duke awhile these cautious words reuolues With serious thoughts and thus at last resolues â—f all the Campe proue traytors to my Lord Shall spotlesse Norfolke falsisie his word Mine oath is past I swore t'vphold his Crowne And that shall swim or I with it will drowne It is too late now to dispute the right Dare any tongue since Yorke spred forth his light Northumberland or Buckingham defame Two valiant Cliffords Roos or Beaumonts name Because they in the weaker quarrell die They had the King with them and so haue I. But eu'ry eye the face of Richard shunnes For that foule murder of his brothers sonnes Yet lawes of Knighthood gaue me not a sword To strike at him whom all with ioynt accord Haue made my Prince to whom I tribute bring I hate his vices but adore the King Victorious Edward if thy soule can heare Thy seruant Howard I deuoutly sweare That to haue sau'd thy children from that day My hopes on earth should willingly decay Would Glouster then my perfect faith had tryed And made two graues when noble Hastings died This said his troopes he into order drawes Then doubled haste redeemes his former pause So stops the Sayler for a voyage bound When on the Sea he heares the tempests sound Till pressing hunger to remembrance sends That on his course his housholds life depends With this he cleares the doubts that vext his minde And puts his ship to mercy of the winde The Dukes stout presence and couragious lookes Were to the King as falls of sliding brookes Which bring a gentle and delightfull rest To weary eyes with grieuous care opprest He bids that Norfolke and his hopefull sonne Whose rising fame in Armes this day begun Should leade the vantguard for so great command He dares not trust in any other hand The rest he to his owne aduice referres And as the spirit in that body stirres Then putting on his Crowne a fatall signe So offer'd beasts neere death in Garlands shine He rides about the rankes and striues t' inspire Each brest with part of his vnwearied fire To those who had his brothers seruants been And had the wonders of his valour seene He saith My fellow Souldiers though your swords Are sharpe and need not whetting by my words Yet call to minde those many glorious dayes In which we treasur'd vp immortall prayse If when I seru'd I euer fled from foe Fly ye from mine let me be punisht so But if my Father when at first he try'd How all his sonnes could shining blades abide Found me an Eagle whose vndazled eyes Affront the beames which from the steele arise And if I now in action teach the same Know then ye haue but chang'd your Gen'ralls name Be still your selues ye fight against the drosse Of those that oft haue runne from you with losse How many Somersets dissentions brands Haue felt the force of our reuengefull hands From whome this youth as from a princely floud Deriues his best yet not vntainted bloud Haue our assaults made Lancaster to droupe And shall this Welshman with his ragged troupe Subdue the Norman and the Saxon line That onely Merlin may be thought diuine See what a guide these fugitiues haue chose Who bred among the French our ancient foes Forgets the English language and the ground And knowes not what our drums trumpets sound To others minds their willing othes he drawes He tells his iust decrees and healthfull lawes And makes large proffers of his future grace Thus hauing ended with as chearefull face As Nature which his stepdame still was thought Could lend to one without proportion wrought Some with loud shouting make the valleyes ring But most with murmur sigh God saue the King Now carefull Henry sends his seruant Bray To Stanly who accounts it safe to stay And dares not promise lest his haste should bring His sonne to death now pris'ner with the King About the same time Brakenbury came And thus to Stanley saith in Richards name My Lord the King salutes you and commands That to his ayde you bring your ready bands Or else he sweares by him that sits on high Before the armies ioyne your sonne shall die At this the Lord stood like a man that heares The Iudges voyce which condemnation beares Till gath'ring vp his spirits he replies My fellow Hastings death hath made me wise More then my dreame could him for I no more Will trust the tushes of the angry Bore If with my Georges bloud he staine his throne I thanke my God I haue more sonnes then one Yet to secure his life I quiet stand Against the King not lifting vp my hand The Messenger departs of hope deny'd Then noble Stanley taking Bray aside Saith Let my sonne proceede without despaire Assisted by his mothers almes and prayre God will direct both him and me to take Best courses for that blessed womans sake The Earle by this delay was not inclin'd To feare nor anger knowing Stanleyes mind But calling all his chiefe Commanders neare He boldly speakes while they attentiue heare 〈◊〉 is in vaine braue friends to shew the right â—hich we are forc'd to seeke by ciuill fight â—ur swords are brandisht in a noble cause â—o free your Country from a Tyrants iawes â—hat angry Planet What disastrous Signe â—irects Plantagenets afflicted Line â—h was it not enough that mutuall rage 〈◊〉 deadly battels should this race ingage â—ill by their blowes themselues they fewer make And pillers fall which France could neuer shake But must this crooked Monster now be found To lay rough hands on
blocke prepar'd But worthy Ferrers equall portion shar'd Of griefe and terrour which the pris'ner felt His tender eyes in teares of pitty melt And hasting to the King he boldly said My Lord too many bloody staines are laid By enuious tongues vpon your peacefull raigne 〈◊〉 may their malice euer speake in vaine Afford not this aduantage to their spite None should be kill'd to day but in the fight â—our Crowne is strongly fixt your cause is good â—ast not vpon it drops of harmelesse blood His life is nothing yet will dearely cost â—f while you seeke it we perhaps haue lost Occasions of your conquest thither flie Where Rebels arm'd with cursed blades shall die And yeeld in death to your victorious awe Let naked hands be censur'd by the Law â—uch pow'r his speech and seemely action hath â—â— mollifies the Tyrants bloody wrath And he commands that Stranges death be stay'd The noble Youth who was before dismay'd At deaths approching sight now sweetly cleares His cloudy sorrowes and forgets his feares As when a Steare to burning Altars led Expecting fatall blowes to cleaue his head â—s by the Priest for some religious cause Sent backe to liue and now in quiet drawes The open ayre and takes his wonted food And neuer thinkes how neere to death he stood The King though ready yet his march delayd To haue Northumberlands expected ayde To him industrious Ratcliffe swiftly hies But Percy greetes him thus My troubled eyes This night beheld my fathers angry ghost Aduising not to ioyne with Richards host Wilt thou said he so much obscure my shield To beare mine azure Lion in the field With such a Gen'rall Aske him on which side His sword was drawne when I at Towton died When Richard knew that both his hopes were vaine He forward sets with cursing and disdaine And cries Who would not all these Lords detest When Percy changeth like the Moone his crest This speech the heart of noble Ferrers rent He answers Sir though many dare repent That which they cannot now without your wrong And onely grieue they haue been true too long My brest shall neuer beare so foule a staine If any ancient blood in me remaine Which from the Norman Conqu'rours tooke descent It shall be wholly in your seruice spent I will obtaine to day aliue or dead The Crownes that grace a faithfull souldiers head Blest be thy tongue replies the King in thee The strength of all thine Ancestors I see Extending warlike armes for Englands good By thee their heire in valour as in blood But here we leaue the King and must reuiew â—â—ose sonnes of Mars who cruell blades imbrue Riuers sprung from hearts that bloodlesse lie â—nd â—â—aine their shining armes in sanguine die â—â—re valiant Oxford and fierce Norfolke meete â—nd with their speares each other rudely greete â—bout the ayre the shiuerd pieces play â—â—en on their swords their noble hands they lay â—â—d Norfolke first a blow directly guides 〈◊〉 Oxfords head which from his helmet slides â—pon his arme and biting through the steele â—flicts a wound which Vere disdaines to feele 〈◊〉 lifts his fauchion with a threatning grace â—nd hewes the beuer off from Howards face â—his being done he with compassion charm'd â—etires asham'd to strike a man disarm'd 〈◊〉 straight a deadly shaft sent from a bow VVhose Master though farre off the Duke could know â—ntimely brought this combat to an end â—nd pierc'd the braine of Richards constant friend VVhen Oxford saw him sinke his noble soule VVas full of griefe which made him thus condole â—â—rewell true Knight to whom no costly graue â—â—n giue due honour would my teares might saue â—â—ose streames of blood deseruing to be spilt 〈◊〉 better seruice had not Richards guilt â—â—ch heauy weight vpon his fortune laid 〈◊〉 glorious vertues had his sinnes out waigh'd Couragious Talbot had with Surrey met And after many blowes begins to fret That one so young in Armes should thus vnmou'd Resist his strength so oft in warre approu'd And now the Earle beholds his father fall VVhose death like horri'd darkenesse frighted all Some giue themselues as captiues others flie But this young Lion casts his gen'rous eye On Mowbrayes Lion painted in his shield And with that King of beasts repines to yeeld The field saith he in which the Lion stands Is blood and blood I offer to the hands Of daring foes but neuer shall my flight Die blacke my Lion which as yet is white His enemies like cunning Huntsmen striue In binding snares to take their prey aliue VVhile he desires t' expose his naked brest And thinkes the sword that deepest strikes is best Young Howard single with an army fights VVhen mou'd with pitie two renowned Knights Strong Clarindon and valiant Coniers trie To rescue him in which attempt they die For Sauage red with blood of slaughter'd foes Doth them in midst of all his troopes inclose VVhere though the Captaine for their safetie striues Yet baser hands depriue them of their liues Now Surrey fainting scarce his sword can hold VVhich made a common souldier grow so bold To lay rude hands vpon that noble flower Which he disdaigning anger giues him power â—ects his weapon with a nimble round â—â—d sends the Peasants arme to kisse the ground â—â—is done to Talbot he presents his blade â—â—d saith It is not hope of life hath made â—â—is my submission but my strength is spent â—nd some perhaps of villaine blood will vent My weary soule this fauour I demand â—â—at I may die by your victorious hand â—ay God forbid that any of my name Quoth Talbot should put out so bright a flame As burnes in thee braue Youth where thou hast err'd 〈◊〉 was thy fathers fault since he preferr'd Tyrants crowne before the iuster side â—â—e Earle still mindfull of his birth replied wonder Talbot that thy noble hart â—ults on ruines of the vanquisht part 〈◊〉 had the right if now to you it flow â—â—e fortune of your swords hath made it so â—euer will my lucklesse choyce repent â—or can it staine mine honour or descent 〈◊〉 Englands Royall Wreath vpon a stake â—â—ere will I sight and not the place for sake â—nd if the will of God hath so dispos'd â—â—at Richmonds brow be with the Crowne inclos'd â—hall to him or his giue doubtlesse signes â—hat duty in my thoughts not faction shines The earnest souldiers still the chase pursue But their Commanders grieue they should imbrue Their swords in blood which springs froÌ„ English vein The peacefull sound of trumpets them restraines From further slaughter with a milde retreat To rest contented in this first defeate The King intended at his setting out To helpe his Vantguard but a nimble scout Runnes crying Sir I saw not farre from hence Where Richmond houers with a small defence And like one guilty of some heynous ill Is couer'd with the shade of yonder hill The Rauen almost famisht ioyes not more VVhen restlesse billowes tumble to the shore A heape of bodies shipwrackt
brests Not Oratours so much with flowing words Can sway the hearts of men and whet their swords Or blunt them at their pleasure as our straines Whose larger Spheare the Orbe of prose containes Can mens affections lessen or increase And guide their passions whisp'ring warre or peace Tyrtaeus by the vigour of his verse Made Sparta conquer while his lines reherse Her former glory almost then subdude By stronger foes and when the people rude Contend among themselues with mutuall wrongs He tempers discord with his milder songs This poore lame Poet hath an equall praise With Captaines and with States men of his dayes The Muses claime possession in those men Who first aduentur'd with a nimble pen To paint their thoughts in new inuented signes And spoke of Natures workes in numbred lines This happy Art compar'd with plainer wayes Was sooner borne and not so soone decayes She safer stands from times deuouring wrong As better season'd to continue long But as the streames of time still forward flow So Wits more idle and distrustfull grow They yeeld this Fort and cowardly pretend Prose is a castle easier to defend Nor was this change effected in a day But with degrees â—nd by a stealing way They pull the Muses feathers one by one And are not seene till both the wings be gone If man inioying such a precious Mine Esteem'd his nature almost made Diuine When he beheld th' expression of his thought To such a height and Godlike glory brought This change may well his fading ioy confound To see it naked creeping on the ground Yet in the lands that honour'd learnings name Were alwayes some that kept the vestall flame Of pow'rfull Verse on whose increase or end The periods of the soules chiefe raigne depend Now in this Realme I see the golden age Returne to vs whose comming shall asswage Distracting strife and many hearts inspire To gather fewell for this sacred fire On which if you great Prince your eyes will cast And like Fauonius giue a gentle blast The liuely flame shall neuer yeeld to death But gaine immortall spirit by your breath To the Prince IF eu'ry man a little world we name You are a World most like the greatest frame Your loue of Learning spreads your glory farre Lifts you to heau'n and makes you there a Starre In actiue sports and formes of martiall deeds Like Fire and Ayre your nimble courage breeds A rare amazement and a sweet delight To Brittaines who behold so deare a sight Though higher Orbes such glorious signes containe Doe not braue Prince this lower Globe disdaine In pure and fruitfull water we may see Your minde from darkenesse cleare in bounty free And in the steddy resting of the ground Your noble firmenesse to your friend is found For you are still the same and where you loue No absence can your constant mind remoue So goodnesse spreads it selfe with endlesse lines And so the Light in distant places shines He that aduentures of your worth to sing Attempts in vaine to paint a boundlesse thing An Epithalamium vpon the happy marriage of our Soueraigne Lord King Charles and our gracious Lady Queene MARY THe Ocean long contended but in vaine To part our shore from France Let Neptune shake his mace swelling waues aduance The former Vnion now returnes againe This Isle shall once more kisse the Maine Ioyn'd with a flowry bridge of loue on which the Graces dance Leander here no dang'rous iourney takes To touch his Heros hand Our Hellespont with Ships becomes as firme as Land When this sweete Nymph her place of birth forsakes And England signes of welcome makes As many as our gladsome coasts haue little graines of sand That voyce in which the Continent was blest Now to this Iland calls The liuing Woods and Rocks to frame new rising Walls The moouing Hills salute this happy guest The Riuers to her seruice prest Seine into Thames Garonne to Trent and Loire to Seuerne falls This Royall Payre the Bridegroome and the Bride With equall glory shine Both full of sparkling light both sprung from race diuine Their Princely Fathers Europs highest pride The Westerne World did sweetly guide To theÌ„ as Fathers of their Realmes we goldeÌ„ Crownes assigne Great Henry neuer vanquisht in the field Rebellious foes could tame The Wisdome of our James bred terror in his Name So that his proudest Aduersaries yeeld Glad to be guarded with his shield Where Peace with drops of heau'nly dew supprest Dissention flame Our Charles and Mary now their course prepare Like those two greater Lights Which God in midst of Heau'n exalted to our sights To guide our footsteps with perpetuall care Times happy changes to declare The one affoords vs healthfull daies the other quiet nights See how the Planets and each lesser fire Along the Zodiake glide And in this stately traine their offices diuide No Starre remaines exempted from this Quire But all are ioyn'd in one desire To moue as these their wheeles shall turne and rest where thâ—â— abiâ—â— What can these shouts and glit'tring showes portend But neuer fading ioyes The Lords in rich attire the people with their noyse Expresse to what a height their hopes ascend Which like a Circle haue no end Their strength no furious tempests shake nor creeping age destroyeâ— On this foundation we expect to build The Towres of earthly blisse Mirth shall attend on Health and Peace shall plenty kisse The Trees with fruite with Flowres our Gardens fill'd Sweete honey from the leaues distill'd For now Astraeas raigne appeares to be a Tipe of this O may our Children with their rauish't eyes A race of Sonnes behold Whose birth shal change our Ir'n to Siluer Brasse to Gold Proceede white houres that from this stocke may rise Victorious Kings whom Fame shall prize More dearely then all other names within her Booke enroll'd At the end of his Maiesties first yeere Sonnet first YOur Royall Father Iames the Good and Great Proclaim'd in March wheÌ„ first we felt the Spring A World of blisse did to our Iland bring And at his Death he made his yeeres compleate Although three dayes he longer held his seate Then from that houre when he reioyc'd to sing Great Brittaine torne before enioyes a King Who can the periods of the Starres repeate The Sunne who in his annuall circle takes A dayes full quadrant from th' ensuing yeere Repayes it in foure yeeres and equall makes The number of the dayes within his Spheare Iames was our earthly Sunne who call'd to Heau'n Leaues you his Heire to make all fractions eu'n Sonnet second ABout the time when dayes are longer made When nights are warmer the aire more cleare When verdant leaues and fragrant flowers appeare Whose beauty winter had constrained to fade About the time when Gabriels words perswade The blessed Virgin to incline her care And to conceyue that Sonne whom she shall beare Whose death and rising driue away the shade About this time so oft so highly blest By precious gifts
gone and now though much beneath His Coronet is next th' Imperiall Wreath No richer signe his flowry Garland drown's Which shines alone aboue the lesser Crownes This thou inioyd'st as sicke men tedious houres And thought'st of brighter Pearles and fairer flowres And higher Crownes which heau'n for thee reserues When this thy worldly pompe decayes and starues This sacred seruour in thy mind did glow And though supprest with outward state and show Yet at thy death those hind'ring clouds it clear'd And like the lost Sunne to the world appear'd Euen as a strong fire vnder ashes turn'd Which with more force long secretly hath burn'd Breakes forth to be the obiect of our sight Aimes at the Orbe and ioynes his flame with light Vpon his Noble Friend Sir William Skipwith TO frame a man who in those gifts excels Which makes the Country happy where hee dwels We first conceiue what names his Line adorne It kindles vertue to be nobly borne This picture of true Gentry must be grac'd With glitt'ring Iewels round about him plac'd A comely body and a beauteous mind A heart to loue a hand to giue inclin'd A house as free and open as the Ayre A tongue which ioyes in Language sweet and faire Yet can when need requires with courage bold To publike eares his neighbours griefes vnfold All these we neuer more shall find in one And yet all these are clos'd within this stone An Epitaph vpon my deare Brother Francis Beaumont ON Death thy Murd'rer this reuenge I take I slight his terror and iust question make Which of vs two the best precedence haue Mine to this wretched world thine to the graue Thou shouldst haue followd me but death too blame Miscounted yeeres and measur'd age by Fame So dearely hast thou bought thy precious lines Their praise grew swiftly so thy life declines Thy Muse the hearers Queene the Readers loue All eares all hearts but Deaths could please and moue Of my deare Sonne Geruase Beaumont CAn I who haue for others oft compil'd The Songs of Death forget my sweetest child VVhich like a flow'r crusht with a blast is dead And ere full time hangs downe his smiling head Expecting with cleare hope to liue anew Among the Angels fed with heau'nly dew We haue this signe of Ioy that many dayes While on the earth his struggling spirit stayes The name of Iesus in his mouth containes His onely food his sleepe his ease from paines O may that sound be rooted in my mind Of which in him such strong effect I find Deare Lord receiue my Sonne whose winning loue To me was like a friendship farre aboue The course of nature or his tender age Whose lookes could all my bitter griefes asswage Let his pure soule ordain'd seu'n yeeres to be In that fraile body which was part of me Remaine my pledge in heau'n as sent to shew How to this Port at eu'ry step I goe Teares for the death of the truly Honourable the Lord Chandos LEt him whose lines a priuate losse deplore Call them to weepe that neuer wept before My griefe is more audacious giue me one Who eu'ry day hath heard a dying grone The subiect of my verses may suffice To draw new teares from dry and weary eyes We dare not loue a man nor pleasure take In others worth for noble Chandos sake And when we seeke the best with reasons light We feare to wish him longer in our sight Time had increast his vertue and our woe For sorrow gathers weight by comming slow Should him the God of life to life restore Againe we lose him and lament the more If Mortals could a thousand liues renew They were but shades of death which must insue Our gracious God hath fitter bounds assign'd And earthly paines to one short life confin'd Yet when his hand hath quench'd the vitall flame It leaues some cinders of immortall fame At these we blow and like Prometheus striue By such weake sparkes to make dead clay aliue Breath flyes to ayre the body falls to ground And nothing dwels with vs but mournfull sound O might his honor'd Name liue in my Song Reflected as with Ecchoes shrill and strong But when my lines of glorious obiects treate They should rise high because the worke is great No Quill can paint this Lord vnlesse it haue Some tincture from his actions free and braue Yet from this height I must descend againe And like the calme Sea lay my Verses plaine When I describe the smoothnesse of his mind Where reasons chaines rebellious passions bind My Poem must in harmony excell His sweet behauiour and discourse to tell It should be deepe and full of many Arts To teach his wisdome and his happy parts But since I want these graces and despaire To make my Picture like the patterne faire These hasty strokes vnperfect draughts shall stand Expecting life from some more skilfull hand Vpon the vntimely death of the Honourable hopâ—full young Gentleman Edward Stafford Sonne and Heire to the Lord Stafford DEad is the hope of Stafford in whose line So many Dukes and Earles and Barons shine And from this Edwards death his kinred drawes More griefe then mighty Edwards fall could cause For to this House his vertue promist more Then all those great Ones that had gone before No lofty titles can securely frame The happinesse and glory of a Name Bright honours at the point of Noone decay And feele a sad declining like the day But he that from the race of Kings is borne And can their mem'ries with his worth adorne Is farre more blest then those of whom he springs He from aboue the soule of goodnesse brings T' inspire the body of his Noble birth This makes it moue before but liuelesse earth Of such I write who show'd he would haue been Complete in action but we lost him greene We onely saw him crown'd with flowres of hope O that the fruits had giu'n me larger scope And yet the bloomes which on his Herse we strow Surpasse the Cherries and the Grapes that grow In others Gardens Here fresh Roses lie Whose ruddy blushes modest thoughts descry In Flowre-de-luces dide with azure hue His constant loue to heau'nly things we view The spotlesse Lillies shew his pure intent The flaming Marigold his zeale present The purple Violets his Noble minde Degen'rate neuer from his Princely kind And last of all the Hyacinths we throw In which are writ the letters of our woe To the Memory of the Learned and Religious Ferdinando Pulton Esquire AS at a ioyfull Marriage or the birth Of some long wished child or when the earth Yeelds plenteous fruit and makes the Ploughman sing Such is the sound and subiect of my string Ripe age full vertue need no fun'rall Song Here mournefull tunes would Grace Nature wrong VVhy should vaine sorrow follow him with teares VVho shakes off burdens of declining yeeres VVhose thread exceeds the vsuall bounds of life And feeles no stroke of any fatall knife The Destinies enioyne their
wheeles to run Vntill the length of his whole course be spun No enuious cloud obscures his struggling light VVhich sets contented at the point of night Yet this large time no greater profit brings Then eu'ry little moment whence it springs Vnlesse imploy'd in workes deseruing praise Most weare out many yeeres and liue few dayes Time flowes from instants and of these each one Should be esteem'd as if it were alone The shortest space which we so lightly prize VVhen it is comming and before our eyes Let it but slide into th' eternall Maine No Realmes no worlds can purchase it againe Remembrance onely makes the footsteps last VVhen winged Time which fixt the prints is past This he well-knowing all occasions tries T' enrich his owne and others learned eyes This noble end not hope of gaine did draw His minde to trauaile in the knotty Law That was to him by serious labour made A Science which to many is a Trade VVho purchase lands build houses by their tongue And study right that they may practise wrong His bookes were his rich purchases his fees That praise which Fame to painefull works decrees His mem'ry hath a surer ground then theirs VVho trust in stately Tombes or wealthy Heires To the immortall memory of the fairest and most vertuous Lady the Lady Clifton HEr tongue hath ceast to speake which might make dumbe All tongues might stay all Pens all hands benâ—â—â— Yet I must write O that it might haue beene While she had liu'd and had my verses seene Before sad cries deaf'd my vntuned eares When verses flow'd more easily then teares Ah why neglected I to write her prayse And paint her Vertues in those happy dayes Then my now trembling hand and dazled eye Had seldome fail'd hauing the patterne by Or had it err'd or made some strokes amisse For who can portray vertue as it is Art might with Nature haue maintain'd her strife By curious lines to imitate true life But now those Pictures want their liuely grace As after death none can well draw the face We let our friends passe idlely like our time Till they be gone then we see our crime And thinke what worth in them might haue beene known What duties done and what affection showne Vntimely knowledge which so deare doth cost And then beginnes when the thing knowne is lost Yet this cold loue this enuie this neglect Proclaimes vs modest while our due respect To goodnesse is restrain'd by seruile feare Lest to the world it flatt'ry should appeare As if the present houres deseru'd no prayse But age is past whose knowledge onely stayes On that weake prop which memory sustaines Should be the proper subiect of our straines Or as if foolish men asham'd to sing Of Violets and Roses in the Spring Should tarry till the flow'rs were blowne away And till the Muses life and heate decay Then is the fury slak'd the vigour fled As here in mine since it with her was dead Which still may sparkle but shall flame no more Because no time shall her to vs restore Yet may these Sparks thus kindled with her fame Shine brighter and liue longer then some flame Here expectation vrgeth me to tell Her high perfections which the world knew well But they are farre beyond my skill t' vnfold They were poore vertues if they might be told But thou who faine would'st take a gen'rall view Of timely fruites which in this garden grew On all the vertues in mens actions looke Or reade their names writ in some morall booke And summe the number which thou there shalt find So many liu'd and triumph'd in her minde Nor dwelt these Graces in a house obscure But in a Palace faire which might allure The wretch who no respect to vertue bore To loue It for the garments which it wore So that in her the body and the soule Contended which should most adorne the whole O happy Soule for such a body meete How are the firme chaines of that vnion sweete Disseuer'd in the twinkling of an eye And we amaz'd dare aske no reason why But silent think that God is pleas'd to show That he hath workes whose ends we cannot know Let vs then cease to make a vaine request To learne why die the fairest why the best For all these things which mortals hold most deare Most slipp'ry are and yeeld lesse ioy then feare And being lifted high by mens desire Are more perspicuous markes for heau'nly fire And are laid prostrate with the first assault Because our loue makes their desert their fault Then Iustice vs to some amends should mooue For this our fruitelesse nay our hurtfull loue We in their Honour piles of stone erect With their deare Names and worthy prayses deâ—â—â—â— But since those faile their glories we rehearse In better Marble euerlasting verse By which we gather from consuming houres Some parts of them though time the rest deuoures Then if the Muses can forbid to die As we their Priests suppose why may not I Although the least and hoarsest in the quire Cleare beames of blessed immortality inspire To keepe thy blest remembrance euer young Still to be freshly in all Ages sung Or if my worke in this vnable be Yet shall it euer liue vpheld by thee For thou shalt liue though Poems should decay Since Parents teach their Sonnes thy prayse to say And to posterity from hand to hand Conuay it with their blessing and their land Thy quiet rest from death this good deriues Instead of one it giues thee many liues While these lines last thy shadow dwelleth here Thy fame it selfe extendeth eu'ry where In Heau'n our hopes haue plac'd thy better part Thine Image liues in thy sad Husbands heart Who as when he enioy'd thee he was chiefe In loue and comfort so is he now in griefe Vpon the death of the most noble Lord Henry Earle of Southampton 1624. WHen now the life of great Southampton ends His fainting seruants and astonisht friends Stand like so many weeping Marble stones No passage left to vtter sighes or grones And must I first dissolue the bonds of griefe And straine forth words to giue the rest reliefe I will be bold my trembling voyce to trie That his deare Name may not in silence die The world must pardon if my song bee weake In such a case it is enough to speake My verses are not for the present age For what man liues or breathes on Englands stage That knew not braue Southampton in whose sight Most plac'd their day and in his absence night I striue that vnborne Children may conceiue Of what a Iewell angry Fates bereaue This mournefull Kingdome and when heauy woes Oppresse their hearts thinke ours as great as those In what estate shall I him first expresse In youth or age in ioy or in distresse When he was young no ornament of youth Was wanting in him acting that in truth Which Cyrus did in shadow and to men Appear'd like Peleus sonne from Chirons Den While through