Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
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A13474
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The muses mourning: or funerall sonnets on the death of Iohn Moray Esquire. By Iohn Taylor
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Taylor, John, 1580-1653.
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1615
(1615)
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STC 23775; ESTC S102447
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3,242
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32
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THE MVSES MOVRNING OR FVNERALL SONNETS ON THE DEATH OF IOHN MORAY ESQVIRE BY IOHN TAYLOR To the whole and Entire number of the Noble and Antient name of Morayes Iohn Taylor dedicates these sad Funerall sonnets Sonnet 1. WHen King Corbredus wore the Scottish Crowne The Romaines did the Brittaine land afflict But Corbred ioynd confederate with the Pict By whom Queene Woadaes foes were ouerthrowne The Morayes then to haue their valour knowne Did first the Romaine forces contradict And made them render vp their liues so strict That horse and foote and all were beaten downe Loe thus began the Morayes honour'd Race Of memorable Antient worthy fame And since the fiue and fiftith yeare of Grace In Scotland hath suruiu'd that noble name To whome aliue and to my dead friends hearse In duty heere I consecrate this verse He that is euer obliged to your noble name IOHN TAYLOR Sonnet 2. VVEepe euerlastingly you Nimphs diuine Your very Quintisence is waste and spent Sigh grone and weepe with wofull languishment Dead is the life that made your Glories shine The heau'nly numbers of your Sacred nine He tun'd as an Aetheriall Instrument So sweet as if the Gods did all consent In him their Consort wholy to combine Weepe Muses euerlastingly lament Ecclipsed is your Sire Apolloes shrine Grim Death the life hath from your Champion rent And therefore sigh grone weepe lament and pine And let the Lawrell rot consume and wither Dye Muses and be Tombd with him togither Sonnets 3. FRom two strong Iayles thy corps soul's acquiteâ— The one compact of flesh and blood and bone The other vnrelenting senceles stone By God to one by man to one commited I euer did expect a happie time When thou shouldst shake thy bondage from thy baâ—â—â— I euer hop'd that thy vnwilling crime Would be forgot and thou securde from wracke For this I wishd and prayd both day and night I onely aymde to haue thy body freed But Heau'n beyond my Reason had decreed Soule body both at once to free thee quite Thou in thy life hast past a world of trouble But Death from double Iayles hath freed thee douâ—â—â— Sonnet 4. COrruption Incorruption hath put on Immortall weake mortality is made Earths woe hath gain'd A happy heauenly throne By death life dyes by life deaths force doth fade Though death kill life yet life doth conquer death Death but putts off our Raggs of shame and sinne When for a moment's an eternall breath Life passing through the dore of death doth win This thou well knew'st my much beloued friend And therefore thou didst dare death to his worst But he much busied could not thee attend Or durst not till thy cares thy heart had burst And then the slaue came stealing like a theefe And gainst his will did giue thy woes releefe Sonnet 5. THou Fortunes foot-ball whom she vsd to tosse From wrong to wrong from woe to woe againe From griefe rebounding backe to pinching paine As 't pleasd the blind-fold Dame to blesse or crosse But thou vnmou'd with either gaine or losse Nor ioy or care could vexe thy constant braine Thou smild'st at all her buffets with disdaine And all her fauours thou esteem'dst as drosse Her and her Fauorites thou still didst deeme Iust as they are not as they seeme to be Her Minions all as fooles thou didst esteeme And that 's the cause she would not fauour thee Then since such reckning she of fooles doth make Would thou hadst bene one for her fauours sake Sonnet 6. 'T Is written in the euerliuing word the Rule and Square that men should liue thereby Afflictions are the tuch-stones of the Lord By which he onely doth his seruants trie Then Noble Moray thou hadst many a tuch And still thy patience good and currant prou'd Thy manly cariage in thy griefes were such Which made thee more then much admird and lou'd What yeare what month weeke day or fading houre Wherein some mischiefe did thee not befall Yet had Afflicton ouer thee no power To conquer thee but thou didst conquer all Vnnumbred times thou wast both tucht and tride And in thy makers feare and fauour dide Sonnet 7. WEâ—pe heart weepe eyes weepe my vnable pen In teares of blood of water and of Inke With bread of sorrow and afflictions drinke I liue for I haue lost a man of men Yet heart eyes pen dry vp your teares agen He is not lost he 's rather newly found Enfranchisde from a dolefull theeuish den And with a rich Immortall Crowne is crownd Then heart eyes pen no more with teares be drownd Weepe not for him that doth reioyce for euer Yet this againe my comfort doth confound Hee 's lost to me and I shall finde him neuer Then weepe Muse heart eyes pen lament and weepe My ioyes are buried in eternall sleepe Sonnet 8. SLeepe gentle Spirit in Eternall rest Free from all hart tormenting sorrow sleepe Whilst I doe vent from my care crazed brest Hart-wondring sighs that there their mansion keepe And let my Grones from out that Cauerne deepe With lamentations and cloud cracking thunder And let mine eyes an Innundation weepe Let sighs grones teares make all the world to wonder I meane my little Microcosmo world sigh stormes grone thunder weepe a floud of teares Through eu'ry part of me let griefe be hurld That whosoeuer my lamenting heares May moane with me the cause of this my Ditty Or if not moane with me vouchsafe to pitty Sonnet 9. SInce cursed fates haue fatally decreed To tosse and tumble harmles Innocence And all the crew of Hells Abhortiue breed Haue glutted Enuies maw by lawes defence Yet God whose knowledge knowes the least offence Who all thinges sees with his all-searching eye Doth with his glorious great omnipotence Right wronged wrongs and heares his seruants cry His mercy 's not immur'd within the sky But freely he doth power it downe on earth He with afflictions scorge his sonnes doth try And when he pleases turnes their mone to mirth And though man liues in care and dies in sorrow A heauy euening brings a ioyfull morrow Sonnet 10. VVEll hast thou Run in this thy weary race Well hast thou fought with Sathan hand to hand Th' ast won the Goale and gaind the blessed Land That 's neither limitted with time or place There thou attendest on the throne of Grace There Angells and Archangells sweetly sing Eternall praises to th' eternall King And see the Glorious brightnes of his face All this I doubt not but thou well hast don Not of thy selfe with shamefull sinne poluted But thy Redeemer hath the conquest won And vnto thee the victori's Imputed He paid the score and canceld all thy bands And gaue thee to his blessed Fathers hands Sonnet 11. NOw may you theeuing Poets filch and steale Without controulement breaking Priscians pate For he that whilom could your theft reueale Your Criticke and your Hâ—ppercritickâ— late Now may you cog and lie and sweare and prate And make your idle verses lame and halt For by the powre of Euiternall fate He 's gone that could and would correct each fault But you haue greatest cause to moane his want You sacred heau'nly Sisters three times thrice He from your Gardens could all weeds supplant And replant fruits and flowers of peereles price He kept vnbroake your Numbers Tipes and Tropâ—â— But now hee 's dead dead are your onely hopes Sonnet 12. AS Solon to rich haples Cressus said No man is happy till his life doth end The proofe in thee so plainly is displaid As if he thy Natiuity had kend What mortall miseries could mischeife send But thou therein hast had a treble share As if Calamities their powers should bend To make thy Corps a treasure house of care Yet fell Aduersity thou didst out-dare And valiantly gainst stormes of woe resisted Loue of the world thy minde could not insnare Thou knewst wherein the best of best consisted And as olde Solon said so I agree Death makes men happy as it hath done thee Sonnet 13. NO Monumentall Trophe vertue needes And good Report a marble Tombe out-weares Fame plaies the Harrold and proclaimes mens deeds Herâ— Trump's shrill sound the spacious world heares And such a vniuersall Tombe hast thou Borne on the tops of thousand thousand tongâ— Thy liuing merrit doth thy name allow A Monument for euer which belongs To none but such as whilom was thy selfe Who vsd the world as if they vsd it not And did acknowledge misbegotten pelfe Must like the getters of it Rust and rot And such a liuing Tombe thy Corps inherit A good Report according to thy merrit Sonnet 14. HAd I the skill of Homer Maro Naso Or had I that Admir'd ornated stile Of Petrark or the braue Italian Tasso I could not ouermuch thy praise compile But as I am Alas and woe the while A poore vnlearned silly simple swaine At whose attempt the world with scorne will smile And flout 〈◊〉 th'unshapen issue of my braine But duty bids me launch into this Maine Though my performance be but weake of store Yet worthy mindes this goodnes doth retaine Not to despise the seruice of the poore I lou'd him liuing and my loue to show My least and last poore loue I heere bestow