Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
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A16948
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Funerall elegies vpon the most lamentable and vntimely death of the thrice illustrious Prince Henry, Prince of VVales, &c. By R.A.
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Allyne, Robert.
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1613
(1613)
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STC 384; ESTC S104377
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6,508
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14
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Phisnom'e cannot wrong informe What though thy yeres do promise what they owe not Yet more then they haue promis'd they 'le performe And ô would God I might but liue to see That hope effect'd which all conceiue of thee That yet our Barbarous en'mies in the East Within the Empire of old Babilon And that proud misticke Babell in the Weast That holdes the cup of fornication By whose vile dregs the Kings on earth are drunke May be in deepe of darke confusion sunke How shin'd great Brittaines Lampes of late so cleere Like Planets in their opposite aspects While Fathers rayes vpon his sonne did peere Resuming splendor from his sonnes reflects Which glorious lights the world did late admire Reciprocating betwixt the sonne and sire Lending and borrowing from each others light As Phoebus throwes his rayes vpon the Moone Who represents his person in the night Then yeilds her splendor when her course is done To him from whome shee borrow'd all her glore Yet lost no light by her but gain'd the more No more the great Apollo of this I le Did loose his light jmparting't to his sonne But gain'd a greater glorie all the while While all redoubled backe againe did runne By Rayes of which reciprocating light This Ile had alwaies day and knew no night Till death by interposing his darke hand Did intercept those beames and holde them backe Which spred a darke ecclipse o're all this land And chang'd all brightnes in Cimmerian blacke By those great Luminaries dire defects Portending most prodigious effects Which God averte and turne vpon our foes Least doubtlesse this small I le at length become A boundlesse continent of endlesse woes Reaping the juste desert of threatned dome Since Gods long suffring is at length out-runne Whose judgements at his owne house are begunne God graunt our sinnes procure no greater wrath Vppon our heads but that wee once may turne To true repentance by a lively fayth And for our many sinnes sincerely mourne That God may in his mercie yet restore This darkened Iland to her former glore And in the person of our tender Prince Renew those lampes of discontinued light Which haue beene droun'd in darkenes ever since That worthy Prince did bid the world goodnight Let never this small Ile while heavens remaine Be dark'd with such a dire eclipse againe And though the bravest branch be cut away Yet seat the roote most stedfast in his place To shine from Thames and Trent to Forth and Tay Eternall in his never ruin'd race From whence while earth indures may still be one To rule th' vnited Ile of Athâ—â—â— So long as Tay and Forth and Trâ—â—â— and Thames Irrignates this I le with christ all streames ¶ In Effigiem Principis SWeet senslesse stone that sensibly expresseth A Princes person in his mortall daies So artificiall that each one confesseth The Caruers curious paines deserueth praise That one small sparkle of Promethean fire Might make thy breathles body moue and spire That since th' immortall substance of his soule Hath gain'd by death an everlasting crowne And endles fame his vertues doth enroâ—de In registers of never dark'd renowne His earthly parts which onely mortall bee May liue and be immortaliz'de in thee That no part of so great a worth should perish But all be cloth'd with incorruption Whose soule bones vertues heavens art fame do cherish Against death rottennes and obliuion While either heavens or arte or fame shall liue No part of those three parts shall not surviue While thou pure marble shalt possesse a place Amongst the best of English Potentates And with thy Princely presence there shalt grace The glorious crew of great Plantagenets Where Henries Edwards Richards still surviue In Marble bodies as they seem'd aliue Why then thogh art can saue from earth's corruption The earth 's owne body which is due to wormes Yet cannot so paint out the Soules perfection A greater taske then Painters art performes To braue oblivion with his memorie Concernes the sacred art of Poetrie And ô would God some Orpheus might arise Whose pow'rfull verse did moue deafe Rockes to heare him While Beasts and Birds and Stones and Plants and Trees And Nymphs and Fawnes came thronging to be neare him Let such a one in golden lynes set forth The jmage of his soules admired worth If gazers swarme about his picture so To marke the sweet resemblance of his face What troupes what worlds of men should seeke to know A mirror of his vertues and his grace While one amongst the rest that viewd his toombe Distilling teares should thus the rest informe Heere lyes but Ah how can hee lye so low Who living still aspired to be high Yet heere he lies and doth his soule also No sure it mounts jmmortall th'rough the skie Heere lyes why then where are his vertues gone And are those too in toomb'de within this stone Once more heere lyes the body of a Prince Whome nature grace'd with such divine perfection That all that e're were borne before or since Did choose him for their chiefe by rare election Famous for learning valor wisedome worth Royall by vertue beauty bounty birth Whose childhood promis'de greater hope of praise Then ever Prince attained in his time Whose vertues made the fame of former dayes Obscured in the springtide of his prime Till nature doubting so great grouth in strength Should haue surpasde even natures selfe at length Did cut him off by death before his day Who even in dying triumph'de o're that elfe Ah whither am I carri'd heere I le stay Least following him too farre I loose my selfe Sith mortall pennes vnworthy are to write And too too base to treat a theame so great Sweet bones within your toombe rest still in store Till God rejoine you to the soule in glore Epitaphium Two Kingdomes strone for Intrest in one Prince Heauens claim'd me from them both and reft me hence Scotland my Cradle England hath my Horse The Heauens my Soule my Vertues liue in verse 2. I liv'd three Kingdomes hope foes terror Parents life I di'de their dearest losse their Ioy their endles griefe To the Kings most excellent Maiestie GReat mightie Monarch of this mourning Ile Whose griefe is ours or ours is thine or rather Both waile but one griefe in a diff'rent stile Thou mourning for a Sonne we for a Father Yet all but one who both was borne to bee A Sire to vs but first a Sonne to thee Our blisse our bale is borrowed but from thine For when thou weep'st then we are drown'd in teares And when some signes of joy beginne to shine In thy bright lookes then mirth in vs appeares Not swerving once from thee in this nor that As if vpon thy brow we read our fate Then if thou tenders as no doubt thou does Our weale great King lament his death no more Who cannot die and then we cannot choose But doe the same that thou hast done before Looke on thy living Sonne and thou shalt see A
TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPfull Sir Thomas Erskene Knight Gentleman of the late Princes privie Chamber * ⎠* THose timelesse teares on his vntimely fall Who in his time bred solace to vs all If ought that 's worth the reading therein be Duetie should bid me dedicate to thee But since there 's nought but sighes and teares and grones Nor halfe so much of those as fits our moanes And yet such as they are I doe not see To whome they rather do belong then thee Then thee whose intrest in his life was most And hath by death so deare a Master lost As time 's vnable to produce his Peere Nor euer did nor euer shall I feare For whome I sigh'd out those disorder'd grones For Mourners keepe no methode in their mones But as the passion is conceau'd in thought Abruptly so into the world'tis brought Mourning 's a naturall motion in the heart And scornes to be reform'd by rules of Art Then worthy Knight such as they are receaue them For were they better none but thou should haue them And when my mourning muse shall change anew This sable habite in a brighter hew I 'le vrge my vtmost vaine to bring to light Some worke more worthy of your Worships sight Your Worships assured to command ROBERT ALLYNE FVNERALL ELEGIES vpon the most lamentable death of the thrice illustrious Prince Henrie Prince of Wales c. EBbe channels roare deepe streames in silence runne Small woes haue words but mightie cares be mute Speach can expresse some shallow mourners mone But dare not vndertake deepe forrows fute Onelie salt teares and windie sighs disclose Some airie vapours of our warrie woes Immortall springs of in-exhausted teares Shall haue their moysture first exhausted drie Eolian winds which from darke caues appeares Shall sigh out all their substance in the skie Before they can lament his losse too much Who dying left not earth another such What cannot eloquence by sweet detection Make most profoundly in our sences sinke Having attainde such exquisite perfection As to expresse more then the heart can thinke Yet neither tong nor mind can speake nor meane The halfe of halfe the losse which we sustaine Why should deepe cares be skanted thus in speach Why should not worlds of words attend our woes Which might to th' earths remotest borders stretch To pierce the flintie breasts of proudest foes Whence floods of teares might gush to mourne his fall Whose deare example doth concerne vs all Who while his Father rulde this mighty land With heavenly wisedome is our Supreame head He might haue beene vnto that head a hand His forces through another world to lead Whose glorious conquests in the continent The glory of our Iland might augment While his victorious Father heere at home Rulde his proceedings by diuine directions Till both made famous by the fall of Rome Had been admired for the earthes perfections Ah then could death haue never com'd too soone Nor halfe those teare beene spent vppon his toombe But in the golden morning of his age To be bereft by death before his time Whom nature had but showne as on a stage To be so much admired in his prime Least if hee had attain'd to further fame The worldes foure Monarchies had lost their name That wee by building vp our hopes too hie Might bejng frustrate catch the deeper fall Whome nature now beginning to envy Would turne our painted joyes to bitter gall Permitting that braue Prince t'approch no nearer That after death his losse might bee the dearer Blind touchles tasteles deafe and senceles snake Where were thy eyes thy eares thy sences gone O t is too true when thou those wounds did make Nor eyes nor eares nor sences thou hadst none For if thou hadst ah cruellest of vipers His fall had ne're bred such a world of weepers Hadst thou but seeene how braue he rulde his stead With what a whirle-wind hee did shake his speare With what a Princely grace hee bare his head What Majestie did in his lookes appeare The least of those if thou hadst eyes to see Had throwne the forceles dart from trembling thee Hadst thou vngentle elfe had eares to heare him In modest manly speach his mind disclose Thy fatall dart had ne're had force to deare him Or if smell touch or tast or all of those Or any of them all could thee withstand Thy steele had sure falne harmeles from thy hand Either thou mean'st to throw all mortalls downe To emptie th' earth beginning at the best Or else all deadly hate in one to crowne And neuer after to annoy the rest Or is there one that rules aboue thy head Who with a thought can strike a mortall dead O sure there is hee for our greevous sinnes Bereft our deerest hope and for our sake God at his owne house judgement oft beginnes The head bejng hurt to make the members quake Whome to containe this I le was all too straight Him heavens thought worthy of a higher seat Of whome may well be said as in the storie Was sayd by Phillip many yeeres before Of his braue Child 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 And true it proou'd but we may say 't much more Not Macedone nor Brittaine but the earth Was all too base to hold so great a birth Go death and mount in victories amaine Disperse thy conquests in a wofull volume Amongst th' insulting sonnes of Ottomaine How Christendome hath lost her chiefest colume Haplie those Paynimes shall applaud the same And raise eternall trophies of thy shame Go dull the eares of Antichristian Rome With sweeter musicke then the earth can yeild Whose Bow'ls did late within her brest consume To see great Brittaines heyre to braue the field Against proud Babell and her champion Spaine T' haue brought the Gospell in request againe Tell thou hast brought to his vntimely toombe One who in time had com'de t' haue worne the crowne Of Brittaine and throwne downe the walles of Rome And layd them leuell with the lowest ground And all that envi'de at great Brittaines blis Shall change their mourning and rejoyce at this But Brittaine shall consume her selfe in teares And bath her wofull face in floods of brine Nor shall the daâ—e of dayes nor monthes nor yeares Confine her griefe vntill by grace diuine Our young succeeding Prince expresse in time The high worth which the world expect'd of him And ô God graunt he may performe no lesse Nay rather may so farre exceed his brother As he in highest gifts of hopefulnesse And Princely vertues did surpasse all other That once great Brittaine and the world may vtter That Henrie dy'de but to admit his better And truely if the eye and brow and face Do not deceiue the sence with false conceites Which beare I know not what Maiestike grace But greater farre then shines in lower states How farre the Lyons lookes exceedes the Lambes So farre thy show braue Prince excelles a mans If these deceiue not as indeed they do not These rules of