HOLLANDI Post-huma A FVNERALL ELEGIE OF KING IAMES WITH A CONGRATVLATORY Salve TO KING CHARLES An Elegie of the Magnanimous HENRY Earle of Oxford A Description of the late great fearefull and and Prodigious Plague and divers other patheticall Poemes Elegies and other Lines on divers subiects The Post-humes of ABRAHAM HOLLAND sometimes of Trinity-Colledge in CAMBRIDGE The Authors EPITAPH made by himselfe CANTABRIGIAE Impensis HENRICI HOLLAND 1626. The Names or Titles of the ensuing ELEGIES c. AN Elegie or some Post-hume teares for King IAMES and A Congratulatorie Salve to King CHARLES An Elegie on the Death of the Magnanimous HENRY Earle of Oxford c. A Poeme written in the late Plague-time to divers the Authors endeered worthy Friends then in the Countrey A Description of the late great and prodigious Plague A Satyricall Poeme against one that did falsly accuse the Author to the late Lord Keeper of a Libell against IOHN OVVENS Monument in Pauls A Poeme of his owne deere Father being Sicke A Poeme to his Friends in his owne sicknesse with a resolution against Death A Letter savouring of Mortification written in the time of the late Visitation of the Plague to his deere Brother H.H. A Confession of his sinnes to God with a testimony of his Faith A metricall Version of part of the 73. Pslame T. C. the Authors endeered friend his poeticall Version of the 91. Psalme A Meditation on the 6. Psalme verse 4. and 5. With some other Meditations in his Sicknesse and a Prayer His Bodies Vale to his best Part. His Epitaph made by himselfe TO THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE AND HIGH-BORNE HEROE GEORGE LORD GORDON EARLE OF ENGIH AND CAPTAINE OF THE GVARDDV-CORPS commonly called IEAN DV-GVARD to his Majestie of FRANCE Sonne and Heire apparant to the most Noble and Valerous the Marquisse of HVNTLEY Right Honourable MY LORD The Author of these Poemes and other Lines my deere Brother being lately Deceased and I loth that his Elaborate workes should die be buried in Oblivion thought good rather to commit them to the Presse And doe make bold to make choise of your Noble Selfe desiring you to deigne the Patronage of them And I am induced so to doe in two respects First because your Honour is the Prime Mecaenas of the Muses of your Noble Ranke that I know of Great Britaine Secondly for that I am not ignorant of you Honours fauourable and benigne acceptance of some other the Authors Poemes from his owne hands Why shall I then doubt of your Acceptance of these The Orphanes of him who to say no more whiles hee had breath as he was much obliged so did highly prize and honour your Lordship Vouchsafe therefore most Noble Lord not onely the Patronage hereof against the malevolent detractors and vulgar mouthes if any such there be but the pardoning of my audacitie herein beeing altogether unknowne unto you Now Noble SIR as the World knowes you were one of King IAMES his Northerne WORTHIES so who will denie but our gracious King CHARLES accompts you no lesse And that your Honour Name and Fame are not confined within the Empire of Great Britaine appeares by that thrice honorable Office conferred on you by the most Christian French King I pray GOD giue you increase of Honour on Earth and hereafter immortall Honor in Heaven And so I humbly take my leaue of your Noble Lordship Your Honours most obsequious to be Commanded H. H. TO The ingenious and ingenuous Reader especially such as were the deceased Authors Friends GENTLEMEN I haue enterprised to commit these ensuing Lines my deceased Brothers Orphanes vnto the Presse at mine owne proper Charges not to make them common for I hold them better worth than to bee exposed to the vulgar View of euery Ignoramus or Non-intelligit The world already beeing full fraught and farced with stuffe fit for their vnderstanding What these are I need not tell you that knew the Author And for your sakes principally haue I made this Impression of no more Copies than I thinke to distribute vnto yee his and some of mine owne endeered worthy Friends I hope you will vouchsafe them benigne Acceptance and me condigne thankes by which I shall bee encouraged to publish other his larger Labours which I haue lying by mee And so I wish you all an heartie Vale and of you take my leaue Yours to Command H. H. MICHAEL DRAYTON Esquire and Poet-Laureat in Commendation of the AVTHOR and his first published Poeme NAVMACHIA BY this one Lim my HOLLAND wee may see What thou in time at thy full growth mayst bee Which Wit by her owne Symetrie can take And thy proportion perfectly can make At thy Ascendant that when thou shalt show Thy selfe who reades thee perfectly shall know Those of the Muses by this little light Saw before other where to take thy height Proceed let not Apollo's stocke decay POETS and KINGS are not borne euery day E C. Master of Arts vpon the same SEnd forth young-man from Muses wombe Thy other Royall Births at home But slowly slowly send them forth Lest for their number and their worth The enuious hand of Fates take hold And crop thee for they 'le thinke th' art Old I. W. I C. Vpon the same THat this small Piece the World should hazard first Of other better Workes thy Muse hath nurst To wonder I was forc't unless 't bee done As a small Starre doth usher forth the Sun E.P. Theologus amico suo ARAHAMO HOLLANDO D. PHILEMONIS F. in NAVMACHIAM suam NAumachiam lustrando tuam mihi flumine visus Iugenij placido desperijsse tui Arma virum tabulas Guleas Scuta per â—â—das Aspicio mens est Carmine mersa simul Emergo tabulas votiuas dedico Musae Docte HOLLANDE tua quae bene facta canit FINIS AN ELEGIE OR SOME POSTHVME TEARES VPON THE ROYALL HEARSE OF OVR LATE SOVEREIGNE IAMES KING OF GREAT BRITAINE France and Jreland Defender of the Faith c. Who Died at his Manour of THEOBALDS the XXVII of March 1625. By ABRAHAM HOLLAND Printed for HEN. HOLLAND M.DC.XXVI TO THE RIGHT HIGH MIGHTIE CHARLES OF GREAT BRITAINE France and Jreland the first King of that Name and second Monarch Defender of the FAITH c. Sole Inheritor of his Royall Fathers KINGDOMES and VERTVES AND To King IAMES his Jmmortall Memorie This Elegie is Consecrated by his Sacred Majesties humblest and meanest Subject AN ELEGJE OR Some Posthume teares vpon the Royall Hearse of our late Soueraigne King IAMES NOw that the Land hath nigh forgot to weepe And IAMES the Good more peaceably doth sleepe In his vnblamed Vrne and th'Vniversities Vpon his Hearse from their lamenting eyes Haue throwne their Pearles through the widdow'd Towne The curious wits haue jewelled his Crowne Pardon if now poore I doe spend a teare Though farre vnequall to my care to beare My sorrow company if I commence A Nania now and end it two yeares hence I 'le chide my
did preuaile and breathe vpon them last I doe confesse the gaine of such a King Wee now enjoy may well some solace bring For our dead IAMES Yet as wee often see In a religious Groue some aged Tree As a long-liued Oke or bald-head Elme Which not so many Stormes could ouer-whelme So many Keene and surly Winters rage But there it stands respected for the age Although the armes and seared bough's doe fade And that it with the trunke doth make a shade Rather than leaues yet vnderneath the Faunes And Syluan Gods from farre-remooued Launes Shelter themselues and when it fall's the sweet And gentle Nymphs and horn-hoof'd Satyres meet To waile their loued Shed which oft did tame The rage of Iuly and the Dog-starres flame Could we suppose another Sun would rise And make his Zodiack from the Southerne skies And set i' th' North leauing the East as chill As th'Orcades yet we should thinke on still Our ancient freind the former Sun whose power So many a Spring so many a joyfull houre Produc'd before ô it is hard to say When Customarie vertue 's tan'e away How great the griefe is though perhaps the blisse That doth ensue to th' other equall is There is an old wiues Prouerbe that the Spring May make an Ague Physicke for a King And God this Medicine did to him apply To cure him of diseas'd mortalitie And settle him Eternall where nor age Doth follow Time as in this Pilgrimage Of our sad life nor sicknesse paine or feare Or Decrement of beautie doth appeare But health eternall and felicities Without impaire and Life that neuer dies What man hereafter that partaketh sense But much more reason will wish residence In this darke vale of life where euery houre Is spent or lost or subject to the power Of dominiering Sinne especially When thus good Kings our Gods Tutelar die Alas while wee in this life trauaile fare Wee are but wretches hovering in the aire With waxen Plumes where feare still leads the trace And too much heaven brings vs to earth apace To bring vs vnto heauen we Comers are Whose sodaine lustre and prodigious haire Affrights the world with wonderment if we Placed too high or too inferiour bee Ah! who would trust on the deceiuing state O◠slipperie Crownes held at as deere a rate As often purchas'd and againe resign'd All-wayes with cares and anguish of the minde This great good wise and learned Monarch whom The world affirm'd the Light of Christendome The Northerne Starre and Wonder of his time Who was the moment of this Westerne clime And held it in just poize who did devise But now the Embryo's of Policies Which Fate is still a teeming this good King Alas is come vnto his Evening And after soules and bodyes last divorce Lies in the Graue a cold vnlived Corse Good Soule sleepe sweet and quiet and doe Thou That doest reviue our King smoothe vp that brow That giues thy people life doe Thou appease Thy griefe and the contagion will cease Of too much care But if Thou still doest keepe Sorrow I 'le sweare hee 's dead that does not weepe Almightie God assist Thee and the Windes Be Champions for CHARLES what er'e He mindes AN ELEGIE VPON THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT NOBLE and Magnanimous Heroë HENRY Earle of Oxford Viscount Bulbec Lord Samford and Lord great Chamberlaine of England WHO SICKENED IN SERVICE OF HIS KING and Countrie in defence of the States And died at the Hagh in Holland Aprill 1625. By ABRAHAM HOLLAND Printed 1626. TO THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE AND NOBLE LADY DIANA Countesse of OXFORD Dowager of the Deceased HENRY Earle of OXFORD Viscount BVLBEC Lord SAMFORD and Lord great Chamberlaine of ENGLAND AND TO THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE AND APPROVED Souldier ROBERT VERE the succeeding Earle of OXFORD Heire apparant to the same Noble Titles and Honours To both their Honours This Elegie is Consecrated By H. H. An Elegie upon the Death of the right Noble and Magnanimous HENRIE Earle of Oxford Viscount Bulbec c. WHat Starre was wanting in the Skie what place To be supplied anew what empty space That requir'd OXFORD was some Light growne dim Some Starre Decrepit that suborned Him To darke the Earth by his Departure Sure The Thracian God to make his Orbe more pure Hath borrow'd him where in his fiery Carre He shines a better MARS a brighter Starre Or like a new Orion doth he stand In Christall Maile and a bright blade in 's hand An armed Constellation while the Quire Of Pyrrhick dancers with reflecting fire Glitter on him or like a Comets rage Strikes he amazement on the trembling age Alas these glorious fancies but expresse His worth and our love to him not make lesse The rape of Fate while we poore Mortalls farre More want such men than heaven could want a Star Let Griefe then speake and for this wofull time Let me nor studie Number Verse or rime But write in fragments so 't shall be my due Though not a Poet good a Mourner true Though I should say no more but OXFORD's dead That would be made an Elegie to spread It selfe as farre as sorrow the Contents Enlarg'd to Volumes by the teares laments And griefe in-generall when the world affords So vast a comment unto so few words Yee Powers above that looke on men with eyes Iust and impartiall if in Fate there lies Still more revenge ô let us wretches know Our lot before that we may weepe below A timely expiation and prevent The torrent of thy wrath which now is bent To make a Deluge or'e us who have found Though after all Great IAMES was laid in ground A Plague and OXFORDS Death 't is hard to say Which of the two doth more our losse display The ruines both being Generall and can Heaven be so angrie with poore feeble man To persecute him further No the rage Of Pestilence which spreadeth through the age Can scarce surpasse his losse cast feare away Fate cannot teeme more mischiefe and must stay Now at the height of Vengeance OXFORDS death Hath ingag'd heaven to spare the rest beneath Who what he living was those men can tell Who past the North and Southerne Poles doe dwell I need not write it that were but to show What we now want and what we once did owe To such a man whose like ensuing dayes Shall scarce produce Antiquitie may praise Their HECTORS and ACHILLES with a dim And fain'd applause while we doe but right him In their Encomiums Who like a New-borne Starre Bred us amazement onely and from farre Made us admire what he in time would bee And so shut up his Early light while wee Wonder that Fate could be so prodigall So soone to show so quickly to let fall So great a glorie which we well may say Had but an houre a Minute a short day That did deserve an age yea some will say As the best things he made the shorter stay T' expresse an Excellence Yet alas herein We doe but flatter
still Retaines a heart unbroken acts more ill Than all his life before that soule is Steele Which doth not bleed that hell which doth not feele The present blow It is with us who here Hourely view death as when exempt of feare At an Ostend or such a Siege to die The Souldiers thought it a Necessitie And so did slight it when each houre were showne So many others Death's t' assure their owne Endeared Friends I am well and better much And in more sweet securitie than such Who thinke of a long life by these death 's here Being freed from what is worse than death the Feare Seldome is Christian Valour better gain'd Than when 't is by such miserie obtain'd I doubt not but that Fame which still doth use To spred abroad more large than certaine newes Hath blaz'd our State and haply doth assure As you suppose farre more then we endure Thus farre let me your doubts herein suffice Rumour it selfe can scarce Hyperbolize Our Reall woe Feare it selfe cannot vow There is more Mischiefe than wee suffer now If you shall heare of Streets wherein the Grasse Doth grow for want of men that use to passe Or Smithfield turn'd a medow or a plaine Wherein the Horses Kine and Sheepe againe May feed rather than sell or of poore men That in their Graues together lie by ten By twenties or by more or sodaine Fates Of people dying in the streets and gates Doe not suppose it false we wretches trie What other Ages shall hold Poetrie A March in midst of August and the Star That raigneth now farre from Canicular In all but the effects not cloth'd in bright And scorching Sun-shine but in midst of Night And Winter stormes as if the Plague did flie Wrap't in those clouds to fright the troubled Skie And blast mortalitie the ayre the while Scarce in a Moneth strikes forth one pleasing smile Muffled in damps so close that from beneath Wee deeme it hard by any way but Death To see bright Heauen againe The Rurall swaines Begin to doubt the Vsurie of their paines And Prophesie a Famine and the Earth Choked with Carkasses threatens a Dearth As a Reuenge The Skies the while doe showre Downe poysonous tempest to augment the power Of her pretended Malice while the breath Of blacke contagious windes doe transport Death Through the enuenom'd ayre Earth Aire and Skie Conspiring to our great Calamitie In what a case poore London stands to show Would aske a Pen and Muse that onely know How to write griefe alas it is become A Theatre of Tragedies where some Di'de i' th' first acts and many slaughters past God knowes what murder shall be in the last I liue not in it but in Chelsey aire Where Death but in his Out-rodes doth repaire And thence doe onely heare the murmuring Bels Disclose the slaughter by the frequent Knels Yet as a tender Mother though shee haue A Child interr'd and sleeping in the graue Yet will she oft goe see the tombe and dew His dust with pious teares and oft renew His Posthume exequies so sometime I Goe to behold the Citie and espie As I doe walke along the widdow'd streets Nothing but sorrow in each face that meets In the Large ruine nothing but a griefe That speakes it selfe in silence true and briefe Ah deere Sirs it is changed from the Place Yee knew it once when as the beautious face Of Gallantrie inrich'd the Streets and Eyes Of frequent beautie made it a Paradise And the Delight of Nations whose concourse Thither and the Refluxe as from the Source Of humane Kinde did make it seeme to bee The Center of the World the Worlds Epitome Death now alas hath not begun but led His Triumph through the Towne and largely spred His gloomy wings in circuit o're the Walls Attended by ten thousand Funerals As if those Pageants raised to renowne Our deere Queenes Well-come and great Charles his Crowne Had bin of purpose made a Wofull throne For Death and Fate to sit spectatours on When I see these thinke you I can forbeare But praise that God who let 's me still be here And makes me not a Spectacle as they That now are mine and liu'd but yesterday Deare Friends it is not London but the shade And Carkasse of that place in ashes layd Where you shall see in stead of sport and play A false yet as it seemes a Holiday The Doores shut up and all the Streets about But here and there a Passenger walke out So solemne silence that a man would say 'T were a light Night or Seruice-time all Day The Bells as frequent as when oft they sound When a yong Prince is borne or new King crown'd Which heard a Stranger might be brought to sweare The Fift of August or Nouember there Were Solemnized now which to assure The Bon-fires almost euery night procure A Shade of Ioy which if you right will Know As funerall Piles not solemne Bonfires glow The Bells in their sad language almost tell They ring no Holiday but speake a Knell The Doores so shut that one in them might doubt Whether it were to keepe Death in or out What Muse shall I inuoke t' indite a rime That may expresse our miserable time Where the pale Visages of men expresse Farre aboue Poetrie the Heauinesse Of Gods sharp Scourge where the Red wand affrights The Starring Passenger and troubled Nights Are spent in Burials when what e're we see Is but an Argument of Miserie The Wormwood-Nosegayes the trembling Pace Of them that passe though they haue Herbe of Grace And curious Boxes to repell the ayre Which might assault them seeming to out-dare The will of Destinie Nor can I blame Our weake Mortalitie which thinkes no shame To show a frailtie deeming perhaps that Fate Can yeeld to Soueraigne Bezoar Mithridate Or such Death-killers let us thinke so still So wee root out that weed of Sin and ill Which taints our soules so though for many yeares It haue preuail'd wee 'l drowne it in our teares And Kill this Giant Plague which through the towne As an unloosed Lyon beareth downe What e're it meets making no doubt to strike The cloudie Cedar and low Shrub alike So quicke and fast that it makes men to say 'T will not be long untill the Iudgement Day Absolue the Massacre Death so doth shrine To bring the Vniuerse to light againe So few are borne to life so many Die Lucina doth not Tith Mortalitie As if Death would not leaue untill for all Doomesday doe make one fire one funerall When now the Weeke-bills almost reach unto The summe which that of th'yeare had wont to doe If from the Towne a Stranger should but spie How the affrighted People hast to flie In trembling heapes hee could not but suppose The ransack'd Citie taken by the Foes And now possess'd and the remaining rout On a strict composition flying out Enter the Citie you shall meet with there A fearefull Valour an audacious Feare Where men doe
sorrow and our sin Which tooke him hence for had he stay'd till then When there should be no memorie left of men H 'had bin a Choice of heaven and surpass't The Annalls and the Chronicles which vast Vncertaine times have made doe not surmize That I herein am set t'Hyperbolize A strict Historian of the time that say's Lesse shall be held Detractour of his Praise Yea future judgements when they shall compare Him with the rest shall call those writers spare Who made him not a Patterne as the blinde Old HOMER did ACHILLES of his Kinde Alas 't was nothing in the ancient time For Noble men to raise their names and clime By hauty acts unto the top of Fame When as obeysance to their Prince did claime And their owne Interests that they should show Not more what they adventur'd than did owe When each day almost new invasions when Civill disturbance did compell the men To a forc'd valour In those times to have A TALBOT ESSEX or a DRAKE did save The Countrie but from damage but that now When the now-Sainted IAMES had made a VOW To blesse himselfe and us by making Peace That not all Spirit and all MARS should cease But such a flame from those still ashes rise Did saue the Land from guilt of Cowardize Since OXFORD was a Youth BELLONA ne're Breath'd her allarmes in this our Hemisphere But he pursu'd them with a Noble fire To fame his Countrie and his owne desire Grounded on that Great Venice and the Fates Though lucklesse of Bohemia with the States Now fatall to him and th'attempted Seas Shall be his true though Posthumes witnesses He sought no new-made Honours in the Tide Of favour but was borne the same he di'de Nor came he to the Elysium with shame That the old VERES did blush to heare his Name Brighter than theirs where his deserts to grace His Grand-fathers rose up and gave him place And set him with the Heroës where the Quire Of ayrie Worthies rise up and admire The stately Shade those Brittish Ghosts which long Agoe were number'd in th' Elysian throng Ioy to behold him SYDNEY threw his Bayes On OXFORDS head and daign'd to sing his praise While Fame with silver Trumpet did keepe time With his high Voice and answered his rime The soft inticements of the Court the smiles Of Glorious Princes the bewitching wiles Of softer Ladies and the Golden State That in such places doth on Greatnesse waite And all the shadie happinesse which seemes To attend Kings and follow Diadems Were Boy-games to his minde to see a Maske And sit it out he held a greater taske Than to endure a Siege to wake all Night In his cold armour still expecting fight And the drad On-set the sad face of feare And the pale silence of an Army were His best Delights among the common rout Of his rough Souldiers to sit hardnesse out Were his most pleasing Delicates to him A Batter'd Helmet was a Diadem And wounds his Brauerie Knowing that Fame And faire Eternitie could neuer claime Their Meeds without such Hazards but alas That wee must say such a Man OXFORD was A Hatefull Syllable which doth implie Valour can be extinct and Vertue die O wer 't not Profanation I now Could turne a stiffe Pythagorist and allow A reall Metempsychosis if so The Soule of OXFORD might divided flow On much Nobilitie and yet my sect Should honour finde from hence they no Defect This was the yeare of Iubile in Rome No meruaile 't was of griefe with us at home England hath bin Romes Sacrifice the whiles Our Teares and Funerals haue bred their Smiles A company of sacred Soules before Him left Mortalitie as if the skore Of Fate were quickly to be payd but when He left us wretches to continue men While hee himselfe did to a Crowne attaine The whole Quire seem'd in him to die againe As if h' had bin th' Epitome and Briefe Of all their Vertues and of all our griefe But Fate did act this last and greatest theft To see if wee had any Sorrow left As if those loued Soules which went before Had spent our teares and left our Eyes no more Alas now pities us and bids us sleepe Seeing when Eyes are done our hearts can weepe Two Epitaphs vpon the same Noble Earle EPITAPH 1. PAssenger that needs wilt know Who lyeth here First let mee craue That thou thy Pietie to show Let fall a teare Vpon the Graue 'T is Oxford whom when thou shalt finde Entoomb'd below Who late did liue Thou thy selfe shalt call vnkinde To haue bin so Jnquisitiue EPITAPH 2. TO say that OXFORD here or there Doth lye confines a place To his vnbounded Fame That Body which you balme and seare That Image you doe grace Js but his Shade his Name What place of Heauen hath his Soule And his diviner parts To mortals is vnknowne This wee may say without controll Jn all true English hearts His Toombe is made though they bee made of Stone FINIS A L'envoy to my endeared Friends Mr. R.T. Mr. W.H. Mr. T.C. and others being in the Countrey Seruing for an Introduction to the Description of the Plague DOe you not wonder that in this sad time I still haue leysure to compose a rime When as a Christian care forbids me now The helpe of Poetrie that my hot brow Should sweate with actiue Wine or that my heart Should be so free from passion to vse Art Vnto my wilde expressions The mirth That entertaines a Muse and giues a Birth To happy lines is farre more fit for you Who in your Countries happinesse doe view Our slaughters from a farre as men in sight That stand remote spectators of a Fight Yet I would haue both you and all suppose Sorrow can speake as well in verse as prose In this great Yeare of Elegies indeed Not with that life that flame and actiue speed As when Securitie did bid me play With the smooth tresses of Asteria And wander in her eyes alas that theame Is quell'd in griefe and drowned in the Streame Of the times sorrow those Heroïck layes That were begun haue throwne away their bayes And cloth'd themselues in Cypresse and my brow Expects a Night-cap more than Lawrell now Sirs you perhaps are chasing o're the Fields The Hare the Deere or what the season yeelds Doe Imp your Falcons wings making it flie A suttle ambusher about the Skie We are the Prey of Death and each night stay The call of Fate untill the Morning say We may draw forth a Noone and so at Night Lie downe againe not sure of other light Till the great Resurrection for may bee Death hath his Writ this Night to serue on mee Doe you inquire whether wee be affraid Of Death or no which so soone doth inuade So surely Kill I answer no that man That liueth now and view's the storme and can Still be affraid of Death I must surmize A Renegade or full of Cowardize No Penitent can feare and hee that
haile or thunder Or hidden shelues or rocks sea-ambusht back Or any temrest ships should suffer wrack That one might heere haue term'd it choose you whether A strong Calme or calme tempestuous wether See winged arrowes posting through the skie How quicke they hast froth ' battells rage to flie The trembling speares as souldiers doe them shake Seeme at their Maisters dangrs that they quake The flashing swords which sheathed once they ware Seeme now to feare being vnarm'd and bare But now each fleet each ship with hope-full pride Clash altogether furious side to side As when two winds in blacke tempestuous wether With boistrous wings impetuous meete together With their vntamed and resistles iustle Making high turrets shake and cedars rustle Where in light shirmish they remaine contending Till out of breath th' are faine to make an ending Now death 's at hand and night together keepe Cleare life and dreadfull death's blacke iron sleepe Fierce rage sad griefe blind Fury now grow higher Good cause when sence of touch and hearing nigher Men now with men contend and ships with ships One body ' gainst another here one skips Into his enemies deck but beaten back He leaps to 's owne of which if so he lacke He fall's in sea much like a wave whose head By vrging winds vnto the shore is led And thence by brest of the oft-drowned shore Taking a blunt repulse for spight doth rore And staggering runs backe and is this all Ambition aymes at in the way to fall Their tired sences labour'd in such wise That they grew dull with too much excercise Their troubled eyes viewing such gastly sights Wisht that sad darkenesse cancell'd all their hights That horrid noise the battell made was such Hearing heard nothing ' cavse it heard so much Tast is of death ranke blod pollutes the smell What feeling felt they all did feele too well Such a confusion racks their senses here Th' had Reason now to wish they sencelesse were Grim death in purple stalkes vpon the hatches With pale and griesly lookes see how he snatches Hundreds a once vnto him till the dreary Lean-face't ill-favord Death of death grew weary See on the sea how thousand Bodies float From their great ships hasting to Charons Boat Which crabbed Skuller now might thinke it meet His old-torne Boate should be new-chang'd a Fleet. The tumults noise pierc't the blew-arched skie The chrystall Aire fill'd with a deadly crie Onely in this was blest as blowes abounded It could be euer cut yet neuer wounded The silent Earth glad that shee was debarr'd From this sad Fight yet inwardly was heard The dreadfull strokes rebounding loud to mone And Eccho made her yeeld a hollow grone But this cause chiefly made her most to raue That to her due the sea should prooue a graue Neuer did strong-breath't Aeolus disturbe The sea so much When he can hardly curbe His madding pages when they raging muster To quarrell with the waues or whistling bluster Among the well-set trees and branched bowgh's Singing through chinks of some decayd house Nor sterne Orion with his stormy light Appalling shipmen doth so much affright The soone moov'd sea as did this battels noise Which Neptune answer'd with his bellowing voice Who as the Fleet 's vrg'd neerer to the strand Which tumbling pace ran frighted vp the sand That had not bounds restrain'd his element His watery vaile had cloth'd the Continent The fearefull winds on th' Ocean durst not rome But least they should be smother'd kert at home And there sat sighing Clouds their rane doe keepe Though ready at the battells sight to weepe Least their pure drops with gore-blood should be staind So that no winds blew nor from heauen it rain'd Maruaile not yet at tempests on the flood So many teares stream'd and such streames of blood Nor without winds are waues to be admir'd So many grones and dyings brea'ths expir'd The Oceans skaly silent wandring nation Seeing pale armed troups inuade the station Of their vast kingdome downe the sanguine flood Fearefully glide fearing their future food The tender Nymph's who with their siluer feete Vse on the plaines of crisped Thetys meete Where tripping prettely th' are wont to dance Themselues into a heauenly slwmbring trance Of sweet repose at these inhumane shocks With haire all torne creepe into th' hollow rockes Wher shrouded they to meditate began No rocke so flinty as the heart of man The rocks though alwaies struck by waters fury The rockes yet patient beare this iniury Yea Thetis selfe whose woombe enriched bare That fearefull Thunder of the Troian war Stubborne Achilles who in fight did win Such glory wisht that warr 's had neuer bin So she with all her trembling watery peers Augment the brinish sea with brinish teares Ships now begin to burne that one might see Neptunes and Vulcans consangunity Yea now these ships which free from water stood Strangly begin to sinke with humane blood Which as from thence with fearefull gush it ran Fill'd vp the wrinkles of the Ocean Making with purpose gastly gored hue Of one Red sea which was before now two Which sea so full of Dead it hence might come Well to be called Mare Mortuum The quaking ships with murmuring guns are rent Whose wounded sides the gored streames doe vent Of dead and wounded men who lay therein As if they had their Beeres or coffin's bin They lay therein and as the ships did goe Seem'd bloody bloodles dead and mooving too The furious fire with flames doth vndermine The towring Mast made of the lofty Pine So that same tree which oft hight's Nuptiall's Now Cypresse-like doth burne at Funerall's And eaten by the galling flames at last Fall's downe the huge high heauy weighted Mast And as great things are wont fell not alone Killing a troupe nor of it's foes but owne The tacklings sail 's and cables now doe burne And fire casts Anchors neuer to returne About their eares the whistling bullets sung And wandring wild-fire made th' affrighted throng Croud into corners speedily and they That durst stand men to sensles fire giue way As when with in the fat Trinacrian soile Inflamed Aetna doth begin to boile When nak't Pyracmon with his round-ey'd fellowes Sweatinh heaue vp their huge strong-breathed bellowes Thundring vpon their steeled Anviles top To furnish armour for their smoaky shop Their pondrous hammers and redoubling makes Enceladus belch out his sulph'ry flakes Of veng-full wrath then may you see blacke smoke Vomiring out wrapt in a pitchy cloke And the hard bowels of the mountaine torne By setter'd fire with a strange bounding borne Vp to the cloulds whose fearefull fall to shun The neighbouring people with a maz'ment run To shroudin'g Dens hiding them closely vnder Fearing from high and from below a thunder Then did th' inhumane battels fury rage Nor could the sea th' increasing flames asswage And Mars himselfe in Adamantine armes With a hoarse voice rores out against all-armes He that would now haue travailed to hell Might