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death_n comfort_n life_n live_v 4,359 5 5.5637 4 false
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A03002 Three precious teares of blood, flowing from the wounded harts of three great French ladies In memory, of the vertues, complaint of the losse, and execration of the murther, of that thrice-worthy monarch, Henry the Great. Now shed againe in English. To three of the most excellent among the excellentest ladies of this little world, and of the greatest. Loiseau de Tourval, Jean.; Niccols, Richard, 1584-1616, attributed name. 1611 (1611) STC 13142; ESTC S106094 10,850 35

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tot succedé Le dueil à l'ornement le voile à la Couronne 17 Mais parmy vos douleurs parmy tant de miseres Gardez-vous gardez-nous ces siz reliques cheres Gages de votre amour espoir en nos malheurs Etouffez vos soupirs sechez votre oeil liquide Et pour calmer vn iour l'orage de nos pleurs Soyez de cet Etat le secours la guide 18 Belliqueuse Noblesse vn iour si triomphante Et par le sort cruel en l'autre si dolente Perdant vn si grand Prince vn pere tant humain Votre oeil pleure sans fin iamais ne sommeille Quand il vous souuiendra du triste lendemain Qui fut de vos malheurs le iour la veille 19 Endossez le harnois aiguisez vos épees Puis les rendez de sang de Larmes trempees Cerchez au cle fer iusques dedans le flanc Des secrets inu●nteurs du traitre parricide Emplissez l'Ocean des fleuues de leur sang Ou mourez ou vangez la mort de notre Alcide 20 Reynes du double mont admirable Neuuaine Sechez par vos soupirs votre docte fontaine Puis l'emplissez de pleurs afin que les esprits Qui vont rendans leurs voeu● an temple de Memoire Abreuuez de cete eau pleurent par leurs écrits Le trepas de celuy dont ils chantoient la gloire 21 Arrachez vos lauriers tant aymez de Minerue Hé pour qui doctes soeurs en feriez-vous reserue Puis que le Chef n'est plus qui les souloit porter Que la mort qui vainc tont a vaincu l' Inuincible Ne cessez cher troupeau de plaindre lamenter Et pour être immortel ne soyez impassible 22 Mais quoy pourrions-nous bien vous prescrire des larmes Ne vous seruez-vous pas de ces liquides armes Pour combatre l'ennuy qui nous accable tous De nos extremes mauz vos regrets sont extremes Vous pleurez de pitié quand vous songez à nous Vous pleurez de douleur en pensant à vou-mesmes 23 Que les ro●s soient emus de nos larmes non feintes Que les mons les bois ne resonnent que plaintes Que les pleurs des voisins montrent leur desespoir Qu'euz nous lamentions par cette piteuse onde Nous d' auoir trop peu vn euz de n'auoir pu voir La Gloire des Francois le Miracle du monde 22 Mais quoy sans fin sans fruit nos humides paupieres Feront-elles couler des piteuses riuieres Les ans n'en pourront-ils faire arréterle cours Nos bouches à l'enuy plain dront-elles sans cesse Et nos coeurs sang lot ans seront-ils pour tousiours Esclaues du malheur hôtes de la tristesse 25 Ouy nous plaindrons sans fin Hé quel Scyth● denie A des maus infinis vne plainte infinie Montrons d'vn rare Prince vn regret non commun Ou viuons pour le plaindre ou mourons pour le suiure Soit viuans soit mourans temoignons à chacun Qu'en cessant de pleurer nous cesserons de viure The second teare A COMPLAINT OF THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE LADY ANNE OF ROHAN VPON THE DEATH of that great King HENRY the fourth 1 MVst great redoubted HENRY ô must he That aw'd tam'd men now be tam'd by death Must we that saw his glory his end see And spend in showers our teares in sighs our breath O must so little earth hold him whose merit Suffis'd that he the whole earth should inherit 2 Must all our ioyes euer extinct remaine Must mirth and musick turne to sad lament In place of such a King must sorrow raigne Must anguish pearce our soules greefe our harts rent While endles sighs are towards heau'n exhaling Must hopeles teares still on the earth be falling 3 They must they ought what tribute can we pay His sacred ashes but our teares most fit To sprinckle the sad marble wherein they Repose No no such helples helps let 's quit Yet since his blood he spared not vs to pleasure Shall we spate to spend teares so poore a treasure 4 Should our distilling eyes to fountaines tourne Of all our greefs they would not drowne the lest With teares for each light cause we lightly mourne And common things are seldome in request Then dye we must nought els is worth the proffring His tombe the Altar we must be the offring 5 But who can dye the spinning destinies Disdaine to touch our moistened eyes now they Haue clos'd his whose great hart did death despise Pale Atropos proud of so rich a pray May beare for Cypres Bayes a change most glorious Since she proues victor of the most victorious 6 Since we must yet lament and liue since fate Attends them least that doe pursue it most O let vs liue lamenting our hard state Our ioy bereft vs and our comfort lost Let 's greeue weepe sigh this testimony giuing Till death that we bewaile our life in liuing 7 Let 's mourne to loose that spirit so admirde That perfect iudgement that sweet Noblenes That Peerles Fearles Hercules inspirde With more perfections then words can expresse Who would haue brought the world in his subiection But that his iustice bounded his affection 8 Let 's mourne that that graue wisdome so should end That best of goodnes that great valiant minde That hart that knew not how to breake though bend Deere parts whose vse we had whose losse we finde I rather can admire then sing their glory Such an Achilles fits an Homers story 9 But in the throng of vertues mustred here Shall his rare Clemency in silence rest Which pardon only held for object deere Pardon so seldome lodg'd in Princes breast This ask's not his friends but his foe's expression Let them that made proofe of it make confession 10 Who can the number of his acts recount His famous victories who can set forth Their due discourse doth my poore power surmount No end of praise where is no end of worth Silence should still be kept or wisely broken He speakes nought who speakes not what should be spoken 11 That man for his perfections numberles Like none aliue is now but like the dead The strong hath found his strength then deaths strength les The Conqueror now conquer'd lies in lead Th' infernall steele that pierc'd without compassion His royall flesh hath pierc'd our soules with passion 12 His acts made vs our heads aloft to reare His laurels shades did vs from tempests shroud The end of his fights ended all our feares We scorning others of our selues were proud Prouder to liue in such a Kings subjection Then to haue subject Kings in our protection 13 Our glory now we withring dying see Now are our joyes for euer finished Our Flour-de-luces buryed with them we Sad Daphne hanging her triumphant head In humble pittifull