his corrections returne to him as it said Tyre and Sidon would haue returned in Sackcloth and Ashes where the same word Shuba in the Syriack translation is used The second Eripe animam The third Salvum me sac which implies such a Saluation as comes by CHRIST IESVS the Originall beeing Iashag whence IESVS comes The knowledge of God is as Iob sayes of his friends to speake with reuerence a miserable consolation without wee know him to bee our Saviour the very Atheists though they would denie it the Lord will by the terrours of night moue them to confesse there is a GOD yea they shall confesse there is a God but shall not know him a Saviour It is strange how in all the Old Testament the Ancients did abhorre distast and pray against Death although they did know it was the way to their blisse and indeed if we consider death as it is life and it may be put in an equall balance as when Paul thought with himselfe how good and glorious it would bee for him to be quit of this miserable pilgrimage of Life and the glory hee should receiue by Death then fell hee to his Cupio Dissolvi and the balance weighed on Deaths side but considering the good that the Church was to receiue by his staying then otherwise So was it with them of old to whom the joyes of Heaven were but shadowed by MOSES and the rest not so openly revealed as to us But divers expound this place mystically for the death and hell of sinne For without doubt in our naturall death wee praise God better than in this dying life Yea it is said that DIVES knew ABRAHAM in Hell and had a Charitable care of his Brethren on earth c. CERTEINE MEDITATIONS By ABRAHAM HOLLAND Commended and bequeathed to his deerest Mother Mrs. ANNE HOLLAND his deere Sisters A. H. M. H. and E. A. Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart bee alwayes acceptable in thy sight O Lord my strength and my Redeemer From this houre O Lord I haue vowed to serue thee in holinesse and righteousnesse all the dayes of my life I beleeue O Lord helpe my unbeleefe MEDITAT 1. LORD let mee carefully examine my selfe what I was now am and what I may bee I was O Lord before the inspiring of thy powerfull breath into a dead piece of clay Nothing I am by the malice of Sinne in ready way to Perdition I may bee sodainly through the reward of sinne worse than Nothing I was O Lord before I was Predestinate by thy depth of wisedome either to eternall Glory or euerlasting Sorrow I am almost uncertaine poore worme as I am by the innumerable heape of mine owne sinnes and the infinite goodnesse and mercies of CHRIST which shall light on mee I may bee by a too late and false or a true and contrite repentance subiect to either I was O Lord in my Mothers wombe conceiued in the foulenesse of Sinne I am O good Lord a dayly heaper of actuall Sin upon originall Corruption What can I then expect but that I justly may be the ayme marke of thy impartiall vengeance But O Sweet Lord I was loued of thee before I was borne am daily preserued by thee though in the middest of my iniquities and am in hope that through the all-sufficient Merits and Suffering of thy blessed Sonne to bee saued after death from the power of Sinne and Hell and with him glorified eternally Let me then with shame remember what I was and blush with sorrow what I am and repent with sorrow what I may bee and tremble MEDITAT 2. LEt mee O Lord judicially both contemne and feare this thing called Death Let mee O Lord feare it as a man may being the separation of his best acquaintance the Soule and Body let mee contemne the ouglinesse of it as being a Minister to bring both soule and body to a more sweet familiaritie Let me feare it as it is the way to Hell but contemne it being the gate of Heauen Feare it as the wayes of Sinne Contemne it being the reward and pay of a long misery Let mee feare not the Arrest of it but the Exetion let me contemne it knowing CHRIST is my Common-Bayle Feare it as a Monster but Contemne it as being Naturall Let mee not see the face of it without trembling but embrace with contempt c. A Briefe Meditation MY heart is broken O Lord and my distracted thoughts wander vp and downe to finde out thy Mercy mercy I seeke O Lord judgement sitteth at thy feet just God and Mercy on thy right hand mercifull Father giue her leaue a little O God to shew her pleasing countenance unto me the most vile hainous and presumptuous of all sinners O LORD wee haue sinned and thou hast punished O Lord wee still sinne and thou still doest punish giue us Grace Good Lord that wee may sinne no more that thou mayst desist from punishing Let us die O Lord that wee may not die and so strictly by the witnesse of our Consciences judge and Condemne our selues that wee be neither seuerely judged nor justly condemned by thee who both canst and desirest if wee will truely repent shew thy Iudgement milde and thy Mercy infinite Lord as of mee haue Mercy on all and show the light of thy Countenance and we shall O Lord bee whole AMEN A Meditation against the feare of Death ON the sodaine I cannot choose but thinke them madmen or children who stand in feare of Death and yet me thinkes euen thus they are wrong-named since neither Mad men Fooles nor Children feare Death alas shall simplicitie and sencelesse Folly doe more with them than reason or Religion can doe with us Shall the Sea-tost Mariner be sorrie that from ten thousand dangers of the Sea hee is arriued at his safe and long-desired Haven Shall the sterved Prisoner repine if after many yeares wofull Captiuitie hee be at last set at wished Libertie Shall the tormented Sick-man grudge if from a long and languishing Disease a speedy medicine restore him to his former perfect health Is not our Life a sea of troubles A lothsome dungeon A lingring sicknesse Is not Death the skilfull Pilot that guides us to Heaven Is not hee the good Iudge that sets us at libertie The skilfull Physician that cures our Mortalitie and restores us to Eternall life What doe we else by desiring long life but like the ingratefull Israelites desire to Continue at their former Flesh-pots in making Brick and Clay under hard taskmasters in the Egipt of this sinfull world and so keepe from the Canaan of neuer-decaying happinesse Is it not madnesse in desiring Long life to refuse Eternall life Shall wee be such cowards to feare a shadow the seperation of the Soule from God onely indeed is Death the seperation of the Soule from the Body is but the shadow of Death Shall we bee such fooles to seeke to shun that which neuer man could scape Shall we
for 't Thus in many places The worthiest mens rewards haue bin disgraces Thus Athens wont her best deseruers use Thus Rome her noble Statesmen to abuse With death or banishment thus still wee trie Contempt ensues familiaritie Yea Prophets as our Sauiours selfe did deeme In their owne Countries still haue small esteeme Well whatsoe're this Towne doe thinke you let It thus bee Knowne All England's in your debt Yet are there some I dare avouch it good Ingenuous mindes who hauing understood Your worth and merits loue your very name Though farre remote yea and admire the same I doubt not yet deare Father e're you die By timely Fate to see you rais'd as high As your well-weigh'd ambition aimes at which Is to bee sweetly well content not rich T' enioy your friends and children and they you To spend your fading old yeares residue In sweet tranquillitie and liue with such As will respect and honour you as much As here they slight you and the time from hence Shall all your past misfortunes recompence All comforts fit for age shall you be giuen Your onely care to make your path for Heauen And if my selfe a Poet may presage You shall haue yet an old new Golden age God will not end your aged dayes so long As you may still helpe and doe good among His people here But as a Captaine when He meanes to exercise his faithfull'st men He puts them upon dangers makes them trie Disasters hardnesse and all miserie That when at last the foe shall be repair'd They bee not found unskill'd and unprepar'd Sicknesse is but a mustring show wherein Wee learne to fight to skirmish and to win At the last combat Death in that tide Happy is hee that oftest Sicknesse tride Such as did all-wayes in full health remaine Are oft poore wretches lamentably slaine As untri'd Souldiers Though once Fate by God Shall of your fraile make a period To his Friends in the Time of his Sicknesse A resolution against Death FRiends if it bee my lot as some men vse To pay their debt sooner than you would chuse To harsh exacting Fate I would not haue You stand lamenting o're my youthfull Graue As if it were my Prison and I throwne There on a desperate Execution I know there 's no release from 't yet more free Know I this prison than your libertie I would not haue you raile at it and say That it from you had closely stolne away And treacherously betray'd your Friend alas They erre who thinke they into th' graue doe passe As to a Punishment and therefore call It the sad Vrne the Place of Buriall The house of Lamentation Lifes Thiefe The Den of Sorrow and the Cell of Griefe You wrong it by these Names It is my Bed Where Lifes Day spent I lay my wearied And o'retoyl'd Body in a long deepe Night Till hee that giues all Day renew my Light It is my sleeping chayre my chayre of State Wherein I sit equall with conquering Fate And out-face Death daring him if hee can To challenge more than I haue payd of Man Make him my Sinnes-bill cancell and agree That Christs crosse o're it my acquittance bee As a poore Traueller whom the conceite Of a long tedious Iourney thitst and heate And wearinesse tormenteth by the Way Longing for home all he can doe doth Pray For some Refreshment at the last espies The joyfull smoake of his owne Countrey rise To bid him welcome then with Pleasures Teares Hee casts away both Languishment and Feares And smiling takes the next Banke hee doth see So pleasing is my Graue so sweet to mee This piece of Ground which you in scorne perchance Miscall my Graue is my Inheritance That 't is intayl'd on me the Law averres By due succession from my Grandfathers Mine it hath bin by right since Adam curst Man with this Blessing and possess'd it first While I haue Life heere I am but Lifes Ward And by my Nonage from my right debarr'd Death giues me that 's so long kept from my Hand I 'me now at Age and come unto my Land Nor thinke my Purchase too soone gayn'd but call My eight and twentie Climactericall My Graue's my long-sought Inne to which at most It can be said that I haue ridden Post Whither retyred some perhaps will feare The sawcie Wormes will bee intruders there To feed upon me whilest my Faith protests It is not so they bee my bidden Guests What Man is hee that hauing in the Time Of life committed some foule haynous crime And knowing that the Fame of it 's inroll'd In characters of Brasse yea were 't of Gold That would not praise the hand and friendly call Which scratches out the sad Memoriall Wherein doth liue his Infamie what soule That knowes this fleshly Table doth inroll The Memory of our Faults that would not call Wormes and the Graue Redressers of our Fall The one of which doth hide the other devoures All that was guiltie shamefull bad of ours Our Graue's the veyle which shadowes from the eyes Of Posthume Malice our Iniquities This wretched thing you mourne for and behold The dreary Linnen and the Earth to fold This thing compact of sinewes Bone and Blood The Receptacle both of Sinne and Food Death's ready Executioners This This is not Holland but 's Effigies Which when 't was best and by the Soule could moue Was but a liuely shape of God aboue And onely bless'd in that but now alas That chiefe Ingredient of the curious Masse That gaue it Actiue Life is ta'ne away And Nothing left but ruine and Decay A thing so despicable base and vile That lest it should surviving Men defile Wee Prison'â— first in Linnen then in Wood Then ramme it deepe in Earth and to make Good The rest lest it againe approach the Day Make marble Bulwarkes o're the wretched clay Egyptians hence did their dead Kings embowre In tombes as bigge as their blaspheming Towre Raising in weaker mindes sometimes a doubt How they at th'Resurrection will get out Of these strong Prisons whose unweldy Frames Seeme rather to oppresse than raise their Names Doubtless this wretched thing call'd Man whose curse Light upon all things is than all things worse When once his soule is gone The silly Flower Though dead and wither'd yet retaines some Power Availeable in Physicke Cattell when Th' are dead themselues nourish the liues of Men And dead Grasse theirs And Corne is neuer good Vntill it bee cut downe and us'd for food No tree so rude no shrub so base no beast So vile but dead serues for some use at least For ornament wee loue to see by skill A curious limb'd Picture and stand still To gaze upon it yea wee can endure To see Deaths shaddow and grim Portraicture Though ne're so ugly when against a wall Set a dead man indeed amongst us all You scarcely shall finde one that will not flie As at a Monster or grim Prodigie Doe you then grieue to see this Bugbeare toy This
scarre-crow layd aside to shun th'annoy Of the beholders or for my Soule is it That you doe mourne which now doe throned sit Surfetting with pure Ioyes and holy mirth And smiles at that for which you weepe on earth That 't is dislodg'd from that debauched Inne Which helpt it ne're in ought but onely sinne I would haue giuen you leaue to mourne if then I had by suddaine Death bin summon'd when Wretch'd man I labour'd to the height of sin And bolder grew the deeper I grew in When Vice was turn'd to custome and each deed Though ne're so impious did perswade with speed Another worse as if Despaire had bin The beastly Pander to unbrideled sin But Heau'n be bless'd Heau'n better lou'd my soule Than without stay to let it headlong roll To everlasting Death and so did Kill The Body sooner to retayne that still The Soule as hee inspir'd it pure nor at all Conscious of sinne no not Originall Thinke you I feare those things which you doe call By such blacke names The Griefly Funerall The Fatall beere sad Flowers and dreary Hearse The mournefull Followers and the weeping Verse Thinke you already I doe not disdaine The mightie tapers and the sable traine Or e're I doe expire thinke you my soule Will be so cowardly to feare the toll Of a sad bell whose heauy language goes Deadly as if it did intend to close It's voyce with mine Thinke you I doe not spie The dolefull silence of the standers by As if they all were speechlesse and from me Did draw one generall stupid sympathy Me thinkes I heare the silly Women say Hee is whole chested and will goe away By dying upward and some other trie If that my legges be cold and straight doe lye Here 's one doth Iudge my feeble Pulse and cryes ' Cause shee must bee the Friend to close mine eyes Another maketh Triall of my Breath Thus doe I heare 'em furnish me for Death But ó let me not heare them let my sprite Bee busie then in purchasing a light More sweet then Life it selfe may wholly I Bee fix'd in thoughts of Immortalitie Let me then an audacious Client stand Pressing to Kisse my unseene Sauiours hand And let me bee so busie in my Prayers That not the Feare of Death nor ougly cares Throng'd in the memory may disturbe the Soule Which now is neere to Heav'n her capitoll In the last Triumph after Conquest wonne O're Death and Hell and grim Perdition T is a toy to thinke when life is past That Fate did lagge or else made too much hast When wee die quickly or by tedious Age Fulfill the circuit of Lifes Pilgrimage In my opinion a Day-ag'd Child Hath when it dyes a race as well fulfill'd As Clymacterick Old men I confesse Not with so many out-rodes yet no lesse Exactly Nature doth averre the same And a day Rose aswell an Age may claime As the long liued Oake Though Time devoure The one so slowly th' other in an Houre If'cause I dye before you you repine I 'le thinke you enuy at this blisse of mine And wish't your owne there 's nought but sinne in me That could deserue long life and miserie Which Sinne the God of Mercy quell'd and check't The cause and after tooke away th' effect Long life or if because I dye so soone And come into mine Evening at the Noone And full Meridian of mine age you erre And doe not know what blisse the Fates conferre On mee hereby by which I shall obtayne As I now dye to rise at last againe In fresher youth The Marriner behold To gather up a little Pelfe and Gold Contemned Death If hee doe chance to finde A nearer Cut to China or to Inde Reioyceth and shall wee who through this vale And gulfe of miserie in Life doe sayle Grudge if the Fates doe show a nearer Haven Our Purchase being no Gold nor Pelfe but Heaven FINIS A LETTER Savouring of Mortification written and sent in the time of the late Visitation of the Plague to his deere Brother H. H. in LONDON DEare Brother I am sorry your other occasions would not permit mee to enjoy your company longer at my last being at London especially in this time of sorrow when the dearest friends are not able to say to day wee will meet to morrow which me thinkes cannot choose but put euery man in minde how carefull hee ought to bee that though in our Kinred and Friendship wee be separated on Earth wee may by true repentance and relinquishing our sinnes gaine that blisse that at the reunion againe of soule and body in that happy communion of Saints we may meet againe with joy Our small Village here as an out-member of your great Citie suffers proportionably with it the heauy stroke of Gods wrath insomuch that whole Families of the most curious preventers haue beene wofully swept away especially a Gentleman lest to keepe the Countesse of Nottinghams * This house is called the Kings Nurcerie House who with his Wife a beautifull Gentlewoman and foure most sweet and louely Children and their Man are all gone I hope to blisse and their Mayd that is onely left lying at the mercy of God Wretch that I am why delay I one minute to cast my selfe prostrate at the feet of Mercy and prepare my selfe for the like passage Within these few dayes most of this house in the judgement of men were likely to out-liue mee whose wilde and looser youth threatens a too timely old-age They liu'd in a beautious House a refined and pure Ayre wanted neither Antidote nor assisting Physicke and yet alas they now are not they are dust and ashes and the food of Wormes O! the depth of the wisedome of our great GOD hee saw that it was good for them to dye to gaine a better life and for us that by their deaths wee may learne and prepare our selues to dye Ah Brother thinke not this is a time Rhetorically to set forth a sorrow or passion thinke not but my heart speakes what I write I know the reward of Sinne I know the value of a Soule thinke not but while it is in my power by the merits of CHRIST I will haue a care and prouidence for the price of my Saviours blood my Soule Deare Brother I doubt not but you are so well prepared and armed against this Visitation of God that my weake devotion is either needlesse or unable to assist you Yet I desire you not any way to deject your selfe onely in the humiliation for sinne in this great Assizes of Almighty God where we all are brought to our Trials For my selfe I thanke the comforting Spirit of God I haue not beene these many yeares in so great securitie as I am in this time of imminent danger When euery minute telling me I must die and that God knowes how soone I now and but now begin to liue alas the time that I spent before was but death and I liu'd but in a dreame A
bee so faint-hearted to feare a thing so common and certaine Was euer poore Labourer sorie after his painefull dayes worke to repose himselfe in sleepe Shall wee then ouerlaboured by a toilesome life grudge to goe to our sweet long and Care-ending sleepe Shall wee desire still to bee in our Nonage and not like heires of Eternity receiue our euerlasting Inheritance Our life is a Banishment from the heauenly Ierusalem shall wee bee grieued by Death to returne from Exile Why feare wee Death which is but the Funerall of our Vices the resurrection of our Graces and the day wherein God payes us our wages Life is neuer sweet to them that feare Death neither can he feare any Enemy that feares not death Did some of the Heathen but reading an uncertaine Discourse of Life hereafter seeke their owne Death to come unto it and shall wee certaine that there is a Life hereafter full of unspeakeable felicitie bee affraid of the way which GOD hath ordained as a passage to it Death is our yeare of Iubile and shall wee not reioyce in it Let euery one then O Lord who desires to bee free'd from sinning and offending thee cry out with PAVL I desire to bee dissolved and to bee with CHRIST A PRAYER Made and vsed with Companie in the aforesaid Visitation O Eternall GOD to whom by Creation wee owe our Beeing from nothing by Sanctification of thy holy Spirit a better beeing from worse than nothing by Redemption and Adoption a joynt Inheritance and Brother-hood with the King of Glory IESVS CHRIST by whom wee are bold to call thee Father neither art thou ashamed to acknowledge us Sonnes For all thy benefits O Lord wee giue thee most humble thankes in that it hath pleased thee to preserue us to this time from the dangers of Hell and Death but especially O good Lord that thou hast giuen us a sence and feeling of our owne sinnes and misery so that wee may call for Mercy before wee goe into the Graue and bee seene no more Wee most humbly and upon the Knees of our soules doe thanke thee O Lord that in this thy great Visitation this great Assizes of thine this fearefull Plague wherein the Graue hath swallowed up so many thousands that it hath pleased thee to command thy raging Minister the Destroying Angell but gently to touch us with an Arrow that was not pointed with Death as if hee had sayd to us Goe away Sinne no more lest a worse thing fall upon you Wee confesse O Lord that our sinnes deserued equally yea more than theirs whom thou hast taken away and yet O Lord wee still remaine to praise thy Name in the land of the Living Which if thou doest continue O Lord thou hast ingaged us to a sodaine and speedy newnesse of life with true Contrition for our former most haynous sinnes and a living in Holinesse and Righteousnesse all the dayes of our life But if so bee this bee but a gleame of thy mercy to trie our Faith and Constancy and that thou hast ordained at this time to make an end of our liues most wretched Pilgrimage thy will bee done O Lord. But ô speake Peace unto our Soules that they need not tremble at this great Seperation O Lord wee know Death is but a shadow and the feare of it more terrible than it selfe Let neither the ouglinesse of it nor of our sinnes distract our mindes when they haue most need to bee busie in obtaining thy grant of a better life Blot out all our offences O Lord and the manifold sinnes of our youths make them O Lord though they bee red as Scarlet yet as White as the wooll of thy immaculate Lambe CHRIST IESVS Wash them O Lord in his Blood and by his wounds let us bee healed from the stinking sores and ulcers of putrified and festred Sinne So that O Lord we may smile at Death and embrace the very terrour of it Repell O Lord the Divell and all his ministers who in these times of affliction are most ready to lay before our weake soules a large Catalogue and bill of our most haynous offences telling us that thou art a just GOD and wilt not heare the prayers of such great offenders but O Lord there is Mercy with thee that thou mayest bee feared yea that thou mayest bee loued Grant O Lord that though wee be euen swallowed vp of death and desperation yet wee may lay hold upon the precious Merits of thy deare Sonne and our loving Saviour so that either in life or death wee may crie with a true Faith and Comfort Come Lord IESVS come quickly To whom with thee the Father and the Holy Ghost bee all honour and glory now and ever AMEN A Vale to his best Part. DId not Religion controll I would say Farewell my Soule But so much as may depart Farewell I say my soule and heart Since from thee I 'me forc'd to flie I 'le enter no meane Heresie But will thinke it may agree A Body without Soule that 's thee Thou hast my soule and so behau'd I am in hope it may bee sau'd My heart 's in thee or mee or both And yet if seperate I am loth Thou hast not all know for thy part I am a niggard of my heart Farewell I say and though 't is paine To say this word Farewell againe Farewell yea so that thou may'st liue A thousand Vales I will giue That this Vale true appeare Take a Farewell and a Teare From thy A. H. Abraham Holland Hauing made many EPITAPHS for others made this Epitaph for himselfe and on his Death bed dictated it to his Brother H. H. PAssenger that wilt bestow So much time to read this know Here 's one a lasting sleepe doth take Till Christs Trumpet bid him wake This is that Gole whereto the man That lyeth here interred ran This the Race-end to which at most Jt can be said that hee rode Post. Let Him sleepe quiet and doe Thou Leaue Sinne not by and by but now Delay not houres which swiftly glide As a full Torrent or quicke Tide Knowing thus much good Christiā passe But with this Thought I am He was Denatus 18. Februarij 1625. Vnto these Post-humes is added NAVMACHJA OR A POETICALL DESCRIPTION OF the cruell and bloudie Sea-fight or Battaile of LEPANTO Most memorable BY ABRAHAM HOLLAND Revised by the Author and now againe Published Printed for HEN HOLLAND M.DC.XXVI TO THE READER that asketh what when and where was this Battaile of LEPANTO IN the yeare of CHRIST IESVS 1571. His open Arch-Enemie the Great Turke having had many Victories by Land in sundry Nations as well in subduing whole Countries as in taking many strong Cities and Castles from the Christians which confined neere his Territories enforcing the Christians either to renounce their holy Faith or to endure unspeakeable Slavery themselues their Wiues and Children beeing daily bought and solde in open Markets like Horses Oxen and Asses The Turke by this time had Conquered many
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