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A12605 Pandora, the musyque of the beautie, of his mistresse Diana. Composed by Iohn Soowthern Gentleman, and dedicated to the right Honorable, Edward Deuer, Earle of Oxenford, &c. 1584. Iune. 20 Southern, John, fl. 1584. 1584 (1584) STC 22928; ESTC S111056 12,018 31

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dolefull arrow Next Into a Swan and with a note of sorrowe I foresong my death in Elegicall arte Since that to a Flowre and since withred away Since that to a Fountaine and since I am drie And now that Salamander liue in my flame But ye Gods if euer I haue my owne choyce I wyll be turn'd into well singing voyce And there in louange the fayre eyes of Ma-dame Ode 2. to his Diana Strophe AS the little Melisset flyes Wanton enfantines of the Skyes With their théeuishe pretie tongettes Take the best of the fayrest blomes Masoning it on their thyettes And therewith build their honny commes Euenso with a sprite vigelant I robbe héere the most excellant Blossomes in the garden Thebêin And will that through the vniuerce The honny destyld in my verce Beare out these fayre gréene eies of thine And I will that our England sée By this Nectar that I let fall On thee to annoint thee with all What kinde of beauties are in thée Antistrophe All the superbus frontispisses And all the threatning ediffices And all the high buildinges are lost Of Corinthia in pride extréeme But that which their Poets did bost will euer triumph ouer tyme. I I golde is Eliths Palase And golde is the Church of Parnasse And those that can enter therein Happy are they and euer shall Treade on the blacke roofe enfernall Liuing with the enfant Troyen That fylles the Nectar Olympien Into the great coope of the God that thondred the menacing head Of the high Orgullus Phlegren What what my too cruell Diana A number haue excelde in Beautae And yet it is onelie Hellina That lyues and where in saue in Poisae Epode But thou for whome I writ so well And that I wyll make eternell And thou for whome my holie paines Dooth chase ignoraunce held so long Conioyning in a vulgar song The secretes both Gréekes and Lataines Think'st thou it is nothing to haue The penne of Soothern for thy trompet Yes yes to whome Soothern is Poëte The honour goes not to the graue And Iuno it 's an other thing To heare a well learned voice sing Or to sée workes of a wise hand Then it 's to heare our doting rimors Whose labours doo bring both dishonors To themselues and to our England FINIS ❧ Foure Epytaphes made by the Countes of Oxenford after the death of her young Sonne The Lord Bulbecke c. HAd with moorning the Gods left their willes vndon They had not so soone herited such a soule Or if the mouth tyme dyd not glotton vp all Nor I nor the world were depriu'd of my Sonne Whose brest Venus with a face dolefull and milde Dooth washe with golden teares inueying the skies And when the water of the Goddesses eyes Makes almost aliue the Marble of my Childe One hyds her leaue styll her dollor so extreme Telling her it is not her young sonne Papheme To which she makes aunswer with a voice inflamed Féeling therewith her venime to be more bitter As I was of Cupid euen so of it mother And a womans last chylde is the most beloued An other IN dolefull wayes I spend the wealth of my time Gold the best of all mettelles Nightingale the sweetest of all byrdes And Roses the fairest of all flowers Féeding on my heart that euer comes agen Since the ordinaunce of the Destin's hath ben To end of the Saissons of my yéeres the prime With my Sōne my Gold my Nightingale and Rose Is gone for t' was in him and no other where And well though mine eies run downe like fountaines here The stone wil not speak yet that doth it inclose And Destins and Gods you might rather haue tanne My twentie yéeres then the two daies of my sonne And of this world what shall I hope since I knoe That in his respect it can yéeld me but mosse Or what should I consume any more in woe When Destins Gods and worlds are ll in my losse An other THe heuens death and life haue coniured my yll For death hath take away the breath of my sonne The heuens receue and consent that be hath donne And my life dooth kéepe mée heere against my will But if our life be caus'de with moisture and heate I care neither for the death the life nor skyes For I 'll sigh him warmth and weat him with my eies And thus I shall be thought a second Promët And as for life let it doo me all despite For if it leaue me I shall goe to my childe And it in the heuens there is all my delyght And if I liue my vertue is immortall So that the heuens death and life when they doo all Their force by sorrowfull vertue th' are beguild An other I Dall for Adon neu'r shed so many teares Nor Thet ' for Pelid nor Phoebus for Hyacinthus Nor for Atis the mother of Prophetesses As for the death of Bulbecke the Gods haue cares At the brute of it the Aphroditan Quéene Caused more siluer to distyll fro her eyes Then when the droppes of her chéekes raysed Daisyes And to die with him mortall she would haue béene The Charits for it breake their Peruqs of golde The Muses and the Nymphes of Caues I beholde All the Gods vnder Olympus are constraint On Laches Clothon and Atropos to plaine And yet beautie for it dooth make no complaint For it liu'd with him and died with him againe ¶ Others of the fowre last lynes of other that she made also 11 My Sonne is gone and with it death end my sorrow 12 But death makes mee aunswere Madame cease these mones 13 My force is but on bodies of blood and bones 14 And that of yours is no more now but a shadow An other 11 Amphiôns wife was turned to a rocke O 12 How well I had béene had I had such aduenture 13 For then I might againe haue béene the Sepulcure 14 Of him that I bare in mée so long ago FINIS Epitaph made by the Queenes Maiestie at the death of the Princesse of Espinoye WHen the warrier Phoebus goth to make his round With a painefull course to too ther Hemisphêre A darke shadowe a great horror and a feare In I knoe not what clowdes inueron the ground And euen so for Pinoy that fayre vertues Lady Although Iupiter haue in this Orizôn Made a starre of her by the Ariadnan crowne Morns dolour and gréefe accompany our body O Atropos thou hast doone a worke per-uerst And as a byrde that hath lost both young and nest About the place where it was makes many a tourne Euen so dooth Cupid that infaunt God of amore Flie about the tombe where she lyes all in dolore Wéeping for her eies wherein he made soiourne FINIS ❧ Verses taken out of his Stanses Hymnes and Elegias all dedicated or sent to his Mistresse Diana Elegia IN which you ask't my name confesse your selfe if 't be not so And whether I before had euer béene in loue or no. My name