Honours and beguile Their early feares with too late hopes alas They little thinke that now the soyled Grasse Vsurpes their deare embraces and grim Fate Sits pale vpon those Beauties which of late They made their Ages comforts who now shall Ah! be bound to them for a Buriall O call to mind this Fatall Yeere wherein * Equally justly sent Thy Iustice hath been equall to our Sin Both great O let thy blessed Goodnesse still As it is wont to doe surpasse our Ill. Those men whom we did love whom we did trust Should be our Shields are turn'd to Shades to Dust Let the in-throned Soule of IAMES implore That after Him thou punish His no more Let the great Sprite of OXFORD which hath past The Sentence of thy Anger be the last Thou plaguest vs withall and let us know That still thou pittiest us poore men below But never let this Land endure againe That wofull solitude which once did raigne In our faire Cities which neglected left In a deplored ruine shew'd the theft Of angrie Fate when scarce a tenant Mouse Was left in many a faire unpeopled house But the sad Owles and Night-Ravens aloofe Did keepe their Revels on the silent roofe When at high Noone one passing by should meet A Mid-night Darke and silence in the street When in the wayes well-pav'd and worne before By frequent steps of men there now grew store Of uncouth Grasse and Harvests now apace Grew where they once were sold i'th'Market-place When as no Merryments no Sports no Playes Were knowne at all and yet all Holy-dayes No Papers then over the doores were set With Chambers readie furnish'd to be let But a sad Lord haue mercie vpon vs and A bloodie Crosse as fatall Marks did stand Able to fright one from the Prayer The time Then held it an inexpiable Crime To visit a sicke friend Strange Stoure wherein Love was a fault and Charitie a sin When Bad did feare infection from the Good And men did hate their cruell Neighbour-hood 'T was a deplored time wherein the Skyes Themselves did labour and let fall their eyes When one might see the Sunne with sallow hayre And languishing complexion dull the ayre Looking eeu'n so as when at Chryses Plaint He went like Night the Graecian troupes to taint With sad Infection when his dire shafts cast Kill'd more than Hector in the nine yeeres past The Heavens were cloth'd with bleak mists the aire With the thick Dampe was struck into despaire Of future clearenesse or serener day But that the Clouds for feare ran oft away The Night whose dewie shade had wont to tame The soultry reliques of the Mid-day flame Distill'd no Crystall Pearles vpon the ground But wrapt in vaporous smoake and cloath'd around With poysonous Exhalations did affright The trembling Moone whose dim and paler light Look'd with that countenance as if againe Her silver hornes should ne're escape the Wane So to renew her Circuit The dull Quire Of sickly Starres shew'd now no smiling fire But shone like un-snuff'd Tapers as if Fate Did give them leave now to prognosticate Their owne estate not others and applie Themselves at last to sad Astrologie The poyson-clutter'd Springs with Plague infus'd Ran not with Crystall torrents as they us'd But in dull streames as them dire influence fills With fainting pace scarce reach'd unto their rills And languid Rivers which before did passe The Crystall with their clearenesse now alas Looke muddie without stirring and their streames That wont to be all spangled with the beames Of the blithe Sunne now in a weltring floud Ran not with water but prodigious bloud Those Trees whereof the Antients us'd to rayse Their Funerall Piles might in these fatall dayes Burne at their owne Death's which in sad despayre Spred not their leavie beauties through the ayre But suffer'd Autumne in the Spring forlorne And ferall Cypresse now had cause to mourne Poppeyes themselves this time in death did sleepe And the Myrrhe-tree had reason here to weepe A Funerall Perfume those gaudie flowers Which wont to make Ghirlonds for Paramours Mourn'd in their drouping braverie and spread The ground at their owne deaths as for the dead The Corne grew not as if it meant t'undoo Men not with Plague alone but Famine too Herbes Physicks Soveraignes here infected die And for themselves could find no remedie The brute Beasts now which Nature to bestow The Excellence on Man did make with low Downe-looking Postures first did feele the rage Of th'Earth-borne Plague and died before their age The long-liv'd Hart this time to die began Before it reach'd unto the age of Man The faithfull Spaniell by his death did trie The mischiefe of his well-nos'd Facultie And ranging with quick Sent did soonest prove Th' infectious Malice of the Dogge above The lustie Steed scouring in 's Game apace Lights on Deaths Gole in middle of his Race The nimble Fowle as th' ayre it flyes around Flags his sick wings and sinkes unto the ground Not long before to the remorselesse Skie In sillie Notes have sung his Elegie The lucklesse Night-Ravens which us'd to grone The death of others now might Dirge their owne The Snow-plum'd Swan as it did gently ride Vpon the silver Streame sung forth and di'de Anon the Damp dares breake into the Walls Making a way by thousand Funeralls Who can expresse th' astonishment and feare Which doth at entrance of a Plague appeare Even so the fleeced Heard doth tremble when An Aburne Lion hungrie from his Den Breakes in among 'em then you may behold The pale-look'd Shepheard gaze upon his Fold With helpelesse pitie the poore Lam-kins creepe Vnder their Dams the sillie trembling Sheepe Stand full of cold amazement at the sight Small hope for mercie and lesse hope in flight Expecting onely which of all shall scape The readie horror of the Lions rape Other Diseases warning give before That we may reckon and acquit the Skore Of our sinnes Prodigalitie in this We scarce can be resolved whether 't is Sicknesse or Death it selfe so quick it tries The strength of Nature so soone poore Man dies That many to repose in th' Evening lying Have made their sleepe true kin to Death by dying Before the Morne Ah! who would then deferre A preparation for this Messenger Of bless'd or curs'd Eternitie What man Would still presume to sinne that knowes the span Of short uncertaine Life Yee gracious Powers That measure out the minutes and the houres Of this our wandering Pilgrimage restraine These sodaine slaughter-men or good God waine Vs from our sinnes that wee may neither feare The rape of Death nor covet to be here O curbe this raging Sicknesse which with sense Bereaves us of the meanes of Penitence When a dire Phrensie seizeth on the Braine Full of resistlesse flame and full of paine That Madnesse which no cure can well appease Is but a Symptome unto this Disease Our bloud all fire as if it did portend We were not here to stay but soone
ascend When streames of sulphur through our veins do glide And scarce the sense of sorrow doth abide This time how miserable may we guesse Where want of sense is chiefest happinesse When the distracted Soule can scarce devise How to supply the weakest Faculties Of the disturbed Bodie but presents Vnto the Eye strange objects strange portents And antique shadowes when the feverish rage Sets us on Iourneyes oft and Pilgrimage And entertaines our wild and wandering sight With monstrous Land-schips able to affright A man in 's wits when the deceived Eares Doe apprehend what ere the Fancie feares The grones of Ghosts and whispering of Sprites The silken tread of Faeries in the Nights The language of an ayrie Picture howles Of funerall Dogs and warnings of sad Owles The Tast distasteth all things and the same Is sweet and bitter when the inward flame Furres the swolne Tongue the quick Feeling marr'd Knoweth no difference betweene soft and hard Such a confused Error doth distract The labouring Senses so is the Fancie rackt By the dire sicknesse when from place to place The Bodie rolleth and would faine embrace Some Icie cooler but alas the heat Asswaging there ensues a Marble sweat 'Twixt Death and Nature wrestling then appeare Those deadly Characters which th'Ensigne beare Before approching Fate which notice give None spotlesse die how ever they did live A sicknesse comfortlesse when we do feare To see those friends whom we do love most deare The Ministers Devotion here doth stick By leaving Visitation of the sick Making the Service-Booke imperfect when We see a crossed Doore as 't were a Den Of Serpents or a Prodigie we shun The poore distressed Habitation The Death as comfortlesse where not appeares One friend to shed some tender funerall teares Black Night 's the onely Mourner No sad Verse Nor solemne flowers do deck the drearie Herse Some few old folke perhaps for many a yeere Who have forgot to weepe attend the Beere Such whose drie age hath made most fit to keepe Th' infected without feare but not to weepe Whose kin to death made them not feare to die Whose deafenesse made them then fit companie Vnto the sick when they were speechlesse growne A miserable Consolation But had you look'd about you might have seene Death in each corner and the secret teene Of angrie Destinie No sport dispells The mists of sorrow a sad silence dwells In all the streets and a pale terror seizes Vpon their faces who had no Diseases So usuall 't was before the Morne to die That when at Night two friends left companie They would not say Good Night but thus alone God send 's a ioyfull Resurrection If two or three dayes interpos'd betweene One friend by chance another friend had seene It was as strange and joyfull as to some When a deare friend doth from the Indies come Throgh the nak'd town of death there was such plenty One Bell at once was faine to ring for twenty No Clocks were heard to strike upon their Bells Cause nothing rung but death-lamenting Knells Strange that the Houres should faile to tell the Day When Time to thousands ran so fast away Time was confus'd and kept at such a plight The Day to thousands now was made a Night Hundreds that never saw before but di'de At one same time in one same Grave abide That our weake Fancies if we did not hold It Profanation here to be too bold Might wonder what being strangers they would say To one another at the Iudgement Day Some by their feare to go to Church debarr'd Anon are carryed dead unto the Yard The Church-yards gron'd with too much death opprest And the Earth rests not ' cause so many rest And Churches now with too much buriall fed Fear'd they should haue no meetings but of Dead Death fell on death and men began to feare That men would want to carry forth the Bere The Bearers Keepers Sextons that remaine Surpasse in number all the towne againe Friends here kill'd friends womb-fellowes Kill their Brothers Fathers their Sons and Daughters kill their Mothers By one another strange so many di'de And yet no murder here no Homicide A Mother great with Child by the Plagues might Infects to Death her Child not borne to light So killing that which yet ne're liu'd the wombe Of th'aliue Mother to th'dead Child was tombe Where in the fleshy graue the still Babe lying Doth kill his Mother by his owne first dying Her trauaile here on Earth she could not tend But finishes in heauen her Iournies end To others frolicke set vnto their meales Secure of death slie Death vpon them steales And strikes among 'em so that thence in speed With heauy Cheere th' are borne the wormes to feed To some at worke to others at their play To thousands death makes a long Holy-day Death all conditions equally inuades Nor riches power nor beautie here perswades Old dye with young with women men the rage Of the dire Plague spares neither sex nor age Most powerfull Influence of ruling Starres Which with blind darts Kill more than bloody Wars Resistlesse Famine greedy Time or when The threatfull hand of Tyrants striketh men Into pale terrour more than all diseases Ah happy hee who heauen least displeases FINIS HOLLAND his Hornet To sting a Varlet OR A few Satyricall lashes for one that did falsly accuse him to the late Lord Keeper of a Libell against IOHN OVVENS Monument in Pauls By ABRAHAM HOLLAND Against one that impos'd a Libell on me to the late Lord KEEPER WHosoe're thou wast that thus Mistaken or Malicious The last I doe imagine that Didst Father on mee this vile Brat A stinking Libell goe and bee Scorn'd of all as much as mee May I know thy Name in Time Libell'd in some Ballad-Rime May I heare thee 'bout the Street Begging Offall for the Fleet May'st thou cry in tuned Prose Cornes haue you on your Feet or Toes Or Rats to catch and in the end Veniee-Glasses haue you to mend May Iustice make thee so to lacke To offer Lines to all in Blacke And succeed if Vengeance linger At last the one-Legg'd Ballad-Singer Foule ill thy judgement couldst thou find None whom thou couldst thinke inclin'd To Libelling but me no one That made lewd Verse but me alone No itching Scriuener that doth make Verses by an Almanacke No lazie leaden-witted Asse Professing Poetrie alas No Latin'd Merchant whose fine clothes Scorne that hee should write in Prose No parcell-Gentleman that vowes Hee can still the Latine towze No busie Lawyers Clerke that still Will vsurpe Poeticke skill No pretie Toy no learned Foole Nor clownish Vsher of a Schoole Couldst thou find none but must disperse Mee the Author of that Verse So basely libellous and durst Me of all men picke out first To bee thy Toung-Ball or didst rather Thy owne bastard on mee Father A Palsey take my Muse if I Knew how to make a quicke reply To them who did this Fame disclose Whether it were Verse
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
haue seene weary sweating Charon well In feruent labour with his mossy oares Tugging pale shaddowes to th' ore-swarmed shores Which on the bancks as they lamenting crept Wailing Cocytus in compassion wept Acheron flow'd with griefe and as they say Lethe it selfe could neuer forget this day The Furies whin'd by Plutoes Iudgement cast Who sware their rage was farre by men surpast One coming heere might tired Clotho spie How she could searse her weary arm 's apply To turne the wheele and Lachesis repine Who sware she could not threds of mortalls twine So fast as they were cut you might haue seene Atropos raging with remorsles teene And seeking each where for some greetty stone To whet her sheeres whose edge was dulled growne With too much cutting of their fatall thread Whose haples liues this gastfull battell shed Fire now and water did not each contend But seeme their power so mutually to lend That at this time there many a one became Burn't in the sea and drowned in the flame This one good hap to carkasses did fall Th' had fire to burn 'em at their funerall The mangled ships not fearing to be drencht Gladly take breaches thereby to be quencht But now thou Tisiphonc infernall Muse Rouzing thy selfe from Stygian sleepe peruse The various Images of dreary Fate Hapning in this sad Fight and Intimate Them to my mind which well I thinke agree Not with a sweete and heauenly Muse but thee Th' Industrious Pilot sitting at the sterne VVhere in a little card he can discerne The vast vncertainetie of Neptunes haunt Ruling swift ships by powerfull Adamant Here as he sits retir'd and watchfull minds The frequent change of two and thirty winds Comes an vnruly shot and him doth force To certaine death change his vncertaine course So he that wont stern blasts in truce to bind Could not foresee when he should loose his wind From stormes and Mists of Death he could not free Himselfe who wont the Tempests curbe but he Who bearding Neptune vs'd on th' Ocean float Is now controll'd in Charons little boat The Master ranging vp and downe the Deck And wounded mortally to him doth beck His Mate who hasting to his ayd in vaine Is there together with the Maister slaine And at once ended with him his liues Date Proouing himselfe truely the Masters Mate The Trumpetter with braue reuiuing sound Quickning their dying harts is fell'd â—oth ' ground And as in 's mouth he still the brasse did wield His dying breath made it a dead march yeeld And hauing lent his Trumpet so much breath In 's life it turn'd him some againe at 's death The Drummer with his nimble hand repeating His doubled blowes without compassion beating His harmlesse drum which seem'd with groning cry To murmur at his Maisters cruelty Sodenly two rash bullets rudely come Tearing both skin of drumer and the Drum Drummer of life of sound the Drum 's bereft So Drum and Drummer both are speechles left The Gunner as with nimble hast he runs To fire his seldome-vaine-reporting Guns His head a leaden-winged bullet hits And his hard braine-pan into peeces splits He of a thousand this alone might vaunt That of his death he was not ignorant And this true riddle might of him abide He liued once by 's Death by 's life now dide Here comes a Captaine with vndaunted face Encouraging his souldiers to the Chace And being about to say be braue and bold An vntaught bullet rudely bids him hold And as death's mist in his dull eyes did wander Beseeching ayd he left to be commander And he whose voice from fainting thought to call them By 's dying grone doth fearefully apall them This leader faithfull to his vtmost breath Can onely now lead them the way to Death See how to steale the wauing flagg one climbs Vp by the cards but being espied betimes Tangled i' th' ropes he is of life bereft And so is hang'd for his intended Theft But the cords burnt wherin his leggs were bound He gets a Pirats death both hang'd and drown'd Some vnder hatches closed in despaire Mount vp their foes with powder into the aire Which done it seem'd a strange prodigious sight A troupe of armed men to maske the light It seemeth yet that they no damage meant 'em Who the next way vp into heauen sent 'em Making them flie beyond Dae'dalian skill In the vast aire without a winged quill Giuing to them a strange vnwonted death Who hauing aire too much yet wanted breath See see the lot of sad Mortality Our chiefest help 's helpe oft to Miserie Some men who came secure from future harmes Inroll'd in well-proou'd steely clothed armes Fall by mischance into the sea 's dire hand Whence being vnarm'd they might haue swom to land Their armes doe sinke and without mercy end 'em So kill'd by that which chiefly should defend ' em One with his Musket ready to giue fire Aymes at another aduerse Muskettier But his match missing fire hee 's forc't to die By the others matches true fidelity By which he di'de can scarc'ly well be knowne Whether by th' others Musket or his owne See there a Coward wanting heart t' abide The daunting face of the fierce aduerse side Slinketh behind the next not caring whither Comes a mad shot and kill 's 'em both together Praise him in this for though his life outdar'd him To equall th' other yet his death compar'd him Neuertheles if truly ye doe mind him As in his life in 's death he came behind him One seeming now his side begin to faile Shew's them their colours while himselfe lookes pale Sure by this man some Omen ill was showne To keepe their colours who could loose his owne Those men who chanced in the ships to fall The cruell sea was made their buirall And intoth ' waues without remorse were throwne Poore men slaine by their foes drownd by their owne A Fisherman who nigh them cut the Maine Sitting in 's boate was with a bullet slaine And the barke fir'd wherein he dead did fall Which gratis burnt gaue him his Funerall True to thy Maister kind boat who with him Didst oft in life and now in death do'st swim With him aliue in water that didst tire Thy waue-beat sides dy'st now with him in fire Yet me thinks thou shouldest not deserue this turne Who so oft plung'd with him which shouldest burne Yet saile with him t' Elysium saile the faster In Carons stead that thou maist waft thy Maister Strang Boat which thus we not amisse may call His Life Death Charon and his Funerall A Noble man that was a Renegate While he against his King doth boldly prate A shot takes off his head as if t were reason That he should be beheaded for his Treason A baser fellow while he dares complaine And raile against his once owne Soveraigne A true Liege-man as he thus boldly brags Striketh him vp and his vile body drags About the ship and while he vainely begs Remosles cutteth off his
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
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
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