Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A84345
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An eligie upon the universally-lamented death of the thrice noble and vertuous prince, Henry Duke of Gloucester
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1660
(1660)
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Wing E492; Thomason 669.f.26[8]; ESTC R210772
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1,758
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1
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AN ELIGIE UPON THE Universally-lamented Death of the thrice Noble and Vertuous Prince Henry Duke of Gloucester ANd is his breath expir'd hath His Chaste Soul Shak'd off her clayie fetters Ah condole Mourn and lament your Fate Distressed Isles Of Britains growing Empire hence all smiles Adieu Up said Melpomenie Ah rouse Thy thirsty soul and in thy tears carouse Thy fill come banquet on the Sable Verse My Muse shall sacrifice unto His Herse Turn from all other Objects for here 's One Presents thee with an Inundation Of lasting Grief But what 's my private woe When all the Nations Tears do overflow Yet stay forbear a while let 's not believe He thus could dye and yet the Heavens not grieve At th' worlds Great Loss what do impetuous showers Of tears from th' Weeping Clouds preventing ours Distil Or doth the Day's Bright Lamp streight burn Dull as a Torch to light us to His Vrn Is the dismantled Skies Bright Azure-Back Streight over-clad in Sad and Mournful Black No see Olymphus face serene and clear Free from the signal of one Chrystal tear Phaebus in 's wonted lustre shines the Skies Are not adorned for His Obsequies Sure then He still survives and his soft breath 's But whispering Mercy in the ears of Death View but His cheeks where though the Roses are Seeming t'retreat the Lillies spring more fair Then ere they did Though 's eyes they do not keep Their Rays in ure they are but clos'd in sleep The former lustre of his Ruby Lips Which now seem Snow feel but a short Eclipse By want of Sanguine heat life doth impart And send at present to His drooping heart His dormant pulses which erewhile exprest His health are laid but sweetly down to rest Cease then to think Him Dead wait but a while And gently he 'll awake see see Him smile But ah our expectations are deceiv'd And those so sweet Idea's we conceiv'd Would turn to Substance are but Shadows fled Away on Airy Wings for loe He 's DEAD He 's dead and coffin'd up fit to receive The cold embracing of His ROYAL GRAVE False Phansie why ha'st mockt us why betray'd Our lingring Hopes thus into Lyes and staid The current of our Tears so long Ah why Would'st thou perswade us that He could not dye Unless the troubled Heavens had mourn'd and wept To see Him dead whil'st thou feign'd He but slept When oft we see the best of Nature falls Unmourned for by Supernaturals He 's gone Ope wide the floodgates of your eyes That streams may pass When common beauty lies Interr'd in dust when death hath cropt the Rose Of Youth scarce blown what flinty hearts are those Vent not a tear But now that Death takes hence The Lovsly'st of the Land our YOVNGEST PRINCE Shall we be parsimonious of our store No we 'll even weep till we can shed no more Now if I could I 'd mount the Radiant Seat Of Sacred Angels humbly to entreat A Quill pluckt from their Wings and crave a Fount Of Highest Eloquence and then recount The Grandeur of His VERTVES for below No Pen no Strains are found that can them show To say He was a PRINCE of Noblest Blood Great by His Birth yet not so Great as Good To say He was so Learn'd ere 's age could reach A score of years He could His Tutors teach To say He was a PRINCE whose Life was spent In Grief and Cares yet never discontent To say He was but Young when ravish'd hence Yet Old in WISDOM and EXPERIENCE To say what shall I say He was become The PRICNELY DARLING of all Christendom Were but by these unworthy lines to tell A Truth the World already knows so well Go ask the Church of Rome she sighing saith Ah all my Batteries could not shake His Faith Go ask the nimble French what was His Wit They 'll quickly tell you they admired it Go ask the serious Spaniard they 'll aver He was a PRINCE did need no Counsellour Go ask the German Princes ask the Dutch The Nations round they 'll say they found as much We onely soon unhappy made alas Have scarce experimented what He was Now what is Man O what 's the Noblest Man The Slave of Death whose Life is but a Span A weary Passenger still on his way Here much esteem'd a Nothing in a day What is this Life but even expected Death A Stage of Mockeries a little breath Reserved in a Bladder prickt 't is lost A doleful Warfare and to all not most A Sea of Miseries a Vial fill'd With blood which being quickly broke 't is spill'd How infinitely happy then is His Bright Soul releas'd from such a Life as this There blessed Spirit rest rest in that Peace And these Celestial Joys shall never cease GLOVSTERS Great Name on Earth ne'r can b' involv'd In Laethes Streams until the Worlds dissolv'd London Printed for Thomas Parkhurst at the lower end of Cheapside