blood Thrice happy he that so departed hence In lambe-like patience Sacred innocence Before he ever tastes earths pompous drosse So to gaine heaven a happy saint like losse Conspir'd you all did you oh fates conspire To crop this goodly tender growing spire Did you and death Herodian like agree To worke on innocents a Tragedie Could no low Brambles but the talest Tree In all the forrest give satietie To your dire vengeance is Bloud Honors State At no more price then Birthes of meaner rate Since Adams mourn'd fall was there noe degrees No diff'rence in bloud no diversities 'Twixt Kinges and Cottagers no not with death His paile-eyd horse rides mortals out of breath And 't is small wonder for 't is often seene Rough Winter blowes upon the Summers Queene The youthfull Spring growne almost to his prime By Northren blasts does instantly decline Both ould and young are equall in degrees For death saies mortalls are but Natures fees She keepes her Courtes At her exchequor day All must receive or if they owe all pay Her rowles are open every man may read Her just allowance how her pathes to tread And he that derogates from her behests Is streight way summond to her court of questes Somtimes her tearmes she warily rejournes Making the dead tree live that sadly mourns Lives sap being spent contrarily The plant new grafted she makes for to dy As she has done this noble Impe of fame Just when his lives bright candle 'gan to flame Life like a Taper that gives others sight Consumes and wasts in lending its owne light For all estates at Deathes shrill Trumpets call In her star-chamber must be personall The bodys goods as beauties strength and health Which alwayes are esteemd the bodys wealth And eke the soules as manners milde and art Which still doe governe mans diviner part Also the wills as Justice Wit and Vertue Which unto her as attributes are due Are of no prise nor vigor in the scale For when death comes there 's nothing can prevaile His bounds are boundlesse his malitious Ire Is like an Aetna or consuming fire All mortalls are his buts all lives the aime At which he shootes and never loses game Death 's an engrosser still say what man list He scornes his lawes is a monopolist What greater malice could a Tyrant showe That had the whole world set his gesse to goe Where he might finde soules pinch'd with poverty That sâ—de and prai'd each minute for to die Sape-gode usurers that ne're did make An honest act for Law or conscience sake These were no diet for thee mischiefes sonnes The aptest are for thy companions Those second helpes which Nature does bestow Which in her treasury of Earth still grow Ordaind for mankinde could not physicke make From her large store one compound that would take His dainty palat no 't was then in vaine For he did Physicks helpe and life disdaine And like a man enforced for to goe A longer journey then he first did know Cries Doctor spare thy physicke for to day To morrow I 'le take all and thee obey Sweet divinity when so sweet a child Reproves Hippocrates with speeches milde Presageing that his Esculapian Was absolute his soules Physitian Yet knew not he to sinne his tender yeeres Though all were borne in sin that ambage cleares His mothers griefes and honourd fathers praires Vnpenetrable were in thy dull eares Thou hast no hart and pity cannot enter In any bosome where there 's no center Dull is my Muse yet my prophetique fire That slowly flames burnes constant in desire To quench thy malice monster now I see Why thou hewdst downe this goodly growing Tree This Princely lovely gall-lesse harmelesse dove Mirrour of infancy patience and love I 've found the cause of thy invetraterage Thou killd'st his brother 'bout the selfe same age And 'cause the Conquerour of Brittains Ile Was nam'd William famous'd for his stile Therefore successively thy malice runnes To kill two Williams natures champions For as th' one Phoenix out of flames did rise The other Phoenix into Ashes flyes And like Joves Eagle leaves this vale of Earth Mounting Elizium for a second birth Where death nor time nor envy candeface Nor ought diminish of his heavenly grace Farewell blest babe lawrell decks thy browes Deathes live'ry ours the saddest cipres boughes Epitaph on the same REader behold a wonder here A childe here lyes that did not fâ—are Pale death 〈◊〉 hee valiantlie Spurnd fate death and destinie Warriour-like he met his soe The aged wretch dares not doe soe See what a guarde has innocence O're all it beares preeminence It loves not life cares not for breath It conquers sinne Hell Paine and Death It is the Sword and Shield of Faith The just man there his ground-forme laith Then happy thou bless'd honour'd jem Sweet morning Starre bright Diadem Th' ast gainde a Conquest by thy fall For Earth the Heavens high tribunall Death surely was in love with thee Cybele on Atys doated so did hee Her love transform'd him to a Pine Soe death did thee 'mongst pow'res divine Marble will moulder thy name will live And harbour unto vertue give Then Reader underneath doth lie As much Innocence as could die On the well learned and truely noble Gentleman Sir PETER FRETCHVILLE of Stalie COttons great fame learning birth and worth The Genti of our Nation hath set forth And worthily compared him to a booke Writ by the thrice three maids On which to looke Is full perfection why may not we Renownâ—d Peter reade thy Historie Each word containd a subject every line Was worth a Kingdome that was all Divine His body natures noblest frame was strong His silver haires proclaimd him ever young The Graces throng'd together him to court Nay you would sweare this man was vertues foart Where learning bounty courage met in one Striveing to place themselves in vertues Throne There all the lies of goodnes joyntly grew Dressing themselves to render merit due Each limbe of him each arter nerve and veine Did in themselves a Microcosme containe There charity in her rich robe was dress'd Here liberality at full express'd VVithin his bosome there lay aptitude And there sat bounty kissing fortitude Hospitality almost dead and gone He did againe bring to perfection Adorning her in Heavens Skie colloured hue For poverty is characterd in blue She at his gates was answerd every day Before she knock'd she had her Almes and pay Where others stretch their lands as men wrest cloth Stretching it on the tenter-hookes when both The Farmer and the keeper cursing cry Their hands are barrd from publicke charity Yet then this Nestor of experience Tooke pity on his tennants indigence The third part he enjoyd he had no more Such Land-lords never did make Tennants poore Aged he was if reckond by his yeeres But you would deeme him young seeing his haires More white then Snow or Milke his gratefull worth Got him the name of white Knight of the North His
Country still laments him and doth weepe Since he that was her eie is falne asleepe Staley retaines but his impurer part Heaven hath his soule his best part we in hart On the right Honorable HENRY Lord STANHOT of the North Knight of the Bath Son to the right Honorable PHILIP Earle of Chesterfield and KATHERIN his noble Countesse Anno. 1634. LIves there an eye of Honour did not weepe 'Cause thou so suddenly did'st fall a sleepe Oh yes even Vertues selfe did sadly mone 'Cause thou so suddenly to heaven was gone And yet this Crowne shee sets upon thy head Thy Vertues are alive though thou be dead Who ever knew thee did not waile thy fall Or wept not at thy solemne funerall Such hopes thy Country had such joyes the state And yet to see they both unfortunate Hopes had thy Country of a Patriot The state a Counsellour though new begot Borne Man even from his Cradle yet oh see How sudden vanishes maturitie Just like the Lilly fairest of the field Which does her bravery to th'sickle yield Or like the flower that opens with the Sunne And falls and dies before his course is runne Thus did this noble sprigge of honour fall Even from perfection to a Buriall And yet to say so were detraction Since he is gone hence to perfection For so much goodnes wisedome knowledge arts Such rare endowments and such sacred parts Such gravity as if experience had Invested him and in her robes him clad Such Activenes of body acute wit As if the Muses in his brest did sit And there kept court instructing him all rules And abstruse secrets of their holy schooles Nay what unto him did not they impart Urania had enshrind him in her hart And all these rarities to be complide In one not twenty one before he dide Great pity that a fabricke of this state Should crazy fall and subject be to fate But vaine are teares there 's litle to be sed For each of him is disinherited He had a brother who in 's prime of youth Allmost arriv'de unto his perfect grouth Pale death and time cut off whose most deere losse He did embrace with such a heavinesse That from his day of death unto his owne His Brothers dying day was ever knowne Entombd that day o th' weake in s chamber he Solemnely kept his brothers Obsequie There did his owne true worth his worth confine In meditations siting a Divine Rare presidents of Honor chiesly young What would his age have brought had he liv'd long But he is gâ—ne and with him went our teares For certainly he now needs not our prayers Yet such rare presidents ought not for to lye Entombd and buried in obscurity His joyes are full and now we may expresse More joy in him then cause of heavinesse He dies not that so dies but lives againe Immortally from anguish griefe or paine On CHARLES STANHOP first brother to the Lord HENERY and third Son to PHILIP Earle of Chesterfield KATHERIN his noble Countesse NO sooner are my Summer blessings come But streight comes Autumne and rough Hyems on Whose rugged browe proclaim 's sadde disasters Nights stormes tempests day-consuming wasters No sooner did our Sunne of comfort shine Nor bright Aurora with her silver shrine After tempestuous daies and dim-eide nights By their fresh beames and rarified lights But newly perfected in comes a storme Allmost as great as that but newly borne Eclipsing our fresh glories and in cares Makes us a fresh for to begin ould teares No sooner was our honourd HENRY gone And our late mourning weeds past putting on Our memory or backs I streightway does come The death of CHARLES that strikes all joyes dumbe Oh thou most sacred Jewell golden Time Thou pretious Jem of Jems thou all divine Thou fleeting shade unsubstantiall thing Thou that art nothing yet of all the King whoo 'd be lavish of thee this president Should make us chary how our Time is spent We may in thee behold how vaine is man In all his actions doe the best he can This goodly slower but yesterday new blowne By Times untimely sythe to day cut downe This goodly Garden in whom searse grew weedes This lovely full-eard corne that ne're lent seedes Fitting a seedenesse is tane from th' earth Before it had maturity or birth This lovely Pine-tree when his Aples shone With rosy cheekes like Phoebus in the Zone Is hewd and falne just in his Prime and growth Even in the early spring time of his youth But Death and Time are Twinns if one cryes on Thought is not swifter then the act is done Death thou art mercilesse and thy rigor such As makes us raile though it availe not much Me thinkes those paire of noblest brothers gone Those that of Vertue had Dominon Might have suffizd thy wrath or if not those Their Vertues might which did all worth enclose All worthes I say that might be thought or found In two so young there could not more abound Of if not those their Mothers showers of tears Which fell like raine sent from the weeping Sphears Who wept in pity too or if not these The new chang'd Virgins prayers might appease No sooner were they ty'd in wed-lockes bandes But thy inveteracies untwines their handes No sooner were those lovely Turtles pairde Scarse of those rites and ordinations sharde Which God for man decreed I streight way thy Ire Sweepes all before thee like Promethean fire Virgins will curse thee ever and forbeare The sacred Jugall wedding Ring to weare And so empoverish nature of her wealth Because thou rak'st up all her joyes by stealth But these cou'd not suffize thee he alone Was the Idea 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 thou doatedst on His brothers like the two great Lampes of light That guilde the heavenly Orbes by day and night So grac'd thy Trophes wonne thee such renowne Without this third thou couldst not winne the Crowne But thou dealtst poorely to insinuate Enseebleing him I nay with the selfe-same fate And cause of sicknes which our Barons killd Killd him high providence must be fullfilld No strugling 'gainst the streame no stopping tide Birthes of this nature mortalls cannot hide The end of our creation was to die Death being the fine of all mortalitie Then cease to waile his losse his soule 's a Jeâ— Fixde in the Sun-raiâ—s like a Diadem Thrice honoured Lady count not that a losse Which even the Angels cover to engrosse With Davids sorrow mourne him while alive But dead doe not against your knowledge strive The losse of friends more sorrowes doe not get If rightly understood then benefit We sorrow for them when we thinke of Earth But when of Heaven and that most sacred birth We doe rejoyce and their joyes emulate Till we in happinesse possesse like state You have more sonnes and many more may have Leave mourning these then Earth is mankinds Grave On ROBERT POVVTRELL of Westhallam Esquire IF love to knowledge or good partes The Muses friend and true deserts A man enshrind in
carride even And questionles hee findes them now in heaven For upright justice is the path that bringes Man to the presence of the Kinge of Kinges He â—uilyes Motto every morne did scan None feedes on justice but the upright man He serv'd our Soveraigne James our lawrell Kinge â—â—ke him that did our Israellâ— gloryes sing He Knight-hood gave him for his Zeale Love Truth And dignifi'd him in his prime of youth Honors doe seldome come without desert For time makes vice or Vertue most apert Truth like a Columne does the one support Time Lawier-like does the other court His Love Zeale Goodnes Truth Piety Strong creditors with Soveraignity So pleas'd our glorious King Charles of same For to investe on him a servants name In his new fabrick in which mystery He ended life in great Tranquillity Which â—â—â—bury the house of Lanâ—aster And Iohn of Gauntes shall evermore everâ— Not coveting honour for the Agardes names But it perpetuating to their fames Muse thou art in a Lab'riuth ' an Maze His Vertues questionles thy spirits daze For thou hast lost thy supine major part Th' unbounded boundlesse goodnes of his heart There Vertue kept her seat Apolles line In his contention was not halfe so fine So true refined and so full of grace The Carde'nall Vertues there strove for a place Thrice happy he that liveing loveing dyes When Vertue strives for due preeminencies This Maxime to his age even from his youth He did prefer friendship goes still with truth Reguardlesse of a tâ—â—e friendes small offence True friendship aimes at perfect eminence Those Centryes where thou liv'dst doe blazon forth Thou liveing had'st their harts now dead thy worth Lives still with them that time cannot decay Till all dissolves and time sweepes all away Thou liv'dst in peace and so dide and like thee May all men goe to true Eternitie On the same IF Marble monuments tell to future daies Th'â—habiters good deedes glories honour praise Why should not thine say something since in thee Goodnes rests to perpe 〈…〉 e Thou had'st a schollers knowledge and best parts And liv'dst sole Mâ— of the liberall Arts Thy goodnes needs hoe testate for thy deedes Like a true Gard'ner rooted 〈◊〉 ill weedes Leaving the supple plantes Herbes and Flowers Befiting coronets of vertues bowres No tribulations ever shooke thy brest Patience did evermore support thy creste Resolvde on that ould Sâ—crates did sing Meekenes ' is the greatst Trophe of a King Where power wantes there Eâ—â—y son'st is knowne But where thine lay thy mercy was most showne Thy love charity liberality Were all express'd in true humility The just mans merits by his deudes are sound The bad mans are like waters cast on ground Thy life unspotted was thy end as cleare As Jupiters in his ascendant spheare The Romans when their famous Consulls dide Petitioned their Oracles to divide Their goodnes 'mongst their kindred so may thine By that meanes they will all be made divine Wert not a sin to wish we should desire Aectias Botles againe for to inspire Fresh life 't is said that they are stuff'd with breath But there 's no conqueror comes after death Ould Faussons joy farewell for there thy name Shall last as long as honour time or fame To thy dead Herse thy honourd friend this gives That love is firmest after death still lives On the pattern of modesty ELIZA TEVERY daughter of GERVASE TEVERY of Staplefoord Esquire VVHy did the Lilly Paunce and Violet weepe The Marigold ere Sun-set in did creepe At whose refiexion she us'd for to rise And at his way-gate to close up her eies Why were the beaten waies with flowers strovvne And set with needy Lazars hanging downe Their mournefull heades why did the Pulpit mourne At if prepared for some Funerall urne And yet the Temple was with garlands hung Of sweeâ— smelling Flowers which might belong Vnto some bridall not heaven knowes the cause T' was otherwise decreed in Natures Lawes Those smelling sweetes with which our sense was fed Were for the buriall of a maiden-head Which made an Antumne just in the mid-spring And all things contrary their birthes to bring Herbs Plants and Flowers contrariously grew Because they now receiv'd not natures devv The needy beggers hung their heads for thee Thou matchlesse Map of maiden modesty From whose faire handes they had an almners pay As often as they met thee every day The sacred Temple where thy holy fires Of incense was powr'd on in chast desires Was thus prepard and deek'd on every side To welcome thee as her sole soveraigne Bride Whose goodnes was inimitable whose vertues shone Like to the Sun in his bright Horizon The maiden vestalls that with watry eies Bore thee to 'th Church for Vesta's sacrifize Were all in white carracts of innocence Prefiguring thy greater eminence So great their losse that with watery eiene They offer teares still to thy Virgin shrine And if that teares sighes or praiâ—es could save thee What would not they expresse now to have thee Sacred divinity allowes of no such wish Therefore emparadie'd soule rest thou in blisse Thy neighbours-â—â—d a share in thy great fall But most thy parents in thy funerall Vnparallel'd piece farewell ther 's no Grace But was transparent in thy maiden face And when thy Virgin blushes did appeare They show'd like Phoebus in our hemâ—â—phere Or like the â—ofie blushes of the morne When he th' enameld Zodiacke does adorne Her tender yeeres were free from hatefull pride Nor were her lookes with red-look'd anger dy'd She had with Martha a most zealous hart But did with Mary choose the better part Her losse was piteous yet lesse to be wailde Since she on Cherubins high heaven scalde Where 'mongst the Hierarohies she sits and sings Sweet Hymenealls with the King of Kings On ould JOHN CVRS'EN of KEDLESTON Esquire IOHN CVRSON Anagramma So I runne on IOHN CVRSONE Anagramma Honour is sure Which Anagrammiâ—de thus 't is cleere and pure So hee ranne on His honour now is sure On the same THy childrens losse and countries praise Thou Crowne of age life and long daies In thee a happines still appeares That could'st tell o're so many yeeres Achilles in thy prime of youth Uâ—sses in thy sager grouth Lib rall yet fiugall foe to none Vertues choise companion Enrich'd with all her sacred partes The Muses friend and nurse of Artes. Earth use him gently for his fate Never livde at under-rate The VVorme scarse so much goodnes joy'd Since the great deluge earth annoy'd Gone is the hospitable cloake And where fire was thers now no smoke Then that in â—ll things did'st excell I wish mee with thee so farewell On that renowned and Hospitable Gentleman JOHN PALMER of Kegworth Esquire SMall briefes containe large matters and By some partes the whole we understand Rich Diamonds though set In lead Are not for worth lesse valued Their sparkleing beauties most are seene When night would hide them with a Skreene Though earth hath hid thee in her wombâ— Yet thy great worth lives in thy tombe Thy goodnes was unparalleld Thy charity by noâ—e excelld Thy bounty learning love and name Are Trophes of thy countries same They have more recordes of thee two For thou did'st that none ells did doe The poore man welcome had from thee Before the rich mans bravery He on thy bounteous Table fed And was with all things cherished Nay Palmer-like thou did'st assay To fetch them in from the high way And with thine owne sleece made and spun Cover the lame the blinde and dumbe The Lazar might not starveingly Thou coverdst his necessity The rich might not the poore oppresse The just mans cause thou didst redresse Thy house was made an hospitall And plenty cride ' y are welcome all The stranger might not thirsty passe For there was Tempors full brim'd glasse Prefiguring his thirsty soule Might be refresh'd but not made fowle As Zephyrs bottles such was his minde Sweet calme and free loveing and kinde Great pity Death did in a rage Send Palmer on a pilgrimage Nere to returne for in his losse He Kegworthes sorrow did engrosse And yet he left a merry one Whose worth 's inferiour to none A Patriot of true deserts A nursing father to all arts All men are Palmers Pilgrime meeke He compass'd earth high Heav'n to seeke The Saints receiv'd him into blisse The earth her Palmer still doth misse FINIS Imprimatur Exaedib Londin Sa. Baker Apr. 22. 1636. Hector Boctiuâ— and Aencaâ— Sylvius in their descriptioâ— of the Rivers of Scotland Tay said to bee the most noble River in Angus Iohannes Major Guiccardine 〈◊〉 Gildas in the Expul of the Danes A most pious Princely gift 100. per Annum and confirm'd by Charter The Lord Rich married the Lady Anne daughter of William Earle of Deton shire Not of him that was the Terror of France though all the rest were brothers of his Line A famous Chappell and the Tombe of his noble ancestours by him erected over her in the Parish Church of Wilne in Derby-shire Being his â—â—der brother To the Lady Bur 〈…〉 ut