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A06468 Bosvvorth-field with a taste of the variety of other poems, left by Sir Iohn Beaumont, Baronet, deceased: set forth by his sonne, Sir Iohn Beaumont, Baronet; and dedicated to the Kings most Excellent Maiestie. Beaumont, John, Sir, 1583-1627.; Beaumont, John, Sir, d. 1644. 1629 (1629) STC 1694; ESTC S101234 77,419 230

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this Iland Fame his praise reports As best in martiall deedes and courtly sports When riper age with winged feete repaires Graue care adornes his head with siluer haires His valiant feruour was not then decaide But ioyn'd with counsell as a further aide Behold his constant and vndaunted eye In greatest danger when condemn'd to dye He scornes th' insulting aduersaries breath And will admit no feare though neere to Death But when our gracious Soueraigne had regain'd This Light with clouds obscur'd in walls detain'd And by his fauour plac'd this Starre on high Fixt in the Garter Englands azure skie He pride which dimms such change as much did hate As base deiection in his former state When he was call'd to sit by Ioues command Among the Demigods that rule this Land No pow'r no strong perswasion could him draw From that which he conceiu'd as right and Law When shall we in this Realme a Father finde So truly sweet or husband halfe so kinde Thus he enioyde the best contents of life Obedient Children and a louing Wife These were his parts in Peace but O how farre This noble soule excell'd it selfe in VVarre He was directed by a nat'rall vaine True honour by this painefull way to gaine Let Ireland witnesse where he first appeares And to the fight his warlike Ensignes beares And thou O Belgia wert in hope to see The Trophees of his conquests wrought in thee But Death who durst not meete him in the field In priuate by close trech'ry made him yeeld I keepe that glory last which is the best The loue of Learning which he oft exprest By conuersation and respect to those Who had a name in Artes in verse or prose Shall euer I forget with what delight He on my simple lines would cast his sight His onely mem'ry my poore worke adornes He is a Father to my crowne of thornes Now since his death how can I euer looke Without some teares vpon that Orphan booke Ye sacred Muses if ye will admit My name into the roll which ye haue writ Of all your seruants to my thoughts display Some rich conceipt some vnfrequented way Which may hereafter to the world commend A picture fit for this my noble Friend For this is nothing all these Rimes I scorne Let Pens be broken and the paper torne And with his last breath let my musick cease Vnlesse my lowly Poem could increase In true description of immortall things And rays'd aboue the earth with nimble wings Fly like an Eagle from his Fun'rall fire Admir'd by all as all did him admire An Epitaph vpon that hopefull young Gentleman the Lord Wriothesley HEre lies a Souldier who in youth desir'd His valiant Fathers noble steps to tread And swiftly from his friends and Countrey fled While to the height of glory he aspir'd The cruell Fates with bitter enuy fir'd To see warres prudence in so young a head Sent from their dusky caues to strike him dead A strong disease in peacefull Robes attir'd This Murd'rer kills him with a silent dart And hauing drawne it bloody from the Sonne Throwes it againe into the Fathers heart And to his Lady boasts what he hath done What helpe can men against pale Death prouide When twice within few dayes Southampton dide IVVENAL SAT. 10. IN all the Countries which from Gades extend To Ganges where the mornings beames ascend Few men the clouds of errour can remooue And know what ill t' auoide what good to loue For what doe we by reason seeke or leaue Or what canst thou so happily conceiue But straight thou wilt thine enterprise repent And blame thy wish when thou behold'st th' euent The easie gods cause houses to decay By granting that for which the owners pray In Peace and Warre we aske for hurtfull things The copious flood of speech to many brings Vntimely death another rashly dyes While he vpon his wondrous strength relyes But most by heapes of money choked are Which they haue gather'd with too earnest care Till others they in wealth as much excell As British Whales aboue the Dolphins swell In bloody times by Neroes fierce commands The armed troope about Longinus stands Rich Senecaes large gardens circling round And Lateranus Palace much renown'd The greedy Tyrants souldier seldome comes To ransack beggers in the vpper roomes If siluer vessels though but few thou bear'st Thou in the night the sword and trunchion fear'st And at the shadow of each Reed wilt quake When by the Moone light thou perceiu'st it shake But he that trauailes empty feeles no griefe And boldly sings in presence of the thiefe The first desires and those which best we know In all our Temples are that wealth may grow That riches may increase and that our chest In publike banke may farre exceed the rest But men in earthen vessels neuer drinke Dyre poysons then thy selfe in danger thinke When cups beset with Pearles thy hand doth hold And precious Wine burnes bright in ample gold Do'st thou not now perceiue sufficient cause To giue those two wise men deseru'd applause Who when abroad they from their thresholds stept The one did alwaies laugh the other wept But all are apt to laugh in euery place And censure actions with a wrinkled face It is more maruell how the others eyes Could moysture find his weeping to suffice Democritus did euer shake his spleene With laughters force yet had there neuer been Within his natiue soyle such garments braue And such vaine signes of Honour as we haue What if he saw the Pretor standing out From lofty Chariots in the thronging rout Clad in a Coate with noble Palme-trees wrought A signe of triumph from Ioues Temple brought And deckt with an imbrodred purple Gowne Like hangings from his shoulders trailing downe No necke can lift the Crowne which then he weares For it a publike seruant sweating beares And lest the Consull should exceed in pride A Slaue with him in the same Coach doth ride The Bird which on the Iu'ry Scepter stands The Cornets and the long officious Bands Of those that walke before to grace the sight The troope of seruile Romans cloth'd in white Which all the way vpon thy Horse attends Whō thy good cheare purse haue made thy friends To him each thing he meets occasion mooues Of earnest laughter and his wisdome prooues That worthy men who great examples giue In barb'rous Countries and thicke ayre may liue He laught at common peoples cares and feares Oft at their ioyes and sometimes at their teares He in contempt to threatning Fortune throwes A halter and his scornefull finger showes We rub the knees of gods with waxe to gaine From them such things as hurtfull are or vaine Pow'r subiect to fierce spite casts many downe Whom their large stiles and famous titles drowne The Statues fall and through the streets are roll'd The wheeles which did the Chariots weight vphold Are knockt in pieces with the Hatchets stroke The harmelesse Horses legs are also broke The fires make hissing sounds