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ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A03455	Hollandi posthuma A funerall elegie of King Iames: With a congratulatory salve to King Charles. An elegie of the magnanimous Henry Earle of Oxford. A description of the late great, fearefull and prodigious plague: and divers other patheticall poemes, elegies, and other lines, on divers subiectes. The post-humes of Abraham Holland, sometimes of Trinity-Colledge in Cambridge. The authors epitaph, made by himselfe.	Holland, Abraham, d. 1626.	1626 (1626)	STC 13579; ESTC S114142	46,929	184

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

HOLLANDI Post-huma A FVNERALL ELEGIE OF KING IAMES WITH A CONGRATVLATORY Salve TO KING CHARLES An Elegie of the Magnanimous HENRY Earle of Oxford A Description of the late great fearefull and and Prodigious Plague and divers other patheticall Poemes Elegies and other Lines on divers subiects The Post-humes of ABRAHAM HOLLAND sometimes of Trinity-Colledge in CAMBRIDGE The Authors EPITAPH made by himselfe CANTABRIGIAE Impensis HENRICI HOLLAND 1626. The Names or Titles of the ensuing ELEGIES c. AN Elegie or some Post-hume teares for King IAMES and A Congratulatorie Salve to King CHARLES An Elegie on the Death of the Magnanimous HENRY Earle of Oxford c. A Poeme written in the late Plague-time to divers the Authors endeered worthy Friends then in the Countrey A Description of the late great and prodigious Plague A Satyricall Poeme against one that did falsly accuse the Author to the late Lord Keeper of a Libell against IOHN OVVENS Monument in Pauls A Poeme of his owne deere Father being Sicke A Poeme to his Friends in his owne sicknesse with a resolution against Death A Letter savouring of Mortification written in the time of the late Visitation of the Plague to his deere Brother H.H. A Confession of his sinnes to God with a testimony of his Faith A metricall Version of part of the 73. Pslame T. C. the Authors endeered friend his poeticall Version of the 91. Psalme A Meditation on the 6. Psalme verse 4. and 5. With some other Meditations in his Sicknesse and a Prayer His Bodies Vale to his best Part. His Epitaph made by himselfe TO THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE AND HIGH-BORNE HEROE GEORGE LORD GORDON EARLE OF ENGIH AND CAPTAINE OF THE GVARDDV-CORPS commonly called IEAN DV-GVARD to his Majestie of FRANCE Sonne and Heire apparant to the most Noble and Valerous the Marquisse of HVNTLEY Right Honourable MY LORD The Author of these Poemes and other Lines my deere Brother being lately Deceased and I loth that his Elaborate workes should die be buried in Oblivion thought good rather to commit them to the Presse And doe make bold to make choise of your Noble Selfe desiring you to deigne the Patronage of them And I am induced so to doe in two respects First because your Honour is the Prime Mecaenas of the Muses of your Noble Ranke that I know of Great Britaine Secondly for that I am not ignorant of you Honours fauourable and benigne acceptance of some other the Authors Poemes from his owne hands Why shall I then doubt of your Acceptance of these The Orphanes of him who to say no more whiles hee had breath as he was much obliged so did highly prize and honour your Lordship Vouchsafe therefore most Noble Lord not onely the Patronage hereof against the malevolent detractors and vulgar mouthes if any such there be but the pardoning of my audacitie herein beeing altogether unknowne unto you Now Noble SIR as the World knowes you were one of King IAMES his Northerne WORTHIES so who will denie but our gracious King CHARLES accompts you no lesse And that your Honour Name and Fame are not confined within the Empire of Great Britaine appeares by that thrice honorable Office conferred on you by the most Christian French King I pray GOD giue you increase of Honour on Earth and hereafter immortall Honor in Heaven And so I humbly take my leaue of your Noble Lordship Your Honours most obsequious to be Commanded H. H. TO The ingenious and ingenuous Reader especially such as were the deceased Authors Friends GENTLEMEN I haue enterprised to commit these ensuing Lines my deceased Brothers Orphanes vnto the Presse at mine owne proper Charges not to make them common for I hold them better worth than to bee exposed to the vulgar View of euery Ignoramus or Non-intelligit The world already beeing full fraught and farced with stuffe fit for their vnderstanding What these are I need not tell you that knew the Author And for your sakes principally haue I made this Impression of no more Copies than I thinke to distribute vnto yee his and some of mine owne endeered worthy Friends I hope you will vouchsafe them benigne Acceptance and me condigne thankes by which I shall bee encouraged to publish other his larger Labours which I haue lying by mee And so I wish you all an heartie Vale and of you take my leaue Yours to Command H. H. MICHAEL DRAYTON Esquire and Poet-Laureat in Commendation of the AVTHOR and his first published Poeme NAVMACHIA BY this one Lim my HOLLAND wee may see What thou in time at thy full growth mayst bee Which Wit by her owne Symetrie can take And thy proportion perfectly can make At thy Ascendant that when thou shalt show Thy selfe who reades thee perfectly shall know Those of the Muses by this little light Saw before other where to take thy height Proceed let not Apollo's stocke decay POETS and KINGS are not borne euery day E C. Master of Arts vpon the same SEnd forth young-man from Muses wombe Thy other Royall Births at home But slowly slowly send them forth Lest for their number and their worth The enuious hand of Fates take hold And crop thee for they 'le thinke th' art Old I. W. I C. Vpon the same THat this small Piece the World should hazard first Of other better Workes thy Muse hath nurst To wonder I was forc't unless 't bee done As a small Starre doth usher forth the Sun E.P. Theologus amico suo ARAHAMO HOLLANDO D. PHILEMONIS F. in NAVMACHIAM suam NAumachiam lustrando tuam mihi flumine visus Iugenij placido desperijsse tui Arma virum tabulas Guleas Scuta per ●●das Aspicio mens est Carmine mersa simul Emergo tabulas votiuas dedico Musae Docte HOLLANDE tua quae bene facta canit FINIS AN ELEGIE OR SOME POSTHVME TEARES VPON THE ROYALL HEARSE OF OVR LATE SOVEREIGNE IAMES KING OF GREAT BRITAINE France and Jreland Defender of the Faith c. Who Died at his Manour of THEOBALDS the XXVII of March 1625. By ABRAHAM HOLLAND Printed for HEN. HOLLAND M.DC.XXVI TO THE RIGHT HIGH MIGHTIE CHARLES OF GREAT BRITAINE France and Jreland the first King of that Name and second Monarch Defender of the FAITH c. Sole Inheritor of his Royall Fathers KINGDOMES and VERTVES AND To King IAMES his Jmmortall Memorie This Elegie is Consecrated by his Sacred Majesties humblest and meanest Subject AN ELEGJE OR Some Posthume teares vpon the Royall Hearse of our late Soueraigne King IAMES NOw that the Land hath nigh forgot to weepe And IAMES the Good more peaceably doth sleepe In his vnblamed Vrne and th'Vniversities Vpon his Hearse from their lamenting eyes Haue throwne their Pearles through the widdow'd Towne The curious wits haue jewelled his Crowne Pardon if now poore I doe spend a teare Though farre vnequall to my care to beare My sorrow company if I commence A Nania now and end it two yeares hence I 'le chide my

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

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