Selected quad for the lemma: lord_n
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A03469
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A cypres garland For the sacred forehead of our late soueraigne King Iames. / By Hugh Holland.
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Holland, Hugh, d. 1633.
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1625
(1625)
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STC 13591; ESTC S104140
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4,928
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25
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A Cypres Garland For the Sacred Fore-head of our late Soueraigne KING IAMES By Hugh Holland P. Ouid Nase Infaelix habitum temporis huius habe LONDON Printed for Simon Waterson MDCXXV ⧠TO MY LORD THE DVKE OF BVCKINGHAMS Grace Whom God Preserue PRIVATE acknowledgment may not satisfie for Publique curtesies And what more publique then a Kings presence Very glad therefore I should haue bin of the least opportunity to expresse my thankfulnesse and much more grieud at the heart I am that now I haue so iust occasion But all the Noble Fauours which I haue receiued at your Gracious Hands I haue layd vp in a gratefull Heart It was you that led me by the hand nor once nor twice to kisse that awful Hand of his to which I durst not haue else aspired With what sweetenesse and brauery the Great Majesty of Brittaine imbraced then his meanest Vassal and those my humble Compositions Our young Souereigne then Prince of my Country your Grace and the Honourable Lords then praesent perhaps remember sure I am I can neuer forget And if I do let my right hand forget her cunning But I will represse my selfe least I may seeme to haue pickt occasion rather to boast my selfe then to bewaile him And yet in spight of mine owne modesty in spight of others malignity in the approbation of Iames the great I do I must I will euer triumph His Majesty to me did much grace and faine to his memory would I do some Glory Oft to my comfort I spake or wrot to Him now to my griefe I only write of him This Elegy vents more sorow then wit For in wit the lesse I was to labour in whose roome matter had succeeded If it be too longe thinke that my teares haue drouned my inke if it bee too short thinke that my sighes both inke at once and teares haue drayned With his Hâ—â—â—hments at Westminster I also offer vp my Pen consecrating the life thereof to Him and him to aeternity I wil conclude with publique vowes With vowes X and with vowes XX. So with X. so with XX. The God of Iacob proiect all his Elixar of blessings vppon the Sonne and Seede of IACOB That King CHARLES may euer liue in the fauour of God your Grace in his and I in yours Your Graces seruant in much affection HVGH HOLLAND A CYPRES GARLAND FOR the Sacred Fore-head of our Late Soueraigne King IAMES WHo now wil reade my Rimes with exceding Sweet grace accent mend them in the reading So would be praise the manner the matter Nor did they him he rather them did flatter For with his sugred lips my eares he charmed And with his snowy Hand my lips he warmed But now the frost of Death my heart hath chilled My blood is through my eyes to teares distilled His Ague hath me whole that for enditing I neither haâ—â— a head nor hand for writing Great Britany that knowes no other bounders But Heau'n and Sea lost lately Both her Founders My Master King of Armes by mans apointment My Soueraign King of Peace by Gods anointment Oh that my Soueraigne had bin longer liued Or had my Camden yet a while suruiued With Angells quill what else can reach his glory To write this mortall God's immortall story But in that other world which neuer endeth Him with his Lords his Herald he attendeth How many Great ones here not meanly graced In thirteen months the dance of Death haue traced Three Earles two Dukes a Marquis a Baron Who then may scape thy boat vncurteous Caron Besides young Wriothsly whoÌ„ the Earle his Father Then to suruiue chose to associate rather Two of the House were Stewards iust and loyall But of the Realme Iames was the Steward royall In cares no lesse then Name but euer heedefull To furnish it with noble things or needefull If Heau'n and Earth did all their Forces muster You should not finde a gentler nor a Juster The flower of Kings the King of flowers is wasted The Rose of England in the Spring is blasted When in the Ram his beams young Phaebus scatred The Ram of death the Fort of Phaebus batred Yet hath Breda thrice three months siege endured Is life no more in peace then warre secured Great Britaine and Breda haue lost their Maisters Alas that heere they were no longer lasters Of Peace and Warre the ornaments are spoyled Their faces Death and not their fame hath soyled The one with peace which Mars the other sided Yet neither were in life nor death deuided Both in a yeare too late they were ingendred Both in a yeare too soone to death surrendred But with my plaints why should I others mingle The sorrow which I suffer is not single His Holland hath no need my teares to borow Enough is me to share in Englands sorow Nor haue they so much inke on vs bestowed For all the blood which from our brests hath flowed Why was the fatall Spinster so vnthrifty To draw my third foure yeares to tell and fifty Why did not Atropos in peeces rauil My string of life and cut it with my Nauil Curs'd be the day that I was borne and cursed The nights that haue so long my sorows nurced Yet griefe is by the surer side my brother The child of payne and Payne was eke my mother VVho children had the Arke had men as many Of which my selfe except now breathes not any Nor Vrsula my deere nor Phil my daughter Amongst vs death hath made so dire a slaughter Them and my Martyn haue I wretch suruiued But all their deaths my Soueraigne's hath retriued Each yeare moneth weeke day houre I loose some fleeces So from my selfe and all I part by peeces The whilst I stand in controuersy whether More Sigh and weepe I or the winde and weather This is the yeare that all good hearts hath galled Let it no yeare of IVBILE be called This is the moneth of Mars to him so bloudy Because he still the arts of peace did study This is the dismal day the sea'un and twenteth That of no kinde of Spring or sweetnesse senteth When as the Sun no Sunday that nor holy Did set at noone and was ecclipsed wholy Was neuer March so moyst had heau'n refrained From teares our eies more then enough had rained And yet oh furious oh infernall Feauer So great so pretious dust no March had euer Yet in this moneth how haue the Fates revolued The great Eliza went to dust dissolued Yea in this moneth his glorious Anne expired And droun'd his eies through which his heart she fired Her liuely cheekes were like two louely spouses And bare the mingled badge of both the Houses For howsoeuer now we see it coyned K. Iames the Realmes and she the Roses ioyned This Sun and Moone betwixt them did ingender A Starre that both their lights alone doth render Young Charlemaine the ioy of either nation Great by his birth and good in expectation His Fathers throne ô may he long