A09526	----	An honorable president for great men by an elegiecall [sic] monument to the memory of that worthy gentleman Mr. Iohn Bancks, citizen and mercer of London, aged about 60 yeares, and dyed the 9.th day of September, anno Dom. 1630. Petowe, Henry. 1630 Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-05 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A09526 STC 19807.3 ESTC S3211 33143166 ocm 33143166 28270 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A09526) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 28270) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1885:107) An honorable president for great men by an elegiecall [sic] monument to the memory of that worthy gentleman Mr. Iohn Bancks, citizen and mercer of London, aged about 60 yeares, and dyed the 9.th day of September, anno Dom. 1630. Petowe, Henry. 1 sheet ([1] p.). B. Alsop and T. Fawcet, [London? : 1630] In verse. Imprint information from STC (2nd ed.). Text enclosed within mourning border. Signed at end: Mariscallus Petovve composuit. Reproduction of original in: Society of Antiquaries. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Bancks, John, d. 1630. Elegiac poetry, English. Broadsides -- London (England) -- 17th century. 2002-12 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2003-01 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2003-02 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2003-02 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2003-04 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN HONOVRABLE PRESIDENT FOR GREAT MEN. BY AN ELEGIECALL MONVMENT to the Memory of that worthy Gentleman Mr. IOHN BANCKS , Citizen and Mercer of LONDON , aged about 60. yeares , and Dyed the 9th day of September . ANNO. DOM. 1630. FAME come and wayte vpon the Funerall Herse Of Noble worth ; and let this weeping Verse Charme all those Eyes which spent a brinie Teare : Let none weepe more ; but read what 's written here . Fame dry their Eyes , and bid them all reioyce For Rich and Poore all with a generall voyce Spend their best breath , to tell the World that hee ( Whose death deserues this sad solemnity ) Was One , a Tunne of Dyamonds could not buy The Iewels which he wore : Humility , Religion , Iudgement , Wisedome ; Poore Mens Prayers Which halfe the way to Heauen , made him Stayres Should any weepe for such a man that 's dead ? Inter'd with Fame , his Soule to Heauen fled ? Not a Teare more : But bid the great Ones learne To doe like good , that they in BANCKS discerne Bid them peruse the Index of his deeds , And euery one discreetly as he reeds Obserue and quote i' th Margent of his hart The best of them ; that when their soules must part From their dead bodies ; They may so worke in them The World may say ; they liu'd and dy'd good Men But aboue all his Merit , My Pen is bound To laud his worth ( whom Fame hath so renowu'd ) Much more then any : For the Legacies Bequeath'd to Rich and Poore at Obsequies Of dead Testators , are but customary But the bequest I treat , is full of glory . As long as Time hath being shall not dye This first borne famous Guift and Legacy . Let the World know , he hath remenbred those The greate Ones doe forget ; and to disclose His Goodnesse in it , Censure You that read This Eligie ; Although IOHN BANCKES be dead He shall for euer liue . Th' Artillerie Shall fame his Guift to all Posteritie . Nine times Ten Ponnds this Gentleman did giue LONDONS Arttillerie , that such may liue And florish in that noble Schole of Armes ( Where 's taught the Gaurd of Princes frō all harmes ) Twenty Pounds to Feast , and other Twenty more To purchase Armes ; and Fifty to the Store , The Stock , the Treasury , or to the Banck BANCK fits it well ; if there were more to ranck . Hee was a Souldier , though that honored age Deny'd him with his Iuniors equipage ; Therefore his loue we honor : Behold and see The Glory of this sad Solemnitie . The Warlike Musick , Drum and Fife are clad In blacke , there beating Dub a Dub all sad : Muskets ( Retrorsum ) and their rests doe weepe , The heads of Pikes doe the like Clangor keepe Captaine , Leiftenant , Ensigne , and the rest All with deiected Countenances prest To direfull Mourning : Thus are Souldiers friends Like royall Princes brought vnto their Ends. FINIS Mariscallus PETOVVB composuit . 
A39175	----	An Elegie upon Dr. Tho. Fuller that most incomparable writer, who deceased August the 15th M.DC.LXI. / sic mœret James Heath. Heath, James, 1629-1664. 1661 Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A39175 Wing E452 ESTC R41956 19731091 ocm 19731091 109392 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A39175) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 109392) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1698:51) An Elegie upon Dr. Tho. Fuller that most incomparable writer, who deceased August the 15th M.DC.LXI. / sic mœret James Heath. Heath, James, 1629-1664. 1 broadside. [s.n.], London printed : M.DC.LXI [1661] In verse. Within mourning border. Reproduction of original in the Bodleian Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Fuller, Thomas, 1608-1661 -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, English. 2008-05 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-08 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-09 Megan Marion Sampled and proofread 2008-09 Megan Marion Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELEGIE UPON D R THO. FULLER That most Incomparable Writer , Who Deceased August the 15 th . M. DC . LXI . ROom for a Saint , set open Heavens Gate , Here comes the AUTHOR of the Holy State. See with what Train and Troops he now ascends Of Blest acquaintance , and Coelestial Friends ! Blest Ones , he comes to make your number more , His Life did much , his Death improves your store ; Such modest merit crowds not for a seat , Bliss covets to be FVLLER and compleat . A Cherubs wing hath soar'd him to this Hight , And Heaven is now in stead of Pisgah Sight : His Holy War but now is finished , When the reward of Glory crowns his Head. Each Tract ( like Jacob's Ladder ) still did rise , Directed Souls , and fixt them in the Skies : There are his Books transcribed and compriz'd Within the Book of Life Epitomiz'd : And if th' Herculean Labours found a place Assign'd in Heaven by the Gods , then Grace So well employ'd and exercised here Will shine far brighter in its Glories sphere . The kinder Parcae yet forbore the Thred Of that Invincible ; till Vice was dead , And he had quell'd the Monsters , and supprest All growing Ills , and set the World at rest : But this our Hercules was snatcht from hence I th' middle of his * Work , while in defence Of squalid Vertue through Injurious Age Gainst monstrous Antiques he a War did wage ; Broke off its Adamantine bonds of Sleep , The Dusty Marbles could their guests not keep : Had rouz'd our World again , and Truth appears Like Stoln Goods , by jarring of the years . Prodigious Luxury of Cruel Death To stifle Thousands through His loss of Breath ! Who shal redeem our * WORTHIES from the grave When he is gone who them alone could save ? Oft have we strain'd Caligula's wish , to make Death odious for some great and good mans sake But here how truly sad it fits our Turn Where Fate is multiply'd in FVLLER's Urn. Take then the Triumphs of his Noble Pen To tell the World the Learned'st are but Men ; And that the rescue of their worth from Time Death in his Fate hath made acap'tal crime . But know Illustrious Soul that we do see Those higher Reasons which transported thee From the black Art of Dark Antiquity To th' Speculation of Eternity : Let the Beatitudes there fill thy Mind While we 'r content with what thou leav'st behind ; And if forgetful be , or sparing Fame , Thy ART of MEMORY shall preserve thy Name . Sic moeret JAMES HEATH . LONDON , Printed M.DC.LXI . Notes, typically marginal, from the original text Notes for div A39175-e10 * An excellent Piece in folio now in the Press . * The Worthies general of England is the Title of the said Book . 
A39651	----	A Pindarique ode on the death of the Right Honourable Thomas, Earl of Ossory by Thomas Flatman, Esq. Flatman, Thomas, 1637-1688. 1681 Approx. 6 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 4 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-07 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A39651 Wing F1150 ESTC R19549 12675117 ocm 12675117 65530 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A39651) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 65530) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 353:25) A Pindarique ode on the death of the Right Honourable Thomas, Earl of Ossory by Thomas Flatman, Esq. Flatman, Thomas, 1637-1688. [2], 5 p. Printed by J.G. for Benjamin Tooke ..., London : 1681. Reproduction of original in Huntington Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Ossory, Thomas Butler, -- Earl of, 1634-1680 -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, English. 2003-01 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2003-03 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2003-05 Jonathan Blaney Sampled and proofread 2003-05 Jonathan Blaney Text and markup reviewed and edited 2003-06 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Pindarique Ode ON THE DEATH Of the Right Honourable THOMAS EARL of OSSORY . By Thomas Flatman , Esq ; Amotum ex oculis quaerimus invidi . Horat. LONDON , Printed by J. G. for Benjamin Tooke at the Ship in St. Paul's Church-yard . 1681. ON THE DEATH Of the Right Honourable THOMAS EARL of OSSORY . Pindariq ' Ode . Stanza . I. NO more ! — Alas that bitter word , No more ! The Great , the Just , the Generous , the Kind , The universal Darling of Mankind , The Noble Ossory is now No more ! The Mighty Man is fall'n — From Glory's lofty Pinacle ; Meanly like one of Us He fell , Not in the hot pursuit of Victory , As Gallant Men would chuse to dy ; But tamely like a poor Plebeian , from his Bed To the dark Grave a Captive led ; Emasculating Sighs and Groans around , His Friends in flouds of Sorrow drown'd ; His awful Truncheon , and bright Arms laid by , He bow'd his glorious Head to Destiny . II. Celestial Powers , how unconcern'd you are ? No black Eclipse , or Blazing-Star Presag'd the Death of this Illustrious Man , No Deluge , no , nor Hurricane ; In her old wonted course Nature went on , As if some common thing were done , One single Victim to Deaths Altar come , And not in OSSORY an whole Hecatombe . Yet , when the Founder of Old Rome expir'd , When the Pellean Youth resign'd his breath , And when the great Dictator stoop't to Death , Nature and all her Faculties retir'd ; Amaz'd she started when amaz'd she saw The breaches of her ancient Fundamental Law Which kept the World in aw ; For men less brave than Him , her very Heart did ake , The labouring Earth did quake , And Trees their fixt Foundations did forsake ; Nature in some prodigious way Gave notice of their fatal Day . Those lesser Griefs with pain she thus exprest , This did confound , and overwhelm her Brest . III. Shrink ye Crown'd Heads , that think your selves secure , And from your mouldring Thrones look down , Your greatness cannot long endure , The King of Terrors claims you for his own ; You are but Tributaries to his dreadful Crown . Renown'd , Serene , Imperial , most August , Are only high and mighty Epithets for Dust. In vain , in vain so high Our tow'ring expectations flie , While th' Blossoms of our hopes , so fresh , so gay , Appear , and promise Fruit , then fade away . From valiant OSSORY'S ever Loyal Hands What did we not believe ? We dream't of yet unconquer'd Lands He to his Prince could give , And neighbouring Crowns retrive ; Expected that he would in Triumph come Laden with Spoils , and Affrick Banners home , As if an Hero's years Were as unbounded as our fond Desires . IV. Lament , Lament , you that dare Honour love , And court her at a Noble rate ( Your Prowess to approve , ) That dare religiously upon Her wait , And blush not to be Good , when you grow Great , Such Mourners suit His Vertue , and His State. And you , brave Souls , who for your Country's good Did wond'rous things in Fields , and Seas of Blood , Lament th' undaunted Chief that led you on ; Whose exemplary Courage could inspire The most degenerate Heart , with Martial-English Fire . Your bleeding Wounds who shall hereafter dress With an indulgent tenderness ; Touch't with a melting Sympathy , Who shall your Wants supply ? Since He , your good Samaritan is gone . O Charity ! thou richest Boon of Heaven , To Man , in pity given ! ( For when well meaning Mortals give , The Poor's , and their own Bowels they relieve ; ) Thou mak'st us with alacrity to Dy , Mis't and bewail'd like Thee large-hearted OSSORY . V. Arise ye blest Inhabitants Above , From your Immortal Seats Arise , And on our Wonder , on our Love Gaze with astonish't Eyes . Arise ! Arise ! make roome , Th' exalted shade is come . See where He comes ! what Princely Port He bears ! How God-like He appears ! His shining Temples round With Wreaths of everlasting Lawrels bound ! As from the bloudy Field of Mons He came , Where He out fought th' Hyperbolies of Fame . See how the Guardian Angel of our Isle Receiv's the Deifi'd Champion with a Smile ! Welcome the Guardian Angel say's Full of Songs of Joy and Praise , Welcome Thou art to me , And to these Regions of Serenitie ! Welcome the Winged Quire resounds , While with loud Euge's all the Sacred Place abounds . THOMAS FLATMAN . 
A39263	----	Piæ juventuti sacrum, an elegie on the death of the most vertuous and hopefull young gentleman, George Pitt, esq. Ellis, Clement, 1630-1700. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A39263 of text R31412 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing E567). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 35 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 15 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A39263 Wing E567 ESTC R31412 11963477 ocm 11963477 51634 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A39263) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 51634) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1006:7) Piæ juventuti sacrum, an elegie on the death of the most vertuous and hopefull young gentleman, George Pitt, esq. Ellis, Clement, 1630-1700. [8], 21 p. Printed by H. Hall], [Oxford : 1658. In verse. Arms of the University of Oxford on t.p. Attributed to Ellis by Wing and NUC pre-1956 imprints. Imprint suggested by Wing and NUC pre-1956 imprints. Reproduction of original in the University of Illinois (Urbana-Champaign Campus). Library. eng Elegiac poetry -- Early works to 1800. A39263 R31412 (Wing E567). civilwar no Piæ juventuti sacrum, an elegie on the death of the most vertuous and hopefull young gentleman, George Pitt, esq. Ellis, Clement 1658 4765 3 0 0 0 0 0 6 B The rate of 6 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the B category of texts with fewer than 10 defects per 10,000 words. 2003-06 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2003-06 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2003-08 Judith Siefring Sampled and proofread 2003-08 Judith Siefring Text and markup reviewed and edited 2003-10 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Piae Iuventuti Sacrum , An ELEGIE on The Death of the most vertuous and hopefull young Gentleman GEORGE PITT Esq : Sen: Herc : Fur : Act : 3. Prima quae vitam dedit hora , carpsit . Even that first hour wherein man lives , Takes one hour from the life it gives . Printed in the Yeare 1658. To THE MOST VERTVOVS AND THEREFORE MOST DESERVEDLY HONOURED LADY , Mris ALICE PITT , With all due Service and Devotion is humbly Dedicated the following Elegy : At the Funerals of her onely , and worthily Beloved Sonne Mr G. P. MADAM , SInce You can be so Charitably kind , To let us share the Blessings of your Mind ; Since of the Comforts of your Wombe , your Son , You could allow me part ; and still had done , Had not our wretched lives curs'd Mistresses His Progresse Fear'd , Envy'd our Happinesse . It seems But just , I should be sharer to , As of your Ioyes before , soe sorrows now . Not then to joy with you , it had but bin My Misery ; 't were , not to grieve , my sin . That was my Priv'ledge , This my duety is ; That Gratitude Commands , Religion this . Nor dare I mourne by halves , The whole man he , Must weare noe party-colour'd livory : Such as indeed the joy-dissembling Heire Too oft at 's Father's funerall seems to weare ; when turne him inside out , you 'll eas'ly find Much diff'ring colours in his cloak and Mind . My sorrow's die'd in graine I onely have Just so much life as keeps me from the grave . Your Bounty cloaths the outward man in black , His Death would not allow my soule to lack Her Mourning-suit ; who in respect to you Has clad her Maid all in close mourning too Your Goodnesse calls on one ; and here you see , My bold griefe multiplies that one to three . Upon the weak staffe of a splitted Quill , My Creeple Muse comes halting up the Hill ; And humbly at your feet does prostrate fall , The devout'st mourner at this Funerall . Your sorrows rais'd her from that Bed of ease , Where she so long had hugg'd her own disease ; And had expir'd long siuce , a prey to death , But that your sighs brought a supply of breath Hearing your groans , she started up , and see No Sun appear , she straight cries out-'Tis he ! And with a trembling eye , roaving about , At length she spies that mournfull HARROVV out . Seeing this * two-top'd Hill ( for now there 's odds Betwixt your house , and that which once was God's : Though these made one , 'till some more wise then we Durst preach it Schisme to live in unity . ) Seeing these tops two blackest clouds o'reshade ( God's frown the one , your sadnesle t'other made : ) She calls it her Parnassus , and does run In hast , to take leave of her setting sun . The Deity inspir'd her was your Son , Whose vertues made your teares her Helicon . But may this fountaine soon run dry ! that streame No more occasion'd on so sad a theme ! O rather may my Muses last breath be Exhal'd in this unwelcome Elegie ! O may she rather spend her rustick Rithme Upon the reigning vices of the time ; And with her betters only reap these gaines , An happy Curse of Silence for her pains ! Had she not in this sin which she has done , Serv'd the sad mother more then happy son ; She had not in so deep a note sat down , And groan'd : But up to Heav'n had flown In lofty numbers ; such as might become The Sainted off-spring of your happy wombe . I cannot blame your love , which did contrive So many waies to keep this Flow'r alive : Though in a lovely garden here he grew , Made for such Flow'rs alone as he and you : Though you did well those lawfull hopes to nourish , To see him in this garden thrive and flourish : Though such endeavours with Religion stand , Yet did your pray'rs still contradict your hand : You wish'd him blest , your own experience shows That no man 's so before to heav'n he goes . I know you grudge him not his early rest , Nor think his blessing lesse , 'cause so soon blest . Who soonest goes this journey , runs his race With as much ease as speed , and takes his place Highest in Heav'n ; we who stay here behind , Laden with sins and sorrows , we shall find The entrance much more hard , and there must be Content to sit lower by much then he . This is your Blessing , that for seav'nteen yeares You have possess'd what now you lose with teares . That heav'n intrusted you with that rich prize , In love of which it selfe did sympathize With you and us : That you have been so long His Nurse , 'till he can speak the Angells tongue . And beares his part in that sweet quire , that siug Loud Halleluiahs to their God and King . May that bright Glory , which now Crownes the Son , Attend the Mother when her race is run ! There may you meet where endlesse comforts may , And shall mak 't an aeternall Holiday . Till when my alter'd Calender shall b●● Two letters for this day in every yeare . A black one for your losse , an other Red To signifie the happy day he sped In Heav'n ; May all the vertuous family Still live so innocent , so happy die ! May Heav'ns warme rayes revive your joies and keep Your Hopes awake , untill your Bodies sleep In peacefull Graves , and all your Soules do flye In triumph up to Immortality ! ON The Early , but happy death , of the very Hopefull young Gentleman , my once most dear , and Honoured friend , GEORGE PITT Esq : Dying of an haereditary Consumption at 17 yeares of age . THus flitting are our best of Joyes , and this The misery attends too early blisse ; To have a friend which I must lose ! O blesse Me ( Heavens ) with no such fading happinesse ! Whil'st here I breath , O let me rather be As free from friends , as Immortality ! So shall no dying joy to me bequeath A living sorrow by its hasty Death . " Sorrow hath to the height its selfe improv'd , " When we have lost what we can say we lov'd . What shall I call my Passion then , who have Bury'd more then one Heaven in his Grave ? I lov'd and lost , to tell you what , and when , Were but to love and lose him o're again . Great Griefs are dumb , in these sad lines I show , What 't is my Griefe would say were it not so . What others might call words , here are but weak Expressions , onely signes that I would speak . Could I speak out , my lines should have no end , My Griefe bee'ng more then words can comprehend . And yet no wonder , if each sigh , each teare , Falling upon his dust new-moulded were , And unto us articulate now seeme , Rebounding from so Elegant a theme . As Memnon's statue without soul or sense , When warm'd and mov'd by th' pow'rfull Influence Of Heaven above , did seem in gratitude To blesse the power whence 't was with life indu'd : So may his shining soul , which now is gone Triumphant far above the Stars and Sun , Dart down a Courteous and enlivening ray , To actuate our souls , as those our clay ; And make us such in●eed as he should have All speaking monuments about his grave . Till then , like one whose losses strike him dumbe , With this sad Paper on my brest I come , And mourne before thy Herse , such Griefe's exprest Best by a silent tongue , and vocall brest : For these sad words in these white sheets , they be The walking Ghosts of my dead Poëtry . Which haunt thy Grave , the place which does enclose More of my treasure then the world yet knows . More then I have to lose again , and more Then richest nature can againe restore . More then my hopes can aime at here , or can Be recompens'd in one that 's meerly man . A treasure can indeed no more be lost Then be forgot , 't is but secur'd at most : Since 't lies so safe , what 's left , I 'll cast all in ; This Mite-devotion of my widdow'd Pen . Could sighs breath'd out from sorrow's clouded nest , ( Call it thy living tomb or my dead brest ) Prevaile and blow thee back againe : or teares Shour'd on thy Corps raise a new spring of years : Could Sobbes and dolefull groans , sent from the heart , ( The last sad Gasps wherein our hopes depart ) Or be so pow'rfull , as to mollifie The Fates , or make thee think it sin to die . Thy friends , whom thy far-spreading death bereft Of Joyes , and senselesse as thy body left , Would borrow of surviving passion , To antedate thy resurrection . Could whitest Innocence with sweetnesse mix'd , Could Piety in Resolution fix'd , Could inward Grace in outward beauty set As true Gold in a Gilded Cabinet Could sweetest Inclinations in a mind Not warp'd by favour , nor through passion blind ; Could ( what 's a miracle ) a pious youth Ag'd in Devotion and Religion's Growth , Could each or all of these have set a rate Upon a mortall , death might venerate , And through religion be afraid to weare Those sacrilegious spoils it now does here : We had enjoy'd him longer , and in him Those vertues which so beautifi'd the Gemme . Wer 't thou no more ( sweet soul ) but as of late My dearest Freind , I durst expostulate With death and sicknesse , and thus seem to be In danger of a name in Poëtry . Could threats or flatt'ries , force or wooe the Grave , Onely to take what aged nature gave : Could dire Anathemaes belch'd out with noise ( The loudest thunder of a Poët's voice ) Fright death , and excommunicate disease I 'm sure thou had'st not bin so soon at ease : I know not which had giv'n more cause t' have griev'd That now thou die'st , or then so many liv'd . Were vertue but a name in thee , no doubt Our words might swell so big as speak it out : Or were our sorrow passion , Reason might Enter the lists and hope to win the fight : But 't is above this straine we mourne , not one Forc'd Sigh we have , strain'd tear , or modish Groane . Such as the zealous Hypocrite puts on When he should mourn for 's lost Religion . No mourners of the Poste , whose Grief's a trade , Who arm'd with Iron words , so come t' invade Death with their Execrations , murther fate With Curses as prophane , as then too late . Our sorrow's Christian , and our verses be Our due Devotion , no starch'd Elegie . True , he whose dryer soul would boast a power Beyond what 's mortall , and forbear to showr Down pensive tears upon thy ashes , must Crumbling to ashes too , mix with thy dust : None can but grieve for thy Mortality Except a soul that 's much more dead then thee . And yet he only mourns aright , that shows A soul as innocent as vertuous : As thine , whose actions write insteed of Griefe An harmlesse Comment on thy spotlesse life . A life so good , so chast , it seem'd to give Us a short tast of that which Angells live : And what 's most true in all Goods here we meet , This was its Commendation , Short and sweet . The fairest morning of a man , the dawn Of an aeternall day ; On 's clay was drawn The lovely'st picture of a lovely'r soul , On this the Divine Image almost whole . Man in his stature , in 's forme more then man , In purest Innocence a Christian . His nature soft , his body such as stole From Heav'n a lodging for so sweet a soul . Nature ( as in the Ermine ) fairly drew His duties ' Embleme in his spotlesse hue . Who so observ'd that rarest caution which Appear'd , when e're he was to passe the ditch Wherein too many welter and lie drown'd , Chusing the softest not the firmest ground . Would almost say more then in Complement Nature , not vertue made him Innocent . To see so young a soule stand all alone I' th' world , as vertue 'twixt two vices , one ; Assaulted now by one , then by another , And neither leare to one , nor cringe to t'other , Made me first see the businesse he had For Heav'n gave him no leasure to be bad , Whose race with so great haste to Heav'n was run 'T was almost finish'd e're we saw 't begun . O pious soule ! who know'st no paralell , To die so young when yet thou liv'dst so well ! To see so choyce a Gemme lye all alone Amidst a croud , and yet caught up by none Must speake a vertue more then naturall Which struck that secret rev'rence into all . To see so faire a flower oft beset With weeds and thistles , and to flourish yet Retain it's Beauty and its sent , and be Ev'n guarded by 't's malignant Enemie , Argues a vigour more then Earth can give , And more then ought but Heaven Could receive . Those pritty tempting bates which lye and hemme Youth in , and prey on those would feast on them , Could in his more resolved Count'nance move A smile at most , and of disdain , not love . Those thundring Oaths , the highest Embloss'd Pride Of brave discourse , which the swolne Deicide Enam'lling all his talke with that rude grace In a Bravado spits in Heav'ns pure face . Spread such an horrour o're his soule , as 't seem'd The tender'st part of what was thus Blasphem'd , So constant at 's Devotion , as though His soule did nothing but his Heaven know . How eas'ly went that soule to God , each day Which made it thus it's taske to learne that way ! For him to goe to Heaven , 't was no more But trace the foot steps he had made before : Knowing that he must run , that wins the Goale , It was his care thus oft to breath his soule . What e're might bring to Heav'n , to him 't was all Becomes so perfectly habituall It was as hard for him to do amisse As 't was for others to obtaine their blisse . Where others with amazement gaze and spie A Phancy'd lustre which puts out the eye , He saw , and seeing loath'd , and loathing shun'd ; Did not his reason ; with his sense confound . His words were such , as onely his could be Sweet perfumes breath'd from that rich Spicery Which did embalme his soule whil'st here it lay Bury'd within it's Sepulchre of clay . He liv'd , as if his arrand hither were To beg of each a passion , each a pray'r . So Heav'nly were his soul's sweet motions all To rest below had been unnaturall . So doth that noblest element of fire Fight with it's fuell and to heav'n aspire , And when that 's vanquish'd , and it upwards gone , Lives the more pure though after seen by none . His busnesse here below was not to wast . A life , or stay 'till some few minutes pass'd ; All that he came to doe was this , no where He had to leave 's mortallity but here . His blessed soul came hither but to shew That all that goe to Heav'n must this way goe : Had it been possible a soul should bound So high without a fall upon the Ground , Could man enjoy aeternall life , and not First dye , then had he never been forgot : Heav'n would have priz'd such jewells much more high , Then to expose them to each vulgar eye . But since the purest Di'mond , e're it stand The pride and Glory of a Noble hand Must first endure the file , and not think much T' abide the Lapidarie's ruder touch . Even so his richer soul now safely set In God's more wide and Glorious Cabinet , ( Enamell rich as those bright Orbes e're wore . ) Was here plac'd to be Cut and polish'd ore . Such was his entertainment here , that day Which first gave life , first took his health away . Born but to practice his mortallity , Only to learn how to be sick and dye . Nature grew jealous at his birth , she saw A face so sweet , so brave a soul , in awe Of her own work she stood , and lest it should Grow more then man , and deifie her mould , She sent him not abroad , but as we do Our Pris●ners ; with his churlish keeper too . His guard's a sad disease , which does essay To stifle 's soul in his infected clay . And when she would have walk'd abroad , to view What Nature made of old , or Art anew , Clapp'd bolts and shackles on each faculty , And made her life a death , who could not die . Till leaning too too heavy on the wall , It had so weakn'd , caus'd at length its fall : And now the joyfull soul escaped is Into a fair aeternity of blisse . O Happy soul , in this thy misery ! For having try'd so long what t is to die , Thou quickly did'st thy work , without all pain , And go'st to rest aeternally again . Whil'st others drop or stumble in , Heav'ns gave Him leave to walke softly into this grave . Such Flowr's are not cut down , but drawn up hence By their bright Sire's attractive influence . No sudden raging Fever parch'd his clay , And in an instant scorch'd his life away : But , as wax in the Sun-shine , when 't has felt That warmth , does rather sweetly yeeld then melt . And seems to smile upon its kinder fates , And to embrace the wounding raies , dilates And kindly spreads it's selfe , and wooes it's death Longing it's last embraces to bequeath : So did his melting body yeelding lie Smiling upon the Courteous Cruelty Of such a kind disease , which in each limbe Did seem to wast it selfe much more then him . Who saw him breath his last would conclude thence , He whisper'd Death in 's eare to fetch him hence . They seemd to strive which should yeeld first of these , His feeble body or his weak disease , He did espouse his sicknesse , was in love With that which first could seat his soule above . Angry with his Phisitians , who did try To kill the Death brought Immortality . His sicknesse to his body was born twin , As every soul since Adam to it's sin . Such entire friends that both must be or neither Since both were borne , both live , both dye together . But why miscall we't sicknesse or disease , Which is his Conduct to aeternall ease ? Which Heav'n sent hither with him , lest when hurl'd Now here , now there in a tumultuous world , He might forget where 't was his bus'nesse lay , This softly pulls , and tells him that 's the way . If ere it pinch'd so hard , as fetch'd a groan , It quickly sends a slumber to atone . The breach of friendship , as an early taste Or soft praeludium to aeternall rest . So like the sisters were in him , his breath , Did onely tell us which was sleep , which death , His last successive breathings did increase In such proportion'd measures , that to cease Did seem Impossible , what e're may be The adverse dictates of Philosophy . His breathings pass'd in such proportion As each respected that aeternall one . When by his long disease his patient brest Did seem to be more then was fit opprest , And made us sometimes over apt to say His spirit was as heavy as his clay , We sinn'd against his piety which thus Sequestred from 's malignant dust and us That purest soule , which up to Heav'n was gone In holy raptures of Devotion : When e're we judg'd him to be sad or dull 'T was absence but no heavinesse of soul . He was a study'ng whil'st he here did stay Onely to make choice of a dying Day . And 't was no wonder , he dispatch'd so soon , Who goes with th' Sun , shall come to Heav'n at noon . 'T was not too soon to goe when God did call , His fruit was ripe before his flow'r did fall . Angels could not too soon their Hooks here bring , 'T is ever Harvest , where there 's such a Spring . He saw but little , dislik'd more : the world Unsetled , alwayes round about him hurl'd ; To fixe there , were not to stand still but reel ; Who would live to be broake on such a wheele ? Yet did he try Towne , Country , and did see Some Reliques of an University : But nought could force his stay : much more he might Have seen , but strove to be at home ere night : And now no wonder if such Flow'rs do fade Set in so lean a soyle , so cold a shade As is the barren world that 's here below : No such faire flow'rs on such foule dung-hils grow . Just blowne he was when Heav'ns all-searching eye In love with 's beauty and his fragrancie , Streight plucks him up , and gives him this new name , A Saint inth Bosome of blest Abraham . This is his name , And now whom I before Did love and honour , I must learne t' adore . He now has happ'ly chang'd his mortall state , And 't was his aemulation , not his Fate : That Death so early call'd a soule so chaste , Argues his timely ripenesse , not it's haste . It was my happinesse when I could call Him friend , not startled at a Funerall . But since 't is more his blisse thus to acquaint Himselfe with Angels , canoniz'd a Saint By Death 's owne hand , I must aesteeme it more To be his vot'ry now , then friend before He was not borne for us , alas we must Not thinke such Iewels fitted for our trust His Goodnesse was our losse , Heav'n often spares Lesse blessings for a greater terme of yeares : We measure Good lives not by yeares but houres , 'T is much that we can say , he once was ours : That we once saw him is enough to boast : And 't is the noblest bragge to say we 've lost , And yet we have not lost our Saint , unlesse In an aeternity of Happinesse . We well may lose our selves in thinking how Heav'n is so mindfull of poor things below , As lend us so long his sweet presence , when It selfe thus picks him out from other men . So when the Glorious eye of Heav'n doth goe To view the wonders which we call below We use to say he sets and falls , when there He 's no lesse high or bright then he was here : His course is one , and Constant , though we call What our owne Nat'rall darknesse is , his fall Hee 's not of life , but we of him bereft , The sorrows we have found , those he has left Going to 't all the morning , now at Even We see him step over the Grave to Heaven . All joy to thee in Heav'n ( blest soul ! ) whil'st we Here weep and groan and pray to rest with thee . T is not thy fate that we thy friends bemoan , T is not thy death , not thy losse but our own . We nee'r shall find our joies again 'till we Can die and lose our griefs in Heav'n with thee . But we disturb thy sacred dust , now close Wrapt up securely in a sweet repose . We not so prize thy soul , as hope to buy It back by th' cheap expences of an eye . Why should'st thou now from all thy joyes descend , Unblesse thy selfe , so to reblesse thy friend ? When we 'd enjoy thee next , 't will be a light Task for thy sake to bid the world Good-night , We eas'ly shall passe through the Grave and death To come to thee , we 'll run quite out of breath . Such pious journeys still successefull be , He 's sure to go to Heav'n that comes to thee . Mors iter ad vitam . An EPITAPH on the same . ASke you , what 's by this Marble meant ? Thus said the soul , which this way went . Friend , I am gone , There nothing lies but dust and stone : Would'st thou be here ? Step in and leave thy body there . Why at the door Do'st stand and talk ? I 'm far before Would'st be where I Now happy rest ? Dispatch and die So shalt thou be that in thy selfe , thou seek'st in me . Strike through this stone , make hast to tast & know , What I enjoy , but cannot tell thee now . Another . KNock not , but enter ; why do'st fear ? His ashes sleep , his soul 's not here . VVhat here thou see'st , this breathlesse dust Liv'd seav'nteen yeares , Chast , Good , and Iust. VVhen here it could no better be , 'T went home ro Immortallity . This Grave , which by its death became The sole surviver of the * * PITT . He being the last heir male of the family . name , VVas left its Heir , 'till that day when These ashes shall revive againe ; And up to those blest mansions sore , VVhither the soul went long before . FINIS . Notes, typically marginal, from the original text Notes for div A39263e-150 * The two tops are the Church and your house . 
A40103	----	Carmen pastorale lugubre A pastoral elegy upon the most lamented death of His Royal Highness, William, Duke of Gloucester / by J.F., Gent. Fowler, John, 17th/18th cent. 1700 Approx. 11 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 6 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2007-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A40103 Wing F1730 ESTC R12832 12155106 ocm 12155106 55126 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A40103) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 55126) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 68:10) Carmen pastorale lugubre A pastoral elegy upon the most lamented death of His Royal Highness, William, Duke of Gloucester / by J.F., Gent. Fowler, John, 17th/18th cent. [2], 8 p. Printed by W.O. for the author, and sold by Bennet Banbury ... and J. Nutt ..., London : 1700. Attributed to John Fowler. Cf. NUC Pre-1956. Reproduction of original in Yale University Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. 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Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng William, -- Duke of Gloucester, 1689-1700 -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, English. 2006-12 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2006-12 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-01 Robyn Anspach Sampled and proofread 2007-01 Robyn Anspach Text and markup reviewed and edited 2007-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Carmen Pastorale Lugubre . A Pastoral ELEGY Upon the most Lamented DEATH OF His ROYAL HIGHNESS , WILLIAM Duke of Gloucester . PALIDA mors ; aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas , Regumque turres . — — Durum , SED levius fit patientia ; Quicquid corrigere est nefas . Hor. By J. F. Gent. LONDON : Printed by W. O. for the Author , and sold by Bennet Banbury , in the Lower-walk of the New-Exchange ; and J. Nutt , near Stationers-hall , MDCC . A Pastoral ELEGY , &c. Menalcas , Damon , Albania . Menalcas . WHat sudden Cloud with Sable Wings o're-spreads The Firmament ! and hides the blooming Heads Of Albion's brightest Stars ? My trembling Breast , Chill'd with a piercing Damp , refuses Rest ; Leaving my Fold , to Damon's Flock I 'll go , And ask the Sage , what means this dismal Woe . Dam. ] What Grief resides in dear Menalca's Soul ? Tell me , that I may with my Friend condole ? What means this Horrour ? These amazing Eyes , Somewhat extr'ord'nary does my Soul surprize ; Tell me at once whence these sad Omens flow ? For I am told , " 'T is Ease the Worst to know . Men. ] This Morn as to the Flocks my Course I bent , Before the Sun its gilded Beams had lent , A sudden Prodigy struck with Surprize My trembling Soul , and fill'd my wond'ring Eyes ; I saw the Skies in all their Lustre clad , Each dazling Light display'd its radient Head , When tow'rds the North I turn'd my eager Sight , A Sable Pyramid obscur'd the Light Of some Britannick Star , where Empire sat , Seeming to Challenge it with Laws of Fate : Then saw its crystal yielding Rays remove , Twinkle its last , obey the Pow'rs above ; Then strait the Cloud remov'd its Sable Tow'r , Which to obscure had but one Moment's Pow'r ; When lo ! the Star , before depriv'd of Light , Mov'd in a crystal Heav'n far more bright , Cut the Empyreal Air and yielding Sky , Until it reach'd a Saphire Throne on high ; And thence a double Lustre seem'd to send To th' Orbs , o're which it lately did intend . Dam. ] What this strange Sight portends I cannot tell , I wish the Heavens mean us all Things well ; But lo ! Albania , Mistress of the Plains , That Entertain the fair Britannick Swains ; See she comes Weeping with dischevell'd Hair , Meager her Looks , all discompos'd her Air , And Sorrow overwhelms the lovely Fair. Bearing a Prince's Ensign on her Head , O're which the baleful Cyprus Leaves are spread ; Look how her Eyes with crystal Tears o'reflow , Her wringed Hands are certain Signs of Woe . Alb. ] Arise ye British Swains , prepare , prepare , Your Voices with a Mournful Fun'ral Air , Tear off your Verdent Chaplets , and instead Of them , with Sable Cyprus dress your Head , Undo your tressed Hair , and role in Dust Your milky Locks ; such Rites alone are Just To th' Memory of Him , you go to mourn , Who all the Plains with Lustre did adorn . Mourn , Mourn , ye British Swains , your Loss deplore , Pollio is gone , the Royal Youth 's no more . See the sad Scene all in a Moment turns ! See , see , our Mother Tellus , how she Mourns ! For want of Moisture , gasping lies and burns . See how each Tree , the sad Disaster grieves , Instead of Tears , they shed their fading Leaves ; The gentle Zephirs Mourn with hallow Noise , The watry Billows in rough Murmurs rise , And all the warbling Choiristers o' th' Air , To lonely Shades , and silent Groves repair , Changing their Notes , They all at once Conspire , To make a mournful melancholy Choir ; Instead of tuneful Airs , are seiz'd with Dread , They droop the Wing , panting they lean the Head , And faintly Sing by turns , POLLIO , alas ! is Dead . The Flocks too all amaz'd are fill'd with Grief , Complaining to each other for Relief ; Refuse the Meads , their wonted pleasant Seat , And on the Rocks in mournful Sighings bleat , Young Pollio 's Dead : Thus are the Flocks Dismaid For Pollio's Loss , to whom they Homage paid : Behold the Nymphs , how with Concern they come , To pay their Tears to Pollio's sacred Tomb ; Their careless Dress , their bright entangled Hair , Their sad retorted Looks , their clouded Air , Are saddest Signs of Grief : See how they beat Their snowy Breasts , bemoaning of their Fate . See how they Weep in flowing Streams of Tears , Their downcast Looks , sad Sorrows Emblem bears ; Each Nymph with Flowers , just Cropt before their Bloom , To Strow before their darling Pollio's Tomb ; With Tapers too , they Entertain the Sight , Extinguisht in the Infancy of Light. Mourn , Mourn , ye British Swains , your Loss deplore , Pollio is gone , the Royal Youth 's no more . Alb. ] Pollio , the Royal Youth , deriv'd from Pan , Virtue in Him her early Course began , And Wisdom in his Youth declar'd him Man. To him the Beauteous Graces did Resort , And all the Virtues kept with him their Court ; These lovely Rays shin'd in his Noble Mind , Nothing but Goodness there did Entrance find ; Born to be Great , Heir to the happiest Crown , The happiest Constitution that is known , Yet Fate decreed he should not Mount the Throne . Pollio , the Glory of the British Plains , The Darling Hope of all th' Admiring Swains , Whose great Capacious Soul , whose Noble Mind , And Pious Innocence at once combin'd , With Prudence his Companion , and began To raise his Head above the Sphere of Man ; Pollio , the Princely Youth , whom all desir'd , The more they saw of him , the more admir'd ; Religion , Wisdom , Love , and Courage shin'd In every Motion of his tender Mind : Virtue his Soul , Beauty his Body Crown'd , Nothing of Vice was in his Converse found . Pollio , the Princely Youth 's depriv'd of Breath , And Lodg'd within the Sable Courts of Death . Mourn , Mourn , ye British Swains , your Loss deplore , Pollio is gone , the Royal Youth 's no more . Alb. ] Ye Nymphs and Swains in Sobs and Tears declare Britannia's Loss , and strive to Ease her Care ; Under that Sable Tree he sits and Mourns , Each flowing Tear ( tho' shed ) agen Returns ; Murmuring at the cruel Stroke of Death , That thus depriv'd her Pollio of his Breath : Careless her Lance she lays , her ' Chiev'ment too Falls from her Lap , as if the Ensign knew Britannia's Loss : Thus she Laments her Fate , As having lost the Bloom of all her State : She who expected from his Courtly Rays , That she should see sometime his Halcyon Days ; Now sees him , Oh her Grief ! depriv'd of Charms , And Lodg'd in grizly Deaths all frozen Arms ; Her Grief is great , and more than she can bear , Look how she beats her Breast , and tears her Hair ! Her lofty Towers , with mourning Banners spread , All sadly Represent , Her Pollio Dead . Mourn , Mourn , ye British Swains , your Loss deplore , Pollio is gone , the Royal Youth 's no more . Men. ] But stay , your Grief , altho' your Grief is Just , Pollio hath but shook of his Cloaths of Dust : 'T is Heav'n's high Will , that he should Cease to Live On Earth , that so he might above receive A Starry Crown , not laden with Alloy , Where free 's his Court , and undisturb'd his Joy : I saw the Star direct its airy Flight , Until it reach'd a Saphire Heav'n , all bright ; In splendid Lustre , mov'd its spotless Wings , Receiv'd with welcome by the King of Kings . Cease , Cease , ye British Swains , Cease to deplore , For Pollio's blest above , tho' He 's to us no more . Dam. ] To see the sad Inconstancy of Fate ; How Subject to Vicissitude the State ! What Confidence did All in Pollio place ! How did the Youth adorn the Royal Race ! What Griefs accompany the Royal Pair ! None can express the loss of such an Heir ! Mourning alone is Form ; but when we see Sorrow affecting State , and Majesty ! How are we struck with chilling Dread and Fear ! And Love , as well as Duty , sheds a Tear. Men. ] In this sad mournful State , let us not strive To search the Cause , why Heav'n thus make us Grieve ; For know , 'T is Heav'n's unalterable Will , And Executed wholly to fulfil His great Decrees : Let 's therefore be content , Submissively expecting the Event Of his great Providence , who all Things sways , When he commands , Death his great Will obeys : Princes are Men , Mortals must yield to Death , 'T is to the Will of Heav'n , not Chance , we owe our Breath . FINIS . 
A39912	----	The fall and funeral of Northampton, in an elegy late published in Latin, by the Reverend Dr. S. Ford ; since, made English, with some variation, and enlarged, by F.A. ... a sad spectator of that frightful scene. Ford, Simon, 1619?-1699. 1677 Approx. 24 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 9 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A39912 Wing F1486 ESTC R38879 18183581 ocm 18183581 106943 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A39912) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 106943) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1123:27) The fall and funeral of Northampton, in an elegy late published in Latin, by the Reverend Dr. S. Ford ; since, made English, with some variation, and enlarged, by F.A. ... a sad spectator of that frightful scene. Ford, Simon, 1619?-1699. F. A. [4], 12 p. Printed for John Wright, and are to be sold by William Cockrain ..., London : 1677. Reproduction of original in the British Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. 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Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Elegiac poetry, English. 2006-11 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2006-11 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-01 Celeste Ng Sampled and proofread 2007-04 Apex CoVantage Rekeyed and resubmitted 2009-01 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2009-01 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion THE FALL and FUNERAL OF NORTHAMPTON , IN AN ELEGY , Late Published in Latin , By the Reverend Dr. S. FORD . Since , made English , With some Variation , and Enlarged . By F. A. M. A. A sad Spectator of that Frightful SCENE . Nec verbum verbo curabit reddere fidus Interpres . — LONDON : Printed for John Wright , and are to be Sold by William Cockrain , Book-seller in Northampton . 1677. TO The Honourable and Right Worshipful THE KNIGHTS and GENTLEMEN COMMISSIONERS and TRUSTEES , Appointed by The late ACT of PARLIAMENT FOR RE-BUILDING THE TOWN OF NORTHAMPTON , This Iliad of our Miseries ( as in a Nut-shell ) is presumed to be Dedicated , As to the more Immediate Raisers up of our Foundations , Repairers of our Breaches , and Restorers of Paths to dwell in , upon Record . And in behalf of all Concerned ( as some poor Acknowledgement of our due Thankfulness ) Humbly presented you , by one ( Most Honoured Sirs , ) The humblest of your Servants , F. A. THE FALL and FUNERAL OF NORTHAMPTON . NIne Zodiacks now , and more , the sloaping Sun About the wheeling Heavens had run , Since London's fatal Dooms-day , when , by Flame , As Sodom and Gomorrha She became . 'T was the same Month , in which Astraea bright , With equal ballance , weighs out Day , and Night . The second Dawn , to London , sprung her bane ; Northampton's twenty'th Noon , the same : When a weak lambent Flame , at first began The Wisp , was grasped in a span : Spans over all , soon , from the farthest West To North , and South , and utmost East . Such was Elijah's hand-breadth Cloud , of yore , Which spann'd the whole Horizon o're ; That , on a Sun-burnt Earth , refreshing , showrs ; This , flaming Fury on us pours . Despise not then a Straw ; the poorest thing Can swift Destruction on thee bring ; Dust was a Plague to the proud Pharian King. But to return ; 'T is fit the Story be Transmitted to Posterity . A Cottage poor there stood , at farthest West To poor a Covert , and a Nest ; Thatch'd over head , and Thatch'd o' th floor , With Straw and Litter , to the door ; A Barn , a Stable , or a Hog-stye , whether ? Barn , Stable , Hogs-stye , all-together . A Wisp with Embers , from a Neighbour fetch'd , Blazing in hand , the Litter catch'd . The Wind impetuous , at West-Nor-West ; The Door stood to the Wind , full breast . 'T is not the Dust , that doth Affliction bring ; Nor from the Ground doth Trouble spring ! Heaven's Bellows blew the Fire , the mounted Flame To the House-top , confirms the same . Not twenty Engineers , with all their Art , So swift Confusion could impart ! Hope was , at first , resistance might be made , A cheap , and easie conquest had : And , to that end , came marching up , in Bands , Troops of Auxiliary Hands . But O! — The Foe too potent was , and strong , To be controlled by a throng . The Wind too , with Auxiliary blast Augments his fury , and his haste ! As angry Heaven , with fell-raging fire , Both seem'd against Us to conspire ; So , to r'encounter the Vulcanian Might , Seem'd , against Heaven too , to fight . The Foe in Triumph rides , upon the wings Of Zephyrus , and Lightning flings ; That seizes all the neighbouring Thatch , and where It lights , it quickly levels there : Each flake of Straw enflam'd , enflames the Skyes , Flame , gendring Flame , still centuplyes . Insatiable Monster ! nothing will Thy rav'nous , hungry Maw , fulfill ! The more thou gorgest , still the more dost crave ; Thy Belly Hell ; thy Throat a Grave ! Thy Potentiality so great , so fierce , As to calcine the Universe ! Thatch'd Houses , to the Flames are now a Sport , Of Pow'r to scale the strongest Fort ! The underlings , of Covert all made bare ; The loftier , next , assayled are . Nor Arch , nor Buttress , nor Stone-wa ll can fence The Structure from its insolence ! Here , tumbles down a Chimney ; there , a Wall ; Then , the whole Fabrick , Roof and all . The spattering Stones , in flakes , about the place , And Slats , spit Wild-fire in the face . Beams , Tracings , Rafters tumble in , and Floor ; Flames vomiting through every Door . Each House of Stone a burning Oven , red , With it's own Furniture is fed . Who with devouring Fire can longer dwell ? There to abide , would be an Hell ! Confusion such : the Eye not onely , here Is fill'd with Horrour , but the Ear ! Noise from one quarter , accented with Moans ▪ Re-Echoes to anothers Groans ; An Howling from a second ; from a third Heart-piercing Cryes , and Shrieks are heard ! All Ears , the ratling Desolation fills , As a great Crashing from the Hills ! The Foe the Field has won ; — No Place for Fight Is left us now ; — nor yet for Flight . By Ambuscade of Fire upon the Ground , And Ruins , quite Beleaguer'd round . Some weak Efforts , howe're ; Before we 'll yield ; He shall , by Inches , win the Field . Help here : — a Ladder quickly : — yonder 's Hook : — O : — quickly , quickly : — Sirs , for God-sake look : The Fire has here but new now took . Some Buckets there : — What are you Stocks , or Stone ! — Some Water , quickly , — or the House is gone ! What! — the Pumps burnt ! — No Water any where ! — Go stave the Hogs-heads ; — fetch up Pails of Beer ! Dash , — dash ; — O quickly ; — more ; — more yet ; — one here ! — ( I charge you stand your Ground ) — another there ! Five Pounds ( good fellows ) here , as a Reward , To stand your Centry sure , and keep strict Guard. One stout Commander , thus , has baffl'd more Th' insulting Foe , than others , twenty score . Another cryes : — Help here ! — another , There ! — Another ; — and another ! — Where , — O where , A fifth replyes ; — Sure thou art blind : Another ! — He quickly choak'd , and blinded is with Smother . One , Hoarse with Bawling ; Deaf with t' others Noise , Has lost his Hearing , with his Voice . Distracted each , by dissonant Command , Cannot the other understand . Babel of old , as in a Scene , you see Here present , by an Autopsie ! Confusion , Discrepancy , Tumult , Throng , — A Kindness to the Foe ; to Them a Wrong : Each thwarting other , in the course they take , The fury of the Flame to slake . Retreat they must ; — or Death , or sudden Flight ! 'T is daring , against Heaven to fight . But ah ! — the hideous Moans , Laments , and Cryes , From every Ward that do arise ! — Hither and thither ; — to and fro they run , As Wights distracted ; — clean undone ! Fear to their feet adds wings ; — but whither then To flee , they know not , — woful Men ! All Avenues block'd up ; — from fire to fire , And flame to flame , they must retire . Whether they stand their ground ; or whether flee ; Nor here , nor there , from danger free . The Women , with Heart-piercing Groans , and Shrieks , Beating their Breasts ; beating their Cheeks ! Children , in their shrill Accents , to their Mother , Shrieking in Consort , each with other ! And some are so astonish'd with the Blow , Of this their huge down-bearing Woe , Tongue-ty'd with Grief ; to tell each others Wrong , Their Eyes usurp the Office of the Tongue . They cannot weep , alas ! they cannot moan ; Like Niobe , are turn'd to stone ! Or like Lot's wife , when she beheld the wrack Of her dear Sodom , looking back ! Strange property of Flame ! — Stone to calcine ; Flesh to transform , to Stone and Brine ! Transformed so to Statues view them here , By pale astonishment , and fear ! Smelling of Fire each one ; and sing'd with heat ; Squalid their Cheeks with dust and sweat ! Hair stairing ; red swollen Eyes ; with gastly Look ; Blasted by Lightning ; Thunder-strook ! Offer at words ; then stop , and groan , as if Their Tongues congealed were , and stiff ! Unfetter'd yet remain both Feet , and Hands , From those stiff Adamantine Bands : Self-preservation , and Instinct will shew The Offices , these have to do : Their Hands , to rescue Luggage , what they might ; Their Feet , to rescue them , by flight . All in a hurry , loaded on his Back , Is each one , shifting with his Pack . No Arms are empty ; and no Shoulders light ; Yet feel not of their Load the weight . What vacant room , in any place , they spye , Thither , in hast , with Goods they hye ; There lodge them : — Back again ; — but then , as fast , The rapid Flame prevents their hast . Then empty handed , back ; to guard the same Few Goods , were ravish'd from the flame . Care to secure that little , did betray Their value , to the Thief a Prey . Goods any where , at random hurl'd , in hast , A Rescue from the Fires wast ; And Goods deliver'd out to unknown hands , Of any one , there next that stands ; These , too , were ample Spoils to villain Thief , Pretending kindness , for Relief . O! — may such Vultures fret , with gripes within , Of their own self-revenging sin ! May 't prove a Rape , ( snatch'd , as from Altar . Blest ) With glowing Coals , to fire their Nest ! Streets pyl'd with Goods ; and straight those Pyles became Fewel , to their own Fun'ral Flame . A spacious Church there stood , on middle ground , With noblest Streets encompass'd round : This their Asylum ; hither all do carry Their choicest things , for sanctuary : Rich Wares ; and richer Books ; and Treasure ( sure ) Would here , or no where , be secure . But loe ! from Horns o' th' Altar they are snatch'd , By Sacrilegious Fire attach'd ! Things Sacred , things Profane , are all become , To th' greedy Flames , an Hecatomb ! O! — pray not , then , to Saints ! — O! never swerve ! All Saints themselves could not preserve ! This goodly Fabrick , as a thing forelorn , In pensive widow-hood doth mourn ! Like Sheep dispers'd , and scatter'd here , and there , Her frequent solemn Meetings are Frequented , in her yet remaining Towers , By Screech-Owls hoarse , at mid-night hours ! There leave her still ( no help , alas ! ) we must , Down-sunk , and bury'd in her dust . Turn we from hence , and see the neighbouring Pyles , Flaming about , in Ranks and Files : If Desolation , thus , Gods House infest , What better Quarter may be given the rest ? Then ( to make short ) Northampton all , in view , But one great Bon-fire doth shew . Now in this general Wrack , 't were strange , if some , As Pitchers , came not broken home . — Home , did I call 't ? — Alas ! — nor House , nor Home , Nor Harbour standing , where to come ! The Havock such ! the very Plot not known , But yesterday it stood upon ! Yet , Skin for Skin : midst all their Losses , they Their Lives had given them , for a Prey . This Mercy , ' midst of Judgment , granted thee ; Better no House to be in , than not be . When stripp'd of all , whilst living ; whilst a man ; Th' art still a Cosmopolitan ! Children , some few , shiftless to make Retreat ; Pass'd through this burning Tophet's Heat . Blest Innocents ! by Baptism Fire , Your Guardian Angels meant to mount you higher , Above this Dung-hill Earth , and Mire ! Your Parents , here below , you sorrowing sought ; Got once to Heaven , they 'l find you out . This too , shall add some Glory to your Name : Your Fates , together both ; and both the same : Yours , and your native Cities Fun'ral Flame ! An after-clap of Ruins then befel , Renews our Sorrows here to tell ! Vain Man ! ( you 'l say : ) when , by one suddain blast , Of rushing Wind , three were in pieces dasht ! Lighter than Wind , and Vanity , O then , Remember still : — that we are men . But , ( to return ) all else with Life retire , Though most , as Brands , snatch'd out o' th Fire ! And thus retir'd , though they in safety be , Yet , jealous of their fafety , flee . The fearful Hare , thus , having gain'd the start Of th' eager Hound , in every part , For shelter , to some Covert , swift doth bear ; No Covert , yet , can shelter her from fear . Such , also , is the bleeding Quarries dread , From Faulcon's gripes when rescued . As they , by little , and by little , came Once to themselves ; and fears grew tame ; Their flight restrained somewhat ; and the rage Of head-strong Passions to asswage : Their Piety directs them now , to mind , Where they their absent Friends might find . How to retrive , and bring again to light , Those sad remains of fire and flight . Dispers'd , and shuffl'd multitudes among , Each calls on other , in the throng . Here , here , cryes one ; — another , here am I ; yet cannot one another spy . Those , whom their distant voices cannot reach , Ask all , they meet with , each of each . The Wife : — O , my dear Husband ! where is he ? The Husband : — my poor Wife , — where 's she ? Dear Mother : — O — where , where are you ? — where 's my Brother ? O , — my sweet Children ! — cryes the Mother ! So , when by rav'ning Wolf the scatter'd Fold , All o're the Champain , you behold ; — The bleating Ews their Sucklings ; bleating Rams . Rally their Ews , and bleating Lambs , Till , by alternate bleatings , each to either , All re-unite , and flock together . Yet , different here : — for multitudes were fled , Whether alive ( who knows ? ) or dead ? Of whom , before , no tidings could be heard , Few , here and there , by chance appear'd . Those few , are met with , on the self-same ground , Are rather stumbl'd on , than found . For why ? to every hospitable Farm , The wandring Exiles thither swarm , No Town , nor Village neer , that night , was free , From Pilgrims , and heart-melting Sympathy . — There leave we them , in safety full of cares , And tossings on their Beds , and fears . Yet let 's be civil too , before we start , And pay our shot ; at least in part : Kind-hearted Christian , worthy , noble Friends ! We would , but cannot make amends : Your great obliging Love , and Favours such , We ne're can value them too much ! To harbour the distress'd ; — to furnish Bread. To th' hungry , and half-famished ! To send us in Provisions every way ; Load us with kindness , day by day ! Consult , contrive , assist , with Head and Hands , And Heart , and Purse ! — O — these are Bands , That must oblige ! — may Heaven and Earth , repend Like blessings on you , — to your end ! Never may Fire invade you ; — may it be Your Servant ( always ) — not your Enemy ! May peace ; and happiness , and safety fall Thick — thick , upon your Tabernacles all ! Thus taking leave ; We 'l back again to know How fare the other amidst all their wo. Retir'd ; — the labouring Moon does disappear , By charms as ravish'd from her Sphear ! A Sable Veil of Black 's about her Head ; In Clouds of Smoak enveloped ! 'T might seem , as if , amated at the sight , Swooning , she dy'd away her Light ! The Light we had , was Flame , to see our Way ; And that ; a counterfeited Day ! The Coast was clear ; th' Inhabitants were fled ; But none ( you may suppose ) to Bed. Some in the bordering Fields , Church-yard , or Close , Back-lanes , or Orchards take repose . Scorching and broyling in hot Fire , but new , Now wet and shivering in cold Dew . Or else , in quest of Friends , that missing were , Wandering the Coasts about , in fear . Distressed Friends : be not dismay'd for all These hard mis-fortunes you befall ! Chear-up , nor give your black despair the scope ; So long as Life remains there 's hope ! The time will come ( though I no Prophet be ) Ere long you better days shall see : You have a gracious God , a gracious King : Mercy from both and bounty spring God and the King your Friends , the Countreys all Shall stand your Friends in general . O! — pay we then , to both , here , every where , All due Allegiance , and fear . Night-shades do vanish ; — new sprung day is born From eye-lids of the purple morn . Who is not now on fire to walk the round , Of the new desolated ground ? ( 'T is a kind of pleasing horrour to look back , When landed safe upon the Wrack . ) Here you behold a frightful Solitude , VVhere late the sacred Temple stood . Thence to the spacious Market turn your Eyes ; There the whole ruin'd Checquer lies ! The Drapery next in heaps of Rubbish down ; The second Beauty of the Town . A third , which from th' adjacent Bridge takes name , Laid level with the ground , by Flame ! St. Gyles to East ; — with spacious Abington , Streets , hand in hand , lye over-thrown ! Then that , which forward North , along doth roam , She 's her own Sepulcher become ! That next an ancient Colledge , long had grac'd , VVith Ruins utterly defac'd ! The Gold-Street , by Antiphrasis so nam'd , VVith all her Fellows , was enflam'd ! The Horse-frequented Market , all destroy'd ! The fatal Street , St. Maries void : Fatal to all ; there 't was , the Fire began , VVhich all the others over-ran . We 'l name no more , though Ruins more we sound , Many , in walking of the round . Imagin , now , you saw , before your Eye , A Lyon seised on his Prey : No rescue , till full gorg'd , and glutted , here Two Legs lye scatter'd ; there , an Ear. Such the proportion is , 'twixt what the Fire Devour'd ; and what was left intire ! Thus fell Northampton ; Darling once to Fame ! A Victim , now , to angry Flame . Great London onely , Tow'ring in the Skyes , Could her great Ruins equalize ! There yet remains ( lov'd City ) to reherse Thy Epitaph , in mournful Verse . Epitaphium . WAy-faring Traveler , who e're thou be : Hold on thy wonted Road , and see A Spectacle ; which ( sure ) thy thoughts will raise To chilling Horrour , and Amaze ! Northampton here , Entomb'd in her own Dust And Ashes lyes : — thy Emblem just : Thou brave and frolick , shortly , in thy Urn , To Dust and Ashes , thus , shalt turn . She , at noon day , in health , and happy plight , Straight , clouded with a gloomy night ! Lament her Fall ; — with sobs , and flowing Eyes , Come celebrate her Obsequies . Fair Albion , Queen Regent of our Strand , many fair Daughters doth command ; She , one the fair'st , and lovely'st in the throng Of Sister Citys , all this Isle among . Where Silver Avon doth her Flood combine , In Wedlock tye , with Crystal Nine , She , in the midst ; — they all , as in a Ring , About her round encirculing : Fam'd See of Peterborough ; Vppingham ; Huntington ; Bedford ; Buckingham ; With Warwick ; Woster ; Lichfeild ; Coventre ; Leicester next ; &c ae . Name them we may not , here , for want of room , ( Compendium , best , befits a Tomb. ) Onely , give leave to say : — These , neighbouring all , With hundreds more , lament her Fall ! Fruitful her Soyl ; delightful was her Seat , — In Hill , and Champain , Mead , and Rivolet ; Healthful her Air , — three Elements conspire In one , to bless her ; — all , but Fire : This works her speedy Ruin ; — and with dread , Show'rs Flames , and Vengeance on her head ! Ah , merciless , dear Element , might she , Most truly , now , complain of thee ! But ah ! — she is not : see both here , and there , Her shatter'd Reliques , every where ! Embalm we then , with an officious Verse , And pious Tears , her dolorous Herse ! Combine her Ashes ; recollect her Dust ; Them to her Urn commit , in Trust ! Who knows , but she , ere long , a Phoenix , may , Spring from those Ashes , bright as day ? Thy Votes , with ours , O — still and still renew , Kind Passenger ; And so — A dieu . The END . 
A42180	----	Groanes from Newgate, or, An elegy upon Edvvard Dun, Esq. the cities common hangman, who dyed naturally in his bed the 11th of September, 1663 / written by a person of quality. Person of quality. 1663 Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 3 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2005-12 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A42180 Wing G2055 ESTC R5890 12271086 ocm 12271086 58245 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A42180) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 58245) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 186:11) Groanes from Newgate, or, An elegy upon Edvvard Dun, Esq. the cities common hangman, who dyed naturally in his bed the 11th of September, 1663 / written by a person of quality. Person of quality. 4 p. Printed by Edward Crowch ..., London : 1663. "And licenced according to order" Reproduction of original in Huntington Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Dun, Edward, d. 1663. Elegiac poetry. Executions and executioners -- England -- Poetry. 2005-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2005-08 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2005-09 Judith Siefring Sampled and proofread 2005-09 Judith Siefring Text and markup reviewed and edited 2005-10 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Groanes from Newgate ; OR , AN ELEGY UPON Edvvard Dun Esq : The Cities Common Hangman , who Dyed Naturally in his bed , the 11th . of September , 1663. Inter pone tuis interdum gaudia curis . Written by a Person of quality . And Liscenced according to Order . Cromwell . Ireton . Bradshaw . London , Printed by Edward Crowch , dwelling on Snowhill . 1663. An Elegy upon Edward Dun Esquire , the Cities Common Hangman . COme New-gate Muse and let 's agree To antipothize an Elegie , And let each drop that dares to run From barren eyes fill twice three Tun , That so we may soon drown our fears , And deluge grief in her own tears : Let 's think but how he did the feat , And then conclude the loss is great . But oh ! it adds unto our dread , He di'd untimely in his bed . The valiant Souldier's loth to yeild To Death , except it be in Field ; And who is he that would not die According to his quality ? It was ( oh Death ! ) an unjust thing . Thou should'st deny him his own swing ; Sure , sure , thou hadst some great designe Or else thou'adst took him under-line ; How can our griefs be unreveal'd , When so much vertue di'd conceal'd ? Who does not hear how every stone In New-Gate cries . O hone , O hone , Whilst all the Pris'ners sadly run And cry , The Devil rides on Dun ? Nay more , each tender-hearted Louse , Belonging to that Mansion-house , Doe strive in Sable robes to crawl , Like Mourners to his Funeral . The noble Hemp its grief doth shew , And scorch'd with sorrow cannot grow ; The Ax , the Block , the Knife , in brief , Each Tool is rusty now with grief . One thing I had almost forgot , Tyburn with grief is grown a Sot ; And that which breeds her greatest harms , Is that he di'd not in her arms : He 's gone , she cries , that often stood More then knuckle deep in blood . Oh with what a dextrous art He would pull out a Traytor 's heart ! Never did Musick please him well , Except it were St. Pulchers Bell. I was his Altar and his Spouse To whom he often paid his vowes . The Altars of the Heathen Gods Were not so good as mine by ods ; Because their Priests were not so wise To offer Men for Sacrifice : But my brave Priest did plenty bring , Of such as murther'd their own King , He 'd offer them at my high Altar , And thought no incense like the Halter : But he is now quite void of breath , And had no incense at his Death . His EPITAPH . VNderneath this place doth lie The Miracle of Crueltie ; I le tell thee now I have begun , Then know , kinde Reader , all 's but Dun : FUNIS . 
A47480	----	An elegy on the death of that most laborious and painful minister of the gospel, Mr. John Norcot who fell asleep in the Lord the 24th day of this instant March, 1675/6. Keach, Benjamin, 1640-1704. 1676 Approx. 7 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 2 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2005-12 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A47480 Wing K61 ESTC R18842 12350425 ocm 12350425 59966 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A47480) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 59966) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 213:7) An elegy on the death of that most laborious and painful minister of the gospel, Mr. John Norcot who fell asleep in the Lord the 24th day of this instant March, 1675/6. Keach, Benjamin, 1640-1704. 1 sheet ([1] p.) Printed for Ben. Harris ..., London : 1676. Written by B. Keach. Cf. Wing; BM. "An epitaph" signed: E.T. Imperfect: badly stained. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Norcott, John, d. 1676. Elegiac poetry. Broadsides -- England -- 17th century. 2005-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2005-05 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2005-09 Judith Siefring Sampled and proofread 2005-09 Judith Siefring Text and markup reviewed and edited 2005-10 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELEGY On the Death of that most Laborious and Painful Minister of the Gospel Mr. JOHN NORCOT , Who fell asleep in the Lord the 24th of this instant March 1675 / 6. HOw doth my troubled Soul amused stand , On thoughts of God's most sore Chastising hand ; Let Heaven assist my Pen , and help indite This Mournful Elegy I 'm mov'd to write . My grieved heart knows not what way to take , Its love to shew and lamentation make . David for Jonathan was sore distrest , And in like sort has sorrow seiz'd my Brest . Beloved John is gone , dear Norcot's dead ; That Man of God , who hath so often fed Our precious Souls with Manna from above : Whose powerful preaching did ingage our love To Jesus Christ . O! he had care and skill To feed poor souls and do his Master's will. But is he from us also took away , What , breach still upon breach ! Lord Jesus stay Thy hand , such strokes are hardly born , Here 's cause for hundreds to lament and mourn . The loss is great the Churches do sustain , Poor sinners too like cause have to complain . There 's few like him surviving to arouse Their sluggish souls out of their sinful drouse . They now may sleep secure and not awake . Until they fall into the Stygian Lake . This Golden Trumpet 's stopt , 't will sound no more , To warn them of what danger 's at their door . To win sinners to Christ he did not spare His strength nor time , thought nothing was too dear To part with all , if any ways he might , Their Souls turn from false ways unto the right : Like as a Candle which much light doth give , Doth waste it self , whilst from it we receive Much benefit ; so did he clearly burn , To the wasting of himself unto the urn . This godly Preacher in a little space , Much work did do , he swiftly run his race ; With 's might perform'd what e'r he found to do . God graciously did bless his work also , Yea few ( I think ) have had the like success , In turning sinners unto righteousness . O were the worth of this good man but known , It might produce an universal groan . Let Brethren dear of different minds lament , For he for you in prayers much time has spent ; He lov'd you all , though I have cause to fear , The like affection some did scarcely bear . 'T would pierce ones heart to think in such a time , Obedience unto Christ should be a crime ; Or that offence should in the least be took , ' Cause from Gods word he durst not turn nor look . He would own naught but what thus saith the Lord , Add would not he nor minish from Gods Word . Come let us live in love , we 〈…〉 , When at his Port we all arived 〈…〉 Let sinners mourn , who shall their loss repair , Who for their Souls so naturally did care . Well may ye fear God will proclaim new wars , When he calls home his choice Embassadors . What may a Sodome look for from above , When such who stood 'i th gap , God doth remove . O tremble City , what is God about , Look for new flames , thy Lots are calling out . And now chastized flock a word or two , I 've double sorrow when I think of you . When that the Harvest doth for Reapers call , To lose your Labourer , this wound 's not small . O who shall bear the burthen of the day , If God doth take the Labourers thus away . When Pylots die , how shall the Seaman stear , ' Mong'st Rocks and Sands , when stormes also appear . Have we not cause to think the crafty Fox , Will out abroad and prey upon the flocks . And Ravening Wolves also will grow more bold . And scare some silly Lambs out of the fold ; If God proceed to call the Shepherds home , O what will of so many flocks become . ' i th' midst of all , in this doth comfort lie , The chiefest Shepherd lives when others die . And he be sure who for the Sheep did bleed , Will stick to them in times of greatest need . Come cease your grief , don't you know very well , The care God has of his own Israell . And it s no more which now is come to pass , Then what by you some time expected was , And what is done is but our Fathers will , Therefore be silent , every one be still : For should we yield to passion I have fears , We should grieve Christ and wound our Souls with tears . The narrow Sluces too of dribling eyes , Would be too streight for those great Springs that rise . But since our Vessels fills up to the top , Le ts empty them , for every sin a drop . For it le ts wish we were compos'd of Snow , Instead of Flesh , yea made of Ice , that so We might in sense of sin and it loathing , Melt with hot love to Christ , yea thaw to nothing . And should our sins deprive our Souls of him , Let tears run from our Eyes till Couches swim . Yet let 's not grudge him that most happy bliss , Who now in glory with Christ Jesus is . He did his work apace , his Race is run , He'as touch'd the Gole yea and the prise hath won . AN EPITAPH . A Sweet and godly Preacher doth lie here , Who did his Master Jesus love so dear , And sinners Souls , that he his strength did spend . And did thereby ( 't is thought ) hasten his end , He brought himself by preaching to the Grave , The precious souls of sinners for to save . He lies but here asleep , he is not dead : To God he lives , to Christ his soul is fled , And o're while must he awake again , And evermore with Christ in glory raign . By B. K. London , Printed for Ben. Harris at the Stationers Arms in Sweetings Rents near the Royal Exchange , 1676. 
A50273	----	A p[i]ndarique elegie upon the death of the R.R. Father in God Jeremy, late Lord Bishop of Doune, Connor, and Dromore by Le. Mathews ... Mathews, Lemuel, fl. 1661-1705. 1667 Approx. 12 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 7 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A50273 Wing M1289 ESTC R32058 12308557 ocm 12308557 59320 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A50273) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 59320) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1015:15) A p[i]ndarique elegie upon the death of the R.R. Father in God Jeremy, late Lord Bishop of Doune, Connor, and Dromore by Le. Mathews ... Mathews, Lemuel, fl. 1661-1705. [2], 5-14 p. Printed by John Crook ... and are to be sold by Samuel Dancer ..., Dublin : 1667. In verse. Indistinct letter in second word of title. Reproduction of original in the Cambridge University Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Taylor, Jeremy, 1613-1667 -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, English. 2000-00 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2001-09 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2002-06 Sara Gothard Sampled and proofread 2002-06 Sara Gothard Text and markup reviewed and edited 2002-07 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion A P●NDARIQUE ELEGIE Upon the death of the R. R. Father in God JEREMY , Late Lord Bishop of Doune , Connor , and Dromore . By Le. Mathews A. M. à sacr . domest . Dublin , Printed by Iohn Crook , Printer to the Kings most Excellent Majesty , and are to be sold by Samuel Dancer , Bookseller in Castlestreet , 1667. TO THE MEMORY Of the most Venerable Doctor JEREMY TAYLOR , Lord Bishop of DOWNE ; &c. Stanza . I. HAppy the man ! whom fate permits to stay In the abodes of old eternity ; Careless what 't is to live , and what to dye , Or what 's a doing in mortality ; Well satisfi'd only to be , To dwell in an immortal ray , Hid in the light of that long lasting day . But happier he ! if'tis his doom From Natures silent tyring room , To enter on our busie Stage , the world ; Who not by fortune hither hurl'd . An empty place to fill , Or to make up the Cities bill , Or stand a mute , or gaze amongst the crowd , And do ingloricus things and vile , And idly laugh and prate a while , Till out of breath wrapt in a common shroud , I● laid with unknown bones , and has no fame allow'd ; But he who bravely speaks and bravely does , And throughout all the various Scenes Worthy and fit himself demeans ; Whether his part the Prince or Peasant shows , For that the Drammatist and not he chose : He does deserve th' applause of all , Thrice happy him ! may the spectators call , When th' worlds almighty Poet bids the curtain fall . II. Such was the man whom all admir'd , Whom ●ame , and Heaven's sweet breath inspir'd , Whose funeral voice made others live , And Immortality did often give ; And yet though such he were ; Though thus the mighty man has done The mighty man ( alas ! ) is gone : He , he is gone and left us here To doubt if heaven can such another send , Or what for us it does intend , For all our joyes and hopes are frighted flown Ere since the whole Church heard by a catholick groan The Doctors gone . III. Open great volumn of Fame , open wide , Written fair and full on every side ; To all the world his story show , Though all the learned world already know But Fame , be elegant like him ; Be quaint , be copious , and not obscure ; And Book unsullied be and trim ; Have a large character ; but specially be sure without , within No blot , no stain be seen , For this to latest ages must endure . IV. He was the man , so pure , so innocent , So careless of forbidden fruit , Richly supply'd with Natures own recruit ; So masculine his soul , and so content To be but man ; so little bent To vice , that you might call Him one not bruis'd by Adams fall . Iv'e never but with admiration seen His generous looks , his glorious meen , They made me think of heaven , and of the Saints above . So Angels live , and smile , and love ; And one might guess as soon , that they Had ancient scores to pay , And smelt our Grandsires mouldy clay . V. So vast his knowledge , he Had tasted oft of each allowed tree , On all their sweets had daily fed The Bird of Paradise , he kindly bred A gaulless Dove within the Serpents head : The Cherubs bow'd , and sheath'd their swords ; For 's tongue had all the charms of words , All that language and wit affords , And new and fitter names did wear ; And 's lucky pen ( as if a pencil 't were ) Made gold , by guilding it , more golden to appear . Ye , wisdoms Sons with him there 's lost A Vatican of learned things , which cost A Treasury of precious time ; but grieve ye most For undiscover'd Arts and Sciences , And what is excellent in those or these ; What never was , what never shall be found , With him lye buried under ground . VI. Had he been where the Lycaonian throng Thought those two Prelats Gods in humane shape ; He scarcely could escape Their worship , and a canonizing Song ; Iove for his presence , Mercury for his tongue . Had he been thine , fond Rome , th' hadst gloried more In him then all thy wondrous Saints before ; His birth had famous been and great , His life a golden legend should repeat ; The Hero dead had sainted bin ; and soon His Reliques miracles must have done , Whilst his the Rubrick names did far out-shine ; Yet though thy native , he had not been thine ; Strong prejudice his free-born soul Custom and interest were never able to controule : Could my weak voice make Fames trump louder sound , I 'de speak thy praise the Universe around ; Great Saint ! thy humblest votary ; A thousand hymns I would bestow , Alas ! ten thousand would not do : Too big the subject , and too strait the Poetry , For all that can be bravely said is due to thee . VII . Oft have I thought , and still admir'd , Religion's Sons in blacks ●tti●d Black , natures mou●ning vaile ; a hew More d●smal far than cypress or the yew ! Black ! that checks the ●oying beams of light : Black ! the mantle of forsaken night : Canonick habit of a Tragedy ! Misfortunes dress ! Deaths livery ! There was of yore ( and , yet there scarce could be ) Religion 's darling , an illustrious he , bright Saint , like thee ; Whose face did shine When thou didst preach God's Law , like thine , Who lighted the bewildred host With a dark Lanthorn , a cloud and flaming post , Till in Mount Neboes vale their guide and light they lost ; For some such loss as theirs or ours , I guess The mystick train of men profess An art of death , and ghostly things do talk , And ever since in mourning gravely walk . VIII . Such was the mitred man Our great Diocesan , Whose Crosier aw'd our murmuring land , As he those tribes with a miraculous Wand ; Whose eye not dim , but natures heat intire ; The sacrifice on th' altar did expire : His sacred feaver , his ardent love Heav'd him to Heaven , and to those flames above ; Iehovah suck't , and kiss'd his soul away , As Rabbins of Israels Prophet say : Or as the Tishbite in his fiery coach Rode up toth' Gate , and Heavens bright palace did approach : Strange was his death , and strange his grave ! And our great Prophet too ascended so ; O had he left his mantle here below ! A harder thing then Shaphats Son we crave , A double portion of thy spirit may thy Successors have . IX . How poor , how short a thing is all The time which here we living call ! Scarce , is our race begun , Ere half our race is run ; The noble prize how very few have won ? With Tim's quick wings to death we fly As swiftly as the hours ; and you and I , Reader and all must dye . Stay serious thought , prethee stay ; See how apt 't is to flee away ! When th' undiscerned hand does snatch us hence , For what goood deed expect we recompence ? When we are tumbled into dust , What can Fame say , if it be true and just ? We must like common people die , Nothing but vulgar in our Elegie ; There 's nothing of our own To be by future ages known ; Our memories 'mongst undistinguisht beasts are thrown . X. Thy fate , blest soul , cannot be such , Whom none could prize , whom none could praise too much : My Beads I le bid before thy venerable shrine , Who like the Stars , to which th' art gone , didst shine : I fear my rhimes , my love So ill exprest , may libels prove ; For what is set too high , no man can reach , But in thy stile , none ought of thee to preach ; To read the Text again is the best gloss ; Thy glorious Works can praise thee most ; thy name Shall be preserv'd by th' spicy breath of Fame ! Support and ornament o th' Christian Cross ! The Churches Doctor ! the Catholick loss ! XI . But though the Doctors dead , Though from the Fane the Oracle is fled , The Temple still is hallowed ; His sacred ashes still are there ; I le humbly pay a figh , a tear : Rest holy clay , Slumber till the judgement day ; Devout cinders ! contrite dust ! Mild heart ! free from cank'ring rust ! Learned brain ! eloquent tongue ! Charmes of the attentive throng ! Bright cheerful looks ! which ne're Envie or grief , anger or fear , Though they have try'd a thousand times and mo●e , Could make you pale before ! Pious breaths ! you 'l sigh no more , but sleep : Rest closed eyes ! no more you 'l weep : Rest facred clay , Slumber till the judgment day ! Thus I said , and as I said , The awfull Relick made me bow my head , What was in life so great , is something great when dead . XII . His soul from golden Fetters free , Rapt to its own dear liberty , To highest Heaven knew all the wayes , For there't had been ten thousand times in pray'r and praise , Wrapt in a commendatory prayer , A mouthful of artic late Air , — Air rarifyed with hearty zeal was its first vehicle ; A nimble Cherub quickly flyes From the best wardrope in the skies ; For soon the news had fill'd th●se starry rooms , The Prelat comes ; The welcom guest is quickly cloath'd upon With A bes of pure etherial lawne ; Subtile as Angels joy , and fine As is the breath divine : Clad in that Robe of white , Of soft and never with'ring light , He gently passes through A long admiring row Of sainted Ghosts to martyr Charle's wa●n Come , Tayler , come ; Here 's Hammond , there is Sanderson : The lesser Angels all make room , And they embrace — ill natured men ! in vain Ye kept these three from the entreating Soveraign : Enter bright Soul this general Convention , This Quire of Priests ; hither's thy translation , Bishop Elect ! there shortly will be given To thee a Diocess in the large Hierarchy of Heaven . FINIS , 
A54669	----	Elegies offer'd up to the memory of William Glover, Esquire ... by Thomas Philipot ... Philipot, Thomas, d. 1682. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A54669 of text R736 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing P1994). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 26 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 11 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A54669 Wing P1994 ESTC R736 12367917 ocm 12367917 60462 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A54669) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 60462) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 221:5) Elegies offer'd up to the memory of William Glover, Esquire ... by Thomas Philipot ... Philipot, Thomas, d. 1682. [6], 13 p. Printed by Tho. and Rich. Cotes, London : 1641. Reproduction of original in Huntington Library. eng Glover, William, -- Esquire -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, English. A54669 R736 (Wing P1994). civilwar no Elegies, offer'd up to the memory of William Glover Esquire, late of Shalston, in Buckinghamshire. By Thomas Philipot, Mr. of Arts of Clare Philipot, Thomas 1641 4147 2 0 0 0 0 0 5 B The rate of 5 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the B category of texts with fewer than 10 defects per 10,000 words. 2004-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2004-07 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2004-08 John Latta Sampled and proofread 2004-08 John Latta Text and markup reviewed and edited 2004-10 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Elegies , Offer'd up to the memory of William Glover Esquire , late of Shalston , in Buckinghamshire . By Thomas Philipot , Mr. of Arts of Clare Hall in Cambridge . LONDON , Printed by Tho. and Rich. Cotes . 1641. To the Right worthy as well by Vertue as Birth , the Lady Anne Glover . Madam , THough it bee unlawfull to offer up sacrifices to the dead , yet license me to sacrifice these Elegies to the memory of your Sonne , and permit me to make his name an Altar , though not his Tombe . Those reciprocall endearments which at first fed and fomented our friendship , have made such an impression on all those faculties that officiate to my Soule , on all those functions that hold Correspondence with Invention and Phansie , that I should not onely seeme ungratefull , appeare unfruitfull , but also supinely forgetfull , if I should not endeavour by consecrating some Trophie ( though nere so rude and inconsiderable ) to his remembrance , to redeeme and rescue it from the Vault , and so preserve it , that it might never be rak'd up amongst his ashes . And though peradventure those benefits that hee shed on others , fell but upon barren and unthankfull ground , yet those he powr'd upon me , have not languish'd into oblivion , but teem'd with a gratefull acknowledgement : Death onely by usurping his life too soone excluded me from inlarging my Gratitude to himselfe , that I might professe it to you , who shall bee the Delegate to receive the payment of a Debt I ow'd to your Sonne , which shall be done with a Devotion as emphaticall as that which excites mee to send up my Orizons to Heaven for your happinesse in this world , and before inspir'd mee to powre forth my prayers for your Sons glory in the other . Madam , if you thinke that these low expressions of my zeale and Monuments of my Affection can improve your Sonnes memory to any perpetuity , suffer them I beseech you to give themselves up to your view , since you may ascertaine your selfe that they issue from one whose entire study is , whose whole practise shall be , how hee may declare himselfe , The humblest of your Servants Tho. Philipot . An Advertisement to the Reader . REader thou needst exhaust no Time to looke Within the Pages of the Heralds Booke , And sift that Index to Times past , to see Whence Glover did deduce his Pedigree Or search t' instruct thy selfe to what extent His noble and Illustrious Descent Spins out it selfe , since thou mayst finde him here Decipher'd in a fairer Character Then any there , and his Descent made good , By being deriv'd from vertue not from blood . Thy eye needs not take notice of his Crest , Nor scan those Metals that his Armes invest ; Nor see if cloth'd in purple they appeare , Or the pale furre of speckled Ermins weare , Since these sad lines that onely can display Their Heraldry in Sables , will array His name with as much eminence and note , As those rich colours that improve his Coate : Nor care to be inform'd what Issue He Left to convey and waft his Memory To after Times , and make himselfe survive His Ruine ; and be still preservd alive In them , since thou mayst be advertisd , he Lives in no Issue but in Elegie , The Off-spring of my Braine ; Where thou mayst view His face appeare more genuine and more true Than if exactly 't were limn'd out and set By Nature in a living Counterfeit . And if thou passest by where Glovers Dust Lyes in the Casquet of his grave in trust , And seest no Pile or Monument adorne The bleack and naked surface of his Urne , Argue not any guilty of neglect To his Remaines , nor Art of a Defect 'Cause she forgot her Trophies to impart , He needs no Tombe that has one in my Heart . Elegies offered up to the memory of William Glover Esquire . Elegie 1. IS Glover dead ? and could stern Death employ No Sicknesse but a Surfet to destroy The structure of his Earth & make even meat That should foment , stisle & choak that heat ? Which kindled in the Chambers of the Heart , Is thence diffus'd to aire and warme each part . We need not now I see the fatall knife Of Atropos to cut the twist of life , Nor shivering Agues to congeale the blood , Nor Feavers to licke up that purple flood , Or Rheums in brinie showers to distill And drowne the lungs , when meat it selfe can kill . Who then would in his earthly Fabrick trust , Whose brittle Wals are moulded out of dust , Which let good diet plaister nere so well , Sicknesse may yet make them dissoluble : For we 're compact of miseries and feares , Kneaded into a lumpe with our owne teares . With our first milke our nurses do bequeath , Diseases to us , and we bed with Death Even in our Cradles making them become , Types and Ideas of our future Tombe . Those eyes whose glances all did seeme t' implore , And superstitiously did e'en adore Th'effusion of their radiant beames may bee Inforc'd to weepe vext with an Opthalmy . A palsy dares disturbe and shake that hand , That with its Scepter can the world command : Those seete which proudly walkt on Kings may be , Brought by the Gout into Captivity . And Glover in whose lineaments appeard Such Harmonie , that Nature seem'd t'have rear'd An Altar to perfection which she meant It selfe should farme his polish'd Tenement , We see was but an Edifice of Earth , Within whose Heart as on some oylie Hearth A fire was fed , whose flame was blowne about Each veine and nerve , which Death has now put out . How much exposd toth Injuries of fate Is all the glory then a humane state Can but lye claime to , in accessable To rest is swelling greatnesse , a briefe Cell Can shelter and include more solid Peace , Than the extended Roofes of Pallaces . For those that pillage Nature to invite And egge on a luxurious Appetite , Doe so encumber all their faculties , They onely hatch a tribe of Maladies , Which like a progeny of Vipers will Turne Parricides and their owne Parents kill . Elegie 2. VVE can for every cheape and triviall losse Condole so much we even se me t' ingrosse The publike stocke of greife and at our eyes , Imbezell our exhausted faculties , Whilst our dull passions pant with eager throes , As if they teem'd with mountaines of vast woes . Each maime by fire , each shipwrack can induce Our soules to such intemp'rate and profuse Resentment , that those Cataracts of Raine Our eyes diffuse might quench the flame againe , Or in their briny Hurrican's once more , Ingulph the ruin'd Barke upon the shore . But when a friend shakes off Mortalitie And his fraile Earth drops into ashes , we Should from th'officious limbecks of our eyes Distill , as rites due to his obsequies , Such floods of pious teares that if dull Art , Should by some lame neglect forget t' impart Her nard and unctious Balsames to exempt , His pretious Reliques from Times rude contempt , They might embalme his fading masse of clay , And fortifie it so from all decay It may remaine till time shall die , and have Himselfe a Habitation in his grave . Should I then now my melting eyes repreive From teares , or be too thrifty in my griefe , When he ( to whom my soule was so endeard , So twisted into his , that we e'en steerd Two bodies with one Heart , and did improve By mingling of each others thoughts that love ) Is disinvested of that drosse and Earth , Which did empeach and intercept his birth To immortality , I then should be Tainted with scandalous Apostasie To Friendships sacred vow , and should enter My short-breath'd love within his Sepulcher . No! such a permanency I 'le enstate On my Affection that neither Fate Nor Time , shall blast or wither it to Death . Yet I 'le not to his memory bequeath Some brazen Obeliske whereon shall bee Engrafted some patheticke Elegie , Which may to a succeeding Age declare What a strong emphasis my griefes did beare , Because the Cottage of his clay so soone Languish'd into a Dissolution ; For 't would be triviall since his name alone , Will prove more firme than either brasse or stone . Yet I 'le not depraedate the Phoenixnest , Or pillage the Exchequer of the East To gather Balmes or odorous spices thence , By whose benigne indulgent influence The ruines of the Earth may be so charm'd , They may 'gainst all th'Assaults of time be arm'd : For the kind Earth shall from her wombe distill , Drops of rich gumme mixt with a fragrant drill Of balmy dew , which shall descend upon His dust , and baile it from Corruption , So that no bold intruding worme shall dare To be an Inmate to his Sepulcher . Nor will I to embellish and adorne The gloomy Climate of his private Urne , Rifle the Parian Quarries , and erect Some gaudy Pile his ashes to protect : Since that like these will weare away and rust And mingle both in undistinguish't dust . No , from the Inlets of mine eyes I 'le lave Streames of unsummond teares out on his grave Which shall agen concentrate and collect Themselves into a swelling Cataract , Which shall by th'coldnesse that my sighs shall vent , Congeale into a Christiall Monument ; And stand a trophee there to propagate , His memory 'gainst all th'attempts of Fate . But when the world and her gay pompe expire , And both lye gasping in the generall fire , When God will cancell Times Commission And call in Fates strict Patent , when the Sun And all the throng and petty stars like teares Shall drop in flaming Gelly from their Sphers , When th'impenitent Earth so long shall burne , Till it into repentant ashes turne ; And each conspicuous Ornament it wearēs Fals into dust ; this shall resolve to teares . Elegie 3. PAle ruines of my friend is there no charme No Magicke that can bridle or disarme Deaths eager malice and exauthorize That power by which he seis'd those faculties That were thy life's Retinue 'las no spell , No charme can make us inexpugnable 'Gainst his assailements ; for when h'eel employ Some feirce malignant sicknesse to destroy , And raze our Tenements of Earth we must Moulder away into rude heapes of dust ▪ No! since those sparkes of life which first did burne Within thy brest are dropt into thy Urne , Where rak'd up in thy ashes they shall lie Till Times calcin'd into Eternity , And then agen a purer light acquire , Reviv'd and kindled by the generall fire . I 'le not invade or prie into that chest Which shrouds thy ashes to dissolve thy rest ; But may a soft eternall slumber flow In gentle silence through the Vault below , Whilst thy immortall part purg'd and redeem'd From its dull weight of clay which onely teem'd With humours and diseases , shall descry That frame and well compos'd Oeconomy That Heavens digested in , and fully be Acquainted with that moderne Colony , Phansie has planted in the Moone , and know Whether each starre be peopled yet or no , And shall unvaile those misteries which we ( Eclips'd by mists of ignorance ) can see ( Knowledge being in her Solstice ) with an eye , But blear'd and hoodwink'd though we should apply Nature's faint glimpse to 't , which imparts a light Like that that 's shed by glowormes in the night , And when it has with strict survey ore-run , Each Province of the starry Region , T will with its charming Musicke , both inspire , And mingle notes with the Seraphicke Quire ; And its soft aires in sacred Anthems reare , Set toth' harmonious chiming , some spheare , And as they there in tunefull accents flow , My sighes shall be their Eccho's here below . Elegie 4. LEt some loose Widdow seeke to personate And forge laments , and more to palliate The scene of her imposture , bribe her eyes To weepe her dead Husbands Obsequies , And from those Magazins of moisture , dreyne Such numerous streames of teares , they may againe Swell to a Torrent , that may equall Nile , Wherein her selfe shall be the Crocodile . Let the wild unthrift , who can scarse allow From his large acres , earth enough t' endow His Fathers ashes with a grave , put on The crabbed discompos'd complexion Of wrinkled sorrow , when he does transferre His Sires pale Reliques to his Sepulcher , And ore his Tombe-stone so profusely mourne , He would e'ne seeme to drowne him in his Vrne , And ore his hearse raise a transparent shrine , Made up out of his humour Christalline . So have I seene your Marble to distill Through the close limbeckes of its pores , a Rill Of unctious moisture , and yet still withstand , All the impressions of the Carvers hand . No , I le not now my friend , by Deaths rude touch Is scatter'd into dust , to shew how much His ruinous dispersion I bemoane , Make my eyes fountaines , when my heart is stone , For those sad teares my sorrow shall dispence , Shall with that part maintaine intelligence , Which I with such immoderate waste will strēw Upon his Monument , that to renew That bankrupt and impoverisht stocke , my heart Shall from her private Treasury , impart New moisture , to foment and feed my griefe , But when I have imbereld that reliefe , And my too lavish and unthrifty eyes , Have melted into teares all their supplies , I feare , I shall turne Marble and become , My selfe at once , his Mourner and his Tombe . Elegie 5. I Can ( deare Friend ) no swelling Trophees raise , To cloathe thy Urne , yet I le erect thy praise . Nor can no smooth Egyptian stone impart , To frame a Tombe for thee , yet in my heart Thou hast one built , I can collect no Jet , Nor Porphyrie to forme thy counterfeit . For I 'me confirm'd tis vaine , since each may finde Thy figures lodg'd already in my mind ; Nor will I gather up that balmy sweat , Which gums lave out when they 're assaild by heat , With its rich odors to perfume thy Herse , Since I le embalme thy memory in Verse : Which being thus preserv'd , Fames tainted breath Shall not with poyson blast thee after death . And though I cannot from mine eyes disburse , For thy untimely losse , so large a sourse And stocke of teares , as griefe exacts , yet they Which shall their homage to thy Reliques pay , Shall have no double ▪ fac'd Hypocrisie , Lye bathing there to mocke credulity , But shall be so unfeigned , that Truth shall hide Her selfe in them , as o're each cheeke they glide , And they 'le prove so transparent that I feare , Each vulgar eye will see her naked there : Whilst Heaven it selfe in constant dewes shall weepe , And with my griefe true correspondence keepe : And my teares be by the enamor'd Sun , Courted into an exhalation . Which being glard on by his searching beames , Shall be againe thaw'd , and dissolve in streames : To shew , the worlds bright eye it selfe , let fall Those showers , as teares shed for thy Funerall . Elegie 6. ALl other mourners can some method keepe , ( Wherin their griefe 's digested ) when they weepe They can seduc'd credulity assaile , By masquing sorrow with the Christall veile Of their adult'rate teares , their soules can weare A griefe array'd with blacke , like that they beare i th' outward habit , which are both put on , Onely untill the Obsequies be done : But for my Glovers sad departure , I Will plucke the sluces up in either eye , And from those storehouses of griefe , discharge Such floods of teares , they shall themselves inlarge Into an Inundation , and make With their collected streames , a briny lake , Which being diffus'd into a Rill , shall keepe A constant correspondence with the Deepe , So that some Syren , stragling from the Maine , Shall to the Confines of this Lake attaine , And hearing how with my laments the Day , Forgot and undistinguish'd melts away . Shee shall some sad and solemne Dirge devise , To warble forth at Glovers Obsequies : And raise her Elegiacke notes so high , She shall her selfe with reall sorrow dye . But least she should remaine forgotten there , Wholly devested of a Sepulcher , And want some stable Trophy to dilate , And amplifie the memory of her fate To after Times , the North-wind shall dispence , Such keene and gelid blasts , they shall condence This Lake into a Christall heape , whereon Shall be divulg'd this sad Inscription . Heere lyes a Syren who exhal'd her breath , In too profusely mourning Glovers Death , And whilst in tunefull ayres , she straind her tongue , To chaunt his Dirge she her owne Requiem sung . Elegie 7. NO gaudy shroud ( Friend ) shall be fram'd for thee , Out of the drudging silk-wormes Huswifry , For from my eyes two Christall streams shall run , Which swelling to an Inundation , Shall circumscribe thy witherd Earth , and there Settle , till the inclement North shall dare T' invade thy Tombe , and with some impious gust Make a rude Onset on thy hallow'd dust , And seeking to dissolve that pretious masse By his chill breath transforme my teares to glasse , So shall thy Clay be wrapt up and inclos'd Within a Christiall shroude , and be expos'd Through that cleere Vaile , to every glance minē eye Shall to thy Tomhe employ in Embassie To waft thy species to 't , from whēnce it may Find by that thorough fare a compendious way To journey to my Heart , where when t is come , I 'le vent so many sighs to make it roome , They shall benum my Heart it selfe to stone , Which I 'le beset with this Inscription . Here lyes the figure of a Friend which Fate Nor Time , nor Death shall ever extirpate , An Epitaph on Mr. William Glover , being buried in one grave with his daughter before deceased . REader , those lye beneath this Stone Whom life made two first out of one , But having now resign'd their breath , They will grow one againe by Death . For as before this pretty faire ( Her fathers lesser Character ) From him resulted , so if we After some mutabilitie Of Time , should on his grave intrude To view how much Vicissitude Attends on Nature , and how she Masques her selfe in variety Of numerous shapes and after dare , To paddle in his Sepulcher , Amongst his dust we might infer , He was shuffled into her , For Time determines that both must Resolve into one heape of dust : But when the world it selfe expires , Panting with heate , and God requires Each gloomy Vault , and hollow Tombe To open its corrupted wombe , And give their ashes which were pent And cas'd up there , enfranchisement , That being reedified , they may No more be obvious to delay , Or Natures Tumults , this last birth Will dis-unite their mingled Earth . And as their first life did divide them , so This second life again shall make make them two . A Collation betweene Death and Sleepe . DEath and his drowsie kinsman , Sleepe , agree In all the Symptomes of conformity . Sleepes caus'd by eating , for the naturall heate , Entices exhalations from the meate . Transfus'd to Chylus , which the braine possesse , With an intoxicating drousinesse . Death too by fatall eating , first came in , When our first parents wilfully did sin , And violated Gods renounc'd decree , Tasting the fruite of the forbidden tree , When from that Apple such a Dampe did creepe It fild their soules with an eternall sleepe . And as when sooty Night her darknesse sheds Through all the Confines of the Aire , and spreads A vaile ore bright Hyperion , we devest Our bodies , to compose our selves to rest . So our enfranzis'd soules shall likewise be Disrob'd o' th weeds of their mortalitie , When Death shall an Eternall night disperse Through all those functions that with life commercē . And as when the great eye o' th Day displayes , In the illuminated ayre his rayes The light dispers'd in glimpses , does inspire Our hands againe our bodies to attire ; So when the Trumpe at the last Day shall all By its shrill summons to Gods Audit call , And Christ the Sun of righteousnesse shall come , To distribute to th'world a publike Doome , Our mouldred and disbanded bodies must Quit the close confines of their Beds of Dust , To cloath againe our widdow'd Soules , and be Made both joynt Tenants of Eternitie . You then that Glovers dissolution mourne , And sigh 'cause he 's contracted in his Urne , Appease that Tempest of your brests , and weepe In gentle Showers , least you disturbe his sleepe . On the thought of our Resurrection . VVHo can be of so cow'd a Soule heel'd feare To be regenerated i th Sepulcher , Since who exactly lookes into the Tombe Shall finde t is but the Embleme of the wombe To which wee 're not Coufind but trusted , so As if we lay there in Deposito ; For when our Dust is gather'd into th'Urne , It lyes but Hostage till the Soules returne . And as the Phoenix when she gasping lyes Upon her tragick Pile of spicēries And glowes with heate , her fleshy Cinders must By the suns rayes be martyr'd first to Dust , Before her pregnant ashes can redeeme Themselves from Ruine , or againe can teeme With a new Phoenix ; so before this Earth We beare about us , can improve its Birth To immortality , its whole compact Must first be so disioynted and so slack'd It fall to dust , and then 't will moulded be To such a body that eternitie It selfe shall farme that Tenament , which shall No more be obvious to a Funerall . And as before men can compile or frame Their glasses , they their ashes first i' th flame Transfuse to Christall ; so before our dust Can be assoil'd from Excrements and rust Ravel'd amongst it by our Tombs , and be Jmprov'd to such a cleare transparency It shall no more encumber or controule The eye , from taking a survey o' th Soule It must be by the generall fire refin'd , And be to a translucent masse calcin'd . So Shall each Tombe become Gods Mint , where he ( Our Earth being purg'd from all impuritie ) Will on it coyne the Image of his face Which Time no more , nor sit ne shall nere deface . FINIS . 
A29640	----	Lachrymæ musarum The tears of the muses : exprest in elegies / written by divers persons of nobility and worth upon the death of the most hopefull, Henry Lord Hastings ... ; collected and set forth by R.B. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A29640 of text R2243 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing B4876). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 108 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 51 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A29640 Wing B4876 ESTC R2243 12015140 ocm 12015140 52510 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A29640) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 52510) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 84:8) Lachrymæ musarum The tears of the muses : exprest in elegies / written by divers persons of nobility and worth upon the death of the most hopefull, Henry Lord Hastings ... ; collected and set forth by R.B. Brome, Richard, d. 1652? Dryden, John, 1631-1700. [2], 98 [i.e. 96] p., [1] folded leaf of plates : ill. Printed by Tho. Newcomb, London : 1649. Particularly notable for containing the first published work of John Dryden. Reproduction of original in Huntington Library. eng Huntingdon, Henry Hastings, -- Earl of, 1586-1643 -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, English. A29640 R2243 (Wing B4876). civilwar no Lachrymæ Musarum; = the tears of the Muses: exprest in elegies; written by divers persons of nobility and worth, upon the death of the most [no entry] 1649 17813 33 70 0 0 0 0 58 D The rate of 58 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the D category of texts with between 35 and 100 defects per 10,000 words. 2003-05 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2003-05 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2003-11 Judith Siefring Sampled and proofread 2003-11 Judith Siefring Text and markup reviewed and edited 2003-12 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion LACHRYMAE MVSARVM . Quam cu●eret , ●acrymans augusti Herois in vruam , Musa tuum Niobe corpus ▪ et Arge tuum ! Vt fiueret Morbi Dolor aemulus ; utque tume●at Pustula , sic tumeat Lachryma , mille oculis Flete De●e : Britonum hunc Florem tellure repostū Expromta in Lachrymas Castalis unda riget LACHRYMAE MUSARUM ; The Tears of the MUSES : Exprest in ELEGIES ; WRITTEN By divers persons of Nobility and Worth , Upon the death of the most hopefull , Henry Lord Hastings , Onely Sonn of the Right Honourable FERDINANDO Earl of Huntingdon Heir-generall of the high-born Prince GEORGE Duke of Clarence , Brother to King EDWARD the fourth . Collected and set forth by R. B. Dignum laude virum Musae vetant mori . Hor. London , Printed by Tho. Newcomb . 1649. The Names of the Writers of these following ELEGIES . Earl of Westmorland . Lord Falkland . Sir Aston Cokaine . Sir Arthur Gorges . M. Robert Millward . M. Tho. Higgons . M. Charles Cotton . M. Tho. Pestel sen. M. George Fairfax . M. Francis Standish . M. I. Ioynes M. Samuel Bold . M. I. Cave . M. Phil. Kindar . M. Robert Herrick . M. Iohn Denham . M. Io. Hall . M. I. B. M. Iohn Benson . M. I. Bancroft . M. Will. Pestel . M. Tho. Pestel jun. M. R. P. M. Io. Rosse . M. Alex. Brome . M. Edward Standish . M. R. Brome . Upon the death of the most hopeful young Lord , The Lord HASTINGS : A Remembrance from a Kinsman . IS there a bright Star faln from this our Sphere , Yet none sets out some newer Kalender ? Do the Orbs sleep in silence ? Is the Scheme Struck dumb at th' apprehension of the Theme ? I shall not challenge Booker here ; nor will I Call up the Mathemat-like dreams of Lilly , To search the reason , sift Prognosticks out , How this so sad Disaster came about ; Since that to every one it is well known , The best and precious things are soonest gone . Such Grief by th'cause is heightned to excess ; And where that falls , expression goes less . Yet if we 'd scan why thus he 's Hasting hence , His name may give you some intelligence . The World with him this opposition had ; He was too good for it , and that too bad . WESTMORLAND . On the death of my worthy Friend and Kinsman , the Noble , Vertuous , and Learned Lord HASTINGS . FArewel , dear Lord and Friend , since thou hast chose Rather the Phoenix life , then death of Crows : Though Death hath ta'n thee , yet I 'm glad thy Fame Must still survive in Learned Hastings Name . For thy great loss , my Fortune I 'll condole , Whilst that Elizium enjoys thy soul . FALKLAND . A Funeral-Elegie upon the death of Henry Lord Hastings , Son to the Right Honorable , Ferdinando Earl of HUNTINGDON , &c. KNow all to whom these few sad Lines shall come , This melancholy Epicedium , The young Lord Hastings death occasion'd it , Amidst a storm of Lamentations writ ; Tempests of sighs and groans , and flowing eyes , Whose yeelding balls dissolve to Delugies ; And mournful Numbers that with dreadful sound Wait this bemoaned Body to the ground , Are all , and the last Duties we can pay That Noble Spirit that is fled away . 'T is gone , alas ! 't is gone , though it did leave A body rich in all Nature could give : Superiour in beauty to the Youth That won the Spartan Queen to forfeit truth , Break Wedlocks strictest bonds , and be his wife , Invironed with tumults all her life . His yeers were in the Balmy Spring of age , Adorn'd with blossoms ripe for Marriage , And but mature : His sweet Conditions known To be so good , they could be none but 's own . Our English Nation was enamour'd more Of his full Worths , then Rome was heretofore Of great Vespatian's Jew-subduing Heir , The love and the delight of Mankinde here . After a large survey of Histories , Our Criticks ( curious in Honour , wise In parallelling generous souls ) will finde , This youthful Lord did bear as brave a minde : His few , but well-spent yeers , had master'd all The Liberal Arts ; and his sweet tongue could fall Into the ancient Dialects ; dispence Sacred Iudaea's amplest Eloquence , The Latine Idiome elegantly true , And Greek as rich as Athens ever knew : The Italian and the French do both confess Him perfect in their Modern Languages . At his Nativity , what angry Star Malignant Influences flung so far ? What Caput Algols , and what dire Aspects Occasioned so Tragical Effects ? As soon as Death this fatal blowe had given , I fancy mighty Clarence sigh'd in heaven ; And ( till this glorious soul arrived there ) Recover'd not from his Amaze and Fear . Had this befaln in antient credulous times , He had been Deifi'd by Poets Rhymes : That Age ( enamour'd on his Graces ) soon Majestick Fanes in Adoration Would have rais'd to his Memory , and there On Golden Altars , yeer succeeding yeer , Burnt holy Incense , and Sabaean Gums , That Curls of Vapour from those Hecatoms , Should reach his soul in heaven . But we must pay No such Oblations in our purer Way : A nobler Service we him owe then that , His fair Example ever t' emulate : With the advantage of our double yeers , Let 's imitate him ; and ( through all affairs , And all encounters of our lives ) intend To live like him , and make so good an end . To aim at brave things , is an evident signe , In Spirits , that to Honour they incline ; And ( though they do come short in the Contest ) 'T is full of glory to have done ones best . You mournful Parents , whom the Fates compel To bear the loss of this great Miracle , This Wonder of our times ; amidst a sigh , ( Surrounded with your thickst Calamity ) Reflect on Joy ; think what an happiness ( Though Humane Nature here conceits it less ) It was to have a son of so much worth , He was too good to grace the wretched Earth . As silver Trent through our North Counties glides , Adorn'd with Swans , and crown'd with flowry sides ; And rushing into mightier Humber's waves , Augments the Regal Aestuarium's braves : So he , after a Life of Eighteen yeers , Well manag'd , ( as Example to our Peers ) In 's early youth ( encountring sullen Fate ) Orecome , became a Trophey to his state . Didst thou sleep , Hymen ? or art lately grown T' affect the Subterranean Region ? Enamour'd on blear'd Libentina's eyes , Hoarse howling Dirges , and the baleful cries Of inauspicious voices , and ( above Thy Star-like Torch ) with horrid Tombs in love ? Thou art ; or surely hadst oppos'd this hie Affront of Death against thy Deitie ; Nor wrong'd an excellent Virgin , who had given Her heart to him , who hath his soul to heaven : Whose Beauties thou hast clouded , and whose eyes Drowned in tears of these sad Exequies . Those fam'd Heroes of the Golden Age , Those Demi-gods , whose Vertues did asswage And calm the furies of the wildest Mindes , That were grown salvage , ev'n against their kindes ; Might from their Constellations have look'd down , And ( by this young Lord ) seen themselves out-gone . Farewel , admired Spirit , that art free From this strict prison of Mortality . Ashby , proud of the honour to enshrine The beauteous Body , ( whence the Soul divine Did lately part ) be careful of thy Trust , That no profane hand wrong that hallowed Dust . The costly Marble needs no friend t' engrave Upon it any doleful Epitaph : No good man's tongue that office will decline , Whilst yeers succeeding reach the end of Time . ASTON COKAINE . Upon the Death of HENRY Lord HASTINGS . SInce that young Hastings bove our Hemisphear Is snatch'd away , O let some Angels Wing Lend me a Quill , his Noble Fame to rear Up to that Quire which Hallelujah sing . Sure Heaven it self for us thought him too good , And took him hence just in his strength and prime , When Vertue 'gan to make him understood , Beyond the Peers and Nobles of his time . Wherefore 't will ask more then a Mortal Pen , To speak his worth unto Posterity ; Whose judgment shin'd 'mongst grave and learned men , With true Devotion , and integrity : For which , in heaven , the Joys of lasting Bliss He reaps , whilst we sowe Tears for him we miss . But I no praise for Poesie affect , Nor Flatteries hoped meed doth me incite ; Such base-born thoughts , as servile , I reject : Sorrow doth dictate what my Zeal doth write : Sorrow for that rich Treasure we have lost , Zeal to the Memory of what we had : And that is all they can , that can say most . So sings my Muse in Zeal and Sorrow clad ; So sang Achilles to his silver Harp , When foul affront had ' reft his fair delight ; So sings sweet Philomel against the Sharp ; So sings the Swan , when life is taking flight : So sings my Muse the notes which Sorrow weeps ; Which Antheme sung , my Muse for ever sleeps . ARTHUR GORGES . EPIGRAM Upon the death of the most hopeful , Henry Lord Hastings , Eldest son of the Right Honorable , FERDINANDO Earl of Huntingdon , Heir general of the high-born Prince , GEORGE Duke of Clarence , Brother to King Edward 4. 'T Is a Mistake ; Lord Hastings did not die , But 't was our Hopes , and his great Parents Joy That did depart . Is he said to decease , That raigns in Glory now , and lives in Peace ? Yet may we gently mourn , not that he 's gone , But left us till the Resurrection . Our Joy ought to be more , since he doth get A Heavenly Crown , for an Earths Coronet . Then let us cease our Tears : for if we grieve Too much , too little surely we believe . ROB. MILLWARD . Upon the death of my Lord Hastings . THese are thy Triumphs , Death , who prid'st to give Their lives an end , who best deserve to live . Dull , useless men , whom Nature makes in vain , Or but to fill her Number and her Train ; Men by the world remembred but till Death , Whose empty story endeth with their breath , Stay till Old-age consume them ; when the Good , The Noble , and the Wise , are kill'd i' th' bud . Such was the Subject of our Grief , in whom All that times past can boast , or times to come Can hope , is lost : whose Blood , although its Springs Stream from the Royal loyns of Englands Kings , His Vertue hath exalted and refin'd ; For his high Birth was lower then his Minde But that the Fates , inexorably bent To mischief Man , and ruine his Content , Would have this Sacrifice , the Sisters might Have been affected with so sweet a sight , And thought their hastie Cruelty a Crime , To tear him from his Friends before his Time . THOMAS HIGGONS . An Elegie upon the Lord HASTINGS . AMongst the Mourners that attend his Herse With flowing eyes , and wish each Tear a Verse , T' embalm his Fame , and his dear Merit save Uninjur'd from th' oblivion of the Grave ; A Sacrificer I am come to be , Of this poor Offring to his Memory . O could our pious Meditations thrive So well , to keep his better part alive ! So that , in stead of Him , we could but finde Those fair Examples of his Letter'd Minde : Vertuous Emulation then might be Our hopes of Good men , though not such as He. But in his hopeful progress since he 's crost , Pale Vertue droops , now her best Pattern 's lost . 'T was hard , neither Divine , nor Humane Parts , The strength of Goodness , Learning , and of Arts , Full crowds of Friends , nor all the Pray'rs of them , Nor that he was the Pillar of his Stem , Affection's Mark , secure of all mens Hate , Could rescue him from the sad stroke of Fate . Why was not th' Air drest in Prodigions forms , To groan in Thunder , and to weep in Storms ? And , as at some mens Fall , why did not His In Nature work a Metamorphosis ? No ; he was gentle , and his soul was sent A silent Victim to the Firmament . Weep , Ladies , weep , lament great Hastings Fall ; His House is bury'd in his Funeral : Bathe him in Tears , till there appear no trace Of those sad Blushes in his lovely face : Let there be in 't of Guilt no seeming sence , Nor other Colour then of Innocence . For he was wise and good , though he was young , Well suited to the Stock from whence he sprung : And what in Youth is Ignorance and Vice , In him prov'd Piety of an excellent price . Farewel , dear Lord ; and since thy body must In time return to its first matter , Dust ; Rest in thy melancholy Tomb in peace : for who Would longer live , that could but now die so ? CHA. COTTON . For the Right Honourable , LVCIE Countess of HUNTINGDON . 1649. From her Honours humblest Servant , T. P. Her Soliloquie , or her Meditation . 'T Is mystick Union , Man and Wife , Yet scarce distinct from Single life , Till like the Sun , a Son arise , And set them Both before their eyes : No sweeter , braver , fairer sight , Then thus to stand in our own Light . And such a Son I joy'd : ( Ay me ! Was ever such a Son as he ? ) And felt what fervent spirits of Love Orbs of Maternal Bowels move . I wou'd not shun those outward snares , Of Shape , of shining eyes and hairs ; Which still the more they catch , or wound , More pleasing still their power I found . And it is lawful , godly too , To love what Gods own fingers do : Whose Angels still are sweetly fac'd , Himself with perfect Beauty grac'd . But eager Vertue from the Clay , In words and actions making way To Sense : in All that heard or saw Became a fierce almighty Law , And stoop'd all hearts that were not stone , Or drown'd in Malice ; or in Moan , Like mine . So overgone with Wo , My very Reason bids it go : Nor lies it in the power of Wit , By Reason to recover it . The Rational Reply . By Reason to recover it , Sans forlorn Hope , or wings of Wit , Who serves you , his main Battel brings . Heark how the feather'd Tempest sings ; Your clouds of Grief transpiercing quite , Or hurrying to disordered Flight . Then ( Sorrow vanquisht ) on his Herse Rears Trophies of victorious Verse . First , let us ask Impatience why At gentle Death's approach we cry . Sweet Favourite of heaven , that flies With Cupids face , but Hermes eyes ; Whose Rods , and Snakes , and seeming harms , Our souls in slumber wisely charms . For that poor Spark call'd Life ; the brand , The Rush we carry in our hand ; Which dropping and defiling spends : Death gives Delight that never ends . O mad mistake ! Sea-tost , a Calm ; And wounded , we reject a Balm : Rabide for want of Rest , we keep A bawling , and refuse to sleep : Dead-weary tir'd , yet scorn to stay ; And , Cripple , hurl our Crutch away . But these are General : for your pain Here 's water of a Special vein ; Wherein no relish you shall feel Of Sulph'ry Wit , but Reasons steel . What cou'd you wish your Son ? A pair Of Dove-like Eyes ; as Ioseph fair ; Straight as young Mountain-Pines , whose arms The Sun with early kisses warms : Guilds , blazons so each Leaf and Limb , That Paint is dirt , and Metal dim . He was all this , and all that we Can fetch from Beauties pedigree . The Case so bright , what radiance threw The Jewel that it did indue ! The Queen that held the Throne in state Of Grace , there drest and re-create : Till like a Lark from earthly Cage Enlarg'd , and fir'd with strong new Rage , She mounts , and sings in heaven . And what ? May we not fall some drops thereat ? Good reason , if the Tears you shed From joyful brains expansion spread , Call it not Grief ; foul Envie 't is , To whine at Saints enshrin'd in bliss . Reflect on all the whole worlds frame , It climbs and twines to whence it came : So Beams that shine , and Streams that flow , Back to their Sun and Ocean go . So Vernal Flowers , which , at their birth Thrust up pure crowns from impure Earth , Grow by degrees full ripe , and then Must hide them in their Roots agen . He parted in Perfection's time , In Golden Number , and in Prime Of Life , of Love , and White Report For Vertue ; past the ranker sort Of Flash-green youths ; no Vicious Stain Envenoming his Blood or Brain : From Duels , Drink , Dice , Cares , Age , Laws , Faces of Dames , and Eagles Claws , Exempt : he laughs at us that still Bleat round the bottom of the hill . Last , think of your clear open way To heaven , obstructed by his stay ; While , more then Mer-Maid , face and words All Ear-wax melts , and breaks all Cords . Did not his Look , his Voice and Deed , With full commerce of Pleasure feed Your Sense and Soul ? which now takes wing , Checks not at ought ; nor spies fair thing Worth stooping at . O let it flie To Quarries there above the skie . THO. PESTEL , Pat. On the untimely death of HENRY Lord HASTINGS , Onely Son to FERDINAND and LUCIE , Earl and Countess of Huntingdon . UP , Beldame Muse ! thy Climacterick's past : But one work more ; thy lastingst , if not last . Lord Hastings glorious shade before us stands , Whose Vertue exacts this Duty from our hands : 'T will be a Night-piece , friends : Here never seek Lucie large-soul'd , and Ferdinand the meek ; Who both esteem'd it braver work and worth , To bring this Son up , then t'have brought him forth . He th'Exposition to their double Text , The Glass wherein they saw themselves reflext ; He , that was He ; and She , and both in one , Both she and he , all three , in him are gone . This Sun-set all obscur'd : with Aetna prest , Their burning Giant Grief can take no rest . To print so black a Sorrow fair , I want Gold-plate for Paper , Pen of Adamant . Veils on those chief Close-mourners faces spread ; I pencil out all gentler eyes in Red Swoln lids ; as having spent their bottom-store Of precious dew-drops , till their hearts are sore . Which fast congeal'd Balm has his Herse infixt In Chrystal Case , with Pearl and Amber mixt . Rare Monument ! but cannot him refine , So rich a Saint impov'rishing his Shrine . Was he not purest , fairest , wisest , best ? All Graces magazin'd , yet unexprest . When his bright Bodies eminence I view'd , With such a soveraign Intellect indu'd , So just and ponder'd Temp'rature to finde , So early ripe , so richly matcht in Minde ; Choice Gem of Nature , set in Nuturing Gold ; Exulting Fancy quick conceiv'd the Mold Was ready now , wherein th'Almightie's hand Wou'd cast new Nobles , and restore the Land ; Whose finest Gold , if in compare it bring , Is sure to finde his strong Mercurial Sting . He caus'd us hurl our Vows , and gave free scope To change our Wishes into Present Hope . But O Sydneian ! O Blood-Royal Fate ! Great Britains curse , whose sinful , shameful State Makes all Heroick Vertue soon decay ; Which mad she throws , or just God takes away . So fell our Ripheus in New Troy , lest he Perchance her Fires and instant Ruine see : For will that sacred Thundrer never powre On such a Sodom his revengeful showre ? Where Lust and Pride , with their five brethren stand In bold defiance of his armed hand : Where Lords and Gentry , mindless of white Fame , Graceless of old , are now beneath all Shame . Pardon , fresh Saint , to set thy shining Good With such coarse foils , to make it understood : To topless height , from their base depth below , Thy flaming Pyramid of Praise wou'd grow . But for thou joy'st th'applause of Angels there , How frivolous are our weak Ecchoes here ! THO. PESTEL the father . Illustrissimi Herois , Domini HENRICI HASTINGS , EPICAEDIUM . INcipe Musa dolens ( causaest heu magna doloris ) Edere lugubri Carmina moesta sono . Squallida funerea cingas mea Musa cupresso Tempora , & in lacrymas fons Heliconis eat . Tristia prol●tis jam sunt celebranda choreis Funera ; plorantes tristia sola decent . Nunc fletus , pallor , gemitus , suspiria , luctus , Atque decent madidae funera tanta genae . Heu quanta est rigidi dura inclementia Fati ? Corripit egregium mors inopina virum ; Cujus erant animo Pietas , Sapientia , Virtus , Qui fuerat generis spesque decusque sui ; Dum parat ut Sponsus taedas celebrare jugales , Vrna vicem thalamis cogit inire suis . Sperata arescit tenera modò messis in herba , Absumptus subito funere penè Puer . Sed cum Nestoreis fuerat dignissimus annis , Tam citò cur tetricis praeda deabus erat ? An quia pulcher erat , primaeque in Flore Iuventae Parca fuit teneri capta decore viri ? An quod amant Iuvenum pasci Exanthemata Flore , Signavit niveam Pustula rubra cutem ? Pustula Lernaeo crescens pollentius angue Insperata lues , torruit igne jecur . Insuetas Libitina dapes Bellaria gestit , Nullaque plebei corporis off a placet . Moestus cecinit , GEOR . FAIREFAX . {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . PHOCYLIDES . LEt every generous soul pay to this Herse Some tribute of his Grief to flow in Verse . Hast not a vein for Verse ? yet if thou could Distil each word in Numbers , sure thou would . All Sorrows , streams flow not from Pens , but Eyes : Let others write ; thou ow'st thy Sighs and Cries . G. F ▪ Upon the Right Honourable , LUCIE Countess of Huntingdon's Heroick and most Christian bearing of that grand Affliction , the death of her onely Son , The young Lord HASTINGS , &c. HEavens bless your Wits ( dear Madam ) here 's a sad Trial , enough to make a Man stark mad . A Cross might vex a blest Saint's patience , Were he not mounted 'bove the reach of Sense . How shall a female brest be able then , To bear a shock might shake the best of men ? To me , a Miracle it is , you live ; Much more , to hear that you do onely grieve : Nay , what is yet more strange to me , that you In point of Grief , pay Nature but her due : As if you could do more then others , and Had all those rebel-Passions 〈◊〉 command . Upon a loss so heavie as yours is , Some Niobe had been a stone , by this : And we might plain have read her discontent , On her still weeping Marble-monument . Madame , you shame the very Stoicks , who But talkt of those brave matters , which you do . They could boast much , and well discourse upon The patient suffering of affliction : But , when it came to th' point , they ne'er came nie This acting part of your Philosophie . But , 't is no wonder that a Stoick you Out-strip ; I 'd see a Christian thus much do : Shew me a Christian that a Cross will take , So heavie , freely , for his Iesus sake ; Or , that shall be presented with a Cup So bitter , and willingly shall drink it up . Well , I had thought , in point of suffring , no-man Could me have stript ; but now , I yeeld t'a woman . And ( Madame ) this I am resolv'd upon , Your heart is full of Grace , or made of Stone . FRANCIS STANDISH . An ELEGIE Upon the death of HENRY Lord HASTINGS , the onely Son and Heir of the Right Honorable FERDINANDO Earl of Huntingdon ; Deceasing immediately before the day designed for his Marriage . FOrbear , forbear , Great house of Huntingdon , T' engross this Grief , as if 't were all your own : The Kingdom has a share ; and every Eye Claims priviledge to weep his Elegie . The Mirrour of our Age , Lord Hastings dead ? And in his Urn , our hopes , thus , buried ? And shall not we come in , ( who share i' th' smart ) In your sad consort , to lament our part ? We must — or , if that language be you say , Rude , and uncivil ; we intreat we may . Alas ! our griefs swell high , whilst inward pent ; They 'll burst our hearts , unless we give them vent . For pity then , if not to spare your eyes , Let our tears joyn , to mourn his Obsequies . Sweet souls , alas ! when we have wept our fill , You 'll finde enough of tears , for you left , still . But stay — What voice was that ? Methinks I hear My better Angel whisp'ring in my ear Words of another strain , which purer are Then what my Carnal Muse suggesteth , far . What though our loss be great ; so great , that none In our Age has exceeded it , but One ? Yet , this is not the way t' express our Pieties , By making large Alembecks of our Eyes . The greater our loss is , the more 's his gains ; And , whom our eyes think dead , our hearts know A Saint in heaven : who , being there inthron'd , ( reigns How can he take it , here to be bemoan'd ? Away then with these Pagan Rites , and be More Christian-like in your Solemnity : And know , he celebrates his Fun'ral best , Who comes unto 't , as to a Nuptial-feast . And truely , 't is his Nuptial-feast indeed ; Not , that which Man meant , but , which God decreed . A Marriage fit for him ; and , in my sence , Most sutable unto his Innocence : A Marriage with the Lamb , who took his sin , First , quite away from him ; and then , took Him . Why should we mourn then ? how can it but please us ? When young Lord Hastings married to his Iesus . FRA. STANDISH . On the incomparable Lord HASTINGS : An ELEGIE . TO speak thy Praises , or our Sorrows , now , Are both impossible . Alone they know ( Exalted Soul ) thy worth , who now above Converse with thee by Intellect and Love . Grief onely , and dumb Admiration , are The Legacies thou hast bequeath'd us here . This onely woful Comfort 's left us now ; Our Misery 's compleat : Fate knows not how , Beyond this , to inflict another wound : " They fear not falling , that lie on the ground . Not perfect Bankrupt was this Land till now , Nor her sick lapsed desp'rate state below The hopes of all recovery : till His fall , We could not justly say we had lost All . We could not say , while he was yet alive , Truth and Religion did not still survive : There was a Church and Academy still : All Vertue , whilst he liv'd , they could not kill . Justice and Honour ; whatsoever 's good , Was not yet fled from Earth to Heaven . Still stood In him ( that Cypher for these many yeers ) Th'opprest , and now quite ruin'd House of Peers . All these , not lost , but outlaw'd , did conspire , To him , as to their centre , to retire . But he is gone ; and now this carcase , World , Is into her first , rude , dark Chaos , hurl'd . Vertue and Knowledge now for Monsters go : To grope out Truth henceforth , how shall we do ? Or finde what 's Just or Sense ? To whom repair , To let us know those things have been ( not are . ) Further then him , before , you need not move , To learn the Placits of the a Porch or Grove . Or had you pleased to consult the Sprite Of the deep b Samian , or c Stagyrite , d Cordova's Sage , or e him that did renown The scarce-before-him-known f Boeotian Town : Rome , Athens , Sybils Oracles could teach Nothing not comprehended in his reach . Was none so hopeful Instrument as he , The savage World t' reduce from Levity ; Purge and restore our Manners , and call home Civility to barb'rous Christendome . For this great Work , he furnisht was like those Upon whose sacred heads did once repose , In shape of parted Tongues , celestial Fire : What they infused had he did acquire : Unless we justly make a doubt , wheth'r He At Eighteen could in full possession be ( Without a Miracle ) of all Tongues ; one Whereof to purchase asks an Age alone . Him in 's own Language might have heard indite , The Swarthy Arab , or the Elamite : What Athens heard , or Solyma , or Rome Of old , that from his tongue did flowing come : He that now drinks of Tyber , or of Po , Utters not that word that he did not know : No more doth he that tastes the Streams of Sceine , Or those of Celtica , or Aquitain . He was indeed a Miracle : and we , That Miracles are ceas'd , may now agree . How could we hope t' enjoy him , being one , Whose new profane Opinion says , There 's none ? Besides this , our own wicked Merits might Instruct us ; 'Twixt our Darkness , and his Light , There could not be a long Communion . In vain therefore , alas , did we go on , To light his Nuptial-Tapers , and invoke Iuno and Hymen , and the air to choke With ecchoing Epithalms ; the whilst above , Th' Angelick Quire , enflamed with his love , Court him from us , to those Celestial Bowers , As fitting for their Consort , and not ours . So unto Heaven ( our thoughts being fixt on Clay ) In 's Fever's fiery Chariot he takes way : The weeks first day sets forth ; and six days done , ( As God had his ) his Sabbath he begun . Thrice happie Soul ! whose Work and Labour gone , Holds with thy Maker's such proportion . Now whether he a Constellation be , Intelligence , or Tut'lar Deity , Is hid from us . 'T is great'st part of our cross , Nothing of him to know or feel , but 's loss : Which though we could not read in leaves of Fate , Thy Tow'rs ( O Ashby ) did prognosticate , Which fell the dutious ushers to his fall : There was no further use of them at all , Since he must fall , for whose sake they had stood ; " Not be at all , as to no end , 's as good . This these Prophetick Buildings did perceive , And , bowing to the ground before , took leave , JO . JOYNES . A Funeral-Elegie upon the Right Honourable the Lord HASTINGS . WHat Soil is this , where nothing that is good , Nor Vertues branch , can live , nor Beauties bud ? For thou wast both , great Heroe , on whose head The Muses and the Graces both had shed And pour'd out all their store : for Form and Wit , Vertue and Honour , there did crowned sit , As in their Temple , where they chose to shine ; And , being Deities , made thee their Shrine : Yea , great Apollo thought once to resigne , And make thee President of all the Nine . For us , poor Dwarfs in Science , we thought fit To hold in Fee , of thy great Giant-wit , Those smaller parcels which we have of Art , And pay thee Tribute , each one for his part . For thou wert second Verulam , to disclose Nature's dark Secrets : and if any pose 'Bout Metaphysicks , he might answer'd be , And read no other Suarez o're , but thee , Wherfore great Phoebus did at length combine With Hymen , to perpetuate thy Line , By matching with Astraea : this seem'd fit , To him that 's god of Physick , and of Wit ; That in this ebbe of Justice , Wisdom , Grace , Thou mightst be Stem and Root of such a Race , As might revive dead Vertue , and restore To present view what th' Heroes did of yore , By quelling Monsters , purging Ordures hence , Of Vice and Sin , that stain the Conscience . And this we hoped all : yea , 't had been done , Had not the Soil been England , whereupon This noble Branch was planted : but she hates Ever her gen'rous Plants : here culminates Old Saturn , enemy to all that 's good , Eating his childrens Flesh , swilling their Blood : And England is his Sister ; Mother of Sins , Stepdame to Vertues , Nurse of Assasins . A Soil that fosters Brambles , Shrubs , and Thorns ; Slaughter's the Lamb , and sets up Beasts with Horns . A Soil , that nurses Briars , Weeds , and Rape ; But starves the Olive , Fig-tree , and the Grape ; Those Nobler Plants , and glory of the Wood , To all that know what 's Soveraign , Sweet , and Good . Go travel then , brave Soul , take wing , and flie From place accurst , where nought but Perjurie , Rapine and Blood do swagger ; and where all Must turn eith'r Country-Carl , or Cannibal , That means to live : Noble here must be none , Nor gen'rous Plants , whilst Brambles hold the Throne . Fly then from Babylon up to Sion ; there 's In Heaven both Monarch , and an House of Peers ; Yea , there are Bishops too , with grave aspect , The Churches Nobles , all with glories deckt : And there 's an Academ , though here 's none now , Where high Degrees are given to such as thou . Doctors , Virgins , and Martyrs , these are three , Say ancient Fathers , that have Dignity ; Certain Aureola's above the rest , Because that these have earned Glory best . Thou art these three : Doctor in learned Lore ; Virgin as pure , as any there before , Save onely one : and Martyr sure thou art , If either Love or Fever plaid his part . Hie then , immortal Soul , to thine own Sphere , Where these three Crowns attend thee ; and shine there A glorious Constellation , far above The frowns of Fortune , or the pangs of Love . S. BOLD . An ELOGIE Upon the most lamented death of the Lord HASTINGS , Onely Son and Heir to the Right Honorable the Earl of Huntingdon . Deceased at LONDON , 1649. TEach me ( dread Fate ) out of thy strong-clasp'd book , Whose every Marble page as vast doth look As th'immense Volume of Eternity , Whereto for Index serves Mortality . Teach me ( dread Sire , while I have time a while ) These two flat Contraries to reconcile ; Th'Effect to be , and still and still subsist ; The Cause to vanish , and yet ne'er be mist : Goodness one main toward Subsistencie , As convertible in the * Trinitie Of Being , thus to pass as nothing were Dependent from it in this Worlds Matter ; And yet that Matter 't is suppos'd to be , Except as truely Good , no Entity . The Riddles out th' Abstract HE took away , Yet left the Concrete World Good still ; to stay , To tell the Speculators of our time , How meerly supernatural , sublime HIS being in it was ; and ( if of HIM ) Our notions may be : so shall we esteem No Loss b' our losing Goodness ; but 't more improv'd , More highly honor'd , and more dearly lov'd , Then when 't was Consubstantial : so shall all That but minde HIM , grow Metaphysicall , Rarely transcendent , as HE was : for Minde , An Extract 'bove the mix of earth-Mankinde ; Such as to which , Place , Wealth , Pow'r , Goodness , give , To make them ( what they would be thought ) To live . This Noble Top-sprig grew from such a Stem As well might serve t' adorn a Diadem ; To give and take a lustre , whose bright rays Might have dispell'd the Fog of these black days . Oh what an Expectation have we lost , That now but t'have had such , we are left to boast ! And with an impious Modestie shall blame Even Destiny , that left us nought but 's Name : A Name so glorious in what ere is Hie , That it will stand inroll'd t'Eternitie . Great Huntingdon's grac'd HEIR went from us hence A gracious Victim to high Providence . Ad raptum primi Mobilis Domini C. C. raptim sic flevit deditiss . familiae ejusdem & Humillimus servus , J. CAVE . Upon the death of the Lord Hastings . HEre — Stay , Tears , until these Obsequies Have had their Rights perform'd . Here — here lies Th'Off-spring of the gods , Apollo's glory , The Muses Morning-star ; the true Story Of faign'd Adonis . Whatsoe'er is said Of Angels bliss , within this Tomb is laid . Nature , if ever , as before of old , Thou shalt form Vertue , frame it of this Mold . Flow Tears , now flow amain , to wash this Tomb , And keep it fair until the day of Doom . PHIL. KINDAR . The New Charon , Upon the death of Henry Lord Hastings . The Musical part being set by M. Henry Lawes . The Speakers , Charon and Eucosmeia . Euc . CHaron , O Charon , draw thy Boat to th'shore , And to thy many , take in one soul more . Cha. Who calls ? who calls ? Euc . One overwhelm'd with ruth ; Have pity either on my Tears or Youth , And take me in , who am in deep Distress ; But first cast off thy wonted Churlishness . Cha. I will be gentle as that Air which yeelds A breath of Balm along th'Elizean fields . Speak , what art thou ? Euc . One , once that had a lover , Then which , thy self ne'er wafted sweeter over . He was — Cha. Say what . Eu. Ay me , my woes are deep . Cha. Prethee relate , while I give ear and weep . Euc . He was an Hastings ; and that one Name has In it all Good , that is , and ever was . He was my Life , my Love , my Ioy ; but di'd Some hours before I shou'd have been his Bride . Chorus . Thus , thus the Gods celestial still decree , For Humane Ioy , Contingent Misery . Euc . The hallowed Tapers all prepared were , And Hymen call'd to bless the Rites . Cha. Stop there Euc . Great are my woes . Cha. And great must that Grief be , That makes grim Charon thus to pity thee . But now come in . Euc . More let me yet relate . Cha. I cannot stay ; more souls for waftage wait , And I must hence . Eu. Yet let me thus much know , Departing hence , where Good and Bad souls go . Cha. Those souls which ne'er were drencht in pleasures stream , The Fields of Pluto are reserv'd for them ; Where , drest with garlands , there they walk the ground , Whose blessed Youth with endless flow'rs is crown'd . But such as have been drown'd in this wilde Sea , For those is kept the Gulf of Hecate ; Where , with their own contagion they are fed ; And there do punish , and are punished . This known , the rest of thy sad story tell , When on the Flood that nine times circles Hell Chorus . We sail along , to visit mortals never ; But there to live , where Love shall last for ever . ROB. HERRICK . An ELEGIE Upon the death of the Lord HASTINGS . REader , preserve thy peace : those busie eyes Will weep at their own sad Discoveries ; When every line they adde , improves thy loss , Till , having view'd the whole , they sum a Cross , Such as derides thy Passions best relief , And scorns the succours of thy easie Grief . Yet lest thy Ignorance betray thy name Of Man , and Pious ; read , and mourn : the shame Of an exemption from just sense , doth show Irrational , beyond excessive Wo. Since Reason then can priviledge a Tear , Manhood , uncensur'd , pay that Tribute here Upon this Noble Urn . Here , here remains Dust far more precious then in India's veins : Within these cold embraces ravisht lies That which compleats the Ages Tyrannies ; Who weak to such another Ill appear : For , what destroys our Hope , secures our Fear . What Sin unexpiated in this Land Of Groans , hath guided so severe a hand ? The late Great Victim that your Altars knew , You angry gods , might have excus'd this new Oblation ; and have spar'd one lofty Light Of Vertue , to inform our steps aright : By whose Example good , condemned we Might have run on to kinder Destiny . But as the Leader of the Herd fell first , A Sacrifice to quench the raging thirst Of inflam'd Vengeance for past Crimes : so none But this white fatted Youngling could atone , By his untimely Fate , that impious Smoke That sullied Earth , and did Heaven's pity choke . Let it suffice for us , that we have lost , In Him , more then the widow'd World can boast In any lump of her remaining Clay . Fair as the gray ey'd Morn , He was : the Day , Youthful , and climbing upwards still , imparts No haste like that of his increasing Parts : Like the Meridian-beam , his Vertues light Was seen ; as full of comfort , and as bright . Ah that that Noon had been as fixt as clear ! but He , That onely wanted Immortality To make him perfect , now submits to night ; In the black bosom of whose sable Spight , He leaves a cloud of Flesh behinde , and flies , Refin'd all Ray and Glory , to the Skies . Great Saint shine there in an eternal Sphere , And tell those Powers to whom thou now drawst neer , That , by our trembling Sense , in HASTINGS dead , Their Anger , and our ugly Faults , are read : The short lines of whose Life did to our eyes , Their Love and Majestie epitomize . Tell them whose stern Decrees impose our Laws , The feasted Grave may close her hollow Jaws . Though Sin search Nature , to provide her here A second Entertainment half so dear ; She 'll never meet a Plenty like this Herse , Till Time present her with the Universe . JOHN DENHAM . To the Earl of HVNTINGDON , On the death of his Son . My Lord , COuld any Tears our Miseries remove , Redeem our Losses , or asswage our Love , Blest were you , though you paid for ev'ry Tear As rich a Jewel as the West can bear , And did , for ev'ry Sigh or Groan , dispense An od'rous Tempest of Masle Frankincense . But these impossible Wishes cannot finde A place ; and are but scatter'd by the Winde . The Laws by which the World is govern'd , are As Indispensable as Regular . A perisht Flower can from that Central fire That lurks within its seed , next Spring aspire Unto its former life and beauty : But Pityable Man , when once his eyes are shut , Is no more seen ; but past recov'ry lost ; A tender fleeting Form , a Bloodless Ghost . And , 'las , that God-like Youth that did amaze All Expectations , and faln Vertue raise Beyond her known Idea's He , in whom So many Noble Bloods had found their home ; ( Like some fam'd River , whose proud streams are great , Because that Other Rivers therein meet : ) He that was onely like Himself ; hath quit His Cage of Clay ; I saw a paleness sit Upon his lips , and lurid darkness break And chase the Orient Purple of his cheek . I saw his Eyes seal'd to eternal Night , And all those Spices which Corruption fright Straw'd on his Waxen Limbs . He 's gone , he 's gone , And cruelly fled ; and yet not he alone , But Courage , Sweetness , Innocence , and Truth , And all those sweet imbellishments of Youth ; And all those full Perfections which engage Our praise , and cast a reverence on Age ; And all those Arts , which by long toil acquir'd , Do make men either useful or admir'd : All which he mastred , not as others , who By lame Degrees to a Full stature grow ; He , at the first , was such : what other men From Climate , Humour , Temper , Custom gain , Nature endow'd him with : and though she please To d'all her works at leasure , by degrees ; In this vast Miracle she her self surpast , And shew'd , at once , Perfection and Haste . Nor was there any thing in him to weed , To prune , or straighten : that Celestial Seed The Stars had shed into him , could not flow To Loosness , nor yet poorly under-grow . Nothing in him was crooked , lame , or flat , But Geometrically proportionate : Nor had he that which the severely Wise Deplore in Men , and would abolish ; Vice . His was a Snowie soul , a pure Essence So clearly shining in' ts first Innocence , That He did that Opinion true declare , That Vice and Evil utter Nothings are . Nor was his Knowledge other : that pure Minde Was too Aethereal , and too refin'd , To know or common Paths , or common Bounds : His was like Lightning , which all Sight confounds , And strikes so swiftly , that it seems to be Rather the object of the Memory . Thus did he oft his Tutors sense prevent , And happily surprise him in 's intent : Thus he o'er-run all Science , ( like a King Conquering by approach ) as if that every Thing , Stript of its outward dross , and all refin'd Into a Form , lay open to his Minde : Or his pure Minde could suddenly disperse It self all ways , and th'row all Objects pierce . Yet whatsoe'er into his Minde did pass , Though writ in Water , did remain in Brass . Yet has this Genius made a sad depart , Maugre those strong Resistances of Art , ●hich the wise-pow'rful MAYERN , ( who can give ●s much as poor Mortality can receive ) Could , like a Father , make ; maugre the Vows And holy Ardences of a melting Spouse ; Maugre that strength of yeers which had not known His tender Cheeks blossom'd by their first Down ; Maugre those Hopes which did so bravely feign That a great Race should spring from him again ; A Race of Hastings's , whose High Deeds should raise New lustre to their Grand-sires Images . But ( 'las ) these Hopes are now meer Dreams become , And all those Glories buried in his Tomb . Too rigorous Fates , 't is but an envions sport , To make those Lives that are most brave , most short ; Or in destroying Heroes do you finde A way so oft to Massacre Mankinde ? Or cannot milder Heaven one Influence throw , To make one thing Glorious and Lasting too ? But there 's a difference 'twixt Heav'n and Earth , And those things which from Each receive their birth : On Earth , the finest things fade soonest ; there , Ill-boding Meteors the most short-liv'd are . And yet , ( my Lord ) since that Celestial fire That is shut up within us , doth aspire , Being once freed , like an ambitious Flame , Unto that Fountain , from whence first it came ; With what a glorious Brightness is He gone , May we suppose , that so augustly shone Even th'row his Clay ? What ravishing Transports now Seize on that Intellect ? How doth it glow With fresh Illapses of the purest Light , Free from the Bondage of chill Sense and Night ? How do the ghosts with admiration gaze On this great Shade ! With what a proud amaze Some look on what he was , whiles others ween , With emulous Sorrow , what he should have been ! Whilst that his Love , exalted by its Loss , Does more sublim'd intuitive species toss ; And , swoln above it self , serenely move In that great Centre of Light , Life and Love ; Where I must lose him : For , can I express What He 's , that am not He ? But this confess , My Lord , that since you measure by his bliss Your Wishes , this his Apotheosis ( Where part of you is Deifi'd ) must call Your Acclamations , but no Grief at all . He 's now at peace , disturb him not with Fears , Nor violate his Ashes with your Tears . J. HALL . In obitum Henrici Domini Hastingii , Filii , FERDINANDI Comitis Huntingdonii , unici : Simulac * Unionis , totius Angliae , pretiosissimi . EPITAPHIVM . HIc* Gemma est , pro quâ , Venus & Cum Pallade , Juno , Antiquam litem , tresrenovâre Deae . Vincere erant omnes , ipso Jove Iudice , dignae ; Vincere , sed cunctae non potuêre Deae . Ergo , memor strages quantas lis prima dedisset , Jupiter hanc Gemmam condidit hoc Tumulo . Anglicè . Here lies a * Jewel , for which strove Pallas , Iuno , and Queen of Love . Iove being Judge , they all were thought Worthy to ha 't , but all could not . Remembring therefore what great Wars Fell out , upon their former Jars ; Iove , to prevent the like to come , He lockt this Jewel in this Tomb . FRANCISCUS STANDISH . In Honour to the Great Memorial of the Right Honourable Henry Lord Hastings , deceased ; Late , the most Hopeful , Onely Son , and Heir apparent to the Right Honourable FERDINANDO Earl of Huntingdon . BLush , ye Pretenders to Astrologie , That tell us Stories out of Ptolomie , Kepler , with others ; what shall be this yeer Th'effects of Saturn joyn'd with Jupiter ; But could not tell us that our Sun should Set , To rise no more within this Sphere ; nor yet Th'Effects we have since felt : That such a Star ( For whose vast Loss we now sad Mourners are ) Its much-admired Influence should withdraw , And be No more , to us , Ye ne'er foresaw . This , had you but predicted long ago , We might have been prepar'd for such a Blowe . But Oh Accursed-Envious-Fowl Disease ! Within thy Circuit , could none other please Thy Palate : Was thy Thirst so great , That , onely , Noble Blood must quench the Heat ? Hadst thou miss'd him , we could have spar'd thee Store ; Or with thy Phangs hadst mark'd him , and No more ; Our Curses had been spared : nor should we Have call'd thy Footsteps a Deformity . But thus , to seize on Honour , Beauty , Youth , And at one Draught Carouse them , plainly doth Convince us , That with Death thou didst agree , To Storm this Fort , which , else , had kept out Thee . Cupid , no more be stil'd a Deity ; Thy Bowe and Quiver , may they shatter'd lie : And Hymen , henceforth be thine Altars raz'd , Thy Priests be dumb , thy Temples all defac'd : Since that for This , your Pow'rs conjoyned were , To sport your selves with this so Noble Pair . Why were your Torches lighted in their Eyes ? Pretending Nuptials , meaning Sacrifice . What Advocate will dare to justifie , Or Story match , this Matchless Tyranny ? But 't is in vain ; in vain we do Increase Our Woes , complaining , which are Numberless ▪ But Fate , we serve , not search thy deep Intents , Nor dare we Quarrel at those cross Events Accoast us daily . We would onely pay The rites of our poor Tears , t' his Memory . Had this our Loss been but a Private one , 'T had been the loss ( yet ) of a Precious Stone : But as a Mighty Rock , shrunk from his place , Unfixeth all about it , is our Case . Should we now drain the Fountain of our Eyes , And bring in Rivers ' stead of Elegies ; Could we at once weep Blood , and rend our Hearts , Still we should come far short ' his great Deserts . Since then there is no Vertue in our Tears , To warm his Bloodless Limbs : since w' ought to bear Our Crosses with smoothe brows , and to submit To Heaven's Decree , who best knows what is fit ; Thrice-Noble Pair of Mourners at this Hearse , Who claim Chief Priviledge ; Why do your Tears Still issue forth ? Oh do not lend a Voice To Grief so sad ; and make so shrill a Noise , Ecchoing Fruitless Groans , that fill the Skie , And thus Lament his state ye should Envie . There is a time for Tears ; but certainly , There is a time to lay those Sorrows by . Resolved , therefore , on the Question , We Will doat no more on Earth's Inconstancy : For , If to Man and Beast the Lot's all one , What Priviledge have we to build upon ? If the tall Cedars must be Levell'd , why Should humble Shrubs expect Security ? Resolved , also , Their Condition 's best , Whom Heaven hath taken to Eternal Rest : Whither , Great Soul , th'art fled , and now dost raign Above in Majestie , neer Charles his Wain . I. B. Upon the much-lamented death of the Lord HASTINGS . HOw richly is thy Sepulchre adorn'd ! With how much State thy Obsequies perform'd ! Drest in their Sable Robes , each Muse out-vies The other , in their mournful Elegies : Mournful indeed , since thy own Loss sends forth A Grief as great , as ( living ) thou hadst Worth . Our Pens grace not thy Herse enough ; it wears The mournful Livery of thy Country's tears ; Widowed , ere Married , to thy Parts ; that so Thy Love writes Maid , yet is half Widow too . All good men mourn : she weeps , 'cause thou art gone . Fain would I die , to be thus wept upon . JO . BENSON , Hosp. Lincoln . To the never-dying Memory of the Noble Lord Hastings , &c. The meanest Son of the Muses consecrates this ELEGIE . WHat ? will my cloudy forehead never clear ? Shall I the arms of Sorrow ever bear Crost bout my Skeleton ? and shall mine eye Be like Aquarius Pitcher , never dry ? O surely never ! Grief from yeer to yeer Rents my poor Heart , and makes his Home-stead there : Affliction gripes me , as young Hercules The gasping Snakes : Nor can I hope for ease , When noble Hastings , in whom Hope did lie ▪ At Anchor , is storm'd hence by Destiny ; And , like a Paphian Rose but newly thrust Out of its Green Bed , blasted into Dust . Remorseless Fate ! be hateful as thy Harms , That rudely pluckst out of their Countries arms Her loveliest Pledges : couldst thou not have seiz'd Upon some worthless Wretches long diseas'd , Or fell'd some sturdie Oaks , that have so long Done with stiff arms the bending Willows wrong ; But needs thou must a Noble Plant remove , So fixt in Piety , so fill'd with Love And Goodness , as before our Grandsire's Fall He had begotten been , and Nature ( all That intersected time till he was born ) Had studied how her dear Work to adorn ? Thou in meer pity mightst have taken Truce A while , and given him longer use Of vital Joys . But thus rare Flowers fail As soon as blown ; sweet Spices most exhale ; Fair shining Gems too frequently are crackt ; And richly-laden Vessels quickly wrackt . Come , noble Nymphs , drop Sorrows Pearls apace Into his Sepulchre , and on that place Sweet Flowers plant , that Embleme-wise may show His sweeter Graces for whose sake they grow ; And cause his fresh Grave visited to be , As a rare Garden , and rich Treasury . You worthy Parents of this peerless Son , Think that you see him ( now his Part is done On this lowe Stage ) applauded by the hie Angels , i' th' Court of blest Eternity : And let such tow'ring Contemplations throw Your Sorrows down , and smother all your Wo. What ere was wanting in his Life's extent , His Fame supplies , without a Monument : Who with all weight of Worth that Youth could have , Sank to the restful centre of the Grave , As th' Indian dives for Pearls . But Pearls , and Gems , And all those dazling things call'd Diadems , What are they to the Glories that surround His dearer Soul , i' th' heavenly Palace Crown'd ? Where , above Mortal Change , and Fatal Chance , He ( while the rapt Orbs their Lavolta's dance ) Sings Hymns of Joy , and with the Angels Quire Keeps a blest time , that never shall expire . An Epitaph on the same . Tread off , prophaner feet , forbear To press this hallowed mold , where lies Fair Vertue 's and high Honour's Heir , The Darling of the bounteous Skies ; Who by rare Parts , the flight of Fame , In Life , out-went ; in Death , his Name . THO. BANCROFT . An ELEGIE On the death of the Right Honourable , Henry Lord Hastings ; Presented at his Funeral . HOw comes this press of People to this place , Oppress'd with inward Anguish ? On each face Sorrow sits deeply printed ; and each eye , Swoln big with Grief , drops down an Elegie . 'T is Love , that Magnes of the world , that drew This sad Assembly hither , not to view Each other , but with Zeal and Service pure , To wait on him , who , living , I am sure , Was so compleat Perfection , that I may ( Sans Flatt'ry ) call him Miracle , and say , He di'd to make his Motto good , this way , In height of Gratitude , for to express , He honour'd us to wait upon his Herse . Who can be silent now , or so dull grown , Not to have sense ? An universal Groan Befits a Gen'ral Loss . Come , let us sigh Together ; so conspiring far more high To raise his Fame and Monument : I know The gentler Windes will their assistance show , And on their wings transport his lovely Name As far as Titan with his fulgent Flame Doth gild the World . This done , their latest breath , In hoarse and hollow Murmures against Death , They will expire : which I should also do , Were it not Womanish , and Childish too . We may not grieve too much , lest it should prove Envie at Happiness , not Signes of Love . For he was Vertue 's Magazine , and thence He did disperse his pretious Influence On all about him . He was right compleat , And , which is wonderful , as Good as Great . Cease then your Grief , and dry your eyes : though hence He 's fled , yet still a great Intelligence He lives ; and will for many Ages stand , For Life and Learning , Mirrour of the Land . W. PESTEL . ON HENRY Lord HASTINGS . THree Loyal HENRIES , sprung from Huntingdon , We saw alive : the First and Last are gone , Bright Saints to Heaven , above all Fanci'd Spheres , To meet their Soveraign in That House of Peers : The Third , Gods hand by Wonder hath preserv'd , In whom their Honour Trebly is reserv'd . So Sybils Books consum'd ; the Last , contains Their precious Truths , and Treble Value gains . Howe'er , we sadly mourn his Nephew's Fate Makes Widow'd England still more desolate . Oh , never Such a Son to Parents mind ; oh , never Subject Loyaller inclin'd ; Oh , none more Pious , none more Man , so soon ; Ripe for his Set , ere rais'd to half his Noon . That mightier hand , that stopp'd the mighty Sun , Can th'row his Circle , sooner , make him run . A varied Fever had surpriz'd his Head , And Death ensu'd , when Royal Blood he bled . Bodies live not , when Head and Heart decays , Where all their Veins are right Basilica's . The Fountain dri'd , how should the Chanel run ? Goodnight to Stars , when Darkned is the Sun . Thus Royal , Loyal , Learn'd , Lov'd Hastings lies ; All Good mens Loss ; to Saints , a glorious Prize . THO. PESTELLUS , filius . EPICEDION In obitum Domini HENRICI HASTINGS Baronis , Illustrissimi . SAnguineas Oculis lachrymas effundere possem , Infandum damnum si reparare queam . Sed frustra . Tantum lachrymis aequare dolorem Non opis est nostrae . Tetrice siste dolor . Quomodo virtutes comprendam Epicedia scribens Carmine , quas nullus vel numerare potis ? Doctrinae , ingenii lumen columenque sepultum Hoc , nostro Zenith , Sole cadente jacet . Nonne vides Flores excindi tempore Verno ? Dulcis sic cecidit Flosculus ingenii , Heros illustris , nulli Pietato secundus ; Tantum annis juvenis , Cognitione senex . Ingenuas Artes didicit Iuvenilibus annis ; Virtutum centrum , Relligionis honos . Mystica cunctorum primordia novit ad unguem : Doctrinae eximiae calluit omne genus . Procedam ulterius ? tantum est renovare Dolorem Infandum . Iam nunc gurrula Musatace . Auree Flos Sophiae , requiesce secure Sepulchro ; Nostrum , Te extincto , plangere munus erit . R. P. Upon the much-lamented Departure of the right Hopeful , and truly Noble , HENRY Lord HASTINGS , Son and Heir to the Right Honorable , FERDINANDO Earl of Huntingdon . COme , Tragick Muse , finde me one Spring through all Parnassus Rise , womb-swell'd with bitter'st Gall , To write my Heart , as Sable as the Herse ; My Thoughts as Black , as ever stood in Verse . Resigne , for once , th' Elixar of All yet Ere vow'd unto thy Shrine ; their Fancie , Wit , Their Language ; Youth of all ; yet all this Store , Too small to pencil That , which calls for More . Lend me a Fancie , which may reach ; a Minde As full of Excellency , in every kinde , As th' Earth of Causes , or the Heavens of Light : The Sun 's but full , and full 's the Margarite . Fit me with Tiptoe-Language , to command The sharpst-ey'd Intellect , and force a stand : Such may the Subject be , so full of dress , Deserving more then Language can express . Furnish my Brain with onely so much Art , To tell the World , There was One , whose least part Deserv'd the largest Volume : tell me then , If so much Youth was not th' Abstract of Men . When These have done their parts , and Thousands more , All is but Callis , unto Tagus shore ; A Minute , to an Age ; Lead-Oar , to Gold : So precious was that Gem now Caskt in Mold . If ( Passenger ) thou ask whom this may be , Thus Thron'd on such an height of Dignity ; I may not tell , but blushing , when each Letter Terms my speech rude , because 't is spoke no better . Ghess by the Sequele ; see the Mourners all , Ev'n drunk with Asps , and Cockatrices gall ; Pensive to death : view next th' Attendants ; see How each one droops , because it was not he . The very Steeds which drew that heavenly Load , Went such a pace , as if they 'd understood Their Master's fall ; so slowe , yet full of grace , As ne'er to come unto a parting-place . Like hairy Comets pregnant with Mishaps , Do seldom come alone ; but After-claps Of Princely Horrour , ( issues of that Womb : ) Such ( though in State ) are Waiters on a Tomb . Lo here , the Crest , the Sword , the Gantlet , all Applauded Rites , that speak a Funeral , Like Comets , come before , and tell us plain , Some Prince his Death , or Noble Hero's slain . I can no longer hold : Look ye upon The Royal Arms , and then say , Huntingdon Hath now the largest share in this sad Fate ; Though Darby , Suffolk , Clarence , great in State , May challenge Blacks ; yet much more Royal Blood , Centred in Hastings , t' make a perfect Good : Amongst this Throng of Nobles , we may set A Stuart , Tudor , and Plantagenet : None e'er disdain'd this Royal , Loyal Stem , Faithful to Church , true to the Diadem : Well might it be thought Honour to fix there , Where God's sole Soveraign , and the prime sole Peer . So much of every Line , of every Good , Of every Vertue , extant in their Blood Was here ; that as in him they lived all Sweetly united ; so in him they fall . I here dare tell the mad Pythagorist , Helyes ; his Transmigration now hath mist : A Body so compos'd ; each Lineament So perfect , full , exact , 's if Nature meant To shew her Master-piece : and that possest With such a noble Soul , as ne'er can rest In coarser Roofs ; it can no other fit ; There 's not a Subject capable of it . Judge in three words : he was , at these young yeers , A Synod , Commons , and an House of Peers . His pure , diviner Parts , shew him but lent The World , a Pattern for their Parliament ; Where ev'ry Member , like a Loyal Soul , Assists each other , to compleat the Whole . Of a just Temper , Gracious and Good To God and Man ; kept close , yet understood ; Apparent , yet unvoic'd ; made known to all But to himself : no ways Thrasonical Of what whole Ages might : therefore in brief , His Lords and Ladies highest Joy and Grief . Should I attempt each Circumstance to scan , Which makes the Grief unequall'd , as the Man ; ●ight by oddes far sooner end this Strife 〈…〉 Dead my Self , then This to th' Life . Epitaph . Here lies our Ages Paramont ; the Store Of Albions shame , because it mourns no more . And since the Fate is so , if , for his fall We cannot weep enough , our Children shall . JOH. ROSSE . Upon the unhappie Separation of those united Souls , The Honorable Henry Lord Hastings , And his beloved Parallel . WHat make I here ? how ill this place befits A Shrub , to sprout i' th' Lebanon of Wits ? Mong such Caesarean Muses , whose pure strains Out-soar the Clouds of Sublunary brains . I 'ld quit the place , but that I know I may Lament as much , though not so well as they . Thus Princely Eagles , when together th' are Met at a Carcase , yeeld the Fly a share . The Tongs and Iews-trump too , when they do come In Consort , serve to fill a Vacuum , And to compleat the sound , though artless Tone : So he that can't sing Elegies , can groan . Sad accident ! how pityable's Man ! Billow'd about this restless Ocean ; Born to be wretched ; who no sooner doth Begin to live or love , but dies to both : The Tennis-ball bandy'd 'tween Love and Fate , Whom both do court , yet both do emulate . Whom ( like young Doctors ) Women use to kill , To try Experiments , and nurse their skill : The Females Trophie . Or if Love can't do 't , To sink him , Fate contributeth her foot , To crush i' th' Bud. Thus the great Hastings di'd ; The Young-mens Glory , and the Scholars Pride ; Envie 's just Zenith — But why should I lament his death ? since he Loseth not by 't : but 't is his LOVE and We ; She , we 're undone ; for both have lost that All , That She could Love , or We could Vertue call : One who by 's Learning did demonstrate , that There is a Plebs in Brain , as well as State ; And by his Studies labour'd to derive Nobility from Worth , its Primitive : Whom he that would mourn , as he ought to do , Must be the Poet , and the Subject too . Now others Obsequies are my Thanksgiving ; Nor mourn I for the dead , but for the living . Poor Hemistick ! that but began to be Inoculated , when she lost the Tree . She that had flam'd her soul with Hymens fires , Who with full Sayls , blown on with strong desires , In reach of Hav'n , in sight of Safety , sinks ; Up to the lips in Nectar , yet not drinks . She that had past the Gulf of Love and Wo , ( Which none but we , that taste and feel , can know ) Now must love o'er again , and come to be New disciplin'd in Cupids A , B , C. How vast a world has she to range about ? How long a search , ere she can finde one out , Second to him ? An equal we despair , Like Pallas born o' th' brain of Iupiter . Riddle of Nature , of unfathom'd parts , Whose Brain was the Synopsis of all Arts : Whose Soul , whose Heart , whose Person justly can Stile Lover , Scholar , and a Gentleman : Whom loaden Nature did designe to die Unwedded , being a Genealogie Unto himself , and therefore thought it shame To live in any Issue but his Fame . This Sun in 's Zenith , totters now , and falls ; And Death 's the Vigil to Loves Festivals . Thus purest Lovers , when their Ioy is near , Are by 't struck dead , as Cowards are by Fear . Yet though he could not know what Joys wait on The Bridal-Bed , but by privation ; Now woes the Angels , and intends to be Wedded to them in their Virginity . Yet are the Muses cross'd : for had this hit , We 'd joyn'd Yorks Wealth , to th' Lancaster of Wit . Sic flevit ALEX . BROME . An ELEGIE On the much-lamented death of the Lord HASTINGS . A Lack , good young Lord Hastings , is he dead ? He 's rise again , as sure as buried . There 's Comfort yet that 's worth our Sadness then : But yet w' are bound to grieve , as to love men . Shall I be silent then , not to relate The Grievance of my Minde for this sad Fate ? Wanting the Learned Phrases to set forth , In high Expressions , such a Subject's worth . Let deep Divines , that long have studied Art , Adorn their Lines to please : I 'll write my Part. Then on , my mournful Pen , help , Muses nine , That he may drop a Tear , that reads a Line ; When he shall know the grievous Sighs and Groans Of that sad Noble Race of Huntingdon . Great pity 't is , so young a Branch as He , Should drop so sudden , from so good a Tree . But Heaven th'Author of all earthly things , Must have his will on Lords , as well as Kings . Nor is the Root so faded , but hath power To plant a Graft that may produce a Flower , To equalize the Loss you so lament , And cure the Malady of Discontent . Cease not to mourn , yet , let not inward Grief Cause a Despair , since heaven can give relief . They 're Angels guard him ; King of kings hath sent , Where 's difference 'twixt a Jayl from Parliament . Cease then to weep ; for he and Angels sing Halle lujah in Heav'n , with Charles our King . EDWARD STANDISH . To the Memory of the Right Noble , and most Hopeful , Henry Lord Hastings , Deceased . A Way , my Muse , or bid me hence from thee ; No Subject for thy help , nor Work for me , This Story yeelds . For , by thy dictates , I Never spilt Ink , except in Comedie ; Which in the thronged Theatres did appear All Mirth and Laughter . What should we do here , Amidst an Inundation of such Grief , As to be dry'd up cannot hope relief Till the Last firy day ▪ Yet since 't is so , How can we scape our shares of general Wo ? And ( pardon me , Thalia ) your sublime Spirit , since this Vicissitude of Time Has found no cause to smile , nor have you been But Mourner-like , and but by Mourners seen . And , though you cannot express Sorrow , I Must be allow'd to shew Mortality ; And grieve without your aid . No painting forth , Or Flourishes of Art , on Weight and Worth Are requisite : This Story is too true To be made more perspicuous to our view , By adding Fiction to 't . All may be said Or written in few words , Lord Hastings 's dead . But who can stop at this ! when these few words An Argument wide , as the World affords , Of Grief ? Yet see ! th' expression to prevent , It stupifies us with Astonishment Which dumbs us , and benums our Faculties ▪ And like an Over-charge within us lies : Such , as in its Report , the Canon breaks : No less this Sorrow threatens , ere it speaks . Now let Sigh-tempests and Tear-torrents rise , To pour out Marble-hearts , th'row melting Eyes , For this dear Loss : when we are forc'd to say , The Hope of Huntingdon is turn'd to Clay ; Henry Lord Hastings , He — Here let me stay : Sad World , I tell thee Who he was , not What ; That would o'er-swell the Volume : Read thou that In the precedent Elegies , here writ , By Masters of best Eloquence and Wit . Read , and mark well his Character , and know , They do of Truth more then Affection show . On this ingenuous Subject none could lye , Though ne'er so much inspir'd with Poetry . Enrich thy Knowledge , once , by having read More Vertue , then is Living , of one Dead . They are march'd on . Now I bring up the Rear , And not without as True and Salt a Tear As the Van-leader of this solemn Train : Onely to thee I utter this again , Thou World , Read and Collect all , here , exprest Of Excellencies on this Lord deceast ; And adde , with it , all thou canst think is good ; And all that thou canst wish were understood To be thine own , to all is said before ; Great Hastings was , and is all that , and more . RIC. BROME . HEre was the end of the Book intended to have been ; and so was it Printed , before these following Papers were written or sent in . Of all those the Noble , Reverend and worthy Writers nominated in the Catalogue without their due Additions of Title , or listed contrary to their Degree or Quality , a Pardon is most humbly desired for the Collector , whose Crime of Ignorance grew out of the want of timely Instruction . POSTSCRIPT . ELEGIES , Written by M. Andrew Marvel . M. M. N. M. Ioannes Harmarus . Iohannes Dryden . Cyrillus Wyche ▪ Edw. Campion . Tho. Adams . M. Radulphus Mountague ▪ Upon the death of the Lord HASTINGS . GO , intercept some Fountain in the Vein , Whose Virgin-Source yet never steept the Plain . Hastings is dead , and we must finde a Store Of Tears untoucht , and never wept before . Go , stand betwixt the Morning and the Flowers ; And , ere they fall , arrest the early Showers . Hastings is dead ; and we , disconsolate , With early Tears must mourn his early Fate . Alas , his Vertues did his Death presage : Needs must he die , that doth out-run his Age . The Phlegmatick and Slowe prolongs his day , And on Times Wheel sticks like a Remora . What man is he , that hath not Heaven beguil'd , And is not thence mistaken for a Childe ? While those of growth more sudden , and more bold , Are hurried hence , as if already old . For , there above , They number not as here , But weigh to Man the Geometrick yeer . Had he but at this Measure still increast , And on the Tree of Life once made a Feast , As that of Knowledge ; what Loves had he given To Earth , and then what Jealousies to Heaven ! But 't is a Maxime of that State , That none , Lest He become like Them , taste more then one . Therefore the Democratick Stars did rise , And all that Worth from hence did Ostracize . Yet as some Prince , that , for State-Jealousie , Secures his neerest and most lov'd Ally ; His Thought with richest Triumphs entertains , And in the choicest Pleasures charms his Pains : So he , not banisht hence , but there confin'd , There better recreates his active Minde . Before the Chrystal Palace where he dwells , The armed Angels hold their Carouzels ; And underneath , he views the Turnaments Of all these Sublunary Elements . But most he doth th' Eternal Book behold , On which the happie Names do stand enroll'd ; And gladly there can all his Kinred claim , But most rejoyces at his Mothers name . The gods themselves cannot their Joy conceal , But draw their Veils , and their pure Beams reveal : Onely they drooping Hymeneus note , Who for sad Purple , tears his Saffron - coat ; And trails his Torches th'row the Starry Hall Reversed , at his Darlings Funeral . And Aesculapius , who , asham'd and stern , Himself at once condemneth , and Mayern ; Like some sad Chymist , who , prepar'd to reap The Golden Harvest , sees his Glasses leap . For , how Immortal must their Race have stood , Had Mayern once been mixt with Hastings blood ! How Sweet and Verdant would these Lawrels be , Had they been planted on that Balsam-tree ! But what could he , good man , although he bruis'd All Herbs , and them a thousand ways infus'd ? All he had try'd , but all in vain , he saw , And wept , as we , without Redress or Law . For Man ( alas ) is but the Heavens sport ; And Art indeed is Long , but Life is Short . ANDREW MARVEL . On the untimely death of the Lord HASTINGS , Son to the Earl of HUNTINGDON . IT is decreed , we must be drain'd ( I see ) Down to the dregs of a Democracie : Death 's i' the Plot , and in his drunken mood Swills none , of late , but streams of Noble Blood ▪ Was 't not enough the Hatchet did hew down Those well-grown Oaks , and Pillars of the Crown , But that the tender Sapling too must fall Thus , to inhanse the Kingdoms Funeral ? Ye Widow'd Graces , and ye Muses too , Bring your Perfumes ; with Tears and Flowers bestrew This sacred Temple , where ye once did sit Crowned with all the pomp of Youth and Wit . 'T is HASTINGS , he that promis'd to appear What Strafford , Falkland , and brave Capel were ; Whose pregnant Brain spake a descent from Iove , And Shape Celestial , from the Queen of Love ; So that , to charm the World , he match'd the grace Of Nestors Wisdom with Adonis Face . The Nurse Minerva boasts how this her son Suck'd dry the Poets and their Helicon ; With what a nimble pace he posted ore The fields of Phant'sie , rifled all her Store , Cropt ev'ry Flow'r and Tulip which did grow , To make a Garland for his own fair Brow ; That young Apollo never wan more Praise , When he pursu'd his Love , and catcht the Bays . This but the Bud , these but the Blossoms were ; The Fruit grew ripe in Studies more severe , Where he seem'd born to master and control Both the Cecropian and the Roman School , Big with designe t' usurp the Chair of Wit From Tully , and depose the Stagirit . Adde next to these , the Grace which did belong T' unlock those Treasures with a Golden tongue ; A Tongue so rarely furnisht , as might boast It self of kin to those at Pentecost ; And in their proper Languages begun To court the Rising and the Setting Sun ; Fit to reform our own degen'rous Sprites , And plant the world with Loyal Proselytes . Thus ripen'd , ( see ! ) this rare Example stood No less ennobled in Desert then Blood ; Whilst others , swoln high with an empty Name , Leave nothing but their Lusts and Sins to Fame : But if you 'll Noble be indeed , your yeers Improve like him , strive to become his Peers . How joy'd , ( think you ) the Noble Huntingdon , To be thus copi'd in so brave a Son ! How did he bless , admire , and smile , to see This young Ascanius of his Family , As did Aeneas that his onely Joy , The precious Relique of confounded Troy ! What Fruits he reckon'd would the Harvest bring , After so sweet and so serene a Spring ! How fair an Issue should the Boy beget , Good as their Sire , and as their Grandsires Great , Whose Vertues claim this Title to their Line , Of all the British Heroes most Divine . No marvel then the famous Mayern strove To place his Childe where he had fixt his Love , Melting the Indies , to unite in one His Onely Daughter with this onely Son ; That so his longing Soul might once behold This Jewel set within his Ring of Gold . The old man woo'd , as if he meant to prove An earnest Rival in his daughters love ; Gave Hymen speedy Orders to prepare The Triumphs due unto this harmless War ; Invited all the gods of Mirth and Wine , That , as Themselves , the Feast might be Divine : Venus her Trinkets sent , without delay , To dress ten thousand Cupids for the day : The Duellists with plighted hands did greet , And promis'd quick within the Lists to meet ; The lustre of whose mutual Smiles and Rays , Foretold a Sunshine of auspicious days . But Oh! the Scene is alter'd ; some cross Star Darts down Infection th'row the Hemisphear : Those eyes which Hymen hop'd should light his Torch , Aethereal flames of Fevers now do scorch , And envious Pimples too dig Graves apace , To bury all the Glories of his face : The Boy-god sighing , soon unbends his Bowe , And , with his Mother , lies extinct belowe , In vain expecting Succour , while the Race Of Stygian Monsters seize upon the place ; Where they their Revels keep , mocking the skill Of best Physitians , and then rage their fill , Till ugly Death his dire Magnetick Dart Shot th'row the Veins , to hit his tender Heart , Ruined the Fort , and then snatch'd the Prize Due to the conquest of his Ladies eyes . The onely Legacies he left us , are , Grief to his Friends ; and to the World , Despair ▪ So when fair Phoebus 'gins to gild the Morn , Some sullen Cloud , within a moment born , Sends Hell and Darkness th'row the air to flie , And all with Mourning hangs the lofty Skie . M. N. De honoratissimo Juvene , Dom. HENRICO HASTINGS , Linguis , Artibus , & Virtutibus excultissimo , Comitis HUNTINGDONIAE Filio Unico ; qui undevicesimum Aetatis suae annum agens , diem obiit , magno cum Literarum juxtà & Literatorum detrimento . PEgasus excussit fontem unum e Vertice montis ; Laxat at hìc fontes singula Musa duos . Semper ut è teneris lacrymae Labuntur ocellis , Sic LACRYMAE Musis Musica semper erit . Apostrophe ad defunctum . Qui Musas omnes in Te complexus es uno , Musa Tibi non est quae fleat una satis . {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . IOANNES HARMARVS , Oxoniensis . {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , & C. W. M. moerens posuit . Upon the death of the Lord HASTINGS . MUst Noble Hastings Immaturely die , ( The Honour of his ancient Family ? ) Beauty and Learning thus together meet , To bring a Winding for a Wedding-sheet ? Must Vertue prove Death's Harbinger ? Must She , With him expiring , feel Mortality ? Is Death ( Sin 's wages ) Grace's now ? shall Art Make us more Learned , onely to depart ? If Merit be Disease , if Vertue Death ; To be Good , Not to be ; who 'd then bequeath Himself to Discipline ? who 'd not esteem Labour a Crime , Study Self-murther deem ? Our Noble Youth now have pretence to be Dunces securely , Ign'rant healthfully . Rare Linguist ! whose Worth speaks it self , whose Praise , Though not his Own , all Tongues Besides do raise : Then Whom , Great Alexander may seem Less ; Who conquer'd Men , but not their Languages . In his mouth Nations speak ; his Tongue might be Interpreter to Greece , France , Italy . His native Soyl was the Four parts o' th' Earth ; All Europe was too narrow for his Birth . A young Apostle ; and ( with rev'rence may I speak ' it ) inspir'd with gift of Tongues , as They . Nature gave him , a Childe , what Men in vain Oft strive , by Art though further'd , to obtain . His Body was an Orb , his sublime Soul Did move on Vertue 's and on Learning's Pole : Whose Reg'lar Motions better to our view , Then Archimedes Sphere , the Heavens did shew . Graces and Vertues , Languages and Arts , Beauty and Learning , fill'd up all the parts . Heav'ns Gifts , which do , like falling Stars , appear Scatter'd in Others ; all , as in their Sphear , Were fix'd and conglobate in 's Soul ; and thence Shone th'row his Body , with sweet Influence ; Letting their Glories so on each Limb fall , The whole Frame render'd was Celestial . Come , learned Ptolomy , and trial make , If thou this Hero's Altitude canst take ; But that transcends thy skill ; thrice happie all ▪ Could we but prove thus Astronomical . Liv'd Tycho now , struck with this Ray , ( which shone More bright i' th' Morn , then others beam at Noon ) He 'd take his Astrolabe , and seek out here What new Star 't was did gild our Hemisphere . Replenish'd then with such rare Gifts as these , Where was room left for such a Foul Disease ? The Nations sin hath drawn that Veil , which shrouds Our Day-spring in so sad benighting Clouds . Heaven would no longer trust its Pledge ; but thus Recall'd it ; rapt its Ganymede from us . Was there no milder way but the Small Pox , The very Filth'ness of Pandora's Box ? So many Spots , like naeves , our Venus soil ? One Jewel set off with so many a Foil ? Blisters with pride swell'd , which th'row 's flesh did sprout Like Rose-buds , stuck i' th' Lily-skin about . Each little Pimple had a Tear in it , To wail the fault its rising did commit : Who , Rebel-like , with their own Lord at strife , Thus made an Insurrection 'gainst his Life . Or were these Gems sent to adorn his Skin , The Cab'net of a richer Soul within ? No Comet need foretel his Change drew on , Whose Corps might seem a Constellation . O had he di'd of old , how great a strife Had been , who from his Death should draw their Life ? Who should , by one rich draught , become what ere Seneca , Cato , Numa , Caesar , were : Learn'd , Vertuous , Pious , Great ; and have by this An universal Metempsuchosis . Must all these ag'd Sires in one Funeral Expire ? All die in one so young , so small ? Who , had he liv'd his life out , his great Fame Had swoln 'bove any Greek or Romane Name . But hasty Winter , with one blast , hath brought The hopes of Autumn , Summer , Spring , to nought . Thus fades the Oak i' th' sprig , i' th' blade the Corn ; Thus , without Young , this Phoenix dies , new born . Must then old three-legg'd gray-beards with their Gout , Catarrhs , Rheums , Aches , live three Ages out ? Times Offal , onely fit for th' Hospital , Or t' hang an Antiquaries room withal ; Must Drunkards , Lechers , spent with Sinning , live With such helps as Broths , Possits , Physick give ? None live , but such as should die ? Shall we meet With none but Ghostly Fathers in the Street ? Grief makes me rail ; Sorrow will force its way ; And , Show'rs of Tears , Tempestuous Sighs best lay . The Tongue may fail ; but over-flowing Eyes Will weep out lasting streams of Elegies . But thou , O Virgin-Widow , left a●●ne , Now thy belov'd , heaven-ravisht Spouse is gone , ( Whose skilful Sire in vain strove to apply Med'cines , when thy Balm was no Remedy ) With greater then Platonick love , O wed His Soul , though not his Body , to thy Bed : Let that make thee a Mother ; bring thou forth Th' Idea's of his Vertue , Knowledge , Worth ; Transcribe th' Original in new Copies ; give Hastings o' th' better part : so shall he live In 's Nobler Half ; and the great Grandsire be Of an Heroick Divine Progenie : An Issue , which●t ' Eternity shall last , Yet but th' Irradiations which he cast . Erect no Mausolaeums : for his best Monument is his Spouses Marble brest . JOHANNES DRYDEN , Scholae Westm. Alumnus . In Obitum Honoratissimi Viri , Domini HENRICI HASTINGS . INcipe lugubris , Musa incipe nostra , querelas ; Contineat Lachrymas nec Cytherea suas : Excidit amplexu Mus●rum abreptus Alumnus ; Pulchrior Idalio Sponsus Adone perit ▪ Cum celebranda forent lae●o connubia cantu , Ferres accensas túque Hymenaee faces : Pronuba praebebant piceas funalia flammas ; Iunonis subiit tunc Libitina vices . Vertitur in moestum genialis sponda feretrum ; Fit vespillo , priùs qui Paranymphus erat . Flent omnes tristíque irrorant imbre cadaver ; Et superat morbi lachryma fusa notas . Pro virtute tuâ si vota superstite dentur , Victima si pro te sospite digna cadat ; Vt Pietas , Virtus , Linguaeque , Artesque supersint , Nec pereat formae , aut Nobilitatis honos ; Qui pro communi renuit se tradere Fato , Non tibi , sed Patriae denegat officium . Occidis exemplar , generosae & norma juventae ; Insequitur morum magna ruina tuam . Vita tibi dempta est , sed nobis Regula vitae : Tecum Nobilitas semisepulta jacet . Graecia , Roma , tuam excoluit ( quotae Natio ! ) Linguam : Qui totum excoleret te , minor orbis erit . Tantus es , ut coeli tumulandus in orbibus esses ; Non satis in Tumulum terra Britanna patet . At quid amator eras ? Musarum castra sequenti Permansi● puro sanguine sana cutis . Mox ubi pectus amor , Morbilli corpus adurunt : Tabe omni costas fortiùs urit amor . Protegis arte tuâ cultores Phoebe ; dolendum est Arte quod in Medicâ nil Cytherea potest . Sponsa parata , velut pulchrae virtutis Idaea , Interiore animam concremat igne tuam . I procul hinc conjux , auges incendia fletu , Vulnerat ex oculis ignea gutta tuu . Est toleranda mihi duri inclementia morbi ; Virtus , aut facies non toleranda tua est . Exturget mihi Mens , & laxat Corporis arcta Vincula , in amplexus non satis ampla tuos : Extendítque cutem , partésque exporrigit omnes , Ruptá ; que mille aditus per sua membra parat . Exit Sponsi anima , i●gremium Sponsaeque recepta est : Non duo , jam nexi mentibus unus erunt . Totus amor , totus nunc Spiritus , I pete coelos : Non Sponsus , Christi sis modo Spousa tui . CYRILLUS WYCHE , Scholae Westm. Alumnus . PVllâ hâc in Vrnâ saeculi Genius sui Reclinat augustum caput : Natura multâ dote quem ditaverat , Hominúmque coetu exemerat . Mortalitatem nisi fateretur suam , Intelligentiam putes . Desideratiùs quis unquam vixerit , Poterítve flebiliùs mori ? Meditentur alii busta , suspendant Tholos , Titulis onusti grandibus : Quorum superstes fama Marmoribus manet Tribuenda non meritis suis . Non poscit Hastings Funeris pompam hanc sui ; Sibi non Sepulchra postulat , Epitaphiúmve , quod recenseret quibus Sit ortus è Penatibus . Pietate , Factis , Arte , Linguis Inclytus Stat Ipse Monumentum sibi . EDW. CAMPION , Scholae Westm. Alumnus . ARtibus , & Linguis , & Sanguine Nobilis Heros , Vrnula tot dotes non capit unae tuas . Vix capiti locus est ; in coelis quaere sepulchrum : Terra negat , Tumulo non satis ampla tuo . Scribenti titulos mihi longa excrescit Honorum Pagina ; & inceptis grandior illa meis . Nescimus Patriam , tua si modò lingua loquatur : Esse suam credit Graecia , Roma suam . Non unus moreris , funus non plangimus unum ; Sed strages hominum , sed {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} obis . Fama superjectam Coelo dignissima te●ram Rumpit , & ad similes te vehit alta deos . Pallas virtutes , artes donavit Apollo ; Mors tamen has , ill as invidiosa rapit . Parca parat sua tela , parat sua tela Cupido ; Comburit corpus pustula , pectus amor . Festinat Citherea suas accendere taedas : Accendit taedas invi a Parca suas . Exornat Citherea torum , Libitina Sepulchrum ; Illa suum sternit floribus , illa suum . Laberis ex Thalamo in Tumulum ; mirabile Spectrum Visus es , & Sponsae non procus esse tuae . Sponsa tuam mirata luem , restinguere vulnus Conatur lachrymis ; sed magis ardet amor . Impatiens morbi ruit in contagia ; cura Tanta Tui est , ut sit nulla relicta Sui . Sit licet atra lues , & nil nisi pustula corpus , Ibit in ampexus ( vel moritura ) tuos : Et placuere tui magis exanthemata vultûs , Quàm flores propriis qui rubuere genis . Cum Sponsâ mea Musa tuâ te plangit amátque , Cum linguis muta est sed mea Musae tuis . THO. ADAMS , Scholae Westm. Alumnus . NObilium pueris bullae olim insignia ; Morbi Nos insignivit plurima bulla notis . Me nuper languente , infecit pustula corpus ; Iam mentem affecit , Te moriente , meam . Morbi iterum videor tecum sentire dolores : Quàm leve ferre meos , quàm grave ferre tuos ! Partior ipse tui languores corporis ▪ O si Virtutes animae partiar ipse Tuae ! RADVLPHVS MOVNTAGVE , EDWARDI MOUNTAGUE Baronis de Boughton Filius natu minor , ex Scholà Westmonast . FINIS . — Vana Salus hominis . PIETATI SACRUM . H. S. E. Quod mortale fuit I. N. R. I. Praestolans Epiphaniam , depositun HENRICI Baronis HASTINGS Com. Venantoduni Haeredis designati , Sobole antiquissimâ & vere Regiâ prognati . Quippe cujus Praenobile fluentum per Hungerfordios & Piperelios à Ludovici VI Francorum-Regis origine devolvit Per Polos Masculo rivo è Venedotiae principe desilit ; Foemineo ductu è Clarentio , è Lineâ Plantogenistarum , Ebullienti Nevillorum Scaturigine è Bello-campo promanat , Qui è Mortuo-mari prosilit , Bello-campi per dispensatores ab Henrieo primo Angliae Per Nevillos Monte-acuto impetu ex Edv. I. Regio ; Noviss . per Stanlaeos luculenter prolabitur ab Hen. VII . sinu , Terreni Sanguinis factus exhaeres , Coelestem crevit haereditatem . CLARITATEM SANGUINIS INGENII DOTIBUS SUPER A VIT. H. I. Trilinguis Sacer ; nec non Gallici & Vernaculi idiomatis ornamentum . Par decus artium . Historiarum indagator Sagacissimus . Omnifariae eruditionis Academia , magnum Numen . SED VICIT INGENIUM MORUM ET PROBITATIS CANDOR . E C C E , Suavitatis Suada , Cor Gratiarum , Sedes Amorum ; Votum & deliciae populi dudum ; Nunc desiderium ; Divini amoris flamma : Denuò Astrum . Filius obsequen● , Dominus benignus , impubes ●thicus Senex ; Unicum familiae columen ; Pridiè Sponsalium ( proh Hymenaee ) Funere luit immaturo . AT , at Sanguine Christi longè maxumè Nobi●ior , Sacrarum Literarum studio consultior , Trini-unius cultu Sanctior , cluens , Raptus in patriam obiit . Divi defuncti manibus ingens hoc doloris Amphitheatrum tota Gens Britonum L. M. Q. Posuit . Gloria Dei est celare verbum . Prov. Denatus A. D. MDCXLIX . IX Kal. Iulii . h PHIL. KINDE● . Notes, typically marginal, from the original text Notes for div A29640e-870 a Stoick and Academick Philosophy . b Pythagoras c Aristotle . d Seneca . e Plutarch . f Cheronea . * Ens , Verum & Bonum convertuntur . Arist. 
A55240	----	A poem occasioned on the death of Mr. Henry Purcell, late musician in ordinary to His Majesty by a lover of music. Lover of music. 1696 Approx. 7 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 4 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2007-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A55240 Wing P2681 ESTC R24058 07944551 ocm 07944551 40629 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A55240) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 40629) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1211:8) A poem occasioned on the death of Mr. Henry Purcell, late musician in ordinary to His Majesty by a lover of music. Lover of music. 5 p. Printed for John Whitlock, London : 1696. Reproduction of original in the Huntington Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Purcell, Henry, 1659-1695 -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry -- England -- London -- Early works to 1800. 2006-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2006-07 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2006-09 Jonathan Blaney Sampled and proofread 2006-09 Jonathan Blaney Text and markup reviewed and edited 2007-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion A POEM Occasioned on the Death of Mr. Henry Purcell , Late Musician in Ordinary To His MAJESTY . Quocunque choros agitat mors Musica dormit . Bat. By a Lover of Musick . LONDON , Printed for John Whitlock , near Stationers-Hall , MDCXCVI . A POEM On the Death of Mr. Henry Purcell , &c. I. YE Gentle Sphears Cease now your wonted melody , Rest and ever silent be — Nought now remains for Comfort or Relief , But a free vent to our just source of grief . An untaught Groan best language is , For such a dismal Scene as This. Yet like the dying Swans you first may tell , In softest Musick to attending Ears , How the Lov'd Strephon liv'd , and how lamented fell : Tell then th' admiring World how often He , Has ev'n charm'd you to exstasie , How oft you 've envy'd at the praise he won , Yet smil'd to see your selves out done . Tell this in diff'rent Notes , in such as he , Was us'd to charm us hear below , that make one Harmony . II. The little Birds throughout the Plains , Repeat their Notes in doleful Strain . In doleful strains they all complain As if they never were to Sing again . Sad P●●●omel amongst ●he rest As if some Story ●he relate , Not of her own , but of her Masters cruel Fate , In mornful Notes her grief exprest , In careless melancholy Lays She ●●ng his Praise . Now all her Art she trys , Now all her Strength applys , To warble forth an Elegy Sacred to his Memory . She Sings , alas her Songs are all in vain , Nothing can alter Destiny , The Swain can ne're return to life again . III. What do I hear , what dismal Groans , What Sights , what Shreiks , what melancholy Moans , Now spread themselves o're all the Pensive Plains , And tears the breasts of all the tender Swains , 'T is for Strephon Dead and gone . Mourn all ye Shepherds , mourn with me your Masters Fall , With me attend his Funeral , With me adorn his Herse With never fadeing Garland , never dying Verse . Alas ! no Sounds will now prevail , To tell their melancholy Tale , Since dead is He who made their Songs to live , He their dull numbers could inspire , With charming Voice , and tuneful Lyre , He life to all , but to himself could give . No longer now the Swains unto each other play , Their Arms a cross , their Heads hung down , Their Oaten Pipes , besides them thrown , Their Flocks neglected stray , Ev'n Pan himself o'rewhelm'd with grief , has thrown his Pipe away . IV. See Love himself all bath'd in Tears , His Bow he brakes , away his Darts he flings , Then folds his Arms , and hangs his drooping Wings , Venus her self close mourner here appears . No longer now she thinks her self secure , But sighing from her Throne looks down , Her greatness cannot long endure Since it's supporter's dead and gone ; Since that the tuneful Strephon's Fall'n — Now silent lyes his Lyre , No longer warms our hearts into desire , For dead is he who could our Passions move , Who best could gentle thoughts inspire , Who best could fan the amorous fire , Make us at once submit , and own the Pow'r of Love. V. Gone is the glory of our Age , The Pride and Darling of the Stage . The Theatre his worth well knew , Saw how by him it's greatness grew . In him their honour Pride and Glory liv'd , Far as his Soul they now are fled , And scarce can sooner be retriev'd , For all their hopes in him are dead . Whil'st he vouchsaf'd to stay below They were too blest long to continue so . But oh ! no more the tuneful Strephon's Songs they 'l hear , No more his joyful Notes will glad the wondring Theatre . VI. Ye Sons of Phebus write his Elegy But let it be Great as the Subject , sad as your Calamity , Let every Muse his Praise aloud proclaim And to the distant Poles , let Echo spread his Fame . Write Epitaphs that so The world may know , How much to him ev'n Poetry did owe , For you but say , 't is he that makes you sing , His Art the Embrio words does to perfection bring . By us the Muse at first conceives , 't is true , He makes it fit to see the light , that gift to him we owe : Nake'd at first and rugged they appear , But when by him adorn'd they be , Assume a Pomp and Bravery , Nor need they longer blush to reach a Prnces Ear. VII . How rigid are the Laws of Fate , And how severe the black Decree , For nothing , nothing here is free , But all must enter th' Adamantine Gate . The Great , the Good , the Just , nay all , must come , To Natures dark retireing Room . He ! he ! alas is gone , Whose gentle Airs did make our Numbers live , Who Immortality could give , His Soul to't's first aboade away is flown , Blasted are all our Glories now , Our Lawrels wither as they grow , The Muse her self forsakes us too . Come then , come quickly come , Let 's pay our tears for off'rings at his Tomb. Let us not strive , who best deserves the Bays , He that grieves most , best claims the Highest Praise . VIII . Arise ye blest Inhabitants above , From your immortal Seats arise , And on our Wonder , on our Love , Gaze with astonish'd eyes ; Arise , Arise , make room , The wish'd for shade is come ; Hast and your selves prepare To me the joyful Chorister , Meet him half way with Songs , such as you sing , Before the throne of the Eternal King , With welcomes let th' Aetherial Palace ring , Welcome the Gardian Angel says , Full of Songs , and full of Bays , Welcome thou art to me , And to these Regions of Serenity ; Welcome the winged Choire resounds , While with loud Euges all the sacred place abounds . Low now above he chants Eternal Lays Above our wonder , and our Praise . FINIS . 
A71122	----	An elegy on the much lamented death of his pious and learned parent the Reverend Doctor Ezerell Tonge an eminent and indefatigable instrument in promoting the discovery of the horrid popish plot. Tonge, Simson, b. 1656 or 7. 1681 Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A71122 Wing T1883 ESTC R26573 09505706 ocm 09505706 43337 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A71122) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 43337) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1318:13 or 1614:37) An elegy on the much lamented death of his pious and learned parent the Reverend Doctor Ezerell Tonge an eminent and indefatigable instrument in promoting the discovery of the horrid popish plot. Tonge, Simson, b. 1656 or 7. 1 broadside. Printed for C.W., London : 1681. Attributed to Tonge by Wing. The initials "S.T." [i.e. Simson Tonge] appear at end of a Greek motto. This item appears on both reel 1318:13 and reel 1614:37. Wing number E426B cancelled in Wing (2nd ed.). Reproduction of original in the Harvard University Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Tonge, Ezerel, 1621-1680 -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry. 2008-01 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-07 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-08 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-08 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion MEMENTO MORI AN ELEGY On the much Lamented Death of his Pious and Learned Parent the Reverend Doctor EZERELL TONGE An Eminent and Indefatigable Instrument , in promoting the Discovery of The Horrid Popish Plot. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 S. T. THo t' were Presumption to imagine I , Can ought produce within this Elegy , Honour to add ; my pensive Muse can raise , To 's Parents Ashes , Monuments of Praise . None can do this , and yet my course spun Verse , Gladly would be a Mourner at his Hearse , Whilst Floods of Tears with Ink do trickling fall , As sable Attendants at his Funeral . Verse cannot speak his Praise , his Worth , his Name , Shall be recorded with the Sons of Fame , To after Ages chronicled shall be , For his great Pains , unheard of Industry , By his endeavouring for to Countermine , The Jesuits horrid Plot , and curst Design . 'T is in his learned Works you best may fee , His excellent Parts ; the best Effigie , He could bequeath unto Posterity . Learning and Piety , were in one mind , Harmoniously conspicuous ; sweetly joyn'd , To admiration ; for his Countries good , Ready to Sacrifice his dearest Blood. Blest Soul ! Thou wast too good with us to stay , Within these brittle Cottages of Clay . Therefore whilst living , alwaies did aspire , With wings of Faith to be ascending Higher , To those Celestial Orbs where Saints do move , And know no Lesson but Seraphick Love. There blessed Angels his Associates be , Where from all earthly Cares exempt and free All sees within that glorious Glass the Trinity In Halelujahs , now he 'l aways raise , Immortal Carrots , to his Saviours Praise . Let then no envious Hand , molest that Dust , Which waits the Resurrection of the Just . Whose Vertues and Perfections did present To all , its best and lasting Monument . When hard Corinthian Brass , and Marble may , Be both destroy'd , his Name shall ne'er decay ; Such noble Actions , have no date , they be , As long , and lasting as Eternity . EPITAPH . REader who ere thou art , draw near , On this cold Urn distill a Tear. Here cloist'red lyes , under this Stone , No common Dust , 't is such a one ; Whose Vertue , Learning , Piety , And whose transcendent Sanctity , Render'd him amiable in his Station , And Famous in his Generation . Whom Fames immortal Trumpet shall , Render celebrious unto all . By Providence seem'd to Inherit , A strange admir'd Prophetick Spirit ; An eminent Instrument to display , That Popish Plot was to betray , As Victims unto Cruelty , Our Lives to horrid Butchery . His Soul from Earth , is mounted higher , Unto the spangled Clorious Quire. Her dear Campanion here hath left , Of Sence and Motion , both bereft , Until the Resurrection Day , Shall animate the lumpish Clay , It 's scattered Atomes reunite , By the Almighty Power , and Might Of its Redeemer , raise the Soul , And Body to the Starry Pole. FINIS . LONDON , Printed for C. W. 1681. 131 
A75033	----	An elegie upon the death of that renovvned heroe Coll. Rainsborrow. Who vvas traiterously murthered on Munday Octob. 19. 1648. Alleyn, Thomas. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A75033 of text R211070 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.13[41]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A75033 Wing A1200 Thomason 669.f.13[41] ESTC R211070 99869807 99869807 162937 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A75033) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 162937) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f13[41]) An elegie upon the death of that renovvned heroe Coll. Rainsborrow. Who vvas traiterously murthered on Munday Octob. 19. 1648. Alleyn, Thomas. 1 sheet ([1] p.) for Robert Ibbitson, Printed at London : 1648. Signed at end: Tho. Alleyn. Verse - "Something it was, that made the envious stars". Annotation on Thomason copy: "Nouemb 14". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Rainborow, Thomas, d. 1648 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English. Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. A75033 R211070 (Thomason 669.f.13[41]). civilwar no An elegie upon the death of that renovvned heroe Coll. Rainsborrow. Who vvas traiterously murthered on Munday Octob. 19. 1648. Alleyn, Thomas. 1648 530 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2008-06 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-09 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-11 John Pas Sampled and proofread 2008-11 John Pas Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELEGIE UPON The Death of that Renowned HEROE Coll. RAINSBORROW . WHO VVas most Traiterously Murthered on Munday Octob. 29.1648 SOmthing it was , that made the envious Stars To mutinie , and discord into Warres , In that great Constellation — 48. Whose brows with curled flashings yet affright The reeling Universe : It was thy Fame , Thy peerlesse Valour and thy precious Name , O Rainsborrow , something it was the Sun , Did walk in mourning since thy day was done , In Sable Clouds , masking his glorious face , As loathing to behold that fatall place , Wherein thy righteous blood ( yet reeking ) cryes Against those bloody Caines butcheries . But didst thou dye as fooles , or were thy hands ( The Twins of prowesse ) braceletted with bands ? ( Whereof each singer was a charme to still The balls of Death , and whole Campania's fill With palmed Trophies ) No , as Vertue fares Loathed by vicious Hell-born Councellers , Such was thy fall , such thy bewailed fate , Though blood-gorg'd Envy could but Antedate Thy mortall peece , Shryne to that purer part , Not to be pensill'd by Seraphick Art . Therefore the Heavens , grown covetous to see The Earth inrich'd with such a Gemme as thee , Down glydes a winged Cherub in all hast , To snatch thee hence , in triumph to be grac'd , A fixed Star ; where though the Quires doe sing For joy , we ( steep'd in tears ) our hands doe wring Like melting Niobes , though from our eyes , Thy worth may claime as debt such sacrifice , Mirrour of men , Arts abstract , Souldiers glory . True Graces splendor , and sweet peace's story , Engine of Warre , a valour double edg'd . Not to be blunted , though with Armies hedg'd , ( Nor durst grim Atropos , presum'd thee harm , Had not the subtle Hagge , us'd Treasons Arm ) Whom all succeeding Ages may admire Not imitate , yet there is living fire Within thy name , enough to blaze on high , Coward Succession , into Chivalry , Nor doth the languish'd Land lament alone , But Neptunes Court , where thy great name is known , Are all in mourning , there the Sea-Nimphs weep Vailing their beauties in the curled deep : The showres unto the Billows mourn , and they Unto the shoares return , a Welladay . The burthen of whose Eccoes passing knell Is this : A great Man 's falne , in Israel . Farewell dear Patriot , since th'art gone , we have But two things to be proud of , first a Grave , And then thy name , in that wee 'l happy be , In this more Active through thy memory . And thus our Teares of Joy and Griefe , wee shed , Glad th'art in Heaven , yet sorry thou art Dead . Virtus post Funera . THO. ALLEYN . Printed at London for Robert Ibbitson . 1648. 
A75368	----	A funeral elegie, upon the death of George Sonds, Esq; &c. Who was killed by his brother, Mr. Freeman Sonds, August the 7th. anno Dom. 1655. By William Annand Junior, of Throwligh. Whereunto is annexed a prayer, compiled by his sorrowfull father Sir George Sonds, and used in his family during the life of the said Freeman. Annand, William, 1633-1689. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A75368 of text R211580 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.20[12]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 5 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A75368 Wing A3219 Thomason 669.f.20[12] ESTC R211580 99870296 99870296 163429 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A75368) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 163429) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 247:669f20[12]) A funeral elegie, upon the death of George Sonds, Esq; &c. Who was killed by his brother, Mr. Freeman Sonds, August the 7th. anno Dom. 1655. By William Annand Junior, of Throwligh. Whereunto is annexed a prayer, compiled by his sorrowfull father Sir George Sonds, and used in his family during the life of the said Freeman. Annand, William, 1633-1689. Feversham, George Sondes, Earl of, 1599-1677. 1 sheet ([1] p.) Printed by John Crowch, London : 1655. Mostly in verse - "Reach me a handcerchiff; another yet,". Included at end: "A prayer made by Sir George Sonds". Annotation on Thomason copy: "Decemb. 20." Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Sondes, George, d. 1655 -- Early works to 1800. Sondes, Freeman, 1636-1655 -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- Early modern, 1500-1700. A75368 R211580 (Thomason 669.f.20[12]). civilwar no A funeral elegie, upon the death of George Sonds, Esq; &c. Who was killed by his brother, Mr. Freeman Sonds, August the 7th. anno Dom. 1655. Annand, William 1655 895 1 0 0 0 0 0 11 C The rate of 11 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2008-06 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-09 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-11 John Pas Sampled and proofread 2008-11 John Pas Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion A FUNERAL ELEGIE , Upon the Death of GEORGE SONDS , ESQ &c. Who was killed by his Brother , Mr. FREEMAN SONDS , August the 7th . Anno Dom. 1655. By William Annand Junior , of Throwligh . Whereunto is annexed a PRAYER , Compiled by his sorrowfull Father Sir GEORGE SONDS , and used in his Family during the Lafe of the said FREEMAN . REach me a Handcerchiff ; Another yet , And yet another , for the last is wett ; Nay now a Glass , to bottell up my teares , For present pressing griefs , and future fears . Could sighs , could groans , could sobbs , or ought revoak , That sudden , fatal , fearfull , deadly stroak ? The Muses should be summon'd in by force , And spend their All , upon his wounded Coarse , Could measur'd lines , griefs infinit display ? The sacred Nine , with Him who rules the Day , And all who in Immortall Thrones reside ; In spight of greatness , should a charge abide , To consecrate , and to adorn his Hearse , Revive his life , and club unto a Verse . Or then let Sable darkness , canop'd in night , Eeclipse them all for ever . Here 's a fight That ripens sorrow , breaks op ' Griefs magazine , Horrors great store-house — , compass'd in his Shrine , Of life , of sense , all are dispossest , And by one Dagger , loe each heart is peirc'd . Thy death , thy death , dear soul , might wonder move , How the Old Serpent , thus should kill the Dove . Thy habits so refulgently did shine , That we knew ●ought , but what was thought divine . In thy expyring , it was made appear In bloody Wounds , the * Trinitie was clear . The gates through which thy fertil soul did mount To bless'd aboads , came to the full account Of Twelve , or four times three , And three " Hath ever in it some great My steric . Nor was it for thy good , dear heart , That Heaven thus suffer'd man to act his part . But as Gods hand mayd Nature , doth not eye , Nor this , nor that , but all in part doth spye : So here God acts , in manner so so ample , That All may have thee ; Alwayes for example Of this lifes frailty , most stupid here may know , " There 's no abiding City , here below . Behold the reaking blood , heart sign'd with murther staines , Wisdoms great Citadel defac'd , empty veines , Of one so young , so good , so lov'd of all , After the closure of a Festivall . So gentle , modest , rich , discreet and wise , In dawning of his youth to close his eyes ! None more in Grace , in Speech , in featur , Destroy'd , 'cause none in Grace , in Speech , was greater . The best of Sonnes , Heires , Friends , of Masters , Thus bath'd in his own blood ; O sad disasters ! Good God , what can , what shall , mans frailty thinke , When thy great goodnese , at this Act did winke ? But thou art just , perhaps thou thought'st it sitt , And Lord unto thy Judgement I submit . Rest happy Soul above , with God in Love ; Where malice , hate , is out of date . Expecting still the end That Pious souls attend . Vivet Post funera virtue . A Prayer made by Sir GEORGE SONDS , for his Son FREEMAN SONDS ; used in his own Family so long as be was living . LORD wee beseech thee , look down in Mercy on that most miserable and unhappy creature of thine ( Freeman Sonds ) Lord soften his hard and stubborne heart . LORD give him a trve sight of this his most hainous and bloody sinne . Lord give him grace to cry unto thee by true and unfeigned Repentance , that so thou may'st have mercy on his poor soul . Thou art the Fountaine of mercy , and all flows from thee . His Father , upon his earnest desire , though he hath killed ( oh fowly killed ) his dear Sonne , and ruined him in all his hopes , hath Pardoned him . Oh do thou then , O father of Mercy , in that said houre of his death , receive him in thy Armes of Mercy , that his sad Father may yet have this comfort , That though thou hast made him childless , and left him not one Sonne on Earth alive ; yet which is much better , they live with thee in Heaven , in aeternal Blisse . Dear Father grant us our request and that for thy beloved Sonne JESVS his sake , our LORD and onely Saviour . Amen . London , Printed by John Crowch . 1655. Notes, typically marginal, from the original text Notes for div A75368e-30 * He was slab'd with a Three edged Dagger , so that the wounds were Triangular . 
A77717	----	A fvnerall elegie vpon the mvch lamented death of that most reverend, pious, and judiciovs divine John Polyander of Kerckhoven, doctor and cheife [sic] professor of divnitie [sic] in the famous Vniversitie of Leyden, and there the 8th time magnificus rector. Brunsell, Samuel, 1619 or 20-1688. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A77717 of text R175629 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing B5232A). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 3 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A77717 Wing B5232A ESTC R175629 45578191 ocm 45578191 172145 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A77717) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 172145) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 2615:40) A fvnerall elegie vpon the mvch lamented death of that most reverend, pious, and judiciovs divine John Polyander of Kerckhoven, doctor and cheife [sic] professor of divnitie [sic] in the famous Vniversitie of Leyden, and there the 8th time magnificus rector. Brunsell, Samuel, 1619 or 20-1688. 1 sheet ([1] p.). s.n., [S.l. : ca. 1646] Signed: Samuel Brunsell. Date of publication suggested by Wing. Reproduction of original in the Bodleian Library. eng Polyander à Kerckhoven, Johannes, 1568-1646. Elegiac poetry, English. Broadsides -- England -- 17th century. A77717 R175629 (Wing B5232A). civilwar no A fvnerall elegie vpon the mvch lamented death of that most reverend, pious, and judiciovs divine John Polyander of Kerckhoven, doctor and c Brunsell, Samuel 1646 455 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2008-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-07 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-08 John Pas Sampled and proofread 2008-08 John Pas Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion A FVNERALL ELEGIE VPON THE MVCH LAMENTED DEATH OF THAT MOST REVEREND , PIOUS , AND JUDICIOVS DIVINE JOHN POLYANDER OF KERCKHOVEN , DOCTOR AND CHEIFE PROFESSOR OF DIVNITIE IN THE FAMOUS VNIVERSITIE OF LEYDEN , And there the 8th time MAGNIFICUS RECTOR . WHat 's seldome seene makes wonder : Then admir'd His life must bee , whose Lease so late expir'd . But Death is Common . True ; yet soe to die Or live , transcends the common destinie Of mortalls : None so free from blame or sin , That most admire hee 'd not immortall beene . And so hee is ; while neuer-dyinge Fame Fat he winde , or wing , or trumpe to sound his name . But ( since wee finde a change in things belowe Which some call Death , and fewe desire to knowe , When two deare consorts part , and must remove Though closely knit in euer constant love ) Tell mee Great soule , what made 〈◊〉 quit the seat Of thy soe long abode ? Did burning heat Consume it ? No . Wa'st cold ? That drives all in , Andwilt thou out ? woulde it had warmer been ! The pillars firme , the Fabrick stood upright , Noe prop supportinge it ; the windowes light , Noe senseles sense : Those organs all in tune , And thou theyr Harmonye , but breathles , soone That musick stopt expires , confused noise Succeeds , and mixt with greif's lamenting voice , Sighs , sobs & cries , fret the tormented aire Chok't with complaints of sadnesse and despaire ; While freinds bewaile a freinde whome none did spite But that unletterd foul-mouth'd Carmelite . Children a tender Father , and a wife Her selfe in him that was her soule and life : His flock a watchfull Pastor , wandring youth A certaine guide ; and thou nere-conquerd Truthe A valiant Champion to defend thy right ' Ganist hell-scortcht Atheists which would dimme the light Of that God-Sonne of Heauen . Schollers greive His death by whome theyr priviledge did live : And nowe theyr sun's Eclip'st . Flie chearfull light , Or wrapt in clouds of an infernall night Hang all the world in black ! Some wanton eye Might Else perhaps theyr nakednesse espie . Thus all lament , but Hee triumphant sings Sweet Hallelujahs to the King of Kings . Much haue wee lost , but hee much more hathe won , Wee sawe the candle , hee beholds the Sun . Hee 's glad , wee sad ; and'tis a common crosse , That none doe gaine but by anothers losse . SAMUEL BRUNSELL . 
A78409	----	Daphnis. A pastoral elegy on the death of that hopeful young gentleman Mr. Francis Wollaston. Cave, John, d. 1690. 1685 Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A78409 Wing C1586aA ESTC R171125 45578232 ocm 45578232 172177 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A78409) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 172177) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 2616:29) Daphnis. A pastoral elegy on the death of that hopeful young gentleman Mr. Francis Wollaston. Cave, John, d. 1690. 1 sheet ([1] p.). Printed by Leonard Lichfield, printer to the University, for the author., Oxford, : 1685. Signed: John Cave, A.B. Linc. Coll. Reproduction of original in the Bodleian Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). 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Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Wollaston, Francis, d. 1685? Elegiac poetry, English. Broadsides -- England -- 17th century. 2008-03 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-07 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-08 John Pas Sampled and proofread 2008-08 John Pas Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion DAPHNIS . A Pastoral ELEGY on the Death of that hopeful Young Gentleman M R. FRANCIS WOLLASTON . Humbly Dedicated to his sorrowful Parents . Audiet extinctus post se sua nomina Daphnis , Audiet , & priscos animo revocabit amores . I. BEneath a Cypress gloomy shade , ( By Nature for that purpose made ) The Melancholly Damon lay , And thus his Griefs invited him to say : O Cruel Fate ! Hard Destiny ! Must I alone , unhappy I , When all my dear lov'd Swains are gone , Be doom'd to tarry here alone ? The noble Strephon went before , But not content with that rich store , Little Alexis was your prize , And pretty Mycon Idol of my Eyes : These ( unkind Fates ) you took away , And could not these your fury stay ? Ah no! you 've took my Daphnis too , Took the lov'd Swain for ever from my View . II. Him ( ye hard Fates ) I now bemoan , The Great , the God-like Daphnis dead and gone ; Daphnis , the Glory of our Plain , Courted by every Nymph , and lov'd by every Swain : Beauty and Goodness both in him did joyn , His every part was charming , every part Divine . Oft' have I seen the lovely Boy , Adorn'd like some Bright Deity , Above his fellow Shepherds sit , While all paid Homage at his Feet . The Brighter Nymphs would Garlands bring , Crown him with them , and call him King ; Then every Vale with Daphnis Praises rung , Daphnis the Brave , the Good , the Lovely , Gay and Young. III. But now ( poor Swains ) alass ! he 's gone , Daphnis has left you all alone , And to the distant Region's fled , The Godlike Youth is dead . Him the relentless Fates will ne're restore , And you will never see him more , Till you are carried to those Fields , Where Nature all Contentment yields . There 's purer Springs , and sweeter Flowers , More pleasant Groves , and more delightful Bowers : There those who have lived well , enjoy , An undisturb'd Felicity . Pure are their Pleasures , and their Bliss entire , Beyond what silly we , can fancy or desire . Thither did your lov'd Daphnis early come , His pure refined Soul long'd for it's Home ; Your dull Enjoyments he could ne're Esteem , All was but noise , and Vanity to him ; 'T was this alone ( ye poor Forsaken Swains , ) Made the lov'd Youth , for ever leave your Plains . IV. And now , methinks I see , The Glorious Deitie Look down from his Bright Seat above , ( His Face all Sweetness and all Love ) And Hark I hear him say , Shepherds for Daphnis cease to mourn , Your sighs and tears to Joyful Musick turn : For the Blest Swain does now possess , ( What Life could not afford him ) Happiness ; Delights , which all desire , but few enjoy , Vnless they live like Daphnis and like Daphnis dye . JOHN CAVE A. B. Line . Coll. FINIS . OXFORD , Printed by Leonard Lichfield , Printer to the University , for the Author . 1685. 
A80003	----	An elegie offered up to the memory of that late faithfull servant of God, Mr. Jeremiah Burroughs minister of the Word at Giles Cripplegate and Stepney. I. C. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A80003 of text R210648 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.10[100]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A80003 Wing C48 Thomason 669.f.10[100] ESTC R210648 99869426 99869426 162633 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A80003) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 162633) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f10[100]) An elegie offered up to the memory of that late faithfull servant of God, Mr. Jeremiah Burroughs minister of the Word at Giles Cripplegate and Stepney. I. C. 1 sheet ([1] p.) Printed by B.A., London : 1646. Signed at end: Per me, I.C. In verse: "To adde more ashes to our mortall Store," ... Annotation on Thomason copy: "Nou: 23". Reproductions of the originals in the British Library and the Henry E. Huntington Library. eng Burroughs, Jeremiah, 1599-1646 -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, English. A80003 R210648 (Thomason 669.f.10[100]). civilwar no An elegie offered up to the memory of that late faithfull servant of God, Mr. Jeremiah Burroughs, minister of the Word at Giles Cripplegate I. C. 1646 651 3 0 0 0 0 0 46 D The rate of 46 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the D category of texts with between 35 and 100 defects per 10,000 words. 2007-10 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-10 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-11 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2007-11 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELEGIE OFFERED UP TO THE MEMORY Of that late faithfull Servant of GOD , Mr. JEREMIAH BVRROVGHS , Minister of the Word at Giles Cripplegate and Stepney . TO adde more ashes to our mortall Store , Burroughs is follow'd now , those gone before ; Vnconquer'd Death , that spareth no degree ; But fetters all in his Captivity , Hath seized him , a servant of the Lord , VVho preached IESVS , as he 's in the VVord : Set forth to all , he for them mercy hath , If they upon him will depend their Faith : These things ( this Man of God ) did to us preach , And to us plainly Iesus he did teach ; Declaring to us , he 's the only way For to be saved , to him we must pray , If we would ever Heavens Gates enter in , VVe must leave all , we must forsake cut sinne , On such good things he thought ; the faithfull Preacher Spent all his life for Christ , who was his Teacher , For Christ our Saviour did alone him teach , And none but Christ our Saviour would he Preach . The world he scorn'd , though plenty of it having , But at Gods hands for grace was daily craving ; Too base it was , that he to it should bend , Or to her Riches any credit lend ; For , what are Riches ? But like a Post in 's way , Or , like a span , or like the flower in May : So worldly honours unto him seem'd base , To honour Christ that was his only grace : For Christ alone he lov'd , so lov'd to live That he might alwayes praises to him give . The grace of God was alwayes in his thoughts ▪ The love of God , in sparing such foule faults VVhich he committed daily in his sight , Yet from the Lord would never take his flight . For Iesus Christ was only his delight , And Christ his Crosse was alwayes in his sight , Christ was his joy , he was his whole desire . VVhat shall I say ? Christ did he love intire . An happy end this godly man did make , The world , her Riches from him he did shake . Elijah like , his mantle left behind For others to possesse , that they might find A loving friend of him , and might confesse That to his Neighbours all he was no lesse , Then a Iohathan unto King David , For 's love was fixt , fixt where he loved . The truth of this , if you desire to know , Doe you unto his Printed Sermons goe ; For they doe there unto the world declare , VVhat was their masters heart , what was his care To those that loved grace , and loved those That truly loved Christ , and him had chose . London afflicted in the face I see . That such a man from us by Gods decree , Should thus be snatch'd away , and from us part , The thoughts of which might melt the hardest heart ; For in this City , for him being deceas't , Thousands are mourners , and I not the least ▪ Yet mourn , why should we ? Or , why should we weep , VVhen Burroughs is not dead , but is a sleep ▪ This man of God unto that glorious place , Ascended is , ever to see Gods face . Tendimus huc omnes , metam properamus ad unam , Omnia sub leges mors vocat atra suas . Per me , I. C. LONDON . Printed by B. A. 1646. 
A85142	----	Obsequies offer'd up to the dear and never-dying memorie of the honorable Sr Paul Pindar Kt. P. F. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A85142 of text R212036 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.15[58]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 6 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A85142 Wing F49 Thomason 669.f.15[58] ESTC R212036 99870691 99870691 163132 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A85142) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 163132) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f15[58]) Obsequies offer'd up to the dear and never-dying memorie of the honorable Sr Paul Pindar Kt. P. F. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. s.n., [London : 1650] Signed at end: P.F. Imprint from Wing. Verse - "Hence all unhallowed orgies; let no tongue". Annotation on Thomason copy: [barely legible] "7tbr [i.e. September] 1650". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Pindar, Paul, -- Sir, 1565 or 6-1650 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English. A85142 R212036 (Thomason 669.f.15[58]). civilwar no Obsequies offer'd up to the dear and never-dying memorie of the honorable Sr Paul Pindar Kt. P. F 1650 710 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2007-09 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-09 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-10 Emma (Leeson) Huber Sampled and proofread 2007-10 Emma (Leeson) Huber Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion OBSEQUIES OFFER'D UP To the Dear and never-dying Memorie of the Honorable SR PAUL PINDAR KT . HEnce all unhallowed Orgies ; let no tongue Presume to chant the Epicedium Of our renowned PINDAR , less hee bee The Grecian PINDAR , or as great as Hee . Nought but the Sock or Buskin can becom Such Tragick Rites ; or Personate thy Tomb Admired PINDAR ! whose Heroîck Hers Admit's no Paralel with a slow-pac't vers. The Quire is too too narrow , and th'whole Nine Too few , to warble Anthems at this Shrine , Though they could out-weep NIOBE , and sing Sorrows as fluent as their Thespian Spring . But why do I thus , to inhance Thy prais , Mingle my Cypress with thy spreading Baies ? Since Thy Encomium needeth here no more Then Gold in Peru , or a Map on Shore . Let those that track the Mysteries , and the Truth Of PRINCEly-Embassies , define His Youth , Spurr'd on with heat of Honor through the whole Circle , from th' Artick to th' Antartick Pole ; Whose Travel this advantage had to bring Riches to 's Countrie , Honor to his KING . Nor could the Heresie of that CLIME Impair His Pious Soul ; the influence of that Aër , Whose venom hath kill'd thousands , hurt him not , I' th midst of Sodom who remain'd a LOT . Let those who 're grounded in the Grand debates Of Kingdom's Rights , and Interests of States Revolv his Counsels ; so maturely wise , They alwaies Conquer'd where They did Advize . Solid , but not Severe ; who could unite Candor with Prudence , Prudence with delight - Most Rich , yet Humble in the richest sens ; His Minde was moderate , though his Means Immens . Liberal , but not Profuse ; Hee could express The difference 'twixt true Bountie and Excess . Courteous , without exception , or self-ends : Kinde to the Stranger , Ample to his Friends : Pious to admiration , and Free Beyond all President , to each degree That Crav'd his Alms ; who was the Poor's Supplie , Crutch to the Cripple , and the Blinde-man's Eie . But who can write his Storie ? 't was so Ample , It might serv both our mirrour and example . So Heavenly was each Action , and so Just Poiz'd in the Scale of TRUTH , that scarce one dust Or atome did fall scantie , or surmount In the Examen of his life's account . No wordly cares could discompose , or cross His thoughts with sens of lucre or of loss . No shocks of Fate or Fortune could controul Or storm the Bulwark of his fase-built Soul . No threats could fright his Loial Temper ; Hee when half the Land Apostatiz'd , stood free In his Resolvs ; abhorring to divide Himself , or shift his Tenets with the Tide . Hee sought not in those troubled streams to swim Nor courted Honor , which so courted Him . PEACE was his Aim , and End ; who liv'd , and di'd Lull'd in a Calm , when all the Earth beside Reel'd with those storms of WAR , whose Shocks have hurl'd Realms from their Center , and unhing'd the world . But why do I Epitomize a Theme In this small Schedule , which deserv's a Ream ? ' Way then with Elegies ; which can't add more Life to His Honors , then they had before . Nor need wee ransack the Corinthian Mine , Or rob the Parian Quarries , to enshrine His Memorie , since thy Structure great St PAUL ( Indebted to great PINDAR'S Bountie ) shall Perpetuate His Name , and in her Womb And sacred Entrails Rear Him such a Tomb As shall out vie proud Memphis , and surpass Those Mausolean Obelisks of Brass . Great TIME shall tell the rest ; and quote His glorie From her own Register ; the wel-pen'd Storie And Legend of whose Actions shall strike Dumb The Present , and amuse the Age to Com. P. F. 
A85199	----	An elegy, in memory of that famous, learned, reverend and religious Doctor Oldsworth late chaplain to the ever living Majesty of Charles the Martyr, and sometime vice-chancellour to the now dying University of Cambridge, a principall sufferer in stormy-beaten Sion, but a stout maintainer of the purity of the Protestant profession. W. F. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A85199 of text R211254 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.14[70]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 9 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A85199 Wing F65 Thomason 669.f.14[70] ESTC R211254 99869983 99869983 163057 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A85199) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 163057) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f14[70]) An elegy, in memory of that famous, learned, reverend and religious Doctor Oldsworth late chaplain to the ever living Majesty of Charles the Martyr, and sometime vice-chancellour to the now dying University of Cambridge, a principall sufferer in stormy-beaten Sion, but a stout maintainer of the purity of the Protestant profession. W. F. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [S.l. : 1649] Signed at end: W.F. Imprint date from Wing. Verse - "Amongst th' traine of Friends (good Sir) I bring". Annotation on Thomason copy: "August. 30". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Holdsworth, Richard, 1590-1649 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English. A85199 R211254 (Thomason 669.f.14[70]). civilwar no An elegy, in memory of that famous, learned, reverend and religious Doctor Oldsworth, late chaplain to the ever living Majesty of Charles th W. F 1649 1491 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2007-09 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-09 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-10 Elspeth Healey Sampled and proofread 2007-10 Elspeth Healey Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELEGY , In Memory of that Famous , Learned , Reverend and Religious Doctor OLDSWORTH , late Chaplain to the ever living Majesty of CHARLES the MARTYR , and sometime Vice-Chancellour to the now dying University of Cambridge , a principall sufferer in Stormy-beaten Sion , but a stout maintainer of the purity of the PROTESTANT PROFESSION . AMongst th' traine of Friends ( good Sir ) I bring Religious Anthems , but want breath to sing . Infuse my Muse with some religious fire Of Thine , that I may blaze , and then expire . But rather doth it seem to blaze in wet , Then with an ardent heat , for Oldsworth's set . Then who can hope to build for him a shrine , Or speak him dead in Verse ? but in the Cristalline Of every eye he is intomb'd , each teare Like staved torches wait upon his bier . Then , what need I attend thy Reverend hearse With Elegies , when eyes drop balme and verse ? But least the heat of griefe be drown'd in wet , Here 's my Sun dyall ( though the Sun be set ) . Then busie grief , let 's passe upon Parole To Register his worth in verse ; Controle No more my senses : under the notion , His worth is best known in corruption . What though his worth hath built his worth a Shrine ? His worthinesse may be interr'd in mine . Who knows not ? but day nights a tapers light , And the Meridian justles night from sight . Th' enameld floor in which the gold doth lye , Is rather waste , then grace to it's purity . What need a Diamond lustre have a foil ? Or Oldsworth lines , to shew he was divine , Let a skill'd Lapidary ope the tombe Of a rich Diamond , and a wombe Of rare production summons every sense To aid its lustre in a rich defence . Then grac'd , not wast , when divers stones are plac'd In golden quarryes , as if from thence rac'd . How can the world truly pen thee divine , When thy bright beames to us through crannies shine , As if thy graces could comprised bee , In such a roome , where thou art layd to be ? I love the Limner which can draw the man , With each proportion , in a ten-inch span : But I dislike the lyar , when his talk Unshapes the shape by saying it can walk . Some of thy worth , sweet Soul , let me impart , For soul dumb sense , to shew more what thou art . Selected Gemms all thy set graces were , Of grace and goodnesse . O forbear , forbear . To promulgate ! impiety 't would be : That thou shouldst dye , and none ask what was he ? What tongue can answer give for such a losse ? But words would lose themselves in their own choyce . Wert thou a man morally good , or so , No other Elegy , but thy dust should show : But every soul that knew thy gifts can tell , Channells must change , and the vast center reele Of every soul , where can they fixed be , Since doctrine and the Doctour both agree ( I fear ) to leave us . Oh may you here be found In every pulpit ! though y' are under ground . And there my Fancy spies him , while I see Him drawn an Angel to Eternitie . How grave ? How sweet ? How Rose-like was each look Of his ? as if his Saviour in his book H'ad met with face to face , and not by faith , The promise promis'd glorified he hath . Still more reviving life sprang in each cheeke , Whilst nearer to his text through 's prayer he would breake , And when concluded his , he would rejoyce , And sound his makers praise with cheerfull voice In Christs own prayer : that done , he would begin Again to chime his lips , not heard but seene , Then taking up his bible by the strings , Hee 'd turne the leaves as if hee 'd spread Christs wings : Under which he , and those that did beleive , The comforts there contained might receive A Paul , A Moses , and Elias , three , Zealously one , and so divine was hee . Emphatically would be presse a point , As if his senses mov'd were out of joynt , Which in his hearers such impresse did take , As if all senses did their place forsake , And center in the eye . There every eare Was turn'd into the sight , whilst looks did heare . His lips had kiss'd the God of Love , for jarres Were sweetly reconcil'd , though with his tears . Oh pious soule ! melodious are those pleasures , Which are constrain'd with unconstrained measures . His birth took part with wit , each age grac'd hee , As if his cradle had been his library . The Church ( when present hee ) lackt not a head , The State confest that he in Court was bred . A Pastor , Citizen , dwelt amongst many , Yet of their factions favour'd he not any . Free in discourse , morall , as well divine : Who knew thy worth ? must know all worth was thine . Not like sun-dyalls , when the Sun is gone , Can show no more of day , 's if day were done : But like the Diall of the day , the Sun That posts through this , or that Meridian . Each Climate to his Genius was as fit , As if he had the universall wit ; That call'd him to the Court , where every one , Like a Court-diall cast reflection , So usefull in the fortunes of each Peer Were shadows cast , hee 'd shape a substance clear . In all the solitudes of the deceased King , No going to Chappel , but when he rung in . Oldsworth the man , Oldsworth the mouth from whence , He drew the comfort of soul-influence , Oh glorious Star ! that shin'd in Charles his Court , By which the wisest Charles had beames of comfort , Though dipt in deepest depths of wo , yet shind His teares for pitty , when his tongue declind . But dimm'd in shining ! Left this earthly state . Whither ? to attend the Martyr to inaugurate . That 's done already , no sooner born again , But of four Kingdoms was he crown'd a King . A lane , yee holy Guard ! since he is gone , To attend heavens Court , glad not with such connexion ; Since thou art gone , who moans not this his fate ? For Doctors , Dunces ; so unfortunate Each University ! they suffer , by Passion each member , Church by sympathy . Blest is that man , who when he liv'd , was lov'd , And mist with sighs , when from earths center mov'd . Why moves this Bell ? what means this dolesome knell ? Tolling out tones , as if it bad farewell To some one parting hence ? why rings it out ? Oldsworth is dead , then faces turn about . Who could be confident of this ? but goes , Whil'st on the way , the pavement fresh he strows With pearly showers of tears , and being come , The Bel's the man , whilst that the man 's struck dumb . In louder stroaks it tels the world the News Whom t is heaven gaines , and whom the earth doth lose . Departing hence , each party rings a knell , In the domestick Steeples where they dwell ; The difference none , their metals melt away Like mine ; and I contemplate what they say . Since thou art dead ( oh reveverend Ghost ) I bring A Pillow stuft with down of Angels wing To rest thy sleepie head on ; for its fit , Rest should it now , which could not rest for wit , Then in the Mansion of thy dust I le now Here take my leave ( Sir ) : But Heaven allow My hearts expansion to contemplate , what Thou art , I am satisfied in knowing not : Or what 't is where thou art . I know not what I know in knowing not , Thy place is that . W. F. FINIS . 
A86460	----	On the untimely and much lamented death of Mrs. Anne Gray the daughter of the learnedly accomplisht Doctor Nicholas Gray of Tunbridge in Kent, who dyed of the small pox. Holland, Samuel, gent. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A86460 of text R211929 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.20[51]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A86460 Wing H2440 Thomason 669.f.20[51] ESTC R211929 99870596 99870596 163468 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A86460) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 163468) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 247:669f20[51]) On the untimely and much lamented death of Mrs. Anne Gray the daughter of the learnedly accomplisht Doctor Nicholas Gray of Tunbridge in Kent, who dyed of the small pox. Holland, Samuel, gent. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [London : 1657] Verse - "Scarce have I dry'd my cheeks, but griefs invite". Imprint from Wing. Signed at end: Samuel Holland. Annotation on Thomason copy: "March 24. 1656"; "March 24th 1656". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Gray, Anne, d. 1656 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English. A86460 R211929 (Thomason 669.f.20[51]). civilwar no On the untimely and much lamented death of Mrs. Anne Gray, the daughter of the learnedly accomplisht Doctor Nicholas Gray of Tunbridge in Ke Holland, Samuel, gent. 1657 622 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2007-09 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-11 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-12 Emma (Leeson) Huber Sampled and proofread 2007-12 Emma (Leeson) Huber Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion ON THE UNTIMELY AND MUCH LAMENTED DEATH OF Mrs Anne Gray , the Daughter of the Learnedly accomplisht Doctor Nicholas Gray of Tunbridge in Kent , Who dyed of the Small Pox . AN ELEGIE . SCarce have I dry'd my Cheeks , but Griefs invite Again my Eyes to weep , my Hand to write , Which still return with greater force , being more In weight and number then they were before . Mechanick Griefs are eloquent , their sound Beats through the streets , and in that spacious Round Salutes each strangers eare : Nor can so high And wide a Ruine in one Family Contracted keep ; but seeking farther bounds , Fills every brest with its afflicting sounds . Youth met with Beauty weeps ; then who forbears To Griefe's Exchequer to bring in his tears ? Het that such tributes doth not now returne , Knows neither Vertue , nor for whom we mourn , SHE , whose unequall'd , and whose rich desert Did take possession in each knowing heart ; Whose life was such , it may be well deny'd , That she did ever ill , but that she dy'd . SHE , like another Nature , but whose Name Gave life to Beauty , and a voyce to Fame ; SHE , whose pure worth was such , whom gone , that even Heav'n would lament with many a tear , if Heaven Had not assum'd her , who in all she did , Both Grace in it and Innocence were hid , Is hence ascended , while our Griefs infer Their moyst Complaints , and envy Heav'n , not Her. Death , who did boast his high Prerogative , And hourely Conquests over all alive , Did here begin to startle , and did seeme To feare her Beauties would now conquer him : Therefore a danger to prevent so nigh , Drew forth at once all his Artillery , And so direct the Battery was laid , So full the Charge , so fast the Case-shot play'd , That the poor Body fell upon the place , A thousand wounds being printed on her face : Yet spight of Death , and Fate , we must imply , That she her selfe was well content to dye ; For in this sad and tedious vale of Teares , Ere she had hardly numbred eighteene yeeres , She had done all her businesse , and made even With Earth , and drawn up her accounts for Heaven . Rich in her Sexes value , good mens praise , And full of all could be desir'd , but dayes ; Where after her we sigh our soules , the while She counts our teares , and with a pittying smile Beholds our following Love ; and now no Drums , Nor voyce of Cannons , nor of Trumpets comes To vex her quiet eare ; nor any noyse Dares once approach to interrupt her joyes ; But Health and Strength doe court her , and the treasure Of endlesse light , and unrepented pleasure , And all the Blessings which faire Peace doth bring Sent for so oft by my late Lord the King Her Epitaph . WOuldst thou know who lies here , under This cold Marble ? read , and wonder : For body , beauty , feature , sense , This was the Maid of Excellence , Whose early Soule soone understood And practic'd all that men call Good : And wondring threescore yeares should stay For what so soone she bore away , She sudden unto Heaven did fly , Asham'd of dull Mortality . SAMUEL HOLLAND . 
A86613	----	Ah, ha; tumulus, thalamus: two counter-poems, the first, an elegy upon Edward late Earl of Dorset; The second, an epithalamium to the Lord M. of [Dor]chester. Howell, James, 1594?-1666. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A86613 of text R15372 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason E228_1). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 12 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 9 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A86613 Wing H3054 Thomason E228_1 ESTC R15372 99859850 99859850 111950 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A86613) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 111950) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 39:E228[1]) Ah, ha; tumulus, thalamus: two counter-poems, the first, an elegy upon Edward late Earl of Dorset; The second, an epithalamium to the Lord M. of [Dor]chester. Howell, James, 1594?-1666. [16] p. Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop at the Prince's Armes in St Paul's Church-yard., London, : 1653. First poem signed: I. H., i.e. James Howell. The syllable "Dor" on the title page is set off by a series of brackets; it is intended to represent the first syllable of both "Dorset" and "Dorchester.". Signatures: [A]⁴ B⁴. Annotation on Thomason copy: "May 12"; the 3 in imprint date has been altered to a 4. Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Dorset, Edward Sackville, -- Earl of, 1591-1652 -- Poetry. Dorchester, Henry Pierrepont, -- Marquis of, 1606-1680 -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. A86613 R15372 (Thomason E228_1). civilwar no Ah, ha; tumulus, thalamus:: two counter-poems, the first, an elegy upon Edward late Earl of Dorset; The second, an epithalamium to the Lord Howell, James 1653 1685 2 0 0 0 0 0 12 C The rate of 12 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2007-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-04 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-05 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2007-05 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Ah , Ha ; Tumulus , Thalamus : Two Counter-POEMS , The First , an ELEGY Upon Edward late Earl of Dorset ; The Second , an EPITHALAMIVM to the Lord M. of Dorchester . Invicem cedunt Dolor & Voluptas , Funera , Taedae , Sorrow may endure for a Night , But joy cometh in the Morning . LONDON , Printed for Humphrey Moseley , and are to be sold at his Shop at the Prince's Armes in St Paul's Church-yard . 1654. An Advertizement to the READER . IN regard ther are divers imperfect and spurious Copies of these two Poems dispersed abroad , I obtain'd leave of the Author to commit them to the press assuring the Reader that these are concordant with the Originalls . H. M. AN ELEGY UPON THE MOST ACCOMPLISH'D , AND HEROIC LORD EDWARD , EARL OF DORSET , Lord Chamberlain to His late Majesty of Great Britain , and Knight of the most Noble Order of the Garter , &c. Alluding to The Quality of the Times , His admired Perfections , His goodly Person , His Antient Pedigree , His Coat of Armes crested with a Star , The Condition of Mortality , The Passion of the Author closing with an Epitaph . AN ELEGY UPON THE LATE EARL OF DORSET . LOrds have bin long Declining , ( we well know ) And making their last Testaments , but now They are Desunct , they are Extinguish'd All , And never like to rise by this Lords Fall ; A Lord , whose Intellectualls alone Might make a House of Peers , and prop a Throne , Had not so dire a Fate hung o're the Crown , That Privilege Prerogative should drown ; Where e're he sate he sway'd , & Courts did awe , Gave Bishops Gospell , and the Judges law With such exalted Reasons , which did flow So cleer and strong , that made Astraea bow To his Opinion , for where He did side Advantag'd more than half the Bench beside . But is great Sakvile dead ? Do we Him lack , And will not all the Elements wear black ? Whereof he was compos'd a perfect man As ever Nature in one frame did span . Such Highborn Thoughts , a Soul so large and free , So clear a Judgment , and vast Memory , So Princely Hospitable and Brave Mind We must not think in hast on earth to find , Unless the Times would turn to Gold agen , And Nature get new strength in forming men . His Person with it such a state did bring That made a Court as if He had bin King , No wonder , since He was so neer a Kin To Norfolks Duke , and the great Mayden Queen . He courage had enough by conquering One To have confounded that whole Nation , Those parts which single do in some appear Were all concentred here in one bright Sphear , For Brain , Toung , Spirit , Heart , and Personage To mould up such a Lord will ask an age , But how durst pale white-liver'd Death seaze on So dauntles and Heroic a Champion ? Yes , to Dye once is that uncancell'd debt Which Nature claymes , and rayseth by Eschet On all Mankind by an old Statute past Primo Adami , which will alwaies last Without Repeal , nor can a second lease Be had of Life when the first term doth cease . Mount noble Soul , Among the starrs take place , And make a new One of so bright a Race May Jove out-shine , that Venus still may be In a benign Conjunction with Thee , To check that Planet which on Lords hath lowr'd , And such malign influxes lately powr'd ; Be now a star thy self for those which here Did on thy Crest , and upper Robes appear , For thy Director take that Star we read Which to thy Saviours Birth three Kings did lead . A Corollary . THus have I blubber'd out some tears and Verse On this Renowned Heroe , and His Herse , And could my Eyes have drop'd down Perls upon 't In lieu of Teares , God knowes , I would have don 't , But Teares are real , Perls for their Emblems go , The first are fitter to express my Wo ; Let this small mite suffize untill I may A larger tribut to his ashes pay , In the mean time this Epitaph shall shut , And to my Elegy a period put . HEre lie's a Grandee by Birth , Parts , and Mind , Who hardly left his Parallell behind , Here lie's the Man of Men , who should have been An Emperour , had Fate or Fortune seen . Totus in lachrymas solutus sic singultivit I. H. UPON THE NUPTIALLS OF THAT PRINCELY PAIR HENRY Lord Marquess Of DORCHESTER , AND The Lady KATHERINE STANLEY , Daughter to the late Heroic Earl of DERBY , An Epithalamium by way of Dialog 'twixt Philemon and Sylvius . Alluding to their 1. Complexions , He Sanguin , She Black and Fair . 2. Coats of Arms , Both Field-Argent , His a Lion Rampant in an orb of Cinqfoyls . 3. Countries . 4. Pedigrees . Going on with an Hymenaeum , or Vote , comprized in four Musicall Stanzas , the three first Ayrie and Poeticall , the last Serious . The DIALOGUE . Philemon . VVHat Object 's that which I behold Dazzling my eyes with gemms and Gold ? Her Face , me thinks , darts such a ray That adds more brightnes to the Day , Her breath perfumes the place , Her curls and hair Like Indian spice aromatize the Air , A sparkling white and black breaks from her sight Like to the Diamonds redoubling light , As she doth walk the very ground and stone Turn to Field-Argent which she treads upon ; A Mortal sure she cannot be But some transcending Deitie ; My dearest Sylvius pray unfold Who 's that rare Creature I behold ? Sylvius . SHe is a Princess and a Bride Goes to the Temple to be ti'd In Nuptiall bonds , her starrs will not permit That at the Vestall fires She longer sit ; She 's Derbie's Royall bloud , Derby le Gran , And now She travells to the I le of Man , She of the Princely Orenge is a branch Imp'd on the high Trimovillan stem of France , Two of the fairest Kingdomes strove , and try'd Their Utmost to compleat this Lovely Bride . 'T is she which makes 'twixt gemms and gold That Constellation you behold . Philemon . BUt who 's that comely sanguine Peer Which on her heart-side walks so neer ? He likewise makes all Argent as he goes , Look at his feet how thick the Cinqfoyl grows . Sylvius . T Is Wise and Wealthy Pierrpont , who renowns With Titles , Three of Englands chiefest Towns , A precious pond'rous Lord , whose fole Estate A Jury of new Barons might create , Patron of Virtue , Chivalry , and Arts 'Cause he himself excells in all these Parts ; 'T is He who by the hand doth hold That Demi-Goddess you behold . Philemon . IS 't so ? then my Autumnall Muse shall sing An Hymenaeum , and fetch back Her spring , This Subject a fresh vigor doth inspire , And heats my brain with an unusuall fire . AN HYMENAEUM , OR BRIDAL-SONET , Consisting of four Stanzas , and to be sung by three voices , according to a choice Air set thereunto by Mr. WILLIAM WEBB . 1. Chorus MAy all Felicity betide This Princely Bridegroom , and his Bride . May those delights this morn shall bring Be endless as their Nuptiall Ring , May they be constant , and exceed Each Others Wishes , Hopes , and Creed , May the three Regions of the air Powr showrs of blessings on this pair , May Sol and Cynthia with their rayes , Silver their nights and gild their dayes . 2. Chorus ▪ All joyes attend and best of Fate This noble Marques and His Mate . 2. YEe gentle Nymphs of Trent and Dee Make hast to this solemnity , Your streames and beds now meet in one By this High-sprung conjunction , Ye Wood-nymphs who green garlands wear In Shirewood launds , and Delamer , Yee Dames of Helicon attend , And Graces your sweet presence lend , Lucina com , and pray ther be Employment in due time for thee . Chorus . May all Felicity betide This noble Bridegroom , and his Bride . 3. MAy they such gallant Males produce Both to the Rose and Flowerdeluce , That Englands Chivalry and French May multiply , and bourgeon hence , Whose branches shooting o're the Main May knit , and blossome here again , That Pierrponts Lion and Cinqfoyl May ramp and root in every soyl ; Nor may this noble Race wear out Till Plato's Great year wheel about . Chorus . May all Felicity betide This noble Bridegroom , and his Bride . 4. Stanza Closing with a serious graduall Vote . MAy all the Elements conspire To make them bless'd in their desire , May all the Stars on them reflect Their mildest looks in Trine aspect , May all the Angels them defend From every thing doth ill portend , May Angells , Stars , and Elements Affoord Them such compleat contents That They have nothing els to wish But a Perseverance of Bliss . Chorus . All joyes attend and best of Fate This noble Marquess and his Mate . Idem I. ● . FINIS . 
A88893	----	An elegiacall epitaph upon the deplored death of that religious and valiant gentlemen, Colonell Iohn Hampden Esquire, a worthy Member of the honourable House of Commons in Parliament who received his death wound in a battell neere Chinnar in Oxfordshire, and deceased at Thame. June, the 27. M D CXLIII. Leicester, John. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A88893 of text R212066 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.8[17]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A88893 Wing L963 Thomason 669.f.8[17] ESTC R212066 99870718 99870718 161068 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A88893) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 161068) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 245:669f8[17]) An elegiacall epitaph upon the deplored death of that religious and valiant gentlemen, Colonell Iohn Hampden Esquire, a worthy Member of the honourable House of Commons in Parliament who received his death wound in a battell neere Chinnar in Oxfordshire, and deceased at Thame. June, the 27. M D CXLIII. Leicester, John. 1 sheet ([1] p.) Printed by Bernard Alsop, London : 1641. [i.e. 1643] Verse - "Since God himselfe did stoop so low, to lay". Signed: Jo: Leicester. Dated at end: Iuly, 27. 1643. The imprint date is in error; actual publication date from Wing. Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Hampden, John, 1594-1643 -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- Early works to 1800. A88893 R212066 (Thomason 669.f.8[17]). civilwar no An elegiacall epitaph upon the deplored death of that religious and valiant gentlemen, Colonell Iohn Hampden Esquire, a worthy Member of the Leicester, John. 1641 520 1 0 0 0 0 0 19 C The rate of 19 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2007-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-07 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-08 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2007-08 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELEGIACALL EPITAPH UPON The deplored Death of that Religious and Valiant Gentleman , Colonell Iohn Hampden Esquire , A worthy Member of the Honourable House of Commons in PARLIAMENT ; who received his Deaths wound in a Battell neere Chinnar in Oxfordshire , and deceased At Thame . JUNE , the 27. MDCXLIII . SInce God himselfe did stoop so low , to lay His Picture on a piece of that same Clay Whereof we are composed , 't is but just , To wayle his losse , and to adorne his Dust : In doing which , both head and hand may misse , For who can pourtray Vertue as it is ? Or make a true description of that fire , That so inflam'd him with a brave desire ? But if a Jem , which God both made and bought , Of manly shape , yet of more manly thought , If Piety , and to the truth true Zeale , If love and care of Church and common weale , If Chastity ( rare in a Souldiers brest ) And Temperance , ( which Cavaliers detest , ) If wisdome , courage , and an humble minde , ●ust dealing unto which he was inclin'de ; If love of Peace , of Armes , and heavenly Arts , And bounty unto men of good deserts , May make a man unto his Country deare , Brave Hampden justly may exact a teare From present and succeding Ages ; then Come Albion Muses all , come Maids and Men , Come silver Swannes leave singing on the banks , Of Isis floods , and in you painted Rankes Yee merry Birds goe solitary sitt , Silence and sorrow , does us best befitt : For though we live , yet are we deadly shot , ( Like stricken Deere at gaze ) and feele it not . Then let our Teares upon our selves descend , For our Heav'n-daring Crimes , which do portend More heavy Judgements comming on apace , To Court and Country , retrograde to Grace . In vaine ( deare Hampden ) we sollicit Thee , Whose passive part hath made thee now shot-free From Syrens violence , Sin , Feare and Death , Wherewith we Mortalls struggle heere beneath . Then let us strew thy Herse with bud and bloome , As Thetis did her lov'd Achilles Tombe , Or rather hang ( with Athens ) Lawrell by , In token of Thy happy VICTORY , Triumphing over all fore-named Foes , And whatsoever did Thee heere oppose . Farewell then honour'd Hampden ( heav'nly Jem ) Adoring now the new IERVSALEM . Farewell belov'd in Parliament and Field , Farewell thy Soldiers faithfull broken Shield : Farewell thy friends and native Counties stay , To them it is an over-clouded Day ; And dismall unto all it may be spoke , Save such as love to beare the Romish Yoake . IULY , 27. 1643. Per JO : LEICESTER . LONDON , Printed by BERNARD ALSOP . 1641. 
A61970	----	Svffolks tears, or, Elegies on the renowned knight Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston a gentleman eminent for piety to God, love to the Church, and fidelity to his country, and therefore highly honored by them all : he was five times chosen Knight of the Shire, for the county of Suffolk, and once burgess of Sudbury, in the discharge of which trust, he always approved himself faithful, as by his great sufferings for the freedoms and liberties of his countrey, abundantly appear : a zealous promoter of the preaching of the Gospel, manifested by his great care, in presenting men, able, learned, and pious, to the places whereof he had the patronage, and also by his large and extraordinary bounty towards the advancing of religion and learning, both at home, and in forreign plantations among the heathen. Faireclough, Samuel, 1625?-1691. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A61970 of text R21324 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing S6164). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 126 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 37 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A61970 Wing S6164 Wing F109A_CANCELLED ESTC R21324 12054640 ocm 12054640 53139 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A61970) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 53139) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 581:9 or 867:24) Svffolks tears, or, Elegies on the renowned knight Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston a gentleman eminent for piety to God, love to the Church, and fidelity to his country, and therefore highly honored by them all : he was five times chosen Knight of the Shire, for the county of Suffolk, and once burgess of Sudbury, in the discharge of which trust, he always approved himself faithful, as by his great sufferings for the freedoms and liberties of his countrey, abundantly appear : a zealous promoter of the preaching of the Gospel, manifested by his great care, in presenting men, able, learned, and pious, to the places whereof he had the patronage, and also by his large and extraordinary bounty towards the advancing of religion and learning, both at home, and in forreign plantations among the heathen. Faireclough, Samuel, 1625?-1691. Faireclough, Samuel, 1625?-1691. [4], 66 p. : port. Printed by R.I. for Tho. Newberry ..., London : 1653. Attributed to Samuel Faireclough. Cf. BM. The dedication in verse is by Samuel Faireclough. Some verses in Latin. This work appears at reel 581:9 as Wing S6164, and at reel 867:24 as Wing F109A (number cancelled in Wing 2nd ed.). Reproduction of original in Huntington Library. eng Barnardiston, Nathaniel, -- Sir, 1588-1653. Elegiac poetry, English. A61970 R21324 (Wing S6164). civilwar no Suffolks tears: or Elegies on that renowned knight Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston. A gentleman eminent for piety to God, love to the Church, and [no entry] 1653 17982 38 50 0 0 0 0 49 D The rate of 49 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the D category of texts with between 35 and 100 defects per 10,000 words. 2006-11 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2006-11 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-01 Emma (Leeson) Huber Sampled and proofread 2007-01 Emma (Leeson) Huber Text and markup reviewed and edited 2007-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Sr Nathaniel Barnardiston of Ketton in Suff. Kt Obiit A. D. 1653 ●t 66. F. H. van . Houe Sculp . SVFFOLKS Tears : OR ELEGIES On that Renowned Knight Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston . A Gentleman eminent for Piety to God , love to the Church , and fidelity to his Country ; and therefore Highly honored by them all . He was Five times chosen Knight of the Shire , for the County of Suffolk , and once Burgess for Sudbury . In the discharge of which Trust , he always approved Himself Faithful ; as by his great sufferings for the Freedoms and Liberties of his Countrey , abundantly appear . A Zealous Promoter of the Preaching of the Gospel , manifested by his great care , in presenting Men , Able , Learned , and Pious , to the places whereof he had the Patronage ; and also by his large and extraordinary bounty towards the advancing of Religion and Learning , both at home , and in Forreign Plantations among the Heathen . Dignum laude virum Musa vetat Mori . London , Printed by R. I. for Tho. Newberry at the Three Lions in Cornhil , near the Royal Exchange . 1653. To the VVorshipful and highly honoured Lady , the Lady Jane Barnardiston . An Offertory . THrice Noble Lady , spare that melting Bead , Our sorrows want no jewel from your head ; Still let those silver drops , that lightly lye Like little delug'd worlds within your eye ; Fixed abide in their own brightest sphear , His fame wants not those pendents for her ear ; Those falling stars rob heaven , we need not thence Borrow our griefs , or taxe you with expence : Behold how every Mourner brings his sheet To wipe your eyes , and weep himself ; 't is meet That this so publick loss by th' Countries charge Should mourned be : Spare , Madam , then : this large And thicker Volume that is here annext , Is but our Comment on that publick text : Come Argus , Hieraclicus , lend your eyes To pay on 's tomb a liquid sacrifice ; Lo all the grasse that round about him lye , Hangs full of tears shed from Dame Natures eye , See how sad Philomele ( that yonder sits , And to the dancing twig her musick fits ) Now mourns for him , the silver brook runs on , Grumbling to leave those loved banks , whereon A Mansion once he had ; that 's now set round With Cypress trees , and with their branches crown'd ; So dark , it seems Nights mantle for to borrow , And may be cal'd , the gloomy den of sorrow . E're since he di'd ; the Heavens their griefs to tell , Daily in tears to earth's wet bosome fell ; Not in an April storm , or those in June , Whose trembling Cadents makes it rain in tune ; But like a grave Decembers day , or those Who mourn in Cicero's stile , and weep in prose . Madam , you see all Natures wat'ry store Attends this sable day , weep you no more ; Angels , that on your eyes with bottles wait To catch your falling tears , do now retreat With vessels full ; anon again they 'l stoop , And lightly hover round the mourning troop , Whilst I in silence do his Shrine adore ; If worship doth offend , I then implore , And crave a favour , Madam , 't is this one , Adde to his memory no pictur'd stone ; Lest whilst within the Church my vows I pay , I to the Image of this Saint should pray . Madam , your most humble and faithful servitor : Samuel Faireclough . Jun. ELEGIES ON That renowned Knight SIR Nathaniel Barnardiston . AN Acrosticke Elegie on my ever Honoured Friend Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston , who faithfully in all imployments served his Country , was renowned for Piety , and exemplary in Religion , dyed the 25. of July , 1653. SHal such Friends dye , and my Muse idle bee ? Is 't possible ? can such stupidity Remaine in me , and I not dead with thee ? Nature don't give , but lend its life to men , And at its pleasure cals it back agen . The image grav'd on man , Gods right doth shew , His image 't is ; let Caesar have his due . And in this Microcosme we plainly see No lesse then part of Gods Divinity , In smaller letters ; for the Soul 's a sparke Even of his kindling , and ( though in the dark Lodg'd in the grave , the body seems to be ) Let 's hope , and we shal find re-unity . Body and Soul shal joyn by heaven's great power As once they were , before the parting hour : Rally the Atomes shal , and then each part Not loosing ought , by Gods Almighty Art Attaine shal to its just and proper due , Returning to each corps its former hue ; Descend then shal the Soul , and with a kisse Its ancient friend awake to perfect bliss : So these new married couple joyfully To heaven ascend , and match eternity . Oheavenly Musick ! endlesse harmony ! None can desire to live , that 's fit to dye . So slept our former Patriots ( when they Had serv'd their country ) in a bed of clay ; Flesh may incinerate , when Man doth dye , The body in the grave may sleeping lye ; But there 's a spark remaines , which shal return , And re-inform those ashes in their urn , VVhich when the last days morning shal draw nigh , Shal raise its flame by heav'nly Chymistry : So springs the Phoenix , from which Rise She 's ever cal'd the Bird of Paradise . Si quis ; qui bonus , & pius est ? inquirit ; Iësus Respondet , verus Nomine Nathaniel . Inquire whose good ? Christ wil thee tel , It is a true Nathaniel . WILLIAM SPRING Barronet . An Elegie containing a Dialogue between the Author and his Muse , and between Death and an Angel . MAke hast my Muse , lay off thy brighter plume , The sable wings of darkest Night assume , Cover thy head with blackness , do not faile Thy brow with mournful shadow now to vaile ; Thine eyes now cloud , which may pour down apace , A showre of brinish tears upon thy face . Fill up thy breast with sighs , and saddest grief , With Rachels sorrows , that refu'd relief ; Now let a living Spring thy sorrow feed , That may supply , with running streams , thy need : The depth in silence pass , noyse not the same Lest Nature hear , and do dissolve her frame ; Attire thy self in saddest mourning weed , Put on thy tragick Buskins , haste with speed Unto the place where griesly Death doth dwel , Within the ground in lowest darkest cel ; Pale kercher'd sickness lyeth at the door , To him the Porter openeth every hour . About , above , the Monuments remaine , Of old and young whom direfull death hath slaine : There the worlds Victor vanquished doth lye , There Caesar , Croesus , and grave Cato by ; There David , Jedidiah , Daniel , And there with these our true Nathaniel . Of doleful Ebony the Portal's made , The roof of fatal dismal Ewe is laid , The pillars of black pollisht Marble be , That may endure til time you ended see ; The wals intire of Adamantine rock , The two-leav'd gates of Steel , so key and lock . The chambers there with Coffins plancherd sure , Corruptions sap wil not let long indure ; These worn and torn , in time renew'd again , The cost of future Funerals maintain : The lower floor 's of earth , most rooms be ful , Loe here the dead mens bones , and there the skul . The trophies of triumphant Death are there , The rooms all hung with whited linnen are ; The corps intomb'd with juyce of Poppy smear'd , There rest and sleep in dust , no danger fear'd , Till that these bodies , putrifactions prey , Be raised up to life at the last Day . The way is beaten to this house of Death , The fatal enemie of Mortals breath . A raw-bon'd carcase , of his Head the haire And flesh is falne , and left the skul all bare ; His eyes no eyes , cannot be seen not see , Worm-eaten nose , one jaw , no teeth hath he : Yet heaps of men he daily doth devour , And hundreds fall before him in an hour . Within his cruel breast he hath no heart , Yet full of courage , and with deadly dart He kils , yet neither arm he hath , nor hand , He hath no feet , yet walks o're sea and land . Nor arteries , flesh , nor sinews ( wonder ) Hath he , all his joynts they are asunder ; His bones , there one , and here another lyes , He smites , there one , and here another dyes ; Haste thither , knock , call , know the cause , why thus This leane starv'd Heluo snatcht our joy from us . Could sacred Piety , that adorn'd his mind , The grace of heart and life , no pitty finde ? Wilt thou thus wrong ( oh death ) the Publick weale ? And justice slay , extinguish fervent zeal ! Pull down the Temples pillar , quench the fire That Heaven 's sent , and did to Heaven aspire ? Could neither faith nor faithfulness find grace ? Nor friendly love keep off thy Serjeants Mace ? Could not integrity and truth him save ( With Hezekiah ) from the greedy grave ? O Sun return , yet shine on Sions hil , On Ahaz Dial keep the shadow stil . Why fel he not upon Elisha's herse , That could the dead againe to life reverse ? Where is He now that Lazarus did raise ? Where is the widow of Sarepta's praise , That might in flaming Chariot let him ride With him to heaven ? then he had not dy'd . Shal I not once within this vale of tears ? ( Or shal I hold my peace , not speak my fears ? ) Shal I not once again on earth behold That countenance so grave , so brave , so bold , Which with a look could daunt the face of sin , And make offence to hide it selfe with in ? Shal I not see his presence ? blesse the wals , Wherein did sound his frequent sacred cals , Of wife and children , and of all the rest , To waite on God ; who is for ever blest , And beams of blessing from this Sunt ' expect That blest these blessings , might on him reflect . And as the Rivers to the Ocean pay Their tribute streams , that in their channel play ; So daily Prayer answerers re-ascend In praises might to God , and never end : O never end your prayers and praises due , To him that gave such sweet returns to you . That you should pray , and yet stil praise his name , And walk in right before him without blame ; So did he walk , and so attended went VVith all his traine : and in the Temple spent Both hours and dayes , and of all dayes the best , VVherein both Christ did rise , and God did rest . The time though divers , yet the precept 's one , Writ and ingrav'd by Gods own hand in stone , In midst of that his everlasting Law , VVhich might at all time keep in dreadful awe All hearts , and all induce , his voyce with feare , And faithful care , and conscience to heare . Oh! shal I never more observe that eye , Intently lifted up unto the skie ? And hands stretcht out unto the throne of grace , And bended knees to fall before the place , VVhere shadowing Cherub cover'd with his wing , The Mercy-seat of heavens mighty King ? From Golden Altar did the incense fly In clouds of smoke , and mounted up on high : God smelt the savour , in his heart he said , Behold , it 's done according as thou pray'd . And now O death , can thee no prayer melt , Wherein the highest God such sweetness smelt ? Release thy Prisoner , and set o'pe thy gate , Breake off those fetters , free thy selfe from hate , And let him rise from off that fatall bed VVhereon thou forc'd him to lay down his head : Vnto the votes of high and low restore Their joy , to be enjoyed as before . VVhat aylest thou , O Muse , bereft of mind ? VVhat mean these words , these empty puffes of wind ? VVil 't change the Fates , and burn the sacred rowl Of Gods Decree , and make thy selfe a scroul ; There to designe each one to death or life , And heaven and earth to set at dismal strife ? Shal brazen mountains with a blast remove ? Or shal the Sun run retrograde above ? Shal morning o'pe her purple door i' th VVest ? And Moon and Stars to rule the day be prest ? And night shine forth with Phoebus orient beams ? And at thy will all rivers change their streams ? Then my Commission I to thee Wil give , The living shal not dye , the dead shal live ; And mortals all , immortal shal become , And wither'd branch , with winter blast shal bloome ; And Adam shal with Eve to Eden go , No fruit shal kil , no friend shal be a foe . But if that Adam must no more return , Why should I break up Barnardistons urn ? His faith ? so Abraham dy'd , yet did beleeve ; But Truth did Hezekiah once reprive , And Lazarus did life againe inspire , And to his body did the soul retire : But know'st thou not how these of death did taste ? And back again unto my Palace haste ? Nor Abrams faith , nor Isaacks , Jacobs feare Could sheild them from deaths deadly piercing speare ; So Joseph , Joshua , and Josiah all , By sooner , later stroakes of death did fall . And Job was patient under death's sad blow , And mighty Sampson unto death did bow ; And David with his Worthies all did yeeld To death , against his stroke they found no shield ; And John , Christs bosome friend , did hither hye , And Christ himselfe , the Son of God , did dye ; Eliah left his Mantle him behind , They sought him , but in no place could him find , His change like death ; and Enoch he is not , Nor Rachels children , Death became their Lot . And thou ( O Muse ) shal be as one of these , When Atropos thy thread to cut shal please . O cruel Death ! can nothing then asswage Thy savage fury , and thy direful rage ? Must all ( O Charon ) thee thy ferriage pay ? And all take Boat , and all have over-lay ? Then come , and to our Lazarus let us go , And as he dy'd , with him , let us do so . As Joseph went unto old Jacobs grave , So shal this Saint , of us attendance have . What mean'st ( O Muse ) and whither dost thou wend ? When of thy passion wilt thou make an end ? Wilt thou presume on Sion Mount to stand , And Heavens scepter sway in thy right hand ? The Lord by power and providence divine , Did all unto their place and end assigne : The Earth to Plants , in Seas the Fishes swim , The Birds in th' air do wave their feathers trim ; Shal not the fixed Stars in heaven shine ? What God doth own , wilt thou detain as thine ? And why among the dead dost thou enquire For these that live ? lift up thy eye , look higher , There is a place beyond that mount most bright , Whence Phoebus chariot shines with flaming light ; The stately City new Jerusalem , Wherein doth dwel Jehovah , God of Shem. Her glory doth as Jasper stone appear , Her light like to transparent Chrystal clear ; Her battlements are high , her streets are gold , Her gates twelve glittering Pearls , their price untold , Twelve holy Angels at the gate attend , Whereon twelve names of Israels tribes are pend . The gates , all nightless day , stand open wide , That Saints in golden charriots in may ride . Three where the Sun doth shed his orient beam , Three ope where he doth loose his fiery team , Three from the North receive Christs holy train , Three from the South that Saints do entertain . The twelve foundations , each a precious stone , The Jasper , Saphir , and the Chalcedon , The Sardonix of colour red and white , The Sardius next , and golden Chrysolite , The sea-green Beril , and the Topaz rare , Chrysoprasus as gold with green most faire ; The Jacynth then , and next to that is set The Amethyst like purple violet , In those the names of Christs , Apostles are , That through the world the Gospel spread so farre . On those an hundred fourty cubits height ▪ And four , the wal so broad , of Jasper bright . Four square the City , and the measur'd ground With golden read a thousand furlongs found ; The Angel so the length and breadth did take , The height the same no Cannon great can shake The wall , that doth this City compasse in , VVhere none can enter , nor abide with sin . No need of Temple , Sun , or Moon there is , VVhere dwels that Trine in one , in endless bliss , The Lamb his everlasting light doth give Unto it , there the Saints in glory lives Upon their heads , they Crowns of glory wear , Their faces like the radiant Sun appear . They cloathed are in Linnen sins and pure , No Fuller ever made the like , 't is sure : And Palms of victory in their hands they have , Triumphant Trophies , on the wal most brave Do hang the Monuments of conquer'd Hel , VVith all the Fiends and Furies , there that dwel ; Their Crowns and Palms before the Lamb they cast , By whom the danger of the war they past ; They all bedight with glory , round about The Lambe doe follow , going in and out , Unto the tree of lasting life they haste , In midst of Eden , and the fruit they taste . Thence to the Wel of Life they take their way , VVhence living streams do never cease to play ; VVith Mannah eke , and sweetest Nectar fed , They , by the Lamb , into the Palace led ; The Song of Moses and the Lamb doe sing , VVith sweetest harmony to heavens King . In close hereof came Barnardiston in , VVho late the field from vertues foe did win : A troop of Angels blest had been his guard , Into the Palace , to a place prepar'd : VVherein the Emerauld of virld hue , For beauties honour strives with Saphir blew : And Topaz seeks to have away the fame From Carbuncle , that shines with fiery flame . There he arrayed in the robes of glory , Had to the presence Chamber , tels the story , How he in fight with Sin and Death had stood , And overcame them by the Lamb , Christ's blood : The Lamb my Captain was , I won the field , Lo there his Word my Sword , his faith my shield . The Angels then did all their Trumpets blow , The Victor's blessed welcome there to show ; The Lord commands a crown of golden Bayes , Vpon his head are set the Victors praise . The Saints afresh renew their happy joy , Them neither sin nor sorrow doth annoy . Moses and Aaron , sang the same that was By Israel sung , when they the Sea did passe ; And Miriam did on sounding Timbrel play , And David tuned to his Harp a Lay : The rest took hands , and danc'd a sacred round , The vaults of glory echoing did sound , There did I leave him , there in bliss he lives , VVith him , to Saints that grace and glory gives . Go haste , and tell all those that did him love , How he sits on a golden Throne above ; On earth he in his hand a sword did bear , His hand in heaven doth a scepter rear : There shal he always live , and never dye , And there shal waite on highest Majesty ; And waite to see his Wife and Children dear Increase his joy , in this his glories sphear . The Lord we pray , there grant to them a place , VVith their allyes , and to their budding race . In eundem carmen funebre , comprehensum In Dialogo inter Musam & Vitam . Tene quid abripiet nobis ? ( mors improba ! ) mortem Tuque premes , victam tu perimesque necem . Vita fugis mortem ? meditaris morte fugamne ? Vivas , ut mortem morte fugare queas . Dum vixi , vitam viveham , ut perdere possem : Dum morior mihimet , reddita vita mihi . Christopher . Burrell . Rec. Wratten Mag. An Elegie upon the death of that truly noble Gentleman , famous for Piety and Religion , the right Worshipfull Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston , Aug. 25. 1653. THou stately Top-bough of a noble Stem , One of Gods Jewels , and thy Country's Gem , That help'd to bless the Land wherein thou wast Lately a Saint : but now those joyes are past ; And we in sorrows left , with hearts most sad , To think we'ave lost that blisse we lately had In thee ( Great Sir : ) alas , we 're now without A thousand comforts , that from thee dealt out But lately were , to us , and to all men , VVith whom thou had'st to do ; how shal my Pen Be able to set out to th' world that worth , That was in thee ? or who can warble forth Thy praises due ? or to the life , let 's see , What by thy death we 'ave lost , in loosing thee ? What rarest Oratour , or Poet can Set forth the use , or losse of such a man ? Thou blessed Soul ; the Model of perfection , Guilelesse Nathaniel , winner of affection : Belov'd of God and Man ; why didst thou dye , And leave thy friends nought but an Elegie ▪ Could'st thou but hear our plaints , but hear our groans , But see our mournful tears , and know what moans Are utter'd here , sigh'd , shed , and made for thee , Th' ould'st pity's all , if thy felicity Could give thee leave , but in that place thou art , Where sorrow's shadow cannot reach thy heart ; VVhere thou hast good of all sorts , plenteous store , And joy at Gods right hand for evermore . There rest ( blest Saint ) thy soul in heavens high story , Until the dust th'ast left shal rise to glory . But shall I thus have done ? how can it be ? To leave already such a Saint as he ; To say no more of such a Son of Grace Then hath been said of him , were to dispraise Him ; so shal I , when I have spent my store , VVhat I can say , wil be too ●●at , too poore : Could I but chant out now , such notes as he Doth in Heavens Quite , before the blessed three ; I 'de tel his praises , I 'de declare his fame To after Ages , I 'de make known his name ; An uncorrupted Patron that did hate Out of the Churches means , t' augment his state He look'd upon it as abhorred thrift , To gaine t' himselfe a farthing by the gift Of any Benefice , though he had those , VVhich if that others had such to dispose , They would have worm'd and scru'd out two or three Hundreds of pounds , and yet have faeid how free Have I been to my Clerk ? I did present Him to some hundred pounds : but yet in Cent ' Gat fifty to himselfe ; God never mean It should be so , which thing this Saint knew wel , And loath'd such baseness as he loathed hel . He was a Benefactor to our Tribe , VVe freely had his boones , he scorn'd our bribe . If he were now , whence once he was ejected , ( To heare Petitions from the ill-affected , Begging of men in power to haste , and ply The begg'ring of the godly Ministry , By stripping them of means , and maintenance , And ' th other honour due ; good countenance , That God allows them , and hath given command , That no man openly , or under-hand Should rob them of it , or with-hold their due ) He would have hated to have prov'd untrue To truth , or them ; loathing ill-gotten pelfe , And would have kept them up ; or faln himself . And not by seeking theirs have ruin'd those , Gods faithful servants , which himself hath chose , Gifted , and sent dispencers of his minde To them that sat i' th dark with eyes-ful blind ; And God hath bless'd their pains ; maugre her 's spight , And brought them out of darkness into light ; Yea to their calling God hath set his seal , Their people their Epistle are , and weale Of many Souls , through grace , effected by Their faithful Labours in their Ministry . I trust our Worthies now in power wil stand Strong for the Truth , and Gospel in the Land , Preach'd and profess'd , and maugre all our scorners , Preserve us , that we fly not into corners , VVhere pining souls their Teachers cann●● see , So starve and dye through Romish policy . Those that have gotten any Gospel good From Preachers lips , must love them ; though none stood For them , and their incouragement , but they Wil chuse to dye before they 'l e're give way To throw them down , and Heachenize the Nation , Knowing 't wil prove Religions extirpation . They 'l lend no eare in this corrupted time , To them wh'ould make the Word a cover-crime . But whither runs my pen ? my Muse return , And fall again to mourning o're the urn Of this desceased Saint , whose losse is such , Thousands we might have lost , yet not so much As we have lost in thee , blest soul , on ground Say , where is such another to be found ? Where 's such an Husband ? Father ? Friend ? or Brother ? A word of comfort ; say , where 's such another Patron ? a Saint so good ? just ? meek ? so kinde ? So self-denying ? such an heavenly minde ? His husbanding his time , so godly spent , Told me h' was bound for heav'n before he went . Since he 's commenc'd above , and got his grace , VVe cannot leave him in a better place . Yet one word more give leave for , e're I 'ave done , Much honour'd Lady , you his eldest Sonne ; Yee children all , who put to 't , would much rather , Have chose the losse of all , then of your Father . Let sorrows surges sink , let comfort come , And joy your sad and heavie hearts ; make roome For gladness , know ye 'ave mourn'd your shares , Your deare is gone to glory , stay your tears . Yee see what God hath done , and who may have Like liberty to take , as he that gave ? Submit to God , bear Christianly this Crosse , He can restore you manifold your losse . Madam , take comfort , and trust God to be A better Husband to you farre , then He , And to your vertuous Daughters , widows left , Both , like your selfe , of Husbands late bereft ; Not only Husband , but of Father too , To you and yours , thus doth the Promise go . Worthy Sir Thomas , now , great God expects In you such graces , from you such effects , As in , and from your blessed Father were , Take care , herein you truly prove his heir ; My prayers for yee all shal be this rather , God make ye better , then your Gracious Father . Loquitur post funera virtus . Ro. Cooke . An Elegie on that eminently religious Knight , Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston . STay ( Reader ) stay , stand , but a while , and see The dismal face of this sad obsequie Where all are Mourners , where you 'd think you spy A Son or Daughters tear in every eye . Hark , Reader , hast thou ever seen what Grace , What Majesty was seated in his face ? Then bow before his shrouded head , and know What honour's due , where age white hairs did snow ; Where vertue , where a noble minde did dwel , Which nothing can ( beside its self ) excel . Democritus himselfe , should he but know What caus'd these tides of tears to over●flow , The watrish humour in his eye ( I feare ) Would melt the Chrystaline into a tear . Reader , first pay a tear , and then passe on , 'T is no dry subject we are now upon : But hold , God too wil have his harvest free From rainy showres of tears , as wel as we : This full-ear'd Wheat of his , first bow'd its head , So gather'd was to 's Garner with the dead . Apostrophe ad defunctum : Blest Shade , your pardon , that thus late my verse , In black and white attends your sacred herse ; My Muse was fondly loath , I must confess , To mixe with sables in an English dresse ; Thought that too homely , wanton ; did desire A persick , Syriak , Arabick attire , Or any more exotick ; Parrots seek A Caesars favour in no lesse then Greek : Pardon her soft-pac'd measures , her delayes , She in sad broken Accents sighing sayes : Should sundry Tongues , each with a diverse tone Lament our loss , all must consent in one . Write on the weeping Marble , here doth lye , Mecaenas , and the Muses Deity . Sic flevit , Gulielm . Stephenson . Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston , his Hallelujah , Saint . THrice holy Lord , at thy right hand I see The Incense pillars up ascending be From thy most precious bloud , on which doth lye The Roose , and hang the Pavement of this high And glorious Court , by them brought up I stand Before thy face , expecting thy command . Almighty . Drop of my selfe , eternally my Dear , ( Distance away ) draw to this bosome near ; Lo here , thy elder Brother , did'st not long To see thy Jesus ? seest thou not the throng Of crowned Saints about thee , that rejoyce To joyn thee to their Chore , who with their voyce , My everlasting praise do sing ? this sphear Of Ravishment , that doth thee circle here ▪ The native heat is of thy Fathers brest , From whence when first thou sparkled'st I thee blest , VVith my unknown delight , and love ; to me , Thou art not strange , but from eternity Thou always present wert ▪ behold thy name Deeply in-laid upon the Covenant frame Of my Free Grace , that Archive Archy-type ▪ And Index of this Court , the first grand Pipe , Conveighing down my love unto my Son , Through him , and all his Gospel veins , to run Into th' elect , those Gulphs of love ; find'st not My half beleeved Gospel true ? thy Lot ▪ Does it not fill thy heart , fulfill my Oath ? Doe I delude the sons of men , when loath To mind or love me , I them wooe , and pray To daine acceptance of me , that they may Be wel , and pleased here ? doe I deserve That slight and scorn , that dust and ashes serve Me daily with ? the Leprous scales of sin , Have they more weight of joy then what 's within The spangles of thy Crown ? which of the two , The lower wilderness of thorns and woe , Or this eternal gallery of love VVould'st chuse thy walk ? these prospects here above , And not Lusts snakie Groves true pleasure yeelds : Earths sence-inspiring glances in May-fields Cause but an ulcerous Ich ; those leaps of sprite Men think they feel in earthly loves delight , Are here indeed the souls eternal dance , Rais'd by the dartings of my countenance ; Look and be ravish'd , spring , and sing my Dove , Tuning thy measures to my eye of love . Saint . How low 's this Chore ? how Faint's this eccho here ? Is this th' Almighties praise that now I heare ? Can the thousand thousands raise no higher ? Jehovah , thy acceptance I admire : Is all the powers of Saints and Angels joyn'd Beneath thy love , and glory thus confin'd ? ( O love thy selfe , my God ) were this a place , Tears should reflect thy beams upon my face : Canst thou not make a Temple higher roof'd , wherein on louder Organs may be prov'd The Art of treble-voiced Seraphims , Joyn'd with deep Accent of wing'd Cherubims ? But neither I , nor these , alas can raise Ought else but love ; Lord reckon that thy praise . And I am glad th'art great beyond our songs , Because we feel thee good , beyond our Tongues , And since thou smil'st to hear thy Nurc'ry sing , In broken Notes , their Fathers name , I 'll bring My Jews-Trump to thy set : Chore let us joyn : Saint and Chore . All might and power , transcendant Lord , is thine , Above thy Creatures thoughts , thy glory is : Their utmost stretch , can give to thee no bliss , Yet 't is their joy , and everlasting gain , That they to sing thy praise , their spirits strain . Thou canst have but their all , their all they spend Upon thy Throne , yet neither waste or end . O blest be thou , thou self-arisen Sun Of Light and Love ; from whence hath ever run Beams both of Life and good , thickning to Globes And Worlds : This Heaven of Saints is but the Robes Of Rayes about thee ; thou Eternal Spring ( In which th'rising streams , most sweetly sing ) Of Life and Love , and Joy , of Good and Right ; From whence we flow , and whither thou invite Thy Channels to return ; there are we well , And not to be in thee , is lowest Hell . All might of love be to thy Spirit given , Who least we should by Hellish winds be driven Into the gulf of woe , didst with us mix , And ran along our wavering course , to fix On thee Life's Ocean . Fruits of that love Now in our Center we do taste and prove . Our life is thine , O lovely God and Man , The wonder of thy death , who of us can Half comprehend , much less repay . But see The goodly Off-spring of thy Blood , and be Self-satisfi'd , while we behold thy Face Fill'd with delight , rejoyce thou in the Grace Thy Blood hath sprinkled round about thy Throne , Hallelujah , Hallelujah , Three in One . His Character . Most perfect Image of the God above , Without was Majesty , within was love : One drawn with sweetness by an Infants hand , Ne'r driv'n by violence , or Base command : Religion's Patron , Crown of Piety Upon his Houses Ancient Chevalry . To Lawful Senates , was his Countrys choice , The last dissolv'd , above he gives his voice . To a wise and beauteous Lady joyn'd , Into a gen'rous Off-spring Both are twin'd . He went not hence , till he might clearly see Himself in 's Heir , should much exalted be . His Votaries Prayer . O let no Curse , no Sin , no Fate , no War , His long-lin'd house , e'er blot , defame , or scar . But let its numerous seed , still run along , Till it receive Christ's coming , with a Song . The Gentries Vertues , Glories let it wear ; But all its Vices , let it scorn to bear . His House a School of worth , let ages see ; And Lord , a Church of Graces , let it be . Richard Fairclough Rector of Mells in Sommersetshire . To the Memory of that Highly Noble , and Religious Knight Sir NATH. BARNARDISTON . PArdon great Sir , though others to your Tomb , Bring Volumes of your praise , and I be dumb . A Verse or two is all I can ; not want Of sorrow , but the greatness makes me scant . I cannot write , Tears make my Paper sink ; My Pen weeps too , its proper tears of Ink . These , whil'st I strive to Checker my white sheet , Correct my Error , and tell me 't is meet That all be black , that every part should mourn , And so my sheet into a pall they turn . How can I make a Verse , who want my Feet ? Rooted I stand , amazed at the great , And strangness of our loss , sad Niobs fate Transform'd to stone , is mine , incorporate I to a quarry am ; Then take from me His Monument , his Grave-stone I will be ; And so for ever , I upon my Brest Shal wear this Epitaph , and weep the rest . Epitaph . Here lies those Sacred Ashes , once the seat Of Heav'n-born-fires , and Loves diviner heat . No Basket-Justice , or Brib'd Committee , No purged Senator , but all Purity . In 's Consort happy , both in Off-spring Crown'd : Birth made him noble , Piety renown'd . Anagram . Nathaniell Barnardiston . Born in an All-sainted Hart. How well All Saints , give honor to his Urn , Whose Faith was in An Hart All-sainted Born . The World 's unworthy of him , whose best part , Liv'd , and was Born in an All-Sainted Hart. Nathaniell Fairclough Rector of Stalbridge in Dorcetshire . PARENTALE , or an ELEGIE on the Highly Honorable and Right Worshipful Sir Nath. Barnardiston , Kt. BY Euphrat's Floud , when Captive Israel sate , Increasing it ; their Harps inanimate Hung speechless by : All sorrows want their Tongues , These Organs speak not , fill'd from sighing Lungs . Great anger makes a Poet ; but the sense Of greatest grief , stops flowing eloquence : Who groans in tune , hath learn't the Hebrew art To weep with th' eye ; but bleed not at the heart . My Theam 's too great , that Pegasus should wear Such straitning Fetters ; he can't mount the air , Or soar aloft , whil'st pinion'd is his Wing . England lies here ; your boundless tears then bring , And Mote it round ; let every weeping eye Now pay its River , till the Springs be dry ; Then offer them : Galatian tribute here Is due , he payes an eye , that hath no tear . The Academy , Country , Church , at once , Have lost their cheifest Patron , and thus groans . Erst while I saw a Spring ( 't was Hippocrene ) Brim'd round about with Sable Jet , within The waters swell'd ; and past their common bounds : Strait I drew near , t' observe , and search the grounds Of this late Floud ; and silently I spy'd The Orphan Muses by ; all sadly cry'd : And as they wept , the dewy tears that fell , Slid to that watry lodge , which made it swell ; Their Patrons death ( Apollo ) caus'd this wo , Which falling beads now tell ; a wrinkled O From every fall , their griefs in water wrote , And spake the sadness of their sighing note . The common people next , dismaid with fears , Dewing their Bosoms ; thus fills all our ears . Swift Time ( Heavens Pursevant ) straitly summons To th' Lords House , this Member of the Commons ; Thrice chosen Senator , let Ipswich fame How oft her streets have eccho'd with his Name ; But cruel dint of death's severer Dart Suffolks great Soul , from Suffolk now doth part . Nor mourns the State alone ; the Churches chime ; Religion sighs ; her trickling tears keeps time Whil'st sobbing thus , she sings , Here lies the Knight , Lifeless , that did maintain the Gospels Light . Let Ketton boast ; how from her sacred Hill , Her Sun with brightest Rayes , the World doth fill ; Here fix'd by him : O joyful , Heavenly meet Of thousands , Sainted by his means ; that greet His crowned head , whose Crown they are , then haste We too , to add more gems , and be so plac'd . SA. FAIRECLOVGH . Fel. of Gon. and Caius Coll. An Elegie on that ever honoured Knight , Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston . NOt for to scrape acquaintance with the great , Much lesse , like some , to get a good meals meat ; Not that my stranger Muse strives to be known , As if she thought sh ' were else as good be none : A mourning Ribband , or a parie of Gloves , Can nothing tempt her from that rest she loves ? My Muse is no such hackney , none of these Can draw her from her now accustom'd ease ; Nor doth she now ( as earst ) catch after wit , And hap'ly sometimes had the praise of it . In part , She mindes her selfe , now cal'd away , From lighter studies , to a graver way ; In part , she thinks 'mongst Country Clowns to rise In straines of wit , were but to solaecise . Partly her wil's in fault , and may be too , Though she were ne're so willing , 't would not doe . Chiefly , my Muse puts on so grave a dresse , Because th' occasion cals for seriousnesse . And now she speaks , she doth not meane to raise A Trophie to his name from 's father's praise : Though here ( if Ancestry must have a place ) She knows no ancienter , no nobler race . Those who have nought to brag of , but the glory Of their fore-fathers , blot their fathers story . I 'de put the Ape , and such men both together , That could be proud of borrow'd Peacocks feather . But here no sluggishnesse did make a seat Of Grandsires glory , there to sit compleat ; But he made what he found left by his Sire But as his foot-stool , that should raise him higher . And as the circled glasse contracts the flames , That noon-tide Sun did scatter with his beams , And makes them like meridian lines , at last To meet in one point , as from one they past : So here those nobler flames that were comprest , Some here in one , some in anothers brest , Of all those famous Barm'stons , once alive Met here , in this conjunction cop ' lative . So that to raise a Trophie to his fame , From those same vertues that have run i th' name , And hence to fetch one stone , and thence another , To catch at this in that man , that in t'other ; This were to goe about , as he should stray From hence to London , should take York in 's way . VVe 'l make a shorter cut of it by farre , VVhile he alone both compasse is , and star ; And though our Logick-mongers teach for truth , That accidents must never dare ( forsooth ) To change their soyl ( but like some fetter'd Asse , Inclos'd in wals , must alwayes feed on grasse ; Or as we read it was with Shimei ) But stir from subjects once , they needs must dye . Yet here we finde those vertues all doe dwel , In which each Sire of his did most excel ; And having lest their former soyl , yet more Did thrive in him , then e're they did before . So wel , ( though Logick scoffe ) without correction , Divinity maintaines her resurrection , In short , his Father gave him life and breath , But he ( O Miracle ) even after Death . Revives his Fathers Fathers , makes them be ( Being long since dead ) fresh in our memory . Yea , he survives himself , and cannot die , Until the ending of eternity . But minde thy self , my Muse , remember how Thy calling makes all other things to bow To one , ( Religion ) leave all other then , And make this one , the subject of thy Pen . Nor need'st thou here put on Creative power , As Poets sometimes do ; who in one hour Create him Saint , being dead , who all men know A walking devil was , when here below : None need to stretch his conscience , here to tell Officious lies for one , that burns in hell ; To draw belief to 't , by his forged story , That , that damn'd caitiff , is a Saint in glory ; And thereby make even Boyes and Girls to point , And say , The Preachers conscience 's out of joynt . No , speak he most ▪ then can ; there is no fear ▪ It should offend the tend'redst conscienc'd ear . No new truths can be preach'd , but what are known , No better by the Preacher , then the Town . All men that knew him , by his life might know , He was not onely great , but godly too : Nor was his saintship of that new Edition , Which Sequestrations make , or a Commission : Gain brought him not to Piety . To rise From sin to grace , he ne'er learn'd by th' Excise . Nor did he ( Proteus like ) to all mens view , Change his religions face , still for a new , As th' old grew out of credit ; he ne'er made ▪ Religions change to be his gainful trade . 'T was Conscience made him Pious , no design To rob thee ( gasping Church ) of what was thine . He deem'd that which the new Saints of our Age , Count a main peece of Piety , Sacriledge . But peace my Muse ; thou 'dst fame to th'later times , And cloath this Heroes actions in thy rhimes ; Thou long'st to bring partic'lars on the stage , And would'st ; but that the growing Peers o' th' age Being set o' th' counter part , would surely raise Thine Elegiake strains , to Satyr layes , And make them speak so loud , that without doubt , They 'd doom thee to 't , to have thy tongue cut out . I think it therefore , far the safer way , Thou prate no more , but that thou rather pray , Many such Barnardistons God would send , Th'unhappiness of Church and State to 'mend . Samuel Reyner , Thirloe Mag. An Elegy at the Funeral of that truly Honorrable , and most Religious Knight , the Right Worshipful Sir NATH. BARNARDISTON . WHat Marble now is dry ? then shall not we Our tears pour forth , at this solemnity ? In ancient time the men of Carthage Town , Upon Masistius death , their Towers brake down ; Their Walls they hung with blacks , and Towers torn , That so not onely men , but stones might mourn . The Rock it self , when Moses smote did spring ; Streams Crystalline the fiery Flint did bring . Much more should we , now God himself doth smite , Send forth our streaming tears ; for these of right Are due ; if we deny this tribute , then The stones that now shed tears , will shame us men . When Pompey by Septimius was slain , The valiant Julius Caesar did disdain To view his head ; when to him it was sent , His Kingly heart , with pity did relent ; His Cheeks bedew'd with tears , his clemency Did manifest ev'n to his enemy . If Julius Caesar wept thus for a fo , Then for a friend , much more should we do so . For such a friend , whom all men may of right , Most truly term , The High Gods favorite . His dearest darling , and all mens delight . Who whil'st he liv'd with us , out-shin'd in grace The rest of men , now sees God face to face : When that the Emp'ror Titus did depart : What cloudy looks , moyst cheeks , and heavy heart , Might be beheld all o'r the Roman State , Each single man bemoaning his sad fate : And thus concerning him , they did complain , Titus is gone , t' our loss , though to his gain . The same may we take up ; Gods darling 's gone . 'T is for his good , though our affliction . Well mourn we may , as in some silent grove , Whil'st he in heavenly joyes , triumphs above . Nathaniel he was , Gods gift to us ; A Gem , a precious Pearl esteem'd , and thus The greater was our joy ; but now deceas'd , The more our grief , and sorrows are increas'd . It seems God gives and takes , who can gainsay ? God saith , Give me my gem , who shall say nay ? Who shall resist his will ? Lord take thine own , But give us leave , our loss for to bemoan . A custom 't was of old , that men renown'd , Not onely living , but when dead , were crown'd . Marcellus once this honor did receive , The same the Emperor Augustus gave To Alexander's Tomb : Demetrius His Urn ( when he was dead ) was crowned thus . Not any man more worthy of this Bay , Then he for whom we celebrate this day . A King he liv'd , most worthy to be crown'd , In whom so many graces did abound . A King he di'd , Deaths Victor now sits down In Heaven resplendent , with a glorious crown , When Death uncas'd his Soul , it to Heaven tended , And by his declination he ascended . How now grim Death , whence cometh thus thy rage ? What , could'st finde none but th'Phoenix of our age , To exercise thy cruelty upon ? No twinkling Star , none serve thee but the Sun , Thus to eclipse ? How do'st thou think shall we Deport our selves , when we no Sun can see ? Whence this thy hate to break our Rule and Line , To take our Pattern from 's that was Divine ? Hadst thou no white , but innocencies heart , Whereat to level this thy forked dart ? O 't is not he , but we that feel the smart . Lo here a Spectacle we see , To teach us all , what we must be . Wouldst know thy mettal ? then look on The Mould and Earth , thou tread'st upon . Look here proud man , behold thy Mother , For at the first , thou hadst no other : She brought thee forth , thou art her son , Flesh of her flesh , bone of her bone . Thou must repay again , what she hath lent thee , Thy flesh thy bone , and what e'r else she sent thee . Tho. Marriot . M. A. On the Death of that Noble Patriot of his Country Sir Nath. Barnardiston . I Heard that many Poets went of late In a full throng to knock at Heavens gate , Humbly beseeching Jove of his quick brain , ( From whence Minerva , without Mothers pain , Or Midwifes help , a witty Dame did flow ) Some few small Particles on them bestow ; And highly their immortal souls inspire , With a divine and active nimble fire ; That they might fancies , quick , and high conceive , And might even Virgil of his Bayes bereave . 'T was granted ; then in haste to Helicon , With fury rapt beyond themselves they run , And for their guide , among the nine they chuse , A fullen , melancholly , pensive Muse , To shew that bitter stream of Pegasus , That prompted Naso with De Tristibus : Of this they largely drinking to their fill , Did into farre more bitter tears distill , Sounding aloud , in hideous lamentation , As when Plague , Sword , and Famine fright a Nation . I wondring , curiously the cause desir'd , VVhich so much wit , and so much grief requir'd ; 'T was answer'd in a sad , and doleful voyce , By one whose sorrows did surmount his noyse . Alas ! of all good men ( of such though blest , The Catalogue 's but short ) we ' ave lost the best ; Prince in his Tribe , his Countries Patriot , By election made , not undiscerning Lot ; A just , wise , honest , noble Senator , Lover of Peace , contentions Arbiter , Patron of Learning , Poverties releife , The Angels joy , and ease unto friends grief . Farewell , brave Soul , whom now the Saints do greet , In all things high , but in thine own conceit . These great Elog'ums did me little move , ( A stranger to his person , and his love : ) Beside , I knew that Poets , some for gaine , Many for feare , and more for hunger , straine The musick of their pliant , giddy passion , To any humour of Mecaenas fashion ; Yet some impression I must needs admit , Seeing whole Families , and Hamblets sit Like Israel by Euphrate discontent , As if his absence were their banishment . I therefore did unto the Funerall show , If not a Party , yet Spectator goe ; There was the much lamented herse let down , In hope of resurrection to a crown ; In silent vault confin'd with worms , and dust , Where marble must consume , and iron rust ; Whence we expect a glorious release , For th' seeds corruption tendeth to increase . But when I saw the mournful Dowager , Like Mary Magdalen by th' Sepulcher , Fixing her eyes upon the greedy grave , Which humane flesh unsatisfi'd doth crave ; As if in that cold bed she 'd rather lye , Then part with her old loving company . When Children , Nephews , Kinsmen there stood dumb , Like Images , to deck the dead Knights Tomb ; I could not then refraine , but these tears lent , As drops to th' Sea , their sorrow to augment . Sure he was very good , who when life fayl'd , Left so much wealth behind , and 's yet bewayl'd ; Whose heir can slightly look upon his gold , And wish't i th' live Testators hand untold ? But grieve not Sirs , nor envie him , his mind , He 's far above what he hath left behind ; Nathaniel is not dead , but was entic'd , To leave his Fig-tree , for to follow Christ . Edmund Vnderwood . A Funerall Elegie on the Right Worshipfull Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston . WHen Abner dy'd , King David then could say , A great man fell in Israel that day . But how may we lament , to see Gods hand , Thus snatch this great and good man from our Land ? This our right Worthy , Sir Nathaniel ▪ Who did not suffer guile in him to dwel ; But when our giddy-headed Nation run After strange Meteors , he most like the Sun , Kept on his course in Justice , Truth , and Right , And shin'd more clearly in this sable night . Rend now your hearts , and be confounded all , That love the truth , at Barnardistons fall ; When such strong pillars from the Church are ta'ne VVhat can we judge in reason to remaine , But desolation ? yet great Jove can still Extract much good from greatest sence of ill . Near forty years hath he most glorious been , In strengthning vertue , and suppressing sin ; Of all that knew him was he most renown'd ; And now by God that made him is he crown'd , And in immortal glory shall remaine , Until that day that all shal rise againe : And then with Christ his Saviour shal appear , To judge all those that were Apostates here . John Soame , Gent. An Elegie on the much lamented death of Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston . VVEre I indued with that learned skil , To mourn thy doleful death , with such a quil As might it grave in lines , as faire , as those Thou wrot'st thy noble life in ; and compose Each sillable by so exact a square , As that whereby thy actions formed were ; Then might I such an Elegie invent , As should thy death unto the life lament ; Then such sad accents , such a doleful verse I might breath forth , as might become the herse Of a Nathaniel , and might fully tell , How sad 's the death of one that liv'd so well : How as th' Inamorato of Sol's ray , The Heliotrope , which in the lightsome day Displayes its widest beauty to his light , Doth closed mourn his absence in the night : So doth the Country , which with great desire VVont to receive th' influence of that fire Of prudent Piety , which from thy brest Sent forth most glittering rayes , but now ( th' art blest Else-where with light more glorious , and dear ) Lament thy setting in our Haemisphear . But 't is an Art my ruder Pen can't reach , To mourn thee as becomes ; and so to teach Strangers to know thy pious worth , and see How great a joy all good men lost in thee . Besides , to speake so highly in thy praise , As thy true worth requires , may chance to raise ▪ In some mens mindes mistrust of flattery , And thy due praise be thought Hyperboly . But since perhaps : it might be thought a crime , Now to be wholly dumb , at such a time , When so renown'd a Heroe cals to speake ; Somewhat I 'le say , though but in accents weak , And yet but little wil I speake , and that Not in thy praise ; ( Reader , do'st start hereat ? ) The reason 's this ; Not that I envie thee , That , which is known of all , thy due to be ; But that thy worth far doth my Pen transcend . And he that poorly praise doth discommend . Not to disparage then thy worth in Layes , Too meane by far for thy deserved praise : All that I le say is only this , to tell , Thy worth needs not my praise , 't is known so well . Ralph Garnons . M. A. On the Right Worshipful and ever honoured Knight , Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston . A Grave ! a Funeral ! my Muse , no toyes Become this Scene , no fancies like decoyes , To tangle Readers in a pleasing maze Of lofty words , wrapt in Luxuriant phrase : These are not seasonable , now our verse Can nought else speake , or think of , but a herse . That Macedonian Trumpet , that did bring Memento mori to a mighty King , Instead of Ave Phillip , late hath brought Vs doleful newes , a sad disastrous thought . Stand off , come not too near , give aire , give breath , I faint to speake of late unweildy death , Snatcht not a Philip , but Nathaniel hence , An Israelite , that of no guile had sence , One whose rare piety that 's much admir'd , Speake him an earthly Angel , though attir'd In Robes of Flesh ; one of a higher mind , Then could to lower regions be confin'd , Whose heaven-born soul did still in contemplation , Passe o're those heavenly joyes , whose adumbration He fully now enjoyes ; those pleasing shades , In sweet Elysi'um , where joy never fades : Those Hills of Solyma , where purest streams Make glad the region of that Sun , whose beams Those healing wings , continually refresh The Sacred Pilgrim , when dis-rob'd of flesh : There rests this holy Saint ; what heretofore He could but see in part , and wish for more ; H'ath now attain'd : O rare state of perfection , The end of hope , joyes center , Saints election . Nor did his strict religion onely speak His Peerless worth , which we ( alas ) poor , weak , And crazy mortals , knew not how to prize : But he had gifts more obvious to our eyes , Love to his Country , whose affairs he minded With so great care , that none but envy-blinded Can cease condoling him , whose name who hears In future times shall steep himself in tears : And like sad Niob ' , standing o'er his Tomb , Shall kiss the Earth , in whose most happy Womb He lies inclos'd ; and to his sacred Urn , As to a Delphick Oracle shall turn . But stop my Muse , his V●rtues so transcend Thy weak expression , that perhaps i' th' end Thy minde may be mis-deem'd , and some may raise An argument against thee from thy praise : Better forbear to speak , then speaking wrong The harmless dead , to whom all praise belong : Condole we then his loss , his Vertues pass , Prais'd by themselves , engrav'd in firmest Brass , Which time shall ne'er wear out , nor malice blot , But Fame shall render blameless without spot . Yet this admit , the more his Vertues shone , Our loss the greater , and the more our moan . O for a Mount of Tears to sleep upon , Acis or Biblis , for a Helicon : But wishes boot not , clear we then our eyes , He 's singing now triumphant Elegies . Whil'st we poor mortals groveling here below , Fall short of that his praise , we fain would show . This onely dare we own , that for his Herse , If fancy fail , yet grief hath made a Verse . Abrah . Garnons , M. A. The Offering of an Infant-Muse to the Memory of Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston . YOu Sager Heads , that do attend this Herse , Accept the Homage of a Yonglings Verse . Tears are griefs rhetorick , and a Childe though weak , Knows how to weep , before it learns to speak . I have my end , although my stile be rude ; Who do not study wit , but gratitude . This Noble Gentleman , when first I came Into the world , bestow'd on me my Name . Now he hath lately left the world , shall I Foolishly modest , suffer his to die ? What though far abler Pens applaud him , yet They meant to pay their own , and not my debt . His prayers for , and favors to me shown , No other Muse proclaims besides my own , Which though a new-Born spark , yet such a Name , May quickly mount it up into a flame : A Name wherein you nothing mean , can spy His Birth , Place , Person , Graces ; all were high Whilest here : But now he in those heights doth dwell , That nothing , but an Angels tongue can tell . My Infant-Muse opprest with such bright glory , Leaves flaming Seraphims to write his story . Nath. Owen . Anno Aetat. 12o . Obsequies to the Memory of Sir Nath. Barnardiston , Kt. GIve leave ( my Friends ) unto this sable Herse , To offer up a Tributary Verse : Even such , as love and sorrow shall suggest : Sorrow ne'er made good Poet , Love the best . O! how much rather , if th'all ordering hand Of Providence Divine ( which none withstand ) Had so dispos'd , I would have brought this day My salutary vows ; but now the way To joy 's shut up : The scene which whylome we Thought Comick , now ends in a Tragedy . Where were yee Galen and Hippocrates ? Thou Paracelsus , who didst vainly please Thy self , to boast with thine Elixar's art To make a man immortal ? could'st that part Have acted here , or some years lusters more , Have added to his lives lease ? on this score , Like loyal Romans for Augustus , we A during statue to thy memory Would have erected ; grav'd thy name in Brass , Lasting to ages glory : But ( alas ! ) Nor Themison , nor Aesculapius , Machaon thou , nor Podalirius , Mongst the Galenick Nation , though you be Cheif Doctors , could you bring a remedy To supersede this fate : That hand that gave This wound ( Achilles like ) could onely save : Then which no other weapon-salve , I know , Nor universal medicine here below . He 's therefore gone , and we alive to see , The Monument of our mortality , His sacred reliques ; and remember what He was in 's life , and study to be that . But is there any that will undertake , To write his copy ; I fear his hand will shake , Or 's Pensil's dull , or some fault in his eyes , That he 'l indent deform'd obliquities . Yet his clear eye , and steady hand ne'er drew , But strait lines from the center , for he knew And learn'd from such a master , who alone Could guide the hand and hearts position . And so he guided was , that few are seen On this worlds Theater , or er'st have been Equal proficients with him in this art , This heavenly art of living well ; which part He much adorn'd , and 't was his greatest grace , And worth's embellishment in such a place , As God had set him , to be good as great ; Goodness and greatness , both well here did meet In him . How soon began ! for in his prime He chose ( not like luxurious youth ) his time To spend in th'ages wanton revellings ; But sought that merchandize , which onely brings That great advantage ( after all his care And travel ) now possess'd , without all fear Of loosing : he by firm indenture bound Himself to God , not for years ; for he found They might expire , and 's Fathers legacy Was more then this poor worlds annuity . Therefore in graces tenure , humbly he Cast anchor unto all eternity . And now his torn , and weather-beaten bark With the worlds storms and tempests , like the ark Puts int' a quiet harbor , even as that Rested upon the Mountain Ararat . He left this world i' th' storm by Land and Sea , Yet he a calm and sweet tranquillity Found in himself ; as one that swom to Land , Having scap'd shipwrack , doth i' th' Harbor stand Safe and secure ; yet viewing with sad eyes The Monuments of Neptunes cruelties : Or he whose ship from some far Countrey bound , Laden with Gold and Spice , at length hath found The wished Port , prayes that his Friends may see , The like returns advantage ; so did he , Having receiv'd his lading home secure , Prayes God , the States and Churches to ensure . But whil'st we minde his gain , we value not Our loss , nor can : The Saints indeed have got One that will bear a part with them , whil'st we Are left to sing a doleful Elegie . To mourn , becomes us well ; here needs no art To paint a tear , that comes not from the heart : Or that we hire some ancient praefica'es To howl their well-dissembled nania's . For such sad Sables ( Sorrows Livery ) Well may they hold a semblance to the eye , Of some thing which we see ; but for the rest Behinde the Curtain , Cannot be exprest . So did that Artist when he came to draw The Parents grief , for Iphigenia , Cast o'er a veil , ( the rest within made good By an Aposiopesis understood ) Then draw the Curtain here ( my Muse ) and tell , The World thou can'st with no lines parallel , Their grief , whose honor 't was once to have had , A Wife , or childes relation here : So sad Appears the Scene , There 's none that bears apart A mourning robe , without a mourning heart . Yet once again ( thou Cypress tree ) Let me now pluck a branch from thee ; Bitter constraint , and saddest wo , ( Alas ) compels me so to do . Thou wont'st not to receive a call To every vulgar funeral . We 'll therefore not impropriate Thy custom , since 't is our sad fate To loose a Heroe of that worth , As nature rarely bringeth forth . Mourn then , for on this woful Beer Lies one , that hath not left his Peer . For whom the Heavens ( as if too long , They had expected him among His Fellow Saints ) at last have sent Now to compleat their Parl'ament . Saxa ruunt Mausoli invisa , ruuntque Colossi Mole sua ; & si quae porrò Monumenta vetustas Condidit , illa abolevit edax ; vel quicquid Apelles Pinxerit , aut si quid Lysippus duxerit olim , Apparent nusquàm ( ne subsistente ruinâ . ) At meliora tibi pietas Monumenta locavit , Quippe fides tua clara ( aevo rarissima nostro ) Te petrae inseruit . Titulo te posse carere Ergone Marmoreo ? licet aut componere parvis Maxima ? Namque Choro coelesti ascriptus iniquum Ut remeare velis divisis mente Britannis . Qui tamen , ( et si nos tot blandimenta nepotes Chara reliquisti ) superes ubi nulla cupido Invadet redeundi , non si populusve senatus Antiquum ad meritumque locum revocare potesset . Consociare tuis , te suaviloquentior usquàm Nec fuerat dum tu fueras , nec amantior ullus Qui potuit . Quoties dextram ( Venerande ) benignam Tu mihi , quàm gratos amplexus saepe dedisti , Nulli ementitos ? verus monitorque fidelis Idque frequens mihi ; cultor eras quia tu neque parens Numinis atque alios mecum suadere solebas . Oh quoties & quae nobis memoranda locutus Digna velut clavo maneant infixa trabali ? Nam neque tu quenquam vano sermone morari , Pejorem solitus coram aut demittere tristem . Quos vultus , quales vidi candore micantes ! Atque oculos ? mihi quos spectare ( heu non licet ultra . ) At nunquam ? Oh nunquam nostras resonabit ad aures Vox antiqua sonos modulans mihi quàm bene notos : Nam mihi nunc superas heu dissociabilis ; oras Lenta nimis vela impellent suspiria nostra Hasce iterum infidas , ut frustrà referre conemur . Ast ego quando quidem nobis te fata tulerunt , O quàm te memorem , & memorans suspiria ●undam , Dum maestus reddam solennia vota Sepulchro . Joh. Clopton . Gent ▪ An Epicedium upon the death of that thrice worthy Knight , Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston , eminent for Piety to God , love to the Church , and fidelity to his Country . IT 's easie for to write an Elegie On common fates , great sorrows stupifie ; A toe or finger lost , we can complain , But wounds receiv'd in liver , heart , or brain , ( The parts that be architectonical ) Oppress the sence , we should complain withall . A cask that nought , but the light air doth hold , Sounds far more shrilly , then one fil'd with gold ; Fleet streams are clamorous , the deepest joyes And sorrows , their own depth do keep from noyse . Our losse so vast , as would a country breake , We want both help to bear , and strength to speak . What is 't to hear a wife , or children cry , Should such a father , such a husband dye ? Or a few mournful Schollars make this moan , Our-dear Mecaenas , our best friend is gone ; Th' expences of a sorrow that 's thus large , Should be borne out at a whole Nations charge ; A publick taxe of grief , whole subsidies Of tears , and freely given , wil scarce suffice . Where are you all , who while he was alive Own'd none but him , your representative ? Resound a Barm'stons name , cannot that breath Which silenc'd other Rivals , silence Death ? Shal the graves prison your free choyse prevent , And break a priviledge of Parliament ? Tell him , he hath your suffrages , least we Judge you have lost your voyce , as wel as he ; But since your tongues avail not , let your eyes Discharge their last debt to his obsequies . Tears have a strong ( though silent ) eloquence ; You cannot speake , yet sigh thus out your sence , Our Patriot is dead , who oft was known , Saving our freedoms , to have lost his own . From right who would not swerve , or conscious wrest , To please a side , or serve an interest ; Who liv'd by rule Divine , and human Laws , And did not dread the power , nor court th' applause Of the wilde multitude , but firmly stood To his first principles , and those were good ; And as his Tenents , so we may be bold To say , his honours and estate were old . H'was born to both , had no need to desire To warm his hands , by 's neighbours house on fire . His plentiful revenues did not rise To higher rates , since taxes and excise ; Fames trump sound 's forth his ancestours renown , When th' Henries , and the Edwards wore the crown ; Mushrooms of Gentry can streight from a blew Be dipt in scarlet , which is honours hue , Yet in his birth and bloud he found a staine , Till 't was innobled , and he born again . You reverend Divines go on to tell His following story , whom he lov'd so wel . You are Gods Heraulds , and by place design'd , T' emblazon his most noble heav'n-born mind ; His faith most vigorous , though crost by sence , Could grasp a promise , eye omnipotence ; Through the black clouds , that 'fore the Church were drawn , He could fore-see her day was near to dawn . The rage of enemies now grown so stout , He judg'd a blaze , before their light went out ; His zeal tow'ring aloft to heavenly things , Yet was discreet , had eyes , as wel as wings ; Humble in height of place , troubles he knew , Though great , yet just ; by bearing , to subdue . His love to Christ , the Church , shone bright as day , Ireland can witnesse , yea America : In all these he enjoy'd the name , and stile Of a true Israelite , and free from guile , Though not from sin , yet in a Gospel sence , Sincerity is counted innocence . This , at his death , caus'd him such peace within , For death scares none , but where it meets with sin . His Noble Lady now disconsolate , Like a true Turtle , which hath lost her Mate , And sad posterity known by their eyes , We do not here invite to simpathize ; 'T were cruelty to straine a bleeding sore , Instead of stanching to provoke it more . Oh , dry your tears up , whilst you stil complain ; You only mind your loss , but not his gain ; Were 't not more love for to rejoyce , as he Doth there , then to wish him our misery ? Repine not at his change , would you again Hear him complaining under sin , and pain ? We in retired corners melt our eyes In tears , and breath our spirits out in sighs , Whilst he in glory is triumphant ; where He never hears a groan , nor sees a tear . Our Muse sings nought but Elegies , his tongue Is now a chanting forth a marriage song . Grieve not at his new honour lately sent , To sit i th' upper house of Parliament , where all three States agree , and none doth strive For Priviledges , or Prerogative ; Before whose bar other great Courts shal come , To give up their accounts , and hear their doom : In this the worlds supream just Council , none Can cause ; or fear a dissolution . Ergo triumphatis inferni finibus , ipsâ Morte exarmatâ , regna superna petis . Quid non fata regunt ? senio monumenta fatiscunt ; Ipsaque cernuntur posse sepulchra mori : Sed pietas & rara sides patriaeque cupido Fervida vicerunt jura superba necis . Dignum hunc laude virum , lex , plebs , ecclesia , cleru● , Catera si taceas , vivere musa jubet . Cistula diffringi potuit , sed gemma superstes Usque nitens , nullo est interitura die . Non is vana fuit ingentis nominis umbra , Praemia sed meritis fama minora dedit . Quem non prava jubens irati principis ardor , Non populi rabies mente quatit solida . Perstitit ut rupes variis vexata procellis , Fixa basi firma , quae tamen usque stetit . Heu ! vereor ne haec magna domus suffulta columnis , Tam validis , ruptis hisce , misella cadat . Joh. Owen . Rect. Wrat . par . To the Memory of that renowned Knight , Sir Nath. Barnardiston , LOok as the Heliotrope the Sun's lov'd flower , That spreads the yellow curtain of her bower At his fair rising , closes it again When he declineth westward to the main : Ev'n so should we , ( our Phoebus gone to bed , ) Shut in our joyes , and hang a drooping head : Our lips in sables dresse , close mourners all , Our tongues are to pronounce a funerall ; A Barmston's funerall ; recall that name , A name so old , 't wil fit the trump of fame ; A name too heavie for a slender quil , Whose very echo would a Nation fill ; A name so good , posterity may run Division on that name , till time were done . Pardon ( great Sir ) we cannot speak thy worth , Apollo's tongue-ty'd , and must lisp it forth ; To score each vertue on thy noble tombe Would strike invention , and the Muses dumbe . What Quire of wel-breath'd Lungs screw'd ne'r so high , Can reach the Ela of that harmony , That did concenter in thy pious brest , Warb'ling forth Airs , such as the Sphears might feast ; Sweet consort ! where the Graces tune their throats , And vertues chant their Polyphonian notes , Striving t' excel in those diviner Layes , And crown their Master with coelestial bayes . But oh ! we lack an Orpheus in our eares That might distinguish ( they are stopt with tears ) Each lofty straine ; each Rapsody resound , And take each quaver at the first rebound ; Our sence is dul , and cannot comprehend The words they breath'd , unless his Ghost do send A key t' unlock the closet of his heart , ( Which may their language to our eyes impart ) We must dispair to read those Heav'n-borne tones , And be content to spel their minde in groans . Sure 't was his Musick act , he 's gone from hence To Heav'ns-Kings Chappel there for to commence Doctor in glory , and hath left us here To celebrate his feast , our funeral chear . Oh! how his consort , and his mourful train , Their Cristal cisterns broach , draw , tun again , Brim full with tears , each tender eye o' reflows , And proves a running banquet in the close . That friend , who brings a pallate in his eyes , May fill his stomach at these obsequies . But now our dear Mecaenas leads the way , Come , come ; enough , our sorrows cannot stay : The slow-pac'd Mourners wait upon the herse , And teach their feet to tread elegiac verse : The vertues which were inmates in his brest , Hover about , now they have lost their nest ; And fear lest they who had a cage of gold Be forc'd to wander ( charity's so cold ) Nay beg for harbour , woo each heart they meet , Yet find no lodging but a winding-sheet . Unhappy hand of fate , that went about To make the holes whereat these Birds flew out● These pretty Phil'meles hop from flag to flag , Filling th' air with sweetness , as they wag Their lovely wings , each eare with elogies , And thus extol their patron to the skies . VVhat soaring pinion's able to expresse That wel ground constancy , the sole impresse That rul'd thy actions , and as firmly stood As doth the Oke the Monarch of the wood ; VVhose stately towring top scorns to strike sayl , ( Like to the Poplar ) to each whiffling gale , And dance a quaver with a trembling bough , VVhen Boreas plays a crochet on his brow ? Men now adays in such a posture stand , That 's ready to receive each base command : Blow what wind wil , like the wind-serving Vane , They wil comply , then as you were again . Mechanick spirits with their supple joynts Can ring the changes to a thousand points , And please their ears too with that Stygian sound , That 's harsh enough ev'n Babel to confound . But Barm'ston moved in an higher sphear , Disdain'd to crouch unto degenerous fear , And on the Hinges turn his Patron knee , To dance the humours of disloyalty . Blush , blush you servile natures , that can mould Your very souls into what frame you would ; New cast your moulds , and work your brittle clay To such a temper , as with honour may Heav'ns-broad-backt Porter Atlas strength excel , And under-prop the Churches cittadel , And tott'ring state . A pillar we have lost By deaths unhappy stroke ( our glory 's crost ) An ancient Pillar , whose firm basis stood Supporters of the truth , and what was good , Ev'n when surrounded with the dangerous seas Of Errors , ●●hisms , and Metamorphoses ; Call it Seths pillar , wonder , and vouchsafe To read th' inscription in this Epitaph ; Behold Nathaniel , sayes sacred style , An Isra'lite indeed , in no guile ; An holy vessel tunn'd with noble breath , By Surgeons broacht , to be drawn out by death . Mirrour of goodness , and of constancy , Gods gift , our losse , within this vault doth lye . Quòte , maesta pedes ? an quò via ducit , in aedem ? Musa ▪ perantiquum quid petis aegra locum ? Fortè sepulchrales mens est invisere sedes , Et veterum exuvias ; ossaque spectra times ? Flebilis illa refert , vix ora in verba resolvens , Heu ! cineres magni nominis urna tenet ! Et dictura fuit Barmston , dolor occupat ora , Sic vox ipsa haeret faucibus : exit Io. Tesequar ; at lentis pedibus modò currite versus ; Funeris , heu , maestos cogor inire modos ! Stella serena poli cecidit jam gloria nostri ; O decus ! O nostri stella serena poli ! Hac signante viam , non qualem erraticus ignis Nil metuit populus , stagna profunda , dolos . Infaustos nusquam radios diffudit in orbem , Evomuitve iras , bella nefanda , neces . Indidit huic nullas vires natura malignas , Quales cancer habet , scorpius , a●que canis . Quin dedit aspectus aequos frontemque benignam : Luce sub innocuâ non latet ulla lues . Scilicet innumeri fulgent hinc indè planetae , Et nova dispergunt lumina : quale decus ! Fert quasi stelliferam per dorsum stellio sphaeram : Sed cave , tabificam pixida pectus habet . Lucifer Angelico zeli larvatus amictu , Decipit incautum credulitate gregem . Augustam Phoebi faciem mortalibus aegris . Invida opaco aufert corpore Luna suo . Non tulit haec nostrum , magno dum luxit in orbe Aequali peragens tramite Sydus iter . Meeoenas , Trabeatus , Eques , Pascit , Colit , Ornat , Clerum , Jus , Patriam , Munere , Voce , Fide. Singula quid memorem ? Nil non laudabile Barmston , Stemmata nobilitans , stemmate prisca suo . Nubibus immunis translato est mortis Horizon , Occasu claro , pulchrior ortus erit . Ra. Astel . An Elegy on the Death of the Right Worshipful Sir NATH. BARNARDISTON . IF Davids Worthies , God himself recount In Writ Divine , which doth humane surmount . If Christ , the anointing of his holy Head Deign'd , as an honor done t' his Funeral Bed ; And to requite this pretious Maries favor , Embalm'd her name with Everlasting savor . Then do we not amiss , this faithful Knight To praise and recommend ; if so me might Hereafter move to pious emulation , Posterity by holy imitation . And not his Son alone , to bear the Name And Heir his Grace , but others gain the fame Of being like this er'st renowned Knight , To equal and surpass him , if they might . ( Whil'st others envy ) Ministers are bound , His praise by Word , and writing forth to sound . To him who did Prophets on Earth receive , Prophets reward , both God and Man shall give . Nathaniel don coruscus Barnardiston Vixit in hac terra nobilitatu● Eques . Vixisset semper , regeret si stamina vita Vox populi , cujus claruit auspic●it ▪ Clarus ad invidiam , quem sic neque dira simultas Flexit ab officio carcere , sive mini● . Mista priora novis , nec summa pericla movebant Obstrictum Patriae cum pietate Deo. Eripit hunc nobisque suit mors scaeva , videmur Orbatam patriam flere , perinde domum . Quem Deus indid sit , rapuit mors sava , queremur , Non rapuit reddens officiosa Deo. Ossa quidem nobis anima ascendente reliquit ; E●apsam ut vestem quam tenet arca pia , Qua , Deus expurgans simul & fulgore deaurans , Regis in adventu vestiet ad thalamos . Haec vates sperans , ovat gestitque videre Nunc Monumenta spei , tunc documenta rel. . Observantiae causa posuit . Clemens Ray . On the Death of that most Illustrious and worthy Knight Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston . OFt have I seen ( in veiwing Monuments ) Of Roral Drops from Marble strange descents : Wonder not why this Rocky Marble weeps ; For lo ! here Noble Barnardiston sleeps The sleep of death ; 't is strange to cloudy sence , That in the Tomb there seems no difference 'Twixt just and unjust , Pebble and the Gem. Here vertue seems to wear no Diadem . 'T is strange here seems to fall such equal lots Upon the Traitors , and true Patriots . But cease fond heart to wonder , 't is not hard , God is to such th'exceeding great reward ; And sure to him , who yet could ne'r be wone To act a Proteus in Religion . Reward in life , he met with great renown , God did his faithful acts with glory crown . Reward in death , for ( when the world shall see Those Pha●tons in dust interred be , Both names and bodies too ; and them shall laugh To scorn , to see no better Epitaph Then this : Lo here their skeletons are laid , Who once their Country , and their Church betray'd : ) His name shall live as one , that witness'd well Himself to be a true Nathaniel . ACROSTIC . Nomen in aeternum , Barnurdistone , perenne Augusta humanum pectus dum capsula condit , Tulampas terris ast inter sydera coeli , Haud minimus meliore tui jam parte manebis : Accingens radiis nitidis tua tempora Phoebus , Noster amator eras , artis sophiaeque patronus : Imminuere decus gentis , virtutis honorem Electi Heroes ; fidei tu semper amicus ; Lex tibi grandis erat virtus quae nescia vinci . Bruma perennis adest nobis te sole cadente , Astra calore carent nitidi sine lumine Phoebi , Rara fides genti virtus procerumque propago , Nostrorumque decus capitis tua gloria magni , Ast nihili pendens , tu talia {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} Christi Respectuque Dei : sacrato sanguine venas , Diluvians , causa est magni Theodorè triumphi In coelo solio frueris semperque frueris . Siste viator iter : vultum cortina recondit Talem quem memores lacrimarum flumine deflent Omnes , dona Dei nobis cum numina poscunt , Nos decet hanc deflere vicem , gemituque dolere . Josephus Skinner , M. A. An Elegie on the Right Worshipfull Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston . HEre 's one that was an Isra'lite sincere , In whom all noble vertues did appear ; A faithfull Patriot , one that ever stood Firme to Gods Cause , and to his Countries good ; And yet by cruel death's impartiall hand Laid level with the dust : Who can withstand Death 's all commanding power ? this tyrants Law Is that which keeps the universe in awe ; He nips the Infant blossom when it springs , And aged Snow to dissolution brings : And though the faded Rose year after year ▪ With a fresh colour in her leaves appear , Age knows no spring , and death will not restore His stollen goods , till time shal be no more . O happy those that doe betimes begin To love Christ Jesus , and to leave off sin ; To walk in holy wayes with Simeon old , That in the armes of faith their Saviour hold . The life of such is blest , their death much more , For then they rest from labour , not before . Thus ( worthy Barnardiston ) thou art blest , Who from thy labours and all pains dost rest . Death which for thee a crown of gold prepares , Gives unto us a thorny crown of tears , And puts us in a mourning frame , for we Cannot but have sad hearts , when as we see The Chariots and the Horsmen yeeld to fate , And few such left to guide the affairs of State : But yet our grief for thee shall not proceed , 'T is charity to give to those that need , That 's to our selves ; our miseries and feares Require not only floods , but seas of tears . Therefore for thee we 'l cease our lamentation , And tak 't up for our selves , and for the Nation ; Though for our losse we cannot chuse but grieve , This comfort shal our passions yet relieve ; That heav'n is joyful , and thy blessed state Shall be a means our griefs to mitigate . O what a happy state it were , if we Had no more cause of sorrow but for thee . ACROSTIC . Non audis nostras , Barnardistone , querelas , Aut lacrymis opus esse putas ; sed funera fletu Tu tua nos ornare vetas ; at nos tamen ipsi Haud ita sentimus , vanum licet esse fatemur Atque supervacuum pro te ( vir summe ) dolorem ; Non ita pro nobis , nam mors tibi maxima merces , Ipsa tamen summi nobis est causa doloris , Et poscit lacrymarum imbres , luctumque perennem , Luminaque ut lacrymis turgescant semper amaris . Busta viri tanti studeant ornare Camaenae , Adsit Melpomene , moestisque boatibus auras Repleat , & totus resonet plangoribus aether , Nam pietas & prisca fides , & mascula virtus Angligenumque decus , jam nunc periisse videntur . Religionis honos venerabilis , artis amicus Defunctus jacet hic ▪ titulis & honore priori Impositis parvo turba comitante Sepulchro , Sed lacrymis jam parce , sat est , non prorsus ineptus Te Theodore mori , quisquis vel posse putabit . Onimium Felix frueris meliore senatu , Nil ubi juris habet mors , mars , aut Barbarus hostis . J. C. On the much lamented death of the right Worshipful Sir Nathaniel Barnardiston . I VVonder not that Barnardiston's dead , But rather that he spun so long a thread ; Sure 't is a sound hath eccho'd through the earth , Christs verdict on Nathaniels second birth . Behold an Isra'lite : 'T was then a wonder , But now the Gloworm times that we live under , Write such men Miracles , and they we know Are ceased , dead , and buried long ago . We would enjoy'd him longer , but we knew Who was the gift of God , was Heavens due . ( So Job , he gives and takes ) cease then to tell His worth , whose Epitaph 's a Miracle . {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . Memoriae Sacrum equitis Nobilissimi , Pientissimique Viri , Nathan . Barnardiston . Equ . Aur. QUote corripis , viator , properans ? In hunc tumulum converte oculos , Si modo permiserint Lacrymae & singultus tui . Jacet hic Eques auratus , & vir verè aureus , Sinè fuco Israelita , & absque dolo : Ipsemet enim Nathaniel : Decus Patria , & familiae antiquissimae , Quae inter trophaea sua hoc jactitat , Quòd talem peperit . Amor cleri & Patrocinium : Orthodoxa Religionis ingens exemplar & columen , Veris Evangeliti Ministris tutela & praesidium , Apud eos dum vixerit , Hi omnes ornarunt calculo Mortuum , Lugubri Epitaphio . Quippe quòd his indulsit , ut parentem decuit , Ut filium , auscult avit obsequentissime ; Sic quos humi calcavit aetas impia , Hic fovebat in sin● . Ipsimet enim in deliciis , quos mundus reputat {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . Lumina ecclesiae radiantia , Quae seculi rabies Extincta vult , & effossa penitus . Heu ! quoties 〈◊〉 est , & ( Constantini more ) Deosculatus suaviter . Defe male suisque metuit Reformata religio . Dum talem 〈…〉 Fidei columnam & 〈◊〉 naculum . Quem non gementem audies ? Abiit , hem obiit Noster Nathaniel ; Tam coeli quam terra 〈…〉 Utrobique affulsit 〈◊〉 , Hic equestri cinctus 〈◊〉 , Illic corona redimitus gloriae Improba & aetate degeneri . Cum ultra vivere penitus displicet Eja ! tunc juvat mori . Ultimi in occasu seculi Occasum is passus est , Ut celo fulgeat fortiori jubare Hinc disce Lector ; Tunc tunc nos coelo maturi sumus Cum huic sumus mundo decidui . Posuit honoris Et debitae observantiae ergô . Johan . Allot . Chronogramma . SI patrlae fIDVs perIIt & VerVs aMICVs , VIr pIVs atque bonVs , VIta perennIs erIt . MOrte manet justis sua spes , post fata , futura Soecula cum venient , ultima cumque dies . Optima sanctorum remanebunt lucra virorum Illorum effari gaudia nemo potest . Pessima pravorum remanebunt damna virorum Illorum effari tristia nemo potest . Epitaphium . AN justus periit ? dici hunc periisse licebit ? Non licet ; in Christo non periturus abit . Ast periit justus , dici hunc periisse licebit ? Heu ! periit nobis , non rediturus abit . Rara avis in terris est justus , puraque corda Sunt inter spinas lilia nata Deo. Est constantis opus durum quin ampla corona , Spes perit illius qui recidivus erit . Temporibus duris frigent pietatis amici Vani : sinceri se renovare solent ▪ Talis erat vivus Barnardistonus , & inter Omnes emicuit vir bonitatis amans , Nathaniel vivus fuit , expers fraude doloque Sincerus , constans in pietate fuit . Funus justa petit , justum hunc plorare decebit Ne plorate nimis , non decet iste dolor . Dum vixit Christi valde est gavisus amore , Cum Domino moriens percupit esse suo . Non sibi sed Christo vixit , nunc mortuus ipse , Cum Christo coelis gaudia summa sapit . Ad Lectorem . En perit justus , perit imbrobusque Sorte communi perit omnis , ecce Vanitas mundi , cito transit ejus Gloria fallax . Dum viges fac ut sapas superna , Possidens mundum quasi non haberes , Est pio terris peregrina coelis Vita perennis . Pet. St. Hill. Justa Nathanieli Barnardistono Equiti Aurato . SIccin ' abis ? Ò serve Dei ter maxime , splendor Et columen patriae , & religionis honor . Heu ! nos cur dubio rerum sub turbine linquis , Turbatur mediis , publica puppis aquis . Forsitan ingratum quod sese praebuit orbis , Praemia nec meritis aequiparanda dedit , Vel te subducis dum transit iniqua tyrannis Caelitus ereptus , quod super astra regas ? Irrita vota forent terris obstante caterva , Sed fient coelis omnia quaeque velis . Te te prisca fides , teque ipsa Ecclesia poscit Patronum , fer opem , jam celerato pedem . Quid stas ? at cadis heu ! Deus optime fersque refersque Gloria quòd dederis sit tribuenda tibi . Subtrahis heu nobis , Deus optime quodque dediste , Quod tibi cum placeat , gloria summa tibi . Abstinet a lacrymis quis jam ? turgentia guttis Lumina quis non fert ? nocte dieque fluunt . Ac veluti fierent modò lumina flumina ; cordum Hinc gemitus , dolor hinc , quòd pius ille jacet . Qui steteras à parte Dei , dum vivus adesses , Mortuus aethereas ingrediare domos . Miles ut emeritus Christi splendescis honore , Coeptis susceptis glorificando Deum . Perditur extremus tuus haud orabilis hostis , Mors Christi Domini quod teneare fide . Ergo praestiteris cum quod Deus imperat , euge ! In cameram Domini possis inire Dei . Offert se nobis Israelitica nubes , Parte priore nigrens , posteriore nitens . Quod sis sublatus sequitur nigredo superstes , Quod tua progenies emicat , inde nitor . Ecce triumphantem jam spiritualibus armis , Non secus ac Christum tu , sequar ipse ducem . Jo. French . Art. Mag. Carmen funebre in obitum clarissimi viri D. Nathaniel Barnardiston . equitis Aur. OCcubuit clarus claro de stemmate natus Barnardistonus , gloria certa suis ; Gloria certa suis , magis an genere an pietate Emicuit quaeras : clarus utroque fuit . Sanguinis en quanto fuerat dignatus honore , Mentis candores pingere nemo potest . Effigiem verae virtutis nobilitatis Candoris nivei religionis babes . Flete viri , lugete senes , plorate puellae , Pulpita maesta , sacri funera flete viri . Nos res lugemus nostras , Ecclesia luget , Interitum deflet patria maesta tuum . Te nobis vitia & mores rapuere maligni , In coelis virtus te tua sancta locat : Terra tegit corpus , mens aureo regnat Olympo , Fama Anglos inter celsa perennis erit . Nath. Eyres . In obitum Illustrissimi Domini , D. Nath. Barnardiston , Equitis Aurati . PRo dolor ! insignis succumbit gloria nostri , Nobilium splendor , justitiaeque decus . Spes dulcis Patriae decrescit te moriente , Te vivente , tuo lumine tuta fuit . Aegrite , ●udique carent , & carcere clausi ; His data non tarda sunt tua dona manu . Musarum Pater es , qui sit , post funera Patris Praeterea vereor nullus adesse velit . Fulgida stella cadit non ultra credita terrae Immeritae , at coelis jam quoque fix a manet . Verus amor , spes firma , fidesque insignia Christi , Omnia florebant pectore clausa tuo . Inquè oculis charites habitant & grata venustas , Nec minor es proavis tu pietate tuis . Coelitùs haec bona te sanctum fecere beatum , Et nunc in coelis praemia digna capis . Te lugeant omnes , lacrymis sint undique sparsi , Vestitus nigros induat omnis amans . Qui color albus erat , nunc est contrarius albo : Jam , jam , conveniet luctibus ille color . Haec ego ; dum laudant alii tua facta , tuasque Ingenio laudes uberiore canunt . Rob. Hobart . An EPITAPH . NATHANIEL BARNARDISTON . Anagram . And Art Is In An Noble Hart. A Generous Knight and Noble Heart lies here ▪ I' th' Art of living well , he had no Peer . A true Nathaniel , and void of guile . Stay and admire ( Reader ) but a while , Here Barnardiston lies , our loss bemoan With brinish Tears , as doth this weeping Stone : Here lies his worst , in Heaven 's his better part . True worth , And Art Is In An Noble Hart. Sylvanus Morgan . FINIS . Notes, typically marginal, from the original text Notes for div A61970e-2110 The Author to his Muse . The house of death . A description of Death . The Muses message and complaint to Death , lamenting the death of this worthy Deaths answer● to the Muse . The Muses reply to death . The Angels message to the Muse . A description of Heaven . The Saints glory and happiness , and this Saint among them . M. V. 
A89060	----	An elegie vpon the death of the right honorable, most noble, worthily-renowned, and truly valiant lord, Robert, Earle of Essex & Evve &c. His Excellency, late Lord Generall of all the forces raised by the Parliament of England in defence of the Protestant religion. Who departed the 14th. day of September, 1646. / William Mercer. Mercer, William, 1605?-1676? This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A89060 of text R210635 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.10[84]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 6 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A89060 Wing M1738 Thomason 669.f.10[84] ESTC R210635 99869414 99869414 162618 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A89060) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 162618) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f10[84]) An elegie vpon the death of the right honorable, most noble, worthily-renowned, and truly valiant lord, Robert, Earle of Essex & Evve &c. His Excellency, late Lord Generall of all the forces raised by the Parliament of England in defence of the Protestant religion. Who departed the 14th. day of September, 1646. / William Mercer. Mercer, William, 1605?-1676? 1 sheet ([1] p.) Printed by I.C., London : 1646. With decorative border. In verse: "Cease great Surveyer of this glorious Ball," ... Annotation on Thomason copy: "7tbr. [i.e. September] 29 [with a line through it]". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Essex, Robert Devereux, -- Earl of, 1591-1646 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English. Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Early works to 1800. A89060 R210635 (Thomason 669.f.10[84]). civilwar no An elegie vpon the death of the right honorable, most noble, worthily-renowned, and truly valiant lord, Robert, Earle of Essex & Evve &c. Hi Mercer, William 1646 956 1 0 0 0 0 0 10 C The rate of 10 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2007-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-08 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-09 Pip Willcox Sampled and proofread 2007-09 Pip Willcox Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELEGIE Vpon the Death of the Right Honorable , most Noble , Worthily-Renowned , and truly Valiant Lord , ROBERT , Earle of ESSEX & EVVE , &c. His Excellency , late Lord Generall of all the Forces raised by the Parliament of England in defence of the Protestant Religion . Who departed the 14th . day of September , 1646. The first Elegie . CEase great Surveyer of this glorious Ball , To shine ; you twinkling Constellations all , Stand in your Spheares , as if you all were fixt , And fram'd to make all human Mortals vext ; Restrain your light ; doe not one glimpse bestow Fot our delight , sad mourners here below : You were created in celestiall kinds To glad the mirthfull and solatious minds Who , rapt as 't were , and ravisht with your glories , Might therein walk , and shun disastrous stories : But lo ! your comforts uselesse now , we mourn , You need not more , your heavenly Tapers burn But be as we are ; all beclouded over With Sable Mantles ; and doe not discover Your Orbs a while , but let us live alone Dark as the Night-Owles , sadly to bemoane Our so much losse ; and having wept a time , Give light again ; to let us know our crime Of gu●lt , whereby we greatly did provoke Your high Creator , thus to strike this stroke Against the State ; whose standing did consist As much in him , as could in one be wisht : Our admir'd ESSEX , who still aimed at The height of Honour ; yet Immaculat . But ah ! He 's chang'd , then let us cast our eyes To doe their duties at his Obsequies : Alasse ! what duties can our eyes perform ? Nothing but weep , as 't were , a Winter storm Of such continuance , as with watry Flouds The Earth may swell , and swallow up the Clouds . Could those sad teares , in sorrow we would weep , And shed , till such an inundation deep Did flow so far , as till a new deluge Should threat our ruine , yet we would not grudge Once to regain so great a good as this , ( Pardon the passion of my partiall wish ) Whose worth the vertuous , and the very bad , Bemoan ( now lost ) because , they living , had A Patrone to their vertue ; and the worst Were wonne by his example ; thus both lost ; But now O! march you multitude of Mourners , Seale up this Jewell , wast all your waxen burners About his Tomb ; and take no Trophies hence , This is the last , and least , due recompence Can be perform'd ; O! happy then , that Ark Where lies inshrin'd , such goodnesse in the dark . Farewell , brave Lord , in vain our suits we sue , Soul rest in peace ; To thee once more adieu . The second Elegie by the same AUTHOUR . REeader , the reverend dutie which I owe To this great Haeros , I would have thee know , Moves me to write , though some more learned hand Will try this task , and in my room will stand To state the Case ; lest I Eclipse the light Of his great glory , and impair that right Due to his worth ; yet let me adde one Verse Upon his Dolefull , though adorned Hearse ; Whose Boundlesse vertues , ornaments of Fame , Befits the Gods to glosse on such a Theame . Religious Patron , Peerlesse , Pious Peere , Affections Load-stone lies inshryned here ; Highest in honor , bounty , zeale , and love , Whose rare Perfections ( in a Spheare above My rurall pen ) were plac't ; who did transcend Nature its limits in Courage ; had no end In all those parts and attributes of grace Could be confer'd from Heaven on Human Race , Whose losse all Nations ought lament and mourn , And powre out Seas of teares about his Vrn ; By nature Noble , unblemisht , and renownd , Unparaleld for prudence ; most profound ; Religion , Valour , Fortune , Faith and Wit , All were combin'd ; Here was a patern fit ; A matchlesse mind , magnanimous and just , True , Constant , upright in his highest Trust ; Belov'd of all , whole goodnesse did reflect Upon the best ; and had so strong effect ( By influence infused from above ) Upon the bad , they could not chuse but love . The gods convey'd by their supernall power All worth to him ; yet vanquisht in an houre He was by Fate ; though all the force which Mars Did make , could not subdue him in the Wars . His acts did adde , unto his Nations honor , His rare exploits did prosper so , he won-her More stedfast faith , more upright truth and peace , As never can be canceld in no race . Time shall expire , and all in it shall rot , But his brave Name shall never be forgot , Whose so rais'd fame and excellencies shall Survive the world , yea and its Worthies all . In brief , what Age might speak so proud a word , So good a Man , and yet so great a Lord ? William Mercer . London Printed by I. C. 1646. 
A89134	----	A funerall elegy upon the most honored upon Earth, and now glorious in Heaven, His Excellency Robert Devereux Earl of Essex and Ewe Viscount Hereford, Lord Ferrers of Chartly Bourchier and Louvaine, late Generall of England. Mill, Henry. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A89134 of text R210641 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.10[95]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 2 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A89134 Wing M2056 Thomason 669.f.10[95] ESTC R210641 99869419 99869419 162628 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A89134) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 162628) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f10[95]) A funerall elegy upon the most honored upon Earth, and now glorious in Heaven, His Excellency Robert Devereux Earl of Essex and Ewe Viscount Hereford, Lord Ferrers of Chartly Bourchier and Louvaine, late Generall of England. Mill, Henry. 1 sheet ([1] p.) Printed by John Macock for William Ley, and are to be sold at his shop at Pauls Chaine, London : 1646. In verse: "VVhat do our sighs and tears when Essex dyes,"... Annotation on Thomason copy: "Octob: 22th". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Essex, Robert Devereux, -- Earl of, 1591-1646 -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, English. A89134 R210641 (Thomason 669.f.10[95]). civilwar no A funerall elegy upon the most honored upon Earth, and now glorious in Heaven, His Excellency Robert Devereux Earl of Essex and Ewe, Viscoun Mill, Henry 1646 301 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2007-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-07 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-08 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2007-08 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion A Funerall Elegy upon the most Honored upon Earth , and now glorious in Heaven , His Excellency Robert Devereux Earl of Essex and Ewe , Viscount Hereford , Lord Ferrers of Chartly Bourchier and Lovaine , late Generall of England . VVHat do our sighs and tears when Essex dyes , They are for him but petty Obsequies . For when such Heroe's use to fall a sleepe The drops of rain shew that the heavens weepe ; And those huge stormes , which since his death have fell Say that the world with very grief doth swell . As heavy breathings are thrown all about Puffing at what is left for what is out . What then do lines , why do the Muses try To groan out , not to speak thy Elegie ; And why does each prophane hand to thy hearse Presume to offer up a mourning verse ? Griefe makes men cry , and each Plebean head Doth scan his sighs with pains not scanteled : The more we see , the more we see our losse ; When all affaires are now upon the tosse . Thy birth was Noble , but thy vertue more , Which in the house of fame hath layd a store That will endure whilst that a pen can run , Or mortall threads of life by fate be spun : Thy theame will Volumes fill , and thy faire shade , Of making books will urge a constant trade : Sorrow strikes dum , in this we all are laid , I can say nothing , but I would have said . Henry Mill . LONDON Printed by John Macock for William Ley , and are to be sold at his shop at Pauls Chaine . 1646. 
A30403	----	Two books of elegies in imitation of the first books of Ovid de Tristibus, with part of the third to which is added verses upon several occasions with some translations out of the Latin and Greek poets / by Thomas Ball. Ball, Thomas. 1697 Approx. 162 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 85 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2007-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A30403 Wing B585 ESTC R28342 10543378 ocm 10543378 45220 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A30403) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 45220) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1395:6) Two books of elegies in imitation of the first books of Ovid de Tristibus, with part of the third to which is added verses upon several occasions with some translations out of the Latin and Greek poets / by Thomas Ball. Ball, Thomas. [10], 156 p. Printed for Richard Cumberland, London : 1697. Reproduction of original in the British Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. 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Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Ovid, 43 B.C.-17 or 18 A.D. Elegiac poetry. 2006-03 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2006-03 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2006-06 Derek Lee Sampled and proofread 2006-06 Derek Lee Text and markup reviewed and edited 2006-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion TWO BOOKS OF ELEGIES : In Imitation of The Two First Books of Ovid de Tristibus ; with part of the Third . To which is added , VERSES upon several Occasions , with some Translations out of the Latin and Greek Poets . By THOMAS BALL , M. A. of St. John's Colledge in Cambridge . Turba Poetarum Nasonem novit , & audet Non fastiditis annumerare viris . Ovid. LONDON , Printed for Richard Cumberland , at the Angel in St. Paul's Churth yard . 1697. THE Epistle Dedicatory . TO JOHN HARVEY , Of Thurly in Bedford-shire , Esq ; SIR , WEre Patrons bound to Defend Books they never saw , as Seconds are , to Fight Men they never heard of , I shou'd not have Presum'd to have made You a Dedication ; for I am Oblig'd to tell the World of my Misfortune . You never saw one Line of these Elegies , and so are absolutely disengag'd from all Inadvertencies , Faults , and Follys , of what Nature soever . And tho' Men are generally as fond of the Issues of their Brain , as those of their Body , and partially give it for themselves , without Fault ; I am not so Conceited of mine , as to think I have writ without Mistakes , tho' there is none that I know of . You may remember , in July last , when I made you a Visit about Peterborough , I told you I had some Papers of this Nature in some Friends Hands in Town and wish'd I had had em then , to have taken your Thoughts : Not long after , I received them , and had no reason to alter my Design of Publishing 'em , at one time or another : Then I show'd them to some of my Acquaintance in the Countrey , and several Persons agreeing in the same Opinion , I took up this still desperate Resolution of Printing . It has been a Humour in all Ages , but I believe never so Vniversal as now , for Men to think it a Detraction from their own Character , to give another Man his ; and when Homer has been Burlesqu'd , Virgil Travestied , Waller Criticis'd on , and Cowley Condemn'd , no Body must take it ill . Cowley ▪ was a Man of Admirable Wit , and his Writings will Challenge a Respect , 'till our Poets are inspir'd . Waller indeed writ with more Art , and was the first of our Countrey-men that Affected that agreeable Smoothness , which with his large Share of Wit , makes his Poems perpetually Entertaining . But those that Rail for no other Design than to be thought Critiques , are fond of a Character they are not able to maintain : And tho' they are a great part of Mankind , they are of so different a Complexion from the better part of Mankind , that they have as little Respect as Modesty , and it 's no Reflection to be out of their Favour . When I first began these Elegies , the only Motive to me was my Diversion , and to Persue the Design of Entertaining my self , I Choose this way of Imitation , which admits of more Liberty : And tho' the Alterations are not great , nor many , yet they are too many for a strict Translation . Besides this , I had another Reason , which Prevail d with me , more than my Ease , and that was Ovid s extream Sense of his Misfortunes , in a hundred places of his Elegies : He is so Melted with his Sorrows , that his Complaints discover a Weakness , which is better hid . Ovid's was indeed a very hard Case as could be , and it 's no Wonder if the Affection he had for his own Countrey , the passionate Tenderness for his Wife , and Family , together with the dreadful Apprehensions of the barbarous People he was going to , if all these shockt his Resolution , and made him write his Fears ; and it is rather to be wish'd he had done it seldomer , than to be wonder'd he did it at all . The true Occasion of his Banishment , as far as I can learn , has been a lasting Secret , and men of his own time could but Guess ; the most probable Conjecture to me , is , that he suffer'd not so much for his own Fault , as Caesar's , that he was Conscious of something that made Caesar uneasie ; I don't think it was any Familiarity with Livia , or Julia , that gave him Augustus's Displeasure , and those Verses , Cur aliquid vidi ? cur noxia lumina feci , Cur imprudenti cognita culpa mihi est . signify no more , than that he was unfortunately Privy to some dishonourable Action of Caesar's , and he durst not trust him at home . Had his Crime been of so high a Nature , as to have wrong'd him in his Wife , or Daughter , Banishment had not been Punishment enough : And had it been Livia , he durst not so much as have mention'd her ; but we find him in the second Book of his Elegies , which he writes to Augustus , particularly commending his Livia . Livia sic tecum sociales impleat annos , Quae nisi te , nullo conjuge digna fuit , Quae si non esset , caelebs te vita deceret , Nullaque , cui posses esse maritus , erat . But this is still Conjecture , and all the Proofs that can be Amass'd of either side , amount to no more ; and therefore I shall leave the Reader to his Liberty , without pretending to determine from any of ' em . But whatever was the Occasion of his Banishment , he was Treated with great Respect by those of his own time , and his Writings have been judg'd very Fortunate , by those of several Ages since . The two Seneca's , Marcus and Lucius , Velleius Paterculus , Quintillian , Cornelius Tacitus , Martial , Statius Pampinius , Angelus Politianus , Erasmus , Julius Scaliger ; these and a great many more have all interested themselves in the Commendations of Ovid , and are more than Common Authoritys . And now SIR , if you can find any thing in the following sheets that may Divert you , when Tired with , or Indisposed for better Studies , I shall have the greatest part of my Design , and only want your Pardon for this Freedom , SIR , Your most Obliged , and very humble Servant , T. Ball. The First ELEGY OF Ovid de Tristibus . He applies himself to his Book , that it shou'd go to Rome , and admonishes what 's to be done . GO to fam'd Rome , my Book , thy Verses show , A Privilege thy Master had 'till now ; Go but Undrest , Forlorn , Unhappy go . No Crown adorns a wretched Exile's Brow , No Garb's allow'd , but what his Sorrows show . Vermillion , Purple , that are Fine and Gay , With these , while others Titles flourisht be , Your Page , my Book , must want the Liberty : These are the Ensigns only of the Great , You must reflect your Master , and his Fate , Nor be asham'd of Blots , for all that read Will know , my Flowing Tears the Blots have made . Go , in my Words , and Name , Salute the Town , The much lov'd Place , that I so long have known ; If you shou'd meet a Man shou'd ask of me , Tell him I live not from Misfortunes free ; If he asks more , be silent , let him read , Lest you should say what 's better , much , unsaid ▪ The Reader may my Crimes perhaps repeat , And say 't is just , he suffer'd as he ought ; Be sure you don't defend , tho' you cou'd wound , A Cause that 's ill , Protected , ill is found . If you shou'd find a Friend that shou'd Bemoan , And often weep his much lov'd Ovid gone , And softly whispering , to avoid a Crime , Wish that his Caesar wou'd forgive the sin ; Who e're he is , we wish him happy too , That seems to feel the ills the wretched know : To all he asks may Heav'n indulgent be , May Caesar's Face again Look Liberty , And grant the Privilege at Home to dye . Whilst my Commands , my Book , thou dost relate , The World will damn thee ' cause unfortunate , Exiles are never Witty , Good , or Great . A Judge must weigh the Business , and the Time , What Vertue was , may be esteem'd a Crime , The Muse ne're smiles , but when the Poet does , And who can smile with Clouds upon his Brows ? In blest Security , and Ease , I write , My Thoughts were free , my Verses smooth and sweet ; But since Fates Storms have tost me to and fro , Nor at this Instant do they cease to blow , My Mind 's as rough as troubled Waters flow . While I was safe , I eager ▪ sought for Fame , To Wealth preferr'd the Purchase of a Name ; But now , my Book , in silence softly go , Thy Master's Fame , is like his Fortunes , low . If any one shou'd find it 's mine , and say , This Book is to be Burnt , or Thrown away , The Title show , tell him I write no more Of Love , the Subject of my Books before ; Tell him I 'ave dearly suffer'd for th' Offence , Lost my Estate , as well as Innocence ; But thou , perhaps , wilt look for th' highest Place , Expect that Caesar shou'd Applaud thy Verse ; That thou shou'dst have the Privilege o' th' Court , And be Caresst by all that there resort . O no! let but those Palaces forgive , Those Gods Propitious be , that in them live , No longer Thunder from the Sacred Roof , The Bolts I 've felt are of their Power Proof ; I 've known 'em Gentle , and Forgiving too , Their Goodness like their Power , diffusive flow ; But very lately 't is they Punisht me , The sad remembrance often makes me sigh : The fearful Dove once struck , she always fears The stronger Hawk , when e're the Bird appears ; The Lamb from the Devouring Wolf once free , For ever after Dreads to be his Prey . Cou'd the lost Phaeton but live again , He willingly wou'd own his Pride a Sin ; So having felt the Mighty's fiercest Flame , I own my Fault , and fear to sin again . The Pilots that the Grecian Navy bore , Will always dread the Danger o' th' Eubaean shoar ; The Boat that Ovid and his Fortunes had , Their Navy like , o' th' fatal Place's afraid , Where angry storms a dreadful Shipwrack made . Beware , regard the Instances I 've told , Rather be timerous , my Book , than bold ; What if thy Verse before the People lies ? The Mean may Pity , when the Great despise , While Icarus with Wings to fly , assay'd , He purchas'd this , his Folly nam'd the Flood . How to advise thee well is hard , but go , Time , Place and e'ry Circumstance must show , If a clear Stage thou seest , and all things shine , Like Caesar's Face , before his Ovid's Sin , Yet let your Air be grave , and grave your Mien : Or if a Favourite shou'd take you as you stand , And kindly give you to his Caesar's hand , He that first gave the wound , that caus'd the pain , May , like Achilles Spear , relieve the same , But while you 'de help , be carefull lest you Kill , By daring Thunder , that 's at present still , My Hope 's but small , my Fears are greater far , Lest you Offend , and so Augment my Care. When to my Study thou shalt come , thou 'lt see , Some Books , that had their Characters from me , With harmless Titles most , you 'll find appear , Written before their Authour Guilty were , But in a Corner dark , and fit for them , Three Books will lurking , in a Hole be seen ; Fly these as soon as e're their Form you view , Tell 'em , unhappy Oedipus his Father slew ; And if thy Ovid's words have power to move , Hate 'em be sure , tho' they pretend to Love : Next you 'll behold upon a Shelf , my Book , Some kindred Leaves , that various Forms have took , With these I 'de have you talk , and in your talk , Tell 'em how different from the Man I was , I walk , When Fortune smil'd , and all my Thoughts were Gay , When she seem'd fond to heap her Goods on me ; Tell 'em I 'm Chang'd , and look like some of them , Am wrinkled , old , deform'd , and ugly seen : I have more Cautions , more I am afraid , These very dangerous times , my Book , you 'll need , But shou'dst thou carry all that crouded ly , The Thousand Fears that trouble me , thou 'dst swell , the strongest cou'd not carry Thee . ELEGY II. Ovid Prays the Gods wou'd deliver him from the Dangers of a Shipwrack , and in the Elegy describes the Tempest . YE Gods , whose Power the roughest Torrent finds , Conduct our Ship , half Ruin'd by the Winds , Why shou'd your Wrath , with Caesar's , be encreas'd ? One God has Frown'd , another has been pleas'd , Mars hated Troy , Apollo kind was found , Venus protected , Pallas wou'd have Drown'd ; Aencas strength in Juno's rage had fail'd , Had not another Deity prevail'd ; Neptune persu'd Vlysses with his Hate , While good Minerva , snatch'd him from his Fate . And tho' we 're less than these in Birth and Skill , Much less , why mayn't some God be tender still ? And while one Frowns , another please to Smile , My words like Common Air , confusedly Fly , The Winds all hope of being heard deny , And Waves scarce grant the Privilege to sigh . In vain , I all my Pray'rs to Heav'n direct , The Gods can't hear , not hearing won't protect . Ah me ! the swelling Seas their Surges throw , You 'd think they 'd reach the Stats , so high they go , And parting , a'most show the Shades below . All the vast space I see , is Air , and Floods , Tost by the Waves , and Threatn'd by the Clouds , While different Winds in Murmurs make their Way , The Sea is doubtful which he should Obey ; Eurus his Forces Marshals from the East , When Zephyrus soon Threatens from the West , Fierce Boreas from his Northern Quarter blows , While Notus Charges , Fighting as he goes . Our Pilot in so dangerous a Case , So odd , so terrible a Storm as this , Is yet uncertain what to make , what fly , Such strange Variety of Dangers nigh ; Now while I speak , a Proud , Insulting Wave , Shows me Death waiting for the Life I have . My Pious Wife , so long my Joy , and Care , Knows nothing of the Threatning Storms I fear ; Believes my Banishment , the only Grief I know , Thoughtless at present what I undergo , Did she but see me Riding in the Deep , The Disproportion that the Surges keep , Her Care wou'd double every pointed Ill , And I , for her , two Deaths at least shou'd feel ; This Flash wou'd be a Death , so long the Flame , I plainly saw the Place from when it came , The Treasury where God's their Lightning lay , To burn the World , when all shall disobey : Death I do'nt sear , let but the Tempest cease , Dismiss the Winds , and strike me where you please , Happy to me , the Man that Sickness knows , Or falls by th' Sword , and sinks beneath his Foes , The Earth to such will kindly give a Grave , The Decent Rites of Burial they have ; Their Friends expecting what they wou'd have done , Are nigh , and ready to perform the same , The Wat'ry People that inhabit Seas , Can claim no Priviledge , at all of these : Believe me Heav'n , worthy such a Fate , Besides 't is I , that am unfortunate , Why shou'd these suffer that are hither sent , Not for their Crimes , they 're innocent , 'T is I , not they , deserv'd the Banishment . Ye Gods , whose Voices calm , or swell the Flood , Too long an Instance of your Power you 've show'd , Your Thunder stop , that I may safely tread The Distant Shoar , that Caesar has decreed , Shou'd you resolve to take away my Breath , Caesar , he judg'd my Crime was less than Death ; He cou'd have kill'd , without your Leave , or Pow'r , When e're he speaks , the Criminal's no more ; And tho' before his Throne I guilty stand , I never did , ye Gods , your Heav'n offend ; Nay , shou'd you snatch me from the Waves I fear ' My Ruin still , is much , ah ! much too near , My Doom is Banishment to Lands unseen , Where I must live an Exile for my Sin ; The Hopes of Wealth ne're tempted me to this , Those little Thoughts , I always cou'd despise , Nor yet a Rambling Humour , that once sway'd , And carry'd me to Athens , when unbread , No Curiosity to see the Towns , That Asia from the Neighb'ring Quarter Bounds , Nor does my Vanity to Aegypt lead , To see how Nilus seven Streams are sed ; I rather wish the Winds wou'd guide the Ship , Conduct us safely thro' the troubl'd Deep , And tho' I see Augustus Face no more , Banisht the Court , Despis'd , Forlorn , and Poor , I 'm Shipwrackt yet , a second Punishment , Deny'd the very place of Banishment , Too great a Favour to be safely sent . If any part of Ovid , Gods , you love , My Pray'rs your Goodness , one wou'd think shou'd move , Your later Orders shou'd the storm appease , Confine the Winds , and plain the swelling Seas , Caesar , tho' angry , he expected this . When to the Pontick Land he order'd me , He little thought I in a storm shou'd dye ; The first severe ; my Crime I don't defend , At most , I dare but lessen , what he has condem'd . The Gods they know , what Princes cannot plead , No wicked meaning in my Fault I had , Blind Error led me thro' untrodden Ways , And Folly lost me in the wondrous Maze , But if Augustus House I always lov'd , Next Heaven , Augustus Power approv'd , If I have offer'd in Augustus Name , If I have pray'd a Long , and Happy Reign , Let my Obedience mitigate my Sin , The Seas grow calm , the Air serene : Or if I ask too much , and fondly pray , May I expect my Death without Delay . Enough : my Pray'rs already reach the Skies , And mount a Welcome , Happy Sacrifice , The Clouds are by the stronger Powers chas'd , The Winds allay'd , the Seas already pleas'd , The Gods I pray'd , by me were ne're deceiv'd , Or e're provok'd , but always were believ'd . And being unprovok'd , they 've all reliev'd . ELEGY III. How he went from Rome : The Concern he left his Wife in , and how his Friends and Family lamented his Departure . SAd was the Night , but blacker far my Fears , My Wife , my Children , Servants , all , in Tears , To think the Morrow 's too too hasty Light , Must snatch a Husband , Father , Master , from their sight : My Eyes tho' I had wept so much before , Kept time with theirs , and greedily run o're ; And yet no mind I had to think that I , Must leave not only them , but Italy ; All Preparations for the way delay'd , As Caesar had forgiv'n , and I had staid , Servants , nor yet Companions did I choose , Nor Gold , nor Cloaths of necessary Use , Amaz'd ! I stood like one by Thunder struck , That lives , but never can forget the stroke , When some faint Dawning of my Sense appear'd , My Griefs look'd less , tho' still they show'd I fear'd ' I call'd my Friends the very few that staid , Sighing — at last , Farewell , my Friends , I said ; Friends in misfortunes are so rarely known , I rather wonder'd of the many , I had one : My Wife she lockt me in a close Embrace , Fixt her swoln Eyes , and prest me to her Face , My Daughter that to Affrica I sent , Knew nothing of her Father's Banishment , Too many they , alas , at Home that staid , And wept as tho' some Funeral they had , If great Examples , humble Sorrows take , Such was the Groans , when ancient Troy was sack'd , 'T was then , when Night her deepest mourning had , All things but us , so silent , they seem'd dead . I fixt my Eye upon the lofty Capitol , Joyn'd to my House , that 's like that Building tall , Ye Gods that love this Fair frequented Place , And Temples where your Votary I was , I was , but never more must be , and yet , Hear me ye Gods , from Heav'n , your other Seat , Tho' I too late my wounded Body guard , Torn by the Sentence that I lately heard , Let Banishment if not attone , suffice , To reconcile me to the People's Voice ; Tell Caesar tho' I sinn'd , 't was Ignorance , Design ne're prompted to the great Offence . This you can witness , and can witness true , Tell Caesar this , he must believe from you . Thus I implor'd , while still my Wife she prays , With Tears repeated for the God's delays , Till Sobs cut off the Priviledge of Words , And Wild Disorders no Relief affords , Her Breath return'd , she panting lies along , Prays our Penates , as she 'd often done , But they , as deaf , as common Statues stood , Made by some Vulgar Artist , of the meanest Wood. While day advances with a hasty Pace , The last that I , in Italy must Pass , Uncertain what to do , so much I lov'd My Family , so much my Country mov'd : How often did I say to those that prest , That I wou'd use the little Time I 'd left ! Why do you urge me ? whither shou'd I go ? Where ? do but tell me what you 'd have me do . How often did I drive th' uneasy thoughts away ! E'ne to the utmost minute of my stay ; Thrice I the Threshold touch'd , and try'd to go , My mind unwilling , thrice my Foot withdrew ; Often the kind , sad Word ▪ Farewell , I 'd give , And often gone , repeated Kisses leave , O how my Eyes were fastn'd on my Wife ! My mind obedient , giving all my Life ; How much we lov'd , while Dear Delights surprize ! How we improv'd each Night with lasting Joys ! Why shou'd I go , I said , to Scythia ? Leave much lov'd Rome , and try the Faithless Sea. Ah cruel Sentence ! that must absence give , For Love , a faint remembrance only leave , 'T was very hard , to snatch me from my better part , And wound my Wife , by breaking of my Heart . To banish me my Friends , that nearest stood , Like Theseus Valiant , and like Theseus Good : Thus while I talkt , the Fleeting Minutes past , Half Words imperfectly my Thoughts exprest , I Kist , and Sigh'd , and sadly lookt the Rest . When Day broke through the Windows of the East , Stars disappear'd , but Lucifer encreast , So strangely , so unmann'd , I lifeless stood , Nor thinking , speaking , looking as I shou'd , No more my Brains their ancient Uses know , Than Legs cut off , without the Body go . So Priam griev'd , when he too late beheld The Grecian Horse , with chosen Soldiers fill'd ; Like Trojans then , tho' much in number less , My Family their Griefs in Cries express , My Wife while standing , leaning on my Neck , Mixt with her Tears , her last dear Words she spoke , We must not part , I 'll know thy latest Care , Shall Ovid suffer , and his Wife not share ? A Passenger i' th' very Ship I 'll go , The same far Land , shall both our Sorrows know , Love forces me , and Caesar's Anger you . Thus did she talk , and sigh , despair and groan , Repeat again , what just before she'ad done , Till at the last , with Hair disorder'd all , Wild as my Griefs , my Face a Funeral , With much adoe , I spoke the last Farewell . They say , for now no more her Form I saw , Half dead she fell , when I resolv'd to go , With all the Instances of Horror seen , Dissolv'd in Tears , careless , deform'd , unclean , Her Limbs the Gods with such Exactness made , Like common Blood , upon the Ground were laid , Limbs , that the Gods had often stood to view , Form'd by their own , and as exactly true : Thus tho' distracted , still she often pray'd , Again , she wou'd recall the Words she said , Weep her Penates , with her Husband fled , Then as she 'd seen me , ( Tears run down so fast ) Spread on a Pile , and breathing out my last : One while her Death she fondly wou'd expect , Again she 'd live , but only in respect , She 'd live , to serve her Ovid in his Cares , And may she live , live long to ease my Fears . Now the Ionian Sea all rough we plough , Not as the Merchants , but as Strangers do , Men that are forc'd unwillingly to go , Bless me ! what boyst'rous , strange , unheard of Winds , Blackens the Sea , and shakes the quicker Sands ? A Daring Wave , that undistinguisht flys , Profane , assaults the very Deities , As tho' because , upon our Ship they 're made , The Gods no other place had ever had , No , never thunder'd from their blest Abode . The Pilot's Horror in his face we view , No hopes of gaining any Port he knew : As when a resty Horse , a weak man rides , With care a while , the Pamper'd Beast he guides , But when he can no more his mouth command , He throws the Rains , and rides him to a stand : Just so , our Pilot , did our Vessel guide , 'Till all too little for the Waves , and Tide , Then like the Horseman , let 's her drive apace , Without the Rains with which she guided was . And if the God that Thunders from his Den , Had not chain'd up an Awkward Wind again , Much worse we'ad far'd , for back we went , Half to the Place from whence Augustus sent , Which made me Pray , with earnest Accents too , The Gods wou'd hear me , that Augustus knew ; Heare me I cry , for once forgive my Crime , One Jove's enough to Thunder at a time , Snatch my Departing Life from Gaping Death , Give me the Priviledge a while to Breath , And if your Power can reverse my Doom , Let Caesar smile , and I again see Rome . ELEGY IV. To his Friend that had been serviceable to him in his Misfortunes : Towards the latter end of the Elegy he compares his Sufferings with Ulysses's , but makes 'em much greater . MY better self ! whose Friendships run so high , My very Life 's a Debt , my Friend , to thee , Well I remember the sad time , when you , Officious in the Service you cou'd do , Advis'd me kindly , and would often Sigh , And argue still , when I resolv'd to dye : You know to whom I speak , I need not name , This Sign implies as much , as Letters can : Here in the close Recesses of my Soul , I keep each Circumstance entirely whole , And when Pale Death shall summon me away , The latest Instance of the Time I stay , I 'll breath your Praise , and his commands obey . For so much kindness , may the Gods bestow , More than you ask , all that the Happy'st know , My Fortune still be proud to serve you well , Dispence her best , nothing of what I feel : But had not Winds detain'd me on the Sea , Then I 'ad known less , much less perhaps of thee : Fam'd Pirithous , ne'r knew his Theseus Faith , Till his last Act had hurry'd him to Death , When Theseus do's to deepest shades descend , And dares the Furies that detain his Friend : Nor had great Pylades his Friendships shown , Had his Orestes never Dangers known : Had not the Rutili Eury'lus slain , No Story of his Nisus wou'd remain : As Gold refin'd by Fire , is purer far , So Friends by being try'd more certain are , While Fortune drops her use of Wings , and stays , Always appearing in an easie Dress , Airy , yet constant , when less free , still good , While thus , her Fav'rite's lifted by the Croud , Happy , he lives the general Applause , All is admired that he says , or does , Friends are so many , that he only fears , He shall be less his own , and too much theirs , When Fortune jealous of her Constancy , Assumes her Wings , and shows that she can fly , Vain were his Fears of all the flatt'ring Crew , Not one , my Friend , that stays or loves like you , Regardless , as a Man unknown , he goes , And he that cring'd but yesterday , scarce bows : This from th' Unfortunate , I early drew , But little thought , that I shou'd prove it true , Not four I 'ad left , that wou'd my Dangers share , Th' other , not mine , they Fortune's were , Let this ye Pious few , Compassion move , Assist , nor be afraid my Friends , to love , No angry Being will believe you sin , Or from his Heav'n curse your good Design , Caesar he lov'd , in Enemies , a Soul like this , Nor can it please him in his Subjects less , My Case is better too , no Plots I 've laid , My Folly only , has my ease betray'd , Then Pray those Guardians that our Earth attend , They'd Punish less , when we their Pow'r offend . If any one wou'd know my present Grief , It 's so Prodigious , it is past Belief , The Stars are , than my Wrongs in number less , Nor can the Attoms that i' th' Sun encrease , Distinctly , all the wond'rous Tale express . So strange , so terrible the thousands seem , They 're more than e're the Melancholy Dream , Part , tho' uppermost , are yet supprest , And never must go farther than my Breast : Ye Poets , that Vlysses wrongs recite , Instead of his , your Ovid's Suff'rings write : 'T is true , he spent a certain Term of Years , And wandring bent beneath some Cares , Between Dulichium , and Troy he steer'd , This was no Distance to be so much fear'd , But we , in widest Seas so far from Home , Must fail , where Stars are seen before unknown : He always had a faithful , certain Band , A happy number at his sole Command , So much I differ from Vlysses here , That of the many , I han't one , so near : An Exile from a pleasant Country sent , Had it been Ithaca , I 'd been content , Dulichium had scarce been Punishment , But Rome ! from Rome , is more than Banishment ! From seven Hills she views remotest Lands , Awful , with so much Majesty the stands , That highest Gods have made her their Retreat , And Rome next Heaven , sure 's the sweetest Seat. Vlysses Body , long inur'd to war , Knew nothing of the Ills , the weaker fear , So different a Mould from his , is mine , I 've often shrunk at what I 've only seen , Instead of War , my Books , my Care have been . While Jove he breaks his Thunder on my Head , Had I more Friends , in vain wou'd be their Aid ; A Goddess Guarded him with nicest care , Snatch'd him from all the Dangers that were near . And since he 's less , that Governs in the Seas , Than he that Governs in the highest Skie's , Much better was his Fate , my Friend , than mine , Jove ruins me , while Neptune threatn'd him : But then , think how the greatest part is made , Only suppos'd , the half he never had , My Griefs are all too certain , much too plain , No Fable do's embellish ought that 's mine . Besides : At last he reach'd his Houshold Gods , Pray'd his Penates in their old Abodes , But I can never hope Vlysses Place , Till Caesar smiles , and Heaven thunders less . ELEGY V. He writes to his Wife , and takes Occasion to Commend the Constancy of her Affection , Compares her with the best of her Sex , but excuses his Inability in Writing , while he is still Wrack'd by his Misfortunes . APollo Lydia lov'd , but not as I , My Dearest Wife , have always , Child , lov'd thee , Philetus tho' his Nymph , and Song , Divine , Lov'd not his Battis , with a Love like mine , You so entirely have each part of me , That my Affection a'most merits thee , But ah my Injuries ! and yet I find , You smile , my Dear , tho' all the World 's unkind , Your Prudence guards me from severest Foes , That think , my Freedom e'nt enough to lose , Men that wou'd Rob me of my Life , Estate , And all the Goods I ever valu'd yet . As a Devouring Wolf , by Hunger Led , Ranges the Field , and eager thirsts for Blood , When he espies , Ungarded , from afar , Some Sheep , that have escap'd their Shepherd ' care , He takes his Prey , nor will the weakest spare , Or as a Vulture Hovering to feize , Some wretched Carkass , that unbury'd lies , So did these strive , by Force to ruin me , While guarded still on e'ry side by Thee , Hector's Andromache , of Old so Fam'd , Must not be mention'd , Dear , when you are nam'd , She wept her Hector , whom Achilles slew , Paid the accustom'd Rites that Widdows do , But living , never cou'd oblige like You. Good Laodamia they so much Boast , Was never known till she her Husband lost . Had you been Homer's Wife , so good a Theme , Had made his Lines , tho' strong , more perfect seem , Penelope her self much less had own'd , She at the most , had been but second found , Whether indulgent Nature gave you this , Fond to Compose fo great , exact a piece , Or if a less than Heaven we admit , Some Pious Matron made you so compleat , I cannot tell , so very great 's your share , My wrongs are fewer , than your Virtues are , Alas , my Verse is all too weak , too small my Skill , To paint the thousand Graces I wou'd tell , Was but my Mind as undisturb'd , and free , Easie , my Dear , as you have known it be , Generous , I 'd give you then the highest Place , Set you with Heroins of the nicest Race , And make the wondring World , at once confess , The greatest , and the best of them , much less , And tho' my Verse this lustre cannot give , Yet in my Numbers you shall Ages live . ELEGY VI. To his Friends that us'd to wear his Picture , engraven upon Golden Plates . YOu that my Picture fondly us'd to wear , That Instance of your Friendship you may spare , However , take the Ornaments away , The Ivy that I wore , is much too gay , Such a Poetick , Airy Garb as that , Becomes the Happy only , and the Great , Whose better Stars still guard 'em from ill Fate , Not such as I , that sink beneath the weight : Methinks I see some Friend , concern'dly stand , Viewing the Golden Image in his Hand , And often crying as he walks along , Heavens ! how far my Dear Companion 's gone ! 'T is kind , but such their Ovid better see , When they behold him in his Poetry , The lively'st Image that the Wretched know , This paints themselves , and their Misfortunes too , Read my chang'd shapes , tho' there is scarce a thought , Good as design'd , and finisht as it ought , No sooner was the fatal Sentence Read , But all my Art , was with my Freedom fled , Imperfect thus , what I 'ad with pains begun , I burnt the scatter'd Papers that I 'ad done , As Thestius , is said , to burn her Son. And yet methoughts 't was very hard , that they , Shou'd feel the flames , that cou'd not disobey , But so it was , partly indeed , in spite , To the first Muse , that flatter'd me to write , Till by Degrees , the Tribe my Ruin prove , Falsly perswading me to write of Love , And partly , ' cause they rude , and naked lay , Artless , and nothing what they were to be , But since they 've stole the Press , may they succeed , Admonish , and Delight my Friends , that Read , Tho' Criticks , they may damn 'em by a Law , They shou'd be tender , that the Reason know , As when an Artist wants the last best Stroak , Tho' he with Pains may have abundance struck , His great Design , must yet unhappy look , Thus all my Lines , the latest Pencil want , Still to refine , before abroad they 're sent , But place these Verses , with the Foremost Line , And these will show they 're born a'fore their time ▪ Be kind and gentle , whosoe'r thou art , Don't you too nicely view an Orphan's Part , Snatch't from his Parent 's Funeral in hast , Kickt into th' World unlick't , by much too Fast , What tho' we Judgment want , we 've Innocence , And this in Infants is a good Defence , The Poet's Muse in better Times may smile , And he your Kindness own , and you his Skill . ELEGY VII . He Complains of an Acquaintance , that after a long Familiarity , had given him some reason to suspect his Friendship . BAck from the Seas shall Rolling Waters run , And visit Fountains where they first begun ▪ The Char'oteer shall drive an unknown way , Rise in the West , and change the present day : The Earth admit of Stars all spangl'd be , And Ploughs shall make deep Furrows in the Sky ▪ The Elements shall change their wonted state , Water shall burn , and Fire like Water , wet : All this , tho' strange , I Prophesie , since you Prove false , I 've known so long , and thought so true , Lord ! That a Man cou'd so regardless stand ! Foolishly Fearful , to assist his Friend , Nay , not so much as decently to sigh , Or show the common Signs of Sympathy , Was such a strange , unheard Stupidity ! That you , the Sacred Name of Friend shou'd hate , And all the Offices of Kindness quit ! What if you had a well-bred Visit paid ? And lookt , and talkt , as other Courtiers did , Offer'd some Reasons to allay my Grief , This had seem'd kind , and that is some Relief , Tho' your sincerity cou'd give no Tears , You might have Flatter'd with affected Pray'rs , However , at the least , you might have say'd , Farewell , I 'm sorry , as the People did , Some that were Strangers , and no ways alli'd , Did more than this , affectionately cry'd , Then , how much more , might I expect from you ▪ That call'd me Friend , and all my Secrets knew , The Dear Companion of my tender Hours , My Goods , my self , my very Soul was yours , How blest I was , when Rome first showed me you , Brought us acquainted , made me think you true , Has your repeated Oaths no force to bind ? All general , and common as the Wind , Sure Rome , the great good Place I leave , Cou'd ne'r nurse you , no Monsters she can have , Rather some Rock within the Scythian Sea , Damn'd for a thousand Murders e'ery day , Where Female Tygers Nurst you at their Breast , Found you a Man , but Chang'd you to a Beast . But still there 's one way left , and only one , Freely to own the Injuri's you 'ave done , By this , tho' late , you may oblige me so , I may commend you , as I blame you now . ELEGY VIII . To his Friend . He shows him the Levity of the Vulgar , how meanly they attend upon Fortune , and withdraw their Services in Affliction : He takes Occasion to Commend his Friend , for several Qualifications , and concludes the Elegy with an Instance of his Friendship . MAy you live long , my Friend , and always well , Know nothing of the Ills the wretched Feel , And tho' my Pray'rs , for me , the Gods despise , The same , for you , may Mount a Sacrifice . While Fortune 's yours , a Croud will hov'ring be , Fondly Commending all they hear , and see ; No sooner do's the Fickle Goddess Frown ▪ But all your Parasites , my Friend , are gone : As Doves for new built Houses do prepare , While Ruin'd Towers all neglected are , As gath'ring Ants to crouded Barns do come , So do's the Vulgar to the Richest Run : As in the Sun your Sha dow do's Attend , And Walks , and Turns , and Cringes as you Bend , But when a Cloud appears , the Part 's no more , Tho' it seem'd more than half of you , before ▪ So vulgar Souls will Dance to Fortune's Light , A Cloud once spread , they Vanish out of sight . Heav'n knows my Soul ! I very often sigh , And passionately Pray the Gods for Thee , That these may all , my Friend , seem false to you , Tho' I by sad Experience find 'em True : While I was Prosperous , as others great , What Crouds , for Favours , wou'd my House beset , The Building struck , the Wary People Fly , By one consent , avoiding what was nigh , Nor do I Wonder , that they Thunder Fear , Whose fi'ry Bolts , the strongest eas'ly Tear : Yet Caesar , in adversity has said , That Man 's the best that by his Friend has stay'd : When good Orestes Worth fierce Thoas knew , He Prais'd the Love in Pylades he saw : Hector , he often Patroclus approv'd , Tho' he his Enemy Achilles lov'd : When Theseus waited on his Friend in Death , Pluto cou'd scarce believe so great a Truth , Convinc'd , he Mourn'd , and pitty'd him that Fell , Crying himself , to see them love so well . Alas , how Few my just Complaints , do move ! How few in Rome , like those of old , that Love ! So vast my Grief , so very much my Fears ! So Boundless are my ever falling Tears ! That did not you the mighty Torrent stay , The Gath'ring Flood wou'd Threaten like a Sea , You that have Courage to be Good , that Dare , In greatest Dangers , for your Friend appear , Not meanly mov'd , as sordid Spirits are . Nor is your Judgment than your Courage less , Your Eloquence as well as Virtues Please , When you Defend , the Nicest must Applaud , Your Cause , your Words , your Thoughts so very good , Eas'ly I can , your Growing Fortune Read , Some Greatness yet , as I have often sayd , No superstitious Omens tell me this , Tokens that fond , mistaken Zealots please , My Reason's all the Augury I know , By this , no other Prodigy , I go ; By this instructed , Happiness I give , Joy of the Present , and the Future Goods you 'll have , The small Pretence I early had to Wit , Ruin'd my Fortunes when I came to Write ; Your better Arts , not like my Trifling Skill , Has rais'd your Honour , and must raise it still ; But yet you know , I ne'er was ill inclin'd , My Thoughts were Salli's of a youthful Mind ; My Manners were not like my Verses , loose , And Love , I only for Diversion Choose , Then since you can excuse me , justly too , Defend me still , as I have heard you do . ELEGY IX . In Praise of his Ship , with some short Account of his Voyage . JUstly I Praise my Ship , so good , so fine , She bears Minerva's Name , as well as mine , So apt to sail , she moves with any Wind , And hasty , leaves deserted Shores behind , Proudly she scorns , but just to overcome , But reaches those that long have been from Home , Defy's the strongest Billows , when they Beat , And Foaming , all their wonted Force repeat : I Boarded her , when I to Corinth came , And long without a Change I kept the same ; Thro' many Dangers I have safely steer'd , Always entreating Pallas , when I feard , And now I hope to Make the distant Land , The Getick Coast , Augustus do's command ; She bore me once , through boyst'rous , troubled Seas , A long , and mighty dang'rous Way to Pass , When standing to the Left , ( we shunn'd before ) With much adoe we made the Imbrian shore , Then with a gentle Wind , and calmer Sea , She eas'ly Touch'd at Samos in her Way ; O' th' other hand , there stands a lofty Wood , Fam'd for its Growth , and for it's neighb'ring Flood , Here I the wide Bistonian Fields survey , Walking a Foot , while she puts off to Sea , From Hellespont , Dardania she Gain'd , And Lampsacus , for her Priapus Fam'd , Then to the Seas , the same Leander Crosst , When Beauteous Hero urg'd him to be Lost , From hence , she had Fair Cyzicon in view , So famous for the Arts her People knew ; Thence to Byzantium she Bore away , Where we behold two Seas within one Bay , And now , Minerva , grant that she may Pass , Those Moving Isles that lye upon the Seas , Next let her reach the Thynnian Bay , and Fall , 'Till she comes near Anchialus high Wall , Then she Mesembria , and Odesus must Make , And view some Towers for their Bacchus sake , And those Alcathous , when Wandring , Made , With all the Houshold Gods he had , So to Miletus , where 's the Place I 'm sent , To end a weary Life in Banishment , And if I safely tread th' expected shore , I 'll Sacrifice a Lamb to Pallas Pow'r , Heav'n knows we cann't at this time Compass more . And you two Brothers , you this Island Prays , Conduct us in our double , diff'rent ways , Let one the Euxine make with happy Gales , While the other to Bistonia sails , Let Winds Convey us to the Place we wou'd , Tho' diff'rent both , yet both have very good . ELEGY X. This is an Apology for the fore-going Elegies , the whole Book being made during the Fatigue of his Travels , which he urges in Excuse . THere 's not a Letter , Reader , but I writ , Unhappily pursuing my ill Fate ; I writ it most in cold December's Frost , While the Adriatick with her Billows Tosst , The rest I Finish'd when the Isthmus passt , We all took Ship again , and sail'd in haste , So odd a Thought , amaz'd the Cyclades , To see a Poet writing on the Seas ; I Wonder'd too , the Patience of my Muse , That in a Storm , she shou'd not then Refuse , The Waves , alas , had never been her use . The World may call it Madness , what they please , But this I know , my Verses gave me ease , Tho' Threatning Signs they dreadfully appear'd , And Waters in Disorder show'd they Fear'd , Sometimes the Ship seem'd Bury'd in the Sea , Still I writ on , the very Lines you see ; When Boreas with all his Force prevails , Stretches our Cables , Ruffling all our Sails , While Waters , parting by the Storm 's command , Roll into Hills , like highest Heaps of Sand , Or rather , Taller Mountains on the Land. The Pilot ' ffrighted , thoughtless of his Art , Begins to Pray , a very awkard Part ; With much a doe , half words he stammering said , And Promis'd all the Gods he wou'd be good ; The Gods , regardless , wou'd not take his Word , Nor any Comfort for his Pray'rs afford : All things lookt Ghastly that I heard , and saw , While still Death's Image kept within my view , When various Thoughts were strugling in my Mind , I Pray'd , I Fear'd ▪ my Fears , my Pray'rs inclin'd , One while I 'd Pray to make the distant Land , Then I 'de in haste recall that Pray'r again , Tho' Heaven knows , I fear'd the Winds and See , Yet still the Land , seem'd fiercer much than they , At Home , where Tempests only make a Noise , There , ah there ! at Rome , I ' ad Enemies , What must I then in unknown Nations find , Monsters in Nature , rude , il-bred , unkind , These Terms too mild , and favourably run , For Creatures , only in their Likeness , Men , Whose chiefest Art 's a barbarous Delight , Some knowledge in the Battels that they Fight : Besides , to these with Disrepute I go , Banish'd by Caesar , so at Home a Foe : These Thoughts , a Storm within my Breast had made , The other might , this never cou'd be laid . Now Reader , if you 're generous , and good , If you can Pardon , as a Reader shou'd , My Faults in this Disorder you will Pass , Think on the Time , each Circumstance of Place , Think too , that I have more Correctly Writ , When safe on Land , in Arbours I have sate , My Body ne'er was us'd to Frosts like these , Nor was I e'er in Winter on the Seas , And now I 'm there by much to soon I find , But grant ye Gods , you Gods that once were Kind , The Winds , and Frost , may with my Verses end . The End of the First Book . The Second BOOK OF Ovid de Tristibus IMITATED . To Augustus Caesar . URg'd by my Fate , I write , again I Try , As tho' the Muses had not Ruin'd me , 'T was they Perswaded , Caesar , what you Read , And thought my Life was like my Verses , lewd ; Had I been Wise , I ' ad Hated 'em at first , The Learned Sisters , as the Poets boast , A Rhiming Crew , their smiles , like a Disease , Quickly Confound their very Votary's ; This I have often known , and yet possest , To these I fly , of these alone seek Rest : So beaten Fencers , Challenges repeat , And give their Mangl'd Bodies to be hit , So Shipwrack't Vessels , plough the swelling Main , And dare the very self-same Rocks again : Less may my Dangers be , rather like him , He that was heal'd and wounded with the same , My Muse that mov'd the great Augustus so , May she the same Augustus soften now , The Gods , they say , in numbers soonest hear , And always answer first a Poet's Pray'r , So , Caesar made the Italian Mat●ons bow , In Numbers offer , what their Opis knew ; So , Phoebus was address'd in aptest Plays , Nor did Apollo scorn the Poet's Bays , By these Examples , Caesar , may you go , If it 's too much to pardon , milder grow , Should I deny your Justice , I shou'd sin , And impudently move your Wrath again , But had not I , offending , urg'd you so , You then had wanted to forgive me now , Shou'd Jove as often thunder , as we sin , Unarm'd , the God , a thousand times had bin ; No , when his Thunder 's gone , the Noise no more , The Air is purer than it was before , By this , he 's Father of the Gods and Men , By this , he lives a Long and Happy Reign , Caesar , like him , is Pater Patriae , Caesar commands , and thunders too as he , Then like him too , be absolutely good , Pardon your Ovid , as the God he wou'd , Nor yet less good , than great , do's Caesar live , So many Instances of both we have . Often the Parthians have own'd you kind , So God-like is the Temper of your Mind , You Pardon'd , tho' again the People sinn'd , Riches , and Honours , I have known you give , To Enemies , that wou'd not have you live , You scorn the Methods Meaner Princes know , By better Arts you can Oblige us so , That all must Love , as well as Fear you too . That day that War has threatned all before , That very day , your Anger has been o're , Both Sides to th' Temple have their Offerings brought , The Conquer'd pleas'd , so brave the Victor fought , And as your Souldier 's fond to overcome , Others by yours , are Proud to be out-done : My Case is better than a Foe 's appears , I make no Plots , nor cause you open Wars , I Swear by Heav'n , and every Blest Abode , By Caesar's dearest self , a Present God , My Soul do's such Obedience afford , Intirely yours , it knows no other Lord ; I 've wisht that you might late to Heaven Go , When Life , through Age , grew Troublesome below , When you were weary of an Empire here , The Gods for your Reception might Prepare , And Place Augustus in an Empire there : As often as my Gifts the Altars had , Witness , ye Gods ! this was the Pray'r I made . My Books , tho' one of them became my Crime , They most , nay That , do's often Caesar Name ; By this I my Obedience gave , Not that you , Lustre from my Lines cou'd have , To such a Height no Poet e're cou'd Fly , Yet all that Write have liberty to try ; Jove can't be greater , nor his Acts more good , Yet Praise in Verse has often pleas'd the God , He lov'd the Song , and own'd the Story true , How Gyants Pelion on Ossa threw , Such Beauty in the Thought , so strong the Sense , Poets have had a Privilege e're since , The Gods a thousand Bullocks they have had , All bleeding fresh upon their Altars laid , And yet tho' us'd to Plenty , when a Lamb , A single Offering to their Temple came , The Gods wou'd smile , and take the Sacrifice , For this alone , they 'd Bless their Votary's : Unlucky Chance ! or rather damn'd Design , Who e're he was at first , was so unkind , To read my Verses to so chast an Ear , Good as the yet unthinking Virgins are , That don't so much as Tremble in a Dream , Or Grasp the Image of the Youth they 've seen ▪ My looser Lines have such Impressions made , You think the Present , as the other , Bad ; Some jealous Favorite invented this , Thus to undoe me by an Artifice ; Methinks I hear how spitefully he read , What envious Comments on my Words he made , How he wou'd blush , as Counterfeits they faint ; Good Lord ! a Man shou'd be so impudent ! This is not strange , since e'ery one approves , The happy Man the great Augustus loves , But surely damns , unheard , a Person 's Crime , Augustus disapproving , thinks a Sin ; Nay , I can hate my very self , and do , To think I shou'd deserve a Frown from you , To think I so much Goodness shou'd provoke , To please a Humour that my Fancy took : To see my old Acquaintance , how they run , As I 'ad been mad , or some Infection known , As when a weakn'd House at last gives way , The Parts affected bear the most , they say , So Fortune fickle , when she changes shape , All things disorder'd , and unhappy look . It is not many Months ago , since you , My Life , and Manners , and my Bus'ness knew , Often I 've pleaded the Defendant's Part , Not without Reputation , and some Art , And tho' Superiour Judges have lookt on , They 've all approv'd of what the Lawyer 's done ▪ In private things I 've wholly been in trust , When both sides pleas'd have own'd me very just ▪ Ah me ! that I shou'd only now repeat , Caesar was kind , and I was fortunate , Now the reverse of what I was , I sink Beneath a weight too terrible to think , The thousand Waves that other Vessels miss , By one consent , on mine , together press : Why did I see ? why did these Eyes behold ? Why was a Fault unhappily thus told ? Actaeon so , Diana had in view , And only seeing her he perish'd too ; No vile Design the angry Nymph cou'd know , Actaeon's only Crime was , that he saw , For this he undistinguish'd falls a Prey , Torn by his Dogs , that always did obey : So when we Heav'n offend , tho' but by chance , The Gods sometimes won't pardon the Offence : That Day , that Error led me from the Right , And Drew me to a VVay remote from it , That very day , my House but small , yet Good , Was lost , and ruin'd , tho' the Building stood , Yet not so small , but Honours she cou'd Boast , A long Descent from many Ages past . Not infamously low , nor yet so high , To crack of Riches with our Pedigree , A safer way 'twixt both , by much there was , Envy , nor Pity e'er tormenting us , But had our Ancient Lands been lower yet , I justly might expected to be'en great , My Self an Ample Fortune by my Wit. Tho' my late Lines are loose , and wanton Read , While Nature prompted , and my Passion sway'd , The Thoughts are manly , and the Verses good , Smooth are my Numbers , and my Sence entire , Melting the Words , and apt for soft Desire , That wondring Poets shall for Ages read , And praise their Ovid for the Lines he made : Curse o' my Fate ! one single Fault shou'd damn! Banish the Poet , and confound his Theme ! From Love , from Stories of the Gods , and Men , Forc'd to attempt Excuses for my Crime , Lost in the Mass ill-shuffl'd Fates have Hurld , Wanting a Voice , like that that made the World , Shou'd Caesar call , my Wrongs wou'd all obey , And I for ever boast his Liberty , This wou'd compleat the Favours I enjoy . For more I fear'd , than in your Anger was , That you my Life , at least Estate wou'd seize . But far from this , at present I have all , All , that by any right , my own I call , Nor was my Fault , by Voice of Senate Damn'd , Or by a private way of Justice nam'd , 'T was Caesar's Mouth pronounc'd my Banishment , But call'd it by a lesser Punishment , Only Confin'd me to a distant Clime , There to Reflect his Goodness , and my Sin ; And generous Souls are mov'd by Clemency , More than by Wracks , and Gibbets that they see , Such Instruments of Death , the vulgar sway , And make 'em honest , when they won't obey , The other plead the freedom of their Mind , To this or that , in spite of all inclin'd , But when they 'r resolute , they shou'd be good , Tho' through Mistakes , the best are sometimes bad , And kind forgiving Princes ne'er upbraid , When they a happy Penitent have made : As tallest Elms , by Heav'ns thunder-struck , Ugly , despis'd , forlorn , and naked look , Yet when the hated Bolt has long been past , The Vines will meet , and twine , and kindly grasp , Hug the dear suff'ring Trees , and kindly grow , Tho' Gods themselves the Bolts in anger threw ; Thus when like Heav'n , I know you to be kind , Your greatest Anger to be still confin'd , I often Hope , again , I soon Despair , To think tho' merciful , you 're still severe ; Severely good , as happy Princes reign , When I think thus , my Hopes are quasht again : So Vessels riding on an angry Sea , Have different Degrees of Terror high ; One while the Winds in gentle Murmurs blow , So very soft , you 'd think no Rage they knew , When they but stop their Breath , to be more Fierce , And toss the Passengers , and Seamen worse ; So , various are the Passions in my Breast , They give , again , they take away my Rest : By Heav'n , that loves Augustus , and his Rome , By all the Gods , that to our Altars come , By my dear Country , safe , while you are so , By all your Houshold Gods , and Subjects too , May Rome for ever own her Caesar's Laws , Fond of the Blessings , that his Reign bestows : Long may your Livia be your Care and Joy , Noble , and Great , and Good , as she is High ; Long may she bless her Royal Husband's Bed , With all th' engaging softness of a Bride , When Nature form'd her for a Blessing here , Casar was then th' Almighty's chiefest Care , 'T was then , he show'd the Wonders he cou'd do , And show'd 'em all , in Livia , and you . Your Son , that Promises his Part so soon , May Heav'n preserve him for his Father's Throne ! Long may you both , secure your Empire 's Peace , Command , Instruct , and Govern at your Ease ; Or if the Toils of Bus'ness irksom grow , May he do all the Wonders that you do ! May Victory that long has known your Tent , Come to his Colours , and her self Present , Hovering , with Wings officious fly , And Crown him , with the Choicest Lawrels nigh , One Half still present , Governing at Home , Your other self Commanding , far from Rome ! Pardon me now , if private Suffrings seem To move the Poet , and Confine his Theme ; Pardon your Ovid , and your Thunder Quit , Half dead , with Bolts that have already Hit . Father , that Word is an indulgent Name , And mighty too , since Gods are call'd the same , The Power much at one your Subjects know , As God's above , so Caesar Rules below ; Then spare , as Fathers of their Countrey do , And take the Honours that I own your Due ; I dare not Pray you wou'd forgive my Sin , Tho' Gods , they say , as kind as this have bin , Only confine me to a nearer Shore , A gentler Banishment , I 'le ask no more ; This will Alleviate the Cares I know , Lessen the present Ills , that VVrack me now , In VVide , remotest Lands , to live alone , With such inhumane Creatures , far from Home ! Others there are that have offended you , Their Crimes notorious as mine cou'd be , Yet these , were never sent , where I am come , Nor knew , the many Dangers , that I 've done ; Beyond me 's all Inhospitable Ground , No Summer , but eternal Frosts are found , Part of the Euxine Sea , which Rome commands , Washes these Shoars , below , Sarmatia stands : Recall me hence , tho' you deny me Peace , 'T is Hell , to live in such a Place as this . Besides : We have an old Italian Law , Approv'd of long , and not disputed now , That Free-born Subjects , of a Roman Race , By Birth have Title to a better place , Their Princes safe , they must not Captives be , This early show'd a Right to Liberty . I sha'n't here name the sad , unhappy Fault , That lost my Freedom , and Misfortunes brought , But those of which my Enemies accuse , I never thought , how loose so e're my Muse , With these they 've often vext your Royal Breast , Provok'd your Anger , and destroy'd my Rest ; And all they said , you thought severely true , Nor do I wonder you believ'd 'em so , Since Gods have been deceiv'd as well as you . When Jove looks down , to see the World below , Condemn , approve , and know the things we do , His leisure won't admit the nicest View : So you , like him , tho' looking round about , Some things a single look can ne'er find out : Who can imagine States neglected lye ? The thoughts of Empire left , for Poetry : Easy the Weight , must on your Shoulders sit , Had you your self consider'd what I Writ . The bold Panonia , your strength defy's , Nor is Illyrium in perfect Peace ; They on the Rhine , their utmost Force prepare , And Thracia still employs you in a War ; Armenia parleys , when the Parthians show Their Spreading Colours , as a Warlike Foe ; Germania flys before your Bolder Son , Early made Brave , by Victories you won ; No Head but yours , cou'd so much Bus'ness do , With so much Ease , such mighty Order too : Your thoughts to travel all your Empire o're , And you , Unruffl'd , manage such a Pow'r , No Part but Govern'd by your proper Care , Yet none to Want what 's necessary there , Shows that your Soul had a peculiar Mould , Form'd by some Gods , and made to rule the World : Your Laws all Wise , and so severely Good , Your Life , still stricter , than the Laws you made , Thus in a long Fatigue of Bus'ness seen , That you shou'd think of any thing of mine ! I own my Verses loose , unworthy far , To reach the pious , nice Augustus Ear , Besides , these Lines the whole Design declare . You that with Fillets bind your Hair , be gone , Nor let the Matron with my Book be seen , I only sing of youthful , stolen Joys , And such Gay Thoughts , their Formal Wills displease . Yet nothing Guards a Mind that will be Bad , Precisest Matrons , when they please , are Lewd , And tho' they never heard , or saw my Book , Some will be Whores , and sin in e'ery Look ; One she reads Annals , there perhaps she 'll find , How Ilia , a Vestal was enclin'd , When dreaming , Mars comprest the lovely Maid , And Blest her with the Double Birth she had ; Let her but look the well writ Aeneids o're , She wishes , sighs , and thinks on Venus Power , Pity 's poor Dido , when Aeneas sails , And VVonders that the Queen no more Prevails ; There 's nothing , tho' the purest of the Kind , That mayn't Corrupt a Heart , that 's ill inclin'd , But this is not enough to Damn a Book , Because ill meaning has the Reader Took , Shall we prohibit Fire our common Use , Because Incendiari's Burn with this ; The Traveller and Thief , VVear Swords alike , Because one Robs , shall t' other take a Stick ? Or shall we pious , ancient Cloysters Curse , Because Maids talk of Sweet Hearts , or of worse ? One in the very Temple , as she Prays to Jove , Is thinking of the Stories of his Love , Thinking how many Mothers he might make , Wishing her self a Beauty for his sake ▪ Another , she at Juno's Altar Prays , And thinks how Fair Europa Crost the Seas , Pity 's poor Juno , by her Jove betray'd , The God so often Changing as he did , But VVishes still she 'd bin the Charming Maid . Shou'd she Minerva's awful Statue see , So Good , so Tall , so full of Majesty , Some Story still her strong desire wou'd sind , How Erictihon was born a'fore his Time , Because the Goddess hid him , as they say , And sure if Goddesses such Pranks will play , Inferiour Nymphs their waiting Women may . All things , a Person eas'ly turns to ill , Whose chiefest Law 's the Dictates of his Will ; The gravest Matrons have beheld in paint , The lewdest Forms , the Artist cou'd invent ; The Vestals have beheld th' Intreague of Stews , The various ways , those Proftitutes abuse , And yet the Painter if the Piece was good , Receiv'd the Praises that an Artist shou'd : But why ? Oh why ? did I unhappy write , Fond o' th' Fantastick Character , a Wit , My wanton Genius , hurrying me along , And never resting , 'till I was undone : Why did not I , like other Poets , move ? Thunder out Battels , Wars , not whine out Love ? Troy had engag'd me in a Noble Strain , And inoffensive too , my Thoughts had bin , Here I had told the Grecian Policy , And Troy's unfo rtunate Security : Or had this bin an antiquated Theme , I might have sung as well of greater Rome , This had been pious , and a Subject's part , Duty excus'd the Nicety of Art ; Tho' Caesar had not been oblig'd by this , His Worth , so much exceeding all my Praise , He must have pardon'd an officious Muse . As Phoebus darting Rays affect our Eyes , So Caesar's Glories in the View surprize , When with a Naked Eye we see each Light , 'T is troublesome , and takes away our sight , These were my thoughts , and this believe it true , Is all the Reason that I plead , or knew : As when a Man , within a little Boat , Safely , in shallow Rivers rows about , But shou'd he launch into the Swelling Main , His Boat wou'd be too small , his Art in vain ; So tho' I 've writ with Reputation too , Of trivial Subjects , Stories that I knew , Shou'd I , for this , a greater Thought have had , Have writ Jove's Thunder , and the Wars he made , Or Caesar's Wars , but little less than those , Next Jove's the Victory , as good the Cause , Awkward my weaker Numbers must have bin , And Jove , and Caesar , suffer'd in the Strain . Once I begun the mighty Task , and Try'd , I sung of Wars , as other Poets did , But still , my Hero so surpast the rest , I must have VVrit the worst , if not the best : Then I resolv'd to tell some amorous Tale , With melting Words oblige the Longing Girl , While frequent Blushes , with Repeated Sighs , Engaging Looks , the Language of the Eyes , Show how she loves , and loving how she Dyes . Curse o' this Thought ! why did I learn to Read ? Why did my Tutor teach me as he did ? And yet I suffer thro' Mistake , as tho' Unlawful Ways of Love I did pursue ; As tho' I 'ad sought t' abuse the Nuptial Rites , And gratifie my self with vile Delights , This I Profess , and Heaven knows it true , Lawful are all the ways of Love I know ; No Man by me 's a Doubtful Father made , I never wrong'd the meanest Person 's Bed ; My Life and Verse , have always differ'd far , Pleasant my Muse , my Manners more severe : Accius was Fierce , Terence was soft , and smooth ▪ 'Fore Tragedies , preferring Plays , less Rough. Nor yet am I the first , that writ another way , Anacreon's Applauded to this day , For writing of a harmless Love , like me . Sappho had never reach'd an Excellence , Had not she writ of Love , without Offence : The good Menander , when he made his Plays , Menander that diverts so many Ways , He never Writ , but Love was still his Theme , Bewitching Love , the tender Virgin 's Dream ; He taught 'em Laws , to manage all their Fire , And while they Burn'd themselves with strong Desire , Dissemble still , and make their Lovers dye , But Dye to Live , and Meet with greater Joy : What are the Iliads , that the World approves , But Wars , occasion'd by Forbidden Loves ? How Helen , melted by her Paris Voice , Yields to his Charms , and eagerly enjoys : Had not Vlysses Wife so many Won , Homer , his Odysses had ne'er begun , Nor we have Read the Wanderer from Home ▪ In all the Various Passions Homer Paints , There 's none more Taking , that he Represents , Then when he tells , how Mars with Venus lay , And makes each God a Witness of their Joy ; How pleasantly her Husband is ' Reveng'd , To let 'em lye , till he prepares the Chains . Many the Instances I yet cou'd heap , Wou'd not the Reader , and my Muse both sleep . Catullus always most Correctly Writ , His Lesbia the Subject of his Wit : Hortensius , and Servus , lov'd like me , And who wou'd fear to Follow such as they ? Gallus , for Lycoris was never Blam'd , Talking too much , not Writing , Gallus Damn'd , Tibullus writes , how freely Women swear , What strange deluding sort of things they are ; They value strictest Oaths , no more than Wind , When e're they please to change a Fickle Mind , How Wittily they will a Keeper Balk , And when their Husband 's jealous , how they talk ; And he , Tibullus , best these Truths might know , At once the Cully , and the Poet too . Propertius next , so great , and very good , How Men admir'd , and Women lov'd , he show'd , Propertius yet Repeated Honours had ; Caesar his Friend , approving what he did . When these Succeeded all so well , I thought , I might pursue the Measures that they Taught , I fear'd not , where so many Ships had Past , Or thought my Bark wou'd Shipwrackt be at last : Had I but Play'd the Droll in Mimick Wit , Had then bin safe , and pleas'd a laughing Pit , All Ages , Sexes , Flock with hast to these , And love the Bawdy that they find in Plays ; To hear a Toothless Strumpet split her Sides , Laugh 'till she pisses at the Words she Reads , " Judge me ! the Author 's such a Witty Man , " He must do more than other People can : Thus I had made a Party to Retreat , Had I but thus Buffoon'd it when I writ , And all my Nonsence wou'd have bin Sheer Wit. Shall stammering Mimicks then Protected live ? And others want the Favours that they have ? Shall Ovid suffer , while he wou'd Delight ? Others be safe , that do , what Ovid writ ? My Lines by th' Mob , as theirs , huzza'd have bin ' And mine , and theirs , Augustus , you have seen ; But seen , as when we different Paintings view , Diverting for the Skill the Painter knew , And he a certain Due , Reward , receives , Tho' he a Monster , nay , the Devil gives : Within your Palace , various Pictures hang , The best Drawn Pieces , by the Nicest Hand , And yet more famous for their House than Paint ▪ Your Fathers , Uncles , by a long Descent ; Not far from these , nay , in the nearest Room , Some Women hang , as Naked as they 're Born. Let greater Pens , for bloody Wars prepare , Inur'd to Dangers , as their Hero's are ; Let these in strains , their Caesar's Battels speak , And show in Arms , how like a God you look , While others , skill'd i' th ▪ art of Heraldry , Tell all the Wonders of your Family , How for some Ages , Hero's have bin bred , And how Augustus do's the rest exceed : This I have often wisht , but wisht in vain , Nature designing me a weaker strain , Far from the best , yet not the worst , so mean. Virgil , the Wonder of a Wonderous Age , Whose Art does still some mighty things Presage , Whose Writings give unto our Poets Laws , Whether a great or humble Theme they choose : If Warriours read , in him their Art they find , Honour , and Courage , in the Trojans joyn'd : If Lovers take his Aeneids down , They read , how Dido , and the Hero 's found , How Jove , he Thunder'd in the World above , Kindly assisting their Design of Love ; Thus he in Notès , so artfully cou'd Play , The Fierce , and Gentle , all , in him agree , In him they Meet , a pleasant Harmony . Nor did he once , disdain the Herdsman's Song , But writ Bucolics , in his Mother Tongue ; How Corydon for his Alexis Burn'd , How proud Alexis , Corydon he scorn'd : He show'd how Nysa , Mopsus lov'd , A Humour Women always mov'd ; Tho' Mopsus Nature had design'd a Jest , Mopsus was Rich , and Nysa lov'd him best . Thus when the Mantuan Poet led the way , I thought to follow such a Guide as he , To write like him , cou'd ne'er have ruin'd me : Nor yet , do I , more serious Subjects want , Some Books of Sacred Feasts , I have in Print : One while , my Muse , in Tragick Buskins Trod , All very solemn , grave , and some said good : Another Work , with Care and Pains I wrote , Tho' in my Sentence 't was unfortunate ; Wanting the Authors last performing Stroak , To give it Graces for the nicest Look , In this , ( my Metamorphosis ) I show , The Face of things , from Nothing , down to you : Wou'd you , in this , but Read my Innocence , You 'd find how much the Poet lov'd the Prince ; You 'd Read in e'ery Line my very Soul , Intirely yours , without Reserves at all : Nor was I ever Tempted when I writ , Inferiour Men , with disrepect to Treat , I always hated a Satyrick Wit , Ne'er Wounding any , but the Author , yet . This show'd the Temper of a Peaceful Mind , Form'd in my Infancy , by Age refin'd ; For this , no well-bred Roman triumphs now , Pleas'd at the Punishment I undergo , But rather Mourns , the dismal story told , And often wishes that I were recall'd . May these , Great Caesar , move your Royal Breast , 'Till you Remit my Sentence , part at least , If it 's too much to Pardon , grant some Place Nearer my Native Country much than this . The End of the Second Book . The Third BOOK OF OVID IMITATED . The Book entreats the Reader to be Candid , and before he Condemns , to consider the Disadvantages it was writ with : He shows his coming to Rome , where he met with a Guide , that acquainted him with all the Curiosities of the Place . ELEGY I. BE gentle , Reader , whosoe'er thou art , Pitty a poor , unhappy Wanderer's Part , The Wretched Off spring of a Wretched Man , Banish'd his Countrey to a Forreign Land , But be n't affraid , nor Blush at what he gives , No thoughts of Love are Read within these Leaves ; The Author 's not so sensless , to be merry now , To Write as happy Poets , when they Write , do ; When Reason in her Infancy he knew , And thought his Wit the better of the two , 'T was then a lasting Train of Ills he laid , Pleas'd with the Fond Ideas that he had , He writ of Love , and Flatter'd e'ery Sense , Promis'd himself no Injuries from thence : Had he but thought , how Fond Pygmalion Woo'd , How proudly , when he lov'd , the Statue stood , No living Beauty he had ever Took , Or Dar'd the Lightning that those Angels Look ; Or had but Caesar spoke such Writings Sin , He'ad sooner anger'd any God than him : But now his Subject's chang'd , ah ! now too late , Now , when he feels unequal Fortune's Weight , Sad are his Notes , adapted to his Fate . No Ornaments in Prudence he 'd bestow ; Had I'come out as gay , as others do , The World had thought him Proud , me Foolish too . If he shou'd stammer at his Mother Tongue , Or write , as they that have been absent long , 'T is this damn'd Jargon , that the Countrey speaks , Confounds his Words , and such a difference makes : Now , Reader , if it is not troublesome , Direct me in this City where I 'm come ; And may the Gods for such a Kindness give , A mighty Portion of the Goods they have ; May you ne'er Travel weary , as I 've done , But live a prosperous , good old Age , at Home ; I 'll Follow wheresoe'er you please to go , Tho' I 'm Faint , Hungry , very Dirty too . At this he walks , and with his Finger shows , This is the Court , says he , of Caesar's House , This is the Via Sacra where you Pass , A Street the World in admiration has ; Here you may see , where Vesta's Temple 's set , That 's Numa's Pallace there , not far from it ; This is the Place , where bold Evander dwelt , And here , they say , this Hill , Rome first was Built . Thus , while I wonder all the lovely sight , I see a House , the Posts in Armour set , Good , as some God had had it for his Seat : Nay , so surpriz'd , I innocently cry'd , Is n't this Jove's House ? it must be so , I said , For there , hard by , an Oaken Crown I see , Sacred to Jove , this makes my Augury . But still my Guide , he told me I was Wrong , 'T was Caesar's Pallace , and he'ad known it long ; I cou'd not for my Heart but yet conclude , So stately all , so happy the Abode , Caesar must be at least a Second God. Why are these Gates , I said , with Laurels set ? How come the Boughs thus artfully to meet ? Is it because perpetual Triumph's here ? And Laurels wanting for so many are ? Or is it Holy-day ? or this a Sign , How happy all the People are in him ? If so , to th' Number may he kindly add , One Citizen his Anger 's wretched made : Ah me ! so awful all the Place appears , My Heart misgives me , and admits of Fears , My Paper sinks , affected with the Thought , As wild Disorder a Presage had Taught : At this I Stop , and Kneeling down , I Pray , First to my self , at last , aloud I say : May Caesar , Sovereign of the World below , Great in his Empire , and his Wisdom too , Forgive my Father , and Revoke his Doom , And smile on me , tho' Born an Exile's Son. Next , by a Vast , but gradual Ascent , Where Great Apollo's Temples were , we went , Where Books are seen , of various Subjects writ , Contain'd within a Place that joyns to it ; And here I thought my Kindred Books to see , All but th' unfortunate , our Misery . But e're I lookt the several Classes o'er , The Keeper told me , there was none such there , And rudely bid me in a barbarous Tone , By fair means , or by foul , be quickly gone : From thence to other Libraries I came , But still no less than there , Repuls'd with shame ; At this a sad Reflection made me sigh , By Birth , that I shou'd so unhappy be , Lost by my Father's Crimes , as well as he . ELEGY II. In this Elegy Ovid complains of his Banishment , and passionately desires to dye . WHen the Gods Curse , in Sufferings like mine , Tho' great their Wrath , yet greater is the Sin ; That I to Scythia shou'd Banisht be ! Live in Disgrace , and dye with Infamy ! The Muses that I doted on , and Pray'd , So passionately courted , as I did ; The Deities , I so entirely lov'd , That took my Offerings , and my Songs approv'd , These might , one wou'd have thought , the Gods have mov'd . Apollo too , the Patron of our Right , Refus'd his Interest , and left me quite . Abandon'd , and undone , my Wrongs I tell , But none can know their Force but I , that feel ; I , that my Life , till now , in Silence past , Avoiding noise , and bus'ness to the last ; Tender , and Delicate , no Labours knew , Or Heats , and Colds , as Travellers do , That I , shou'd such an Alteration bear ! The Icy Seas , and Frosts , so common here , Spent by Fatigues , that I shou'd think to write ! That it shou'd please me too , is stranger yet ! When all the wretched Tale I tell , is true , And what the Reader sees , I feel , and know : When I had pass'd the Dangers of the Seas , And reach'd the Land , the sad appointed Place , I thought my Mind might with the Vessel rest , However , be more peaceable at least , But far from this , new Horrors they affright , The Towns , the Men , the Land , a wretched Sight ! At this , my Eyes , obedient to my Mind , Gusht out with Tears , that long had bin confin'd , Such Floods I wept , as when great Waters flow , From tallest Mountains , coverd o're with Snow , Dissolv'd by Rains , that Threat'n all below . While Rome , the great , the good , the much lov'd Place , My House , my Wife , my Friends , my Fears encrease , Often I ask to Dye , but ask in vain , As Heav'n reserv'd me for a farther Pain ; But that cann't be , so exquisite my Grief , The Torments that I know exceed Belief : Why has the Fatal Steel escap'd my Throat ? Why has the Deep her Mouth unkindly shut ? The Gods , in Complaisance to Caesar's Wrath , Resolve me wretched , and deny me Death . ELEGY III. To his Wife . With some Account of his Sickness . TOo weak to write , a Stranger 's hand I use , But be n't , my Dear , too much surpriz'd at this Take the true Reason , tho' I 'm loth to tell , So much you love , so very much I feel : A sudden Illness seiz'd me with a mighty force , And tho' so bad at first , I still grew worse , VVhile shooting Pains distorted every joint , And frequent Sweats made all my Members faint ; My Fingers , they refus'd the VVork they knew , And disobey'd , tho' I design'd it you ; No Means was left , but by another's hand , And this is that , my Dearest VVife , I send : The want of Health 's no small , no trivial Ill , The Bravest pity , when the Pains they feel ; When weary'd Nature , Stagger'd with the Weight , Disorder'd , sinks beneath approaching Fate ; But mine 's much worse than e'er the Wretchedst knew , The Place I live in , doubles every Woe , Here 's no Physitian to Relieve the Sick , No healing Cordials to support the VVeak , No VVitty Friend is found within this Place , VVith pleasing Stories , to divert in such a Case , And make the sluggish Minutes mend their Pace : In various Postures on my Bed I lye , Restless in all , yet still the same I Try , VVhile crouding Thoughts are shuffling in my Mind , But you , as always , I the deepest find ; Fond of your Name , the wonted Sound I speak , Improperly , they say , and Nonsence make , So much I love , that shou'd my Faultring Tongue , Too Weak , refuse to speak as it has done ; Shou'd you appear , the Strings wou'd artful Play , Tho' shrunk before , wou'd all Obedience be , A thousand little tender things I 'de say , Talk like a Lover , on his Wedding-day , And more than talk , I 'd love , my Dear , as he . Such joy , wou'd give new Measure to my Days , While I not only liv'd , but liv'd with Ease ; But if the Thread of Life the Sisters spun , Was but design'd till now , and 's a'most done , It had bin kind to let me stay'd at Home , And there , ye Gods , expected till it Run ; Then I 'ad a Grave within my Country had , And all my Friends , the decent Rites had paid , Secure I 'ad slept , without Reflection layd ; Now in a distant Land , remote from all , Living , and dying , I unpity'd Fall , No tender Friend to do the last kind Work , To Close my Eyes , for ever after Dark . When you receive these Lines , my Dearest Wife ▪ Let not my cares , too much encrease your Grief ; Inur'd to Sorrows , you know better things , You know , too much Concern , a Weakness bring ; Long you have learnt the Melancholy Trade , Read all the Mystery's it ever had ; Besides , Child , Death it self's no Punishment , You lost your Husband in his Banishment , The worst of Deaths the Gods con'd e'er invent , A Death with infamy , to th' Vilest sent ; And now if Heav'n wou'd pardon what is past , This Pray'r I 'de make , and breath it with my last ▪ May no Remains of me , but all entire , Stretcht on the Pile , in fiercest Flames expire ; For shou'd what sond Pythagoras says , be true , That after Death , our Souls a Being know , More Wretched still , to dye in such a Place , Unknown the Way , I shou'd be Doom'd to this ; Converse with Ghosts , that Devils liv'd , That never cou'd on Earth be once believ'd , This makes me Charge those Servants that I have , To see all Burnt , some Ashes only save , And these enclos'd within a well made Urn , To Italy , with haste I wou'd have Born , And thus , tho' dead , my Dear , I shall return . And who can blame your pious care in this , 'T is all inhumane , if it shou'd displease , The Theban dead , his Corps were stole away , And bury'd too , in spite of a Decree : Let well-chose Sweets be scatter'd o're my Grave , And let my Marble this Inscription have ; Here , in this Melancholly Vault below , Lyes injur'd Ovid , all that 's Ovid now , Vndone , and ruin'd , while he he strove to move , By telling Stories of endearing Love : Now whosoe'er thou art , that passest by , Pray Heav'n that Ovid may securely lye , Since thou thy self hast lov'd as well as he . This is enough to signifie the Man , The rest my Books will do , they speak my Fame , Louder , and better , than Inscriptions can . Much more I have to say , much more cou'd find , Cou'd I with strength deliver all my Mind : Take then unfinish'd , what your Husband gives , May you enjoy , and long , the World he leaves : May you of Blessings have so vast a store , 'Till Heav'n can give , or you can ask no more . The last good thing your Ovid he presents , He gives you Health , the Blessing that he wants . ELEGY IV. To his Friend . Advising him to shun the dangerous Conversation of the Great , recommending a Private Life , with the Advantages of a Retirement . TAke this , my Friend , in Dangers often known , That durst , in worst of Times , a Friendship own : Live to self , always avoid a show , The Private , do , the truest Pleasures know , Value thy self on Nature's better Care , Prefer her Gifts , before his Lordship's Ear ; Despise the Gaudy Titles that he has , The Mouldy instances of former Praise ; Believe me , for I know it very true , None live so happy , as the Private do ; A small , convenient , little House , I 'd choose , With some few Friends , try'd by the nicest Laws , This I 'd Prefer , by much , before a Court , With all the Powder'd Fops that there Resort , Scarce in appearance Men , so Antick drest , Yet when they Talk , their Garb's by much the best ; To live with such as these , is Hell to Wiser Men , That love their Ease , and Studys , more than Gain : When Jove in anger Throws his Thunder round , He levels taller Buildings with the Ground , While Humble Cottages untouch'd are found . The naked Sail-yard all Attempts defys , Fearless of all the force of Waves , and Skies , While swelling Sails are drove thro' dangerous ways , Russl'd by Winds , that trouble widest Seas ; O , had I took , what here I now advise , You ' ad known me still at Rome , in perfect Peace ! He who by Chance comes down upon a Plain , Falls without danger , and may rise again : Why was Fam'd Daedalus found safe , when he , With Wings , as well as Icarus did Fly ? This was the Difference , and only this , One kept the Ground , the other Made the Skys ; When Daedalus fell , he rose again with ease , But t'other falling from a Praecipice , Dy'd i' th' Attempt , and dying Nam'd the Seas . Believe me , Friend , and take my very Soul , The Truths I tell , are good , and study'd all , Quit not Retirement , for Noise , and Show , Or Pompous Titles , as the Great Ones do . Happy the good , Unknown , who in a Middle State , Contented lives , more Vertuous than Great , He answers all the Ends the Gods enjoyn , No time , but 's very well employ'd by him ; What e'er he says , is all severely true , He do's not talk , as Parasites in Courts must do , He 's always just to what he do's pretend , And is , where e'er he promises ▪ a Friend : Friendship admits of no dissembling Arts , But boasts of pure , entire , and perfect parts , Allows no more of nauseous Flattery , Than pious Laws approve of Treachery ; But all her Rules , so well you understand , You can in loftyer Strains than I , commend ; You praise it too , by practising the Good , And living Perfect , as the Better shou'd . Often I think , with what a kind sad look , When I left Rome , your last Farewell you took ; With what affection you return'd my Kiss , How much concern you show'd in the Surprize , What Floods of Tears descended from your Eyes ! This was Compassionate , and very Kind , But this is but a part of what 's behind ; When e'er the Rabble , fond of Misery , Breath'd out my Name , with Infamy , You , like a Guardian Angel , still stood firm , And for my Sake , oppos'd the loudest Storm ; For this , the World shall pay eternal Praise , And read your Name in never dying Verse ; My Person 's Banish'd , but my Name 's still free , And boasts , a great , and glorious Liberty . ELEGY V. To his Friend . Whom he calls by a Feign'd Name , Charus . WHen the last Morn's unwelcome Light came on , When I must leave my Wife , my Friends , and Rome , Well I remember then , how kindly you , Profess'd a Friendship ever since prov'd true ; Nor had I long , my Friend , the Blessing known , Which made it dearer than it wou'd have bin , That you , while I , undone , neglected stood , Shou'd then , an early Friendship too , make good , Was such a generous , and noble thought , It reach'd the highest Pitch that Friendship ought ; Nor yet do's Absence alter your Design , But still , my Charus , you continue Mine ; Often you dare to take a Sufferer's Part , And none , than Charus , boasts a nicer Art ; Your Eloquence with so much force can move , Severest Judges a'most partial prove ; What can you do then , when a sort of Right , Pleads for your Friend , and you , my Friend , Plead it ? This is my Case , in this , use all your Skill , Caesar is good , and will forgive an Ill , For mine 's a Crime , because he thinks so still . The Great , and Valiant , is the Generous Foe , He scorns what little petty Conquerors do , His Honour prompts him by a better Law. The Fault once own'd , he soon Forgives the Crime , And ne'er upbraids , till he 's provok'd again ; So fiercest Lions , tho' their Power great , Pardon the Weak , when Prostrate at their Feet , Such an Acknowledgment decides the Fray , And this is certainly the nobler way ; But Wolves , and Bears , of an inferiour Race , Always the same , are fierce in every Place , They no Submission take , but seize their Prey , And rudely bear the trembling Beast away . Who was e'er Rougher than Achilles was ? Yet Dardanus his Griefs took so much Place , His VVrongs was read in Fierce Achilles Face ; Such thoughts as these , make me expect Relief , That Heav'n will one day mitigate my Grief : Had I bin conscious of some Mighty Fault , I durst not then , so much as this have Thought ; Had I in VVine profan'd great Caesar's Name , Manag'd reflectingly so good a Theme ; Had I bin Treacherous , I shou'd desire to dye , Rather than live with so much infamy ; But for beholding what I cou'd not shun , Banish'd , for what my Eyes have only done , Is hard , and yet for this I 'm Banish'd Rome . Now , what I ask , is , you wou'd intercede , If Liberty is never to be had , Pray my Removal from this horrid Place , And I 'le rest satissy'd , my Friend , with this . ELEGY VI. To Perilla . GO to Perhilla , Letter , hasty Go , Tell her of e'ery Circumstance you know ; You 'll find her Waiting by her Mother stand , List'ning , and Running , at the least Command ▪ What e'er she 's doing of , tell her of me , She 'll leave it all , and quickly follow thee ; A thousand times she 'll ask you how I do ? Whether I 'm melancholly still , or No ? Whether my Health e'ent injur'd by my Fate , And I grown old , and bend beneath the Weight ? To all she says , make her this short Reply , I live , but live impatiently to Dye : Tell her , the Mases are my Care again , And all the Pleasure that I have's in them ; And while you talk , ask her be sure , why she , Busy'd in other Studies , left her Poetry ? She had a sort of Right , by Birth to plead , Her Father's Wit , has always bin allow'd ; 'T was very hard , shou'd Children only live , Entitl'd to Diseases , that their Parents have ; Sometimes a Fathers Wit 's a happy Share , A Promising Portion , in the meanest Heir ; When Nature in Perilla prov'd her Care , And Form'd her Perfect , as the Nicest are , When every Stroak Foretold a certain Reign , And Pregnant Wit , early deserv'd a Name , 'T was then , I brought her to the sacred Spring , And gave her to the Nine a grateful Offering , They soon inspir'd with Art and Thought , And all her Lines were Smooth , as she were Taught ; None than Perilla more sublimely Flew , Yet never lost , her Rules severely True ; If Charming Lesbia sung a nobler Song , Lesbia with Pains had Read the Muses long , Perilla in her Infant Age writ strong . Often with Pray'rs , I blest th' Auspicious Sign , Kist the young Girl , in all her Actions Mine , Often I wonder'd at the mighty Pow'r , A Tale I 'ad heard , but never knew before ; Thus was my thoughts Rais d to a vast Height , To see my Darling Care , Perhilla Great , When strait , some angry God his Thunder threw , And striking me , he struck Perilla too ; No sooner was my Banishment Decreed , But my great hopes , were in a Moment dead , Perilla , all her Books aside had laid . What tho' by Reading I 'm unfortunate ? You may expect , my Dear , a better Fate ; Beauty , 't is true , you have a wondrous Share , But Beauty , Child , tho' every Parent 's care , Shines but a while , and then will Disappear ; But Ladies that have Wit and Beauty too , May boast more Slaves than Richest Tyrants do ; Nay , when Time has Plough'd the lovely Face , And all Perilla's thousand Charms , decrease , Her Eyes less sprightly , and her Lips less red , Ner Nose , her Cheeks , look nothing as they did ; Her Wit shall still a mighty Empire know , And all Mankind shall to Perilla Bow : Let this , my Dear , make you assume your Pen , And read , with care , your Authors o'er again , And Bless the World with th' Issue of your Brain . FINIS . VERSES UPON Several Occasions : WITH SOME Translations Out of the Latin and Greek Poets . By the same Author . LONDON , Printed for Richard Cumberland , 1697. VERSES UPON Several Occasions . ODE 3. Horace , Lib. 1. To VIRGIL , Taking a Voyage to Athens . MAy Venus happily Conduct my Friend , And Helen's Brothers , shining Stars , defend ▪ May Aeolus , whose Voice the Winds obey , Make thee his Care , and still the Raging Sea , Chain in his Den each Wind , but what you want , And like a God Protect , and Storms prevent ; And you , Fond Ship , proud of your Burthen now , Sail with more care , than usually you do , Safely convey him , to the Attick Lands , The best of Poets , and the best of Friends , In this you will Preserve my better Half , My Virgil , Dearer to me than my self . His Heart was more than Brass , who first durst go , And visit distant Shoars , as we do now , Safe in a Ship , the Floting Monsters see , And be no more Concern'd i' th' Deep , than they , Caress the Watery People as they come , And smile , as tho' some Common thing he'ad done : In vain , the Prudent Deities divide , Confine Mankind by an impetuous Tide , While Impious Ships can Cross the Roughest Seas , In spite of all the Force of Waves and Skies . Nothing 's so Mad , that foolish Man won't do , Courting Forbidden Ills , because they 're so . Prometheus long ago , begun the Way , Stealing Jove's Fire to Animate his Clay , But soon the God persu'd him with his Pow'r , Sent him Diseases , never known before : While Death mov'd slowly , in a lazy Pace , Ages Man liv'd , and good , and happy was , But now his Life 's Contracted to a Span , Scarce sooner is he Born , than he is gone , His Sin , made jealous Heav'n snatch him hence , With hasty Death confound his Arrogance . Fond Daedalus , with Wings must needs go Try , To Cut the Air , and reach the Liquid Sky , A Pow'r , which Nature's wiser Laws deny . Thro' Hell below , the Fierce Alcides Ran , A Place , where none , one wou'd 'ave thought , wou'd gone . Grown Gyants in Impiety , we swell , And Brave the Gods , that wou'd at quiet dwell ; Nay , Jove Assault in his Imperial Throne , Uneasy , if he lays his Thunder down . ODE 5. lib. 1. To Pyrrha . WHat Youth , unskill'd in Pyrrha's Wanton Art , Offers his Love , and gives thee all his Heart ? With Choice Perfumes , like a drest , amorous Beau , Courts Charming Pyrrha , as I us'd to do ; Knocks at thy Door , and fears to be deny'd , Loving his Pyrrha more than all , beside ; For whom do you those Flowing Locks prepare ? Careless , yet finer , than the nicest are ; When time shall show him what his Pyrrha is , How will he Curse his Fond mistaken Bliss ! When he , ne'er us'd to swelling Seas before , Looks back , and sees the dear deserted Shoar , How often will he Weep his Wretched Fate ? And Curse his Stars , that so severely Hate ; Tho' now he eager , Rifles all thy Charms , And thinks no Blessings like his Pyrrha's Arms ; Ne'er doubts at all , but you will always Prove , Constant like him , Engaging still in Love : Unhappy Men ! to whom unknown you shine , Who fondly think you're Good , because you 'r Fine , I felt the Storm my Self , and then I Vow'd , For ever after to Adore th' Assisting God , And here , this Table shows I dread the Flood . To Clarinda . TO Pray's a Priviledge the Gods allow , They kindly give us leave to Love 'em too , And what the Gods Approve , I hope you do . Poets , like me , Complain , Admire , Adore , Love , Write , Dye , and Dying , own your Pow'r , And tho' the Nymph's as Good , and Fair as you , T was ne'er Clarinda thought a Crime to Bow. The Sun , his Beams does equally Display , And kindly gives the Good , and Bad , a Day , Your Charms , as powerful are , as great as his , More than his Heat , your Wit , and Beauty , please ; But shou'd your Influence no farther go , Than those that live , and look , and talk like you , As just Astraea , from the World you 'd Fly , And Heav'n Oblige with better Company . Gods ! when we View the Beauties of your Mind , Unmixt with Pri de , Ambition , or Design , Nature had fondly giv'n so vast a store , Had not your Family bin Prodigies before ; Wit unaffected , States , and Empires Rules , Endears the Good , exposes Fops and Fools . If Wit alone Commands , and makes a Slave , How many Thousands must Clarinda have ? Whose Tongue , or Eyes , can either Kill or Save . When Beauty mov'd , and Love , and Wit , first Took , In soft , engaging Numbers , Lovers spoke , Easy you Reign'd , and willingly they Bore , The pleasing Bondage of so just a Pow'r ; Like them of old , we Love , and like them too , Artless we Write , of any thing , but you . Heaven ne'er wants it's Thunder , yet the Air Is sometimes Calm , Serene , and very Clear , Shou'd Storms arise , and Winds for ever Blow , While Nature Triumph'd in so Wild a Show , No longer we shou'd Relish Life below . Like Heav'n , Madam , let your Goodness move , While we Return our Wonder , and our Love , And tho' you gently Reign , yet like the Skies , Command your Lightning , when we Dare Despise . Upon Philis Frowning . PHilis , those Frowns will never Punish now , Had you but Frown'd some Twenty Years ago , Some injudicious Lover might have Whin'd , And sigh'd , because his Philis were unkind ; Age now hath made your Forehead far from streight , By Planting Wrinkles , that the Young Men hate ; Nor do the Elder love a Wither'd Face , By which they Read their own , as in a Glass , Deaths Heads , and Skeletons , Physitians keep , But never lay 'em by 'em when they sleep . Then Smile , my Philis , do , and Paint thy Skin , Defye the Girls , and try to be Fifteen . To a young Lady of Sixteen , upon her Marrying a Man of Seventy Three . IN vain , Clarana , Nature gave you Charms , To spend your Youth , in Nisus Frozen Arms ; To hug a Poor , Insensible , Old Man ; Whose Teeth , and Eyes , as well as Tast , is gone ; Or shou'd he have a Tooth , ( which few believe ) 'T is Odds , but with a Kiss , the Tooth you have ▪ Had you bin ever Lewd , I shou'd have thought , Some Pious Fancy had the Pennance Taught ; Yet this can never be , no Fear of Evil , Cou'd ever make Clarana love the Devil ; No Popish Priest cou'd such damn'd Doctrine tell , To Merit Heaven , send a Soul to Hell ; 'T was Gold that Reconcil'd the Difference , And made Sixteen with Seventy three dispence . Vpon a Young Ladies Birth-Day . Aged 7. WHen Bolder Atheists Nature's power deny , She gives the Wandring World a Prodigy , Easily Confounds their deepest laid Design , Proving her Care , with something strangely Fine ' Such was her Work , when this Day 's Welcome Light , Made her , in you , Assert her utmost Right , When Heav'n return'd , for Pains your Mother knew , The most Engaging Blessing , Heav'n cou'd do , And Blest not only her , but All , in you . Long may you live , our Wonder , and our Care , Witty as Great , and Good , as you are Fair , You need not Kneller's Paint , nor Waller's Pen , Nature , without their Art , design'd your Reign : When Age shall ripen all those Growing Charms , And e'ery Look with wonderous Force Alarms ; When willingly a Thousand Lovers Dye , And tell their Heart , by speaking with their Eye , A mighty Empire , Madam , then you 'll know , While none Contends for Empire , but for you . To Philis . FOr God sake , Philis , be n't so Coy , I never lov'd you yet , not I : Had you Drest well , been Fair , and Clear , And Sweet , and Clean , as others are ; Good natur'd , humble , Modest , Witty , Fine , Well-bred , and something Pretty , Amidst ten thousand Lovers then , Philis , 't is odds , but you 'd had some ; Nay , I perhaps might then been Caught , However , Lov'd you in a Fit , When Drunk , or Mad , to Philis run , And Kist her Mouth , and Curst my own : Tho' this may lucky prove , 't is true , To any one that Marrys you , Shou'd he be Ill , and want to Spew , 'T is only , Philis , viewing you ; Or shou'd he be advis'd to Sh — te , The self-same Object do's the Feat ; But shou'd my Philis e'er be Wed , What Monsters , Philis , must you Breed ; With staring Eyes , and Asses Ears , With Monkeys Tales , and Skins like Bears ; For fear of this live Virgin still , And venture leading Apes in Hell. A SONG . CLarinda still disputes my Love , Unkind denys my Flame , Tho' all my Looks my Passion prove , Yet still I Love in vain . When Gods above their Lightning Throw , The strongest feel their Pow'r , But this , Clarinda , they ne'er do , 'Till we refuse t' Adore . But you as Good , was you as Kind , Can Unprovok'd Destroy , Careless behold the Swain you find , When he for you must Dye . And tho' none Boasts a better Right , Yet let me this Advise , Conceal those Beauty 's that Invite , Or Pity him that Dyes . Hor. ODE 34. lib. 1. He Resolves to be Religious . I Who the Deitys so seldom Pray'd , But follow'd the Delights of Sense , That no Religion ever yet Obey'd , But Epicurus fond Pretence , My impious Error , have at last perceiv'd , At last grown Good , and Vertue 's Rules believ'd . For very lately , Jove , I angry heard , His Rolling Thunder rent the Sky , The Wondering World , amaz'd , were all affraid , And Trembl'd at his Majesty , His Lightning Prov'd his awful Reign and Pow'r , And made me too , tho' very late , Adore , How did he shake Remotest Lands and Seas ? The Noise , disturb'd the very Dead , The Ghosts in Wild Disorder all Arose , And Pluto , tho' a God , Obey'd , The Lightning Pierc'd his Shady Walks , so Bright , His Weaker Flames were all Extinguisht quite . How does he sport with greatest Monarchs Pow'r ? Snatch from their Heads the Glorious Crown , And make the Meanest , Royal Ensigns Wear , To Prove all Kingdoms are his Own ; And under him , we see Blind Fortune Reigns , Never more pleas'd than in the greatest Change. ODE 9. Hor. Lib. 3. A Dialogue betwixt Hor. and Lydia . Horace . WHile I was welcome to my Lydia's Arms , And no smooth Youth had any Part , How did I Prize my Lydia's melting Charms ? And eager , gave her all my Heart : No joys like what her amorous looks cou'd Teach , Each happy Smile was worth a Crown , No Persian King was ever half so Rich , As I , while Lydia was my Own. Lydia . Whilst Horace Soul , my Beauty cou'd Inspire , And Chloe's Charms , ne'er Warm'd his Breast , How did I meet him with a Glowing Fire ! And never thought my self so Blest . His Seeming Passion gave Assurance too , While Woods resounded Lydia's Name , Too Credulous Lydia thought him True , And often boasted of the same . Horace . Ah Lydia , Chloe now has all my Heart , For her I willingly wou'd dye , Chloe , that Sings , and Plays , so fine a Part , Chloe , her self , all Harmony . Lydia . Ah Horace , Calais succeeds you now , And Boasts a finer Mien , and Air , So much in Feats of Love out-does you too , I 'de dye two Deaths to save my Dear . Horace . What if my former Love returns again ? And I , for Lydia shou'd dye , Fondly admire each Smile , and Dread each Frown ' And Chloe's Charms again deny . Lydia . Tho' lovely Calais shines like any Star , Is Young , and Gay , and Constant too , Yet I must Own , I love my Horace more , And I had rather live with you . ODE 19. Hor. Lib. 1. To Glycera . VEnus engages with her Art , Officious Cupid Plays his Part ; Besides , my Inclinations move , And Wanton , still are Pressing Love ; Glycera , more Bright than Marbles Shines , Glycera , my very Soul inclines ; Her Pretty Womanly Disdain , Doubles my Love , as well as Pain , Every well Appointed Frown , Makes me , Glycera , more your own : How have I view'd that lovely Face ! How do I still with Wonder Gaze ! Venus left her Cyprian Grove , And came to teach me all her Love , As soon as I the Goddess met , She told me , she wou'd have me Write , But Write no more , says she , of Wars , That fill your Head with idle Fears , How Parthians Fight , and Fighting Fly , What is such Stuff to you or I ? Write me some Stories that may move , And Melt the Longing Girl with Love ; While trembling Limbs , and sparkling Eyes , Disorder'd words , and short-breath'd Sighs , Show how she Loves , and Loving , Dyes . In this the Goddess I 'll Obey , In this same Place an Altar lay , Here Offer at the Goddess Shrine , And Beg she wou'd , as now Incline , And make the Charming Glycera mine . The Parting . CLarinda's Eyes have prov'd Love's Empire True , Made me , tho' long a Rebel , Own it too ; When I , Commanded , took my last Farewell , Gods ! what strange Disorders did I feel ! How my swol'n Eyes discharg'd ther mighty store ! And Wept , as tho' they'ad never Wept before ; As Snow around the Taller Mountains hangs , Which Rain dissolves , and to the Valleys brings , Whos 's Rapid Torrent threatens all the Way , Not stopt by Houses till it Reach the Sea : So was it , when my Eyes , brim-full , o'erflow'd , None saw the Stream , but fear'd the growing Flood ; And had not I , thro' Weakness , Dy'd away , No doubt , but I my Self had made a Sea : Often I 'ad heard of Venus , and her Son , Often been told what Miracles they'ad done ; How they cou'd make the Obstinatest sigh , Nay more , much more , admire , adore , and dye ; But these were idle , senceless Tales to me , An Infidel in Love's Divinity : Venus , I thought , might Charm some Amorous Youth , And Cupid's Beauty might have bin a Truth , But to Believe his Arrows , Bow , and Darts , Were Form'd to Murder , or to Soften Hearts , Were Stuff , I thought , but find it very True , And willingly Retract my Error now . Some Months agon , as I Clarinda Gaz'd , My Heart unusual Pulses Beat , amaz'd , I unaccountably began to Sigh , But soon , disorder'd all , thought Death were nigh , Ne'er Dreamt of Love , i' th' least , not I ; Till One , whom long Experience made Wise , Told me 't was Love , the Symptoms had bin his : No sooner had he told me what he knew , But strait an Arrow from Love's Quiver flew , And prov'd his Story litterally True. Forgive me , Cupid , tho' I late Adore , I Feel , as well as Dread the Conquerour , And if I e'er again Reflect on Thee , May I be Damn'd for my Apostacy . Forgive me , Venus , for I 've injur'd you , Profane , ne'er Worshipt , as I Ought to do ; Forgive me , lovely Maid , to you I Bow , Fore you have sinn'd , and humbly Own it too ; To see Clarinda , and to Rail at Love , Deserv'd no less than Thunder from above : Tho' you 'ave no need of Forreign Aid , or Skill , Your Eyes with Lightning can as surely Kill , Sooner the Gyants might their Heaven Scale , Than I against Clarinda's Force , Prevail ; But Oh! when I a full Obedience show'd , And Own'd you Fair , and found you very Good , Not Proud , Reserv'd , nor yet more Free , Than Well-bred Ladies always ought to be , How happy was I thought by all that knew ! How smoothly did the pleasing Minutes Flow ! Till that , ( too too severe Decree ) that Day , Curse on it's Light ! that Hurry'd me away ; Not Trembling Ghosts with more Abhorrence Go , Change their Abodes , for Gloomy Walks below , Than I , Confounded , from Clarinda Went , Plung'd in the Deepest Sea of Discontent . Horace , ODE 29. Lib. 1. To Iccius . Upon his Changing his Study of Philosophy for that of War. MUch did I wonder , Iccius , when I heard , That you , mov'd with th' Arabian Gold , Had Chang'd the Course that you so long had steer'd , And all your Ease , and Freedom sold . That you Philosophy shou'd leave for War ! And growing Old , begin to Fight , Chains for Sabean Kings , and Medes prepare , A Work you never thought of yet . What lovely Virgin shall Entreat my Friend , Rob'd of the Charming Youth she lov'd ? What Royal Boy your Hapiness attend , With joys that Iccius always Mov'd ? Who now Affirms that Floods mayn't backwards Run ? Nay Tyber's self , forsake her Course , Like other Streams , see Springs where she begun , And ' ffright the Mountains with their Force . Since you , your well chose Books aside have laid , And all the Pleasure Learning brings , Begin to learn a bloody dangerous Trade , That always promis'd better Things . ODE 31. He asks a moderate Fortune , with much Health . WHat will the Poet ask the Gods to day ? For what , when he performs his Offerings , Pray ? Not for the Rich Sardinia's Fruitful Ground , Nor Fatted Herds , in Dry Calabria found ; Not Gold , nor Ivory , nor Richest Meads , Where Deep , but Pleasant Lyris silent Glides ; Let them that have 'em , Prune their Tender Trees , Manage with Care , what ever Fortune gives ; Let the Rich Merchant , safe Arriv'd at last , In Golden Goblets , drink a mighty Draught , Thank Heaven for his Deliverance from Harms , Out-sailing Pyrats , and out living Storms : Olives , and Mallows , rather be my Food , Ease , my Delight , and Books , my Chiefest Good. The Golden Age. SUch was the World , when no Contention Reign'd , When Heaven with Ease , and Plenty , blest Mankind , When Nature , in a Pure , but simple Dress , Taught Men the truest way to Happiness ; E'er Artifice , Intrigue , Cunning , Design , Had yet employ'd the Busie States-Man's Mind ; E'er Bolder Atheists durst Dispute the Earth , And make it take an Accidental Birth ; Owe all its Order to a Lucky Chance , When Merry Attoms were dispos'd to Dance ; Or make it an Eternal Being have , As God was always , and must always live : As Light by Emanation from the Sun , So Heaven , and Earth , and Seas , from God to come : No , the later Traces of th' Almighty's Care , Taught 'em much juster Notions of his Pow'r , That he , in Time , Call'd from Eternal Night , A Glorious Day , with Chearful Beams of Light , And made a shapeless Lump , of Form admit , And Order shine thro' all the Parts of it ; Long e'er Ambition yet the People knew , Or Interest , to make what 's False , seem True , Princes ( for e'ery Parent were as such ) Ne'er thought of Fighting , but of Loving , much ; No Swords , or Spears , were yet Contriv'd , or Made , No impious Ships , the Foaming Billows dar'd , But Men , and Boats , the swelling Surges Feard : The Aged Oak , ne'er sopt in Briny Seas , Securely kept the Wood , its Native Place , Tho' Marm'ring Winds the Younger Branches Bow'd , The Body stood , as mighty Mountains did , Ne'er Mov'd , but when the laboring Earth in Pain , Prest with some Pent-up Wind , began to Groan , And in extremity , by Force o'erthrow , Vast Trees , strong Houses , Tallest Mountains too ; The Ocean was , as Heaven at first Design'd , A certain Boundary to part Mankind ; The Floating Monsters kept their Watery home , Not more avoiding Men , than they did Them ; ' Til Wanton Luxury began to please , And Taught the World t' invade their Propertys , Brave Death , for various sorts of Meat , To satisfie a Foolish Appetite , Or what 's still worse , for Gold , they cou'd not Eat . Wou'd Heav'n I ' ad been at first th' Almighty's Care , And had an early Being any where , Or else had been reserv'd for later Days , When Men by long Experience grow Wise . The Second Idyllium of Moschus . EUROPA . WHen first Europa , Venus care appear'd , A sudden Dream , the Lovely Nymph prepar'd , 'T was then , when Night , her Darker Work had done , And Blushing Morn , her Chearful Dress put on , Europa Dreamt , ( and sure in Dreams there is More than we think , at least there was in this ) She Dream't , two different Lands to her laid Claim , The One she knew , the Other not by Name , These like Two Matrons , both , their Right declare , And each Asserted what she saw in Her : One said , and justly too , she Brought her Forth , The other , Pow'r pleaded , tho' not Birth , For Jove himself , Europa is design'd , Too great a Blessing for a Humane Mind : This , tho' a Dream , the Tender Nymph had Movd , She Wisht , she Fear'd , and what she Fear'd , she Lov'd . Tell me , ye Gods , ( she said ) for you must know , Whose Eyes discover Fate in Embrio , What makes the poor Europa Tremble so ? The Stranger that I saw , so Charming was , Such Sweetness in her Words , her Looks , her Face , No harm , can sure , with so much Goodness Dwell , And yet , methinks , I strange Disorders feel , This Thought distracts , but why , I cannot tell : This said , her little Play-fellows she sought , Thinking , that they might some Relief have brought , But they , alas ! of what she felt , Untaught ; With these she often Past her Hours away , And was till now , as Undisturb'd as they , The Tender Nymphs lament her Growing Cares , And kindly ●●sh that all her Fears were theirs ; One takes her by the Hand , and gently leads , The Maid still Trembling , to the Verdant Meads , Where various kinds of Plants their Care became , And Flowers , willing to be Cropt by them : A Golden Cup , the Fam'd Europa bore , Finer than Vulcan e'er had made before , A Gift , the God on Lybia bestow'd , When first she Blest th admiring Neptune's Bed ; Lybia with this did Telephessa Try , For none so Worthy of the Gift as she , At last the Cap the Young Europa had , Fair Telephessa's Daughter , yet a Maid . The Tender Io , Inachus's Care , As first by Jove Transform'd , was Painted here ▪ The Story told , what Pains he took to Gain , At once his Love , and Cheat his jealous Queen ▪ Here Mercury , and Argus hundr'd Eyes , A live less strange , than when beheld on this ▪ Such was the Cup the young Europa bore , Worthy great Vulcan's Art , and worthy her ▪ The Nymphs no sooner in the Meadows were , Where Dasies , Violets , and Cowslips are , But all to Gather what they like , Prepare : But still Europa did the rest Surpass , As much in Air , in Mien , in Wit , and Face , As Venus do's before the Graces shine , When Art , and Beauty , speak her most Divine : While thus she shone , a Wondering God lookt down , And looking , quickly left his Starry Throne , Europa's Eyes , far brighter than the Light , That Gilds the Spangl'd Firmament by Night ; But Juno , always jealous of her Jove , For well she knew how Venus Arts cou'd move , To jilt the Queen , he Chang'd the God , and Fled , And as a Bull , within those Pastures Fed , Where Fair Europa , and the Virgins Play'd : A Bull , but still a Form Divine he bore , Finer by much than e'er they'ad seen before , Europa went , ( her little Friends stood by ) To Touch the Charming Bull that Graz'd so nigh , The Bull Came on , and like a Lover Bow'd , To steal a Kiss , and Wonder'd when she stood ; Europa Wip'd the Eager Foam away , And Kist his Lips , and Bid the Virgins stay , He Low'd , but with so soft , so smooth an Air , The Sound was Musick to the Nicest Ear , Then Bent his Knees , and Greedy View'd her Face , Proud to Lye down , and Tumble where she was . Europa , Pleas'd to see a Sight so new , Call'd all the Nymphs , and scarce believ'd it True ; Often , my Friends , We'ave in these Meadows Play'd , And yet , we never play'd till now , she said , Let 's sit upon this Bull , his Back 's so Broad , His strength 's so great , he 'll eas'ly bear the Load , His Look's so pleasing , and his Air 's so Free , He differs from the rest , as much as we ; A Soul he has , such as great Heroes know , Cou'd he but speak , like them , I 'de love him too , With this she sate upon the Bull , and Rode , The other Virgins came to Mount the God , But Jove , secure of what he lov'd so Dear , With hasty Flight , he made the distant Shore , And Leapt the Deep , tho' he Europa Bore : She call'd her Play-fellows , but all in vain , He lest his Heaven above , for her , not them ; The Sea once Gain'd , the Foaming Waves he Treads , When all the Watery People move their Heads ; The Sea-Nymphs pay their Homage to the Pair , But Worship Jove himself , no more than her ; Prodigious Whales their mighty Bodies Move , For Neptune Taught the Honours due to Jove , And he himself appear'd amidst the Throng , While Tritons sweetly sung the Marri'ge Song . Thus was Europa in the Deep Carest , A Debt but just , to her that Jove had Blest ; But still , her Country left , Companions too , And yet no Shore she saw , no Mountain knew , 'T was Heaven all above , 't was Sea below : A sight so sad , Oblig'd the Nymph to say , Whoe'er thou art , that thus canst make thy Way , Where wou'dst thou have the Poor Europa stray ? Ships big as Mountains , thro' the Seas have steer'd , But Balls I thought , the Waves had always fear'd ; What Drink can I in Briny Waters find ? What Meat ? if th' art a God , like Heav'n be Kind , Conduct me Back , and leave me there behind : Dolphins avoid the Land , and Bulls the Sea , But Land , or Water , all 's the same to thee ; Next thou 'lt with Wings , like Birds , perhaps prepare , To Mount the Skies , and Cut the Yielding Air ▪ Unhappy Maid ! so late my Mother's Care , With whom I Wander now , unknown , or where , Kind Neptune hear thy Suppliant's Pray'r , Grant me Relief , and Ease my Wonderous Fear , Allay'd alone by this , in hopes that you , May prove the God , that Bears Europa now . At this the Bull , in happy'st Accents spoke , And Jove discover'd , in each Word , and Look , Fear not Europa , Heavens peculiar Care , 'T is he Conducts you , that design'd you Fair , Your Guide with Thunder shakes the Sky , When Earth or Heav'n disputes his Majesty , And shall he fear the Surges of the Sea ? Crete shall Receive my Charge , and own you Queen , No Rusfling Cares shall ever Interveen , Betwixt this Day , and Ages yet unseen : Lockt in your Arms , in Balmy Joyes I 'll lye , And then , my Dear , I 'll prove Divinity , A Race of Heroes shall Europa Grace , Their Father's Courage , with their Mother's Face , These prove their Force , and make the Trembling Earth , Admire their Power , and freely own their Birth . Thus while he spoke , her Ghastly Thoughts all Fled , And willingly Europa lost her Maiden-Head . Idyll . 3. Bion's EPITAPH . WEep all ye Woods , in mournful Whispers Breath , And tell the Neighb'ring Groves of Bion's Death ; Ye Murm'ring Brooks , the Fatal News declare , 'Till distant Seas the dismal Tidings hear ; Ye tender Plants Lament , your Loss Bemoan , No more your juices boast , your Virtues own , 'T is just you perish , when your Bion's gone : Ye springing Flowers , with-hold your Fragrant Smell , Ye Roses , Violets , and Cowslips tell , How good he liv'd , how much lamented sell . Sing ye Sicilian Muses Bion's Fate , For only you can sound a Grief so great . Let tuneful Philomel , from thickest Boughs , In dying Notes , the Herdsman's Death disclose , 'Till Arethusa's streams receive the News ; The Doric Muse no longer loves the Plains , But hates the Herdsmen , and their Skill disdains , When Bion sung , so good his Song , his Theme , She proudly boasted , what she heard from him . Ye Swans , that sporting on the Waters Play , Droop all your Wings , and Weep the Fatal Day , In Notes , such as were his , your Tuneful Voices Try , No Common Breath shou'd sound his Elegy ; Acquaint the Distant Virgins with your Song , That often heard the Musick of his Tongue , And Sigh'd , as Mov'd by that , his Wonderous Skill , But Panting Breasts , and Wishing Eyes reveal , What they , unhappy Nymphs , wou'd fain conceal . Sing ye Sicilian Muses , Bion's Fate , For only you can sound a Grief so great . The Cows , so late , th' Indulgent Herdsman's care , Refuse their Food , and Wander any where , No more , an Aged Oak shall boast he sate , And kindly made her swelling Root his Seat ; No more , her List'ning Boughs shall hear him Play , And Curse the Wind , that bore the Sound away . Sing ye Sicilian Muses , Bion's Fate , For only you can sound a Grief so great . When first his Death the great Apollo knew , He Mourn'd , they Satyrs Wept , Priapus too , Pan mist his Notes , and sighing , sadly said , Lament ye Nymphs , the Artful Bion's dead ; The listning Eccho , in her Cavern ly's , As Bi n dumb , and scorns the Vulgar Noise , The Trees refuse their Fruit , their Leaves all Cast , And Withering Flowers fondly Breath their last , The Dolphin Weeps , and Wanders o'er the Shore , The Nightingale , in Notes unknown before , By Grief instructed , sings the Word , No more . The thousand Birds beside , so late his Care , Affrighted , tell their Parents what they hear , And gratefully to sing his Death prepare . But who shall e'er Attempt his Oaten Pipe , So lately sounded by so Sweet a Lip ; The Eccho keeps the happy Songs he made , Pan has his Pipe , but Pan to Play 's affraid . Sing ye Sicilian Muses , Bion's Fate , For only you can speak a Grief so great . Poor Galatea Weeps , she who so late , Admir'd his Strains , and list'ning fate And often Wish'd , she cou'd his Songs repeat . Had Cyclop Play'd like him , his Tunes so good , The Nymph had follow'd , never Fled the God , For Bion's sake , she Treads the lonesom Shore , And Feeds the Herds , with him she Fed before ; No more endearing Songs , the Muses Boast , With him their Songs are gone , their Numbers lost , No more the Tender Virgins Kisses Move , No more they hear the Stories of his Love : Attend ye Loves , and speak your Venus Loss , More than Adonis she her Bion's was . When Homer Dy'd , Caliope she Sung , And told the Wonders of her Homer's Tongue , How he cou'd Move , for Thunder in his Song : Bion a Bard , as great as he , 's no more , His Thoughts as good , his Verse , his Skill , his Pow'r One drunk the Stream from Pegasus that flow'd ▪ The other Arethusa's , full as good ; One told of Wars , what Wonders some had done , As Menelaus , and great Thetis Son : The other sung his Pan , his Pan his Care , His Pan , the Virgins , and his Herds , his Fear ; He taught the Youth t' attempt the lovely Prise , And tell his Heart , by speaking with his Eyes ; He taught the Nymph , to Move the Roughest Swain , And make him sigh , admire , and dye in vain , And own a Conquest , when she pleas'd to Reign . Sing ye Sicilian Muses , Bion's Fate , For only you can sound a Grief so great . Vast Cities Mourn'd , that once admir'd his Song , Not Asera , for her Hesiod , wept so long : Boetian Woods their lofty Pindar spar'd , With less Reluctance , than his Death they heard ; The strong Wall'd Lesbus , lov'd Alcaeus less , And Ceius City will the same Confess ; Parus Archilochus lov'd less by far , And Mitylena Sappho , tho' her Care ; Ausonian Strains , my Numbers Move , Such as the Muses , and their Bion , love , Whose Pipe , rather than all his Herds , I 'de have . The Plants , the Product of a Fruitful Earth , They dye like us , but know a second Birth ; But Man , tho' great , tho' good , tho' strong , tho' Wise , Can dye but once , and never more must rise : Cou'd any thing Exempt , our Bion's Skill Had sav'd the Bard , and all had known him still ; 'T was Poyson kill'd him , but 't was very strange , His sweeter Breath the Poyson did not Change , O that I , as Orpheus once , cou'd Tread , Or , as Alcides , or Vlysses did , I 'de quickly pay a Visit to his shade . And if he Plays below , I 'de hear , and see , What Modes , what Strains , will please the Deity , In vain Eurydice had Orpheus Mourn'd , Without his Musick she had ne'er return'd , As Orpheus her , may I , my Friend receive , I 'll Pipe to Try , and Dye , to make him live . Anacreon , ODE 3. WHen silent Night , the Wand'ring Signs employ'd , And Weary Mortals welcome Sleep enjoy'd , Young Cupid came , and made a Woeful Noise , Knocking , and calling , with a loud , shrill Voice , Open your Doors , my Friend , no harm I 'll do , I 'm but a Boy , a very young one too , All Wet , I 'ave Wander'd in a Rainy Night , The Moon , or Stars , scarce giving any Light : Mov'd by so sad a Tale , I hasty ran , And struck a Light , and let the Traveller in , Amaz'd ! I saw a Youth all Arm'd appear , A Quiver , Bow , and Pointed Arrows Bear , He hasted to the Fire , his Form scarce seen , 'Till I drew near , and Warm'd his Hands with mine , The Cold by th' Heatexpell'd , he Pertly spoke , Let us go take my Bow , my Friend , and look , If all is Right , for if it 's spoyl'd I 'm Broke . He drew his Bow , and by a Wonderous Slight , Through all my Flesh , my very Heart he Hit , A Frenzy siez'd me , and I Feel it yet . ODE 12. Anac . The Swallow . SAy , thou damn'd Disturber of my Rest , Thou Pratling Swallow , worst of all thy Nest , How shall I Punish thee ? for I 'll no more Endure thy Early Noise , as heretofore ; What if I Clipt thy Wings ? or Cut thy Tongue ? As Tereus , Philomela serv'd when Young ? For when Bathillus Moves with softest Charms , And I all Melting Lye within his Arms , The Boy I loose , by your Confounded Note , So often Eccho'd through your Squeaking Throat . ODE 15. Anac . I Value not great Gyges Wealth , not I , Nor all the Gold the Richest Kings enjoy , Give me Refreshing Oyntments , that are Fine , And Oyl , to make my Beard and Temples shine ; Let sweetest Roses Grace each Curling Hair , And thus Adorn'd , than they , I 'm greater far ▪ To Day I 'll live , and make it all my Own , For who can tell the Curse to Morrow may bring on ? Then take great Bacchus , all my Sacrifice , Let some invidious , Damn'd Disease , Shou'd think I ' ad Drunk enough , and bid me Cease . ODE 26. AS Bacchus with his Fiery Face is seen , So I , when Drunk , a Hero , look like him Richer than Craesus too , I seem to be , And thinking so , at least am full as Rich as he ; I Laugh , and Sing , as happy Mortals do , And when the Ivy Chaplets Deck my Brow , I scorn whatever else is found Below . A Noise of War makes some in Haste get up , When they take their Arms , I take my Cup , For I have often in my Drinking said , I ' ad rather far be very Drunk , than Dead , ODE 40. WHile Cupid snatcht some Roses from a Tree , Thoughtless of Harm , an envious , spiteful Bee , Fixes her Sting , and Draws his Tender Blood ; The Boy Affrighted , Shrieks , and Crys aloud , And Runs , and Flys , to tell his Wretched Fate , More sad by much , than ever happen'd yet ; Venus receives him with a Parent 's Care , But still his Wound Torments him with new Fear , I Dye , I Dye , I Dye , I 'm Kill'd , he sayd , This Moment , Mother , you will see me Dead , A little Prickly Serpent , such as Fly , I think the People say it is a Bee , Assaulted me , and stung me as you see . Venus smil'd , and Kist her Son , and said , The Danger 's not so great as you 're affraid ; If little Bees can sting with so much Force , Your Pointed Darts , my Dear , must needs be Worse . ODE 52. The Rose . I Sing the Happy Product of the Spring , The Rose , the Sweetest , Dearest Offering ; It 's Fragant Smell , like that of Heav'n above , Commands at once , our Wonder , and our Love ; The Graces choose it in their Amorous Play , When finest Drest , with this alone they 're Gay ; The Prickly Arms that Nature has bestow'd , Proves thee much more her Care , and not less Good , For if with these the Gatherer you hurt , A full Amends your Odors make him sor't ; When Prest , the softest Bosom may Admit , And tho' 't was Fine before , 't is still more Sweet ; Bacchus invites thee , as a Welcome Guest , When e'er the Deity prepares a Feast . Aurora , when she Rises , views thy Form , And Grants thy Beauties Finer than her own ; The Nymphs , with Roses , all Adorn their Bed , And Cyprian Venus , by the Poets too is said , To Blush with such , or scarce so good a Red : Thou art a Med'cine to the Fainting Sick , When Nature sinks , thou Fetchest back the Weak , Or if they Dye , thou keep'st their Bodies sweet , In spite of Time , and all the Injuries of it : When Poets prove thy first , and mighty Birth , They bring thy Origin from Heav'n , not Earth , To spring with Venus , when the Foaming Sea , Gave Venus Birth , her Sweets they say , gave Thee ▪ ODE 28. To a Painter . PAint me , Great Artist , my Clarinda's Face , Her Shape , and all the Beauty's that she has ; And if your Colours will admit a Gum , Draw her with all the Odors that Perfume , Or give her Breath , and there 's no need of them . Paint her with Eyes , that wou'd a Hermit Move , And make him leave his Cell , and Own his Love ; Minerva's never Darted such a Flame , Nor was Great Venus , greater Power , like them : Make her Endearing Cheeks with lovely Red , Like Virgin Blushes in the Marri'ge Bed ; Her Pleasing Lips , with Extasie of Bliss , A Prince wou'd give a Kingdom for a Kiss . Paint her , when strongest Passions Heave her Breast , And leave a Deep Impression to be Ghest ; Cou'd Pulses in your Colours Dance like Hers , The World wou'd quickly Turn Idolaters , The Painter's Skill exceed the Poet's Thought , And all Mankind would Wonder at your Art ; But Draw her Good , as all her Actions are , In such a Garb as Vestal Virgins Wear , Yet if you can , let some small part be seen , To tell the many Thousand Charms within . Enough : Her Form is fixt within my Eye , I 'll Draw her thus , and all the World shall see , The nicest Piece that e'er a Painter Drew , Clarinda , Looking , Thinking , Speaking too . The Second Idyll . of Bion. A Youth a shooting in a Wood , With eager Hast his Game pursu'd , VVhere sporting Cupid soon appear'd , The Boy of Cupid ne'er had heard ; But pleas'd , to see a Bird , tho' high , So Tame , as if it cou'd not Fly , His Arrows Fixt , his Bow he Drew , But all his Arrows awkward Flew , VVhile Cupid leap'd from Bough to Bough ; His Arrows spent , away he ran , VVhere soon he met an Older Man , And told him all , and Cupid show'd , The God still Perching in the VVood : The Old Man smil'd , and told the Boy , No Arrows cou'd that Game destroy : Be gone , he said , your Sport give o'er , To Kill that Bird 's in no Man's Pow'r , When Prompting Nature speaks you Fit , The Bird that now will not be Hit , Will then upon your Shoulders fit . The Third Idyll . of Bion. WHen happy Dreams , which make the Wretched Blest , Had Banish'd Cares , and Charm'd my Soul to Rest , Amaz'd , methoughts I saw a Goddess stand , Holding a little Wanton by the Hand ; My Head I Mov'd , my Weary Body Bow'd , Thinking the Airy Phantom wou'd have Fled : When Venus told me , she had Cupid brought , To learn to Sing , ( an Art I some times Taught ) This said , The Goddess smil'd , and left her Son , Fond of my Charge , I Pastorals begun ; I show'd how Pan , with happy Strains was Mov'd , What Sounds Apollo , and Minerva , lov'd ; But sporting Cupid , still Untaught , Remain'd , Laugh'd at my Method , and my Skill disdain'd , A thousand little Wanton Songs begun , And told me Stories , what the Gods had done , Who lov'd his Mother , who her Favour Won . While I , pleas'd with th' endearing Thought , Knew what he said , but what I did , Forgot . Anacreon , ODE 50. BAcchus Descends , and leavs his Heaven above , To Teach us how to drink , and how to love , He makes us in our Cups , all Great , and Wise , And scorn the Threatning Dangers that Arise ; The strongest Wine , the soonest do's inspire , And gives a double Portion of Love's Fire ; Ensur'd by Wine , no Tedious Disease Disturbs our Mirth , or Dares our Body sieze ; Our Spirits are Sublime , Refin'd , and Free , And like our Notions , Airy , Brisk , and Gay ; Our Pleasing Joys are Constant too , and long , For when the Vintage , and the Season's done , A kind succeeding Vintage still comes on . ODE 56. MY Hoary Temples speak me very Old , And all my Crown once Cover'd , now all Bald , Youth hath withdrawn her Image from my Face , And made my Mouth , the Force of Time Confess ; The small Remains of Life are a ▪ most spent , And VVeakn'd Nature staggers , and I Faint , To think the lonesom , Melancholy Road , The Journey to the Shades , the Dead all Tread , The Stygean God's Infernal Seat's so Deep , So Pitchy Dark , as well as Wonderous Steep ! Secure he keeps the Passengers Below , And none Return , to tell us what they do . A DREAM . I Dreamt , and in my Dream , methoughts I saw , The Good Anacreon , he call'd me too ; I Ran with hast , and soon Embrac'd the Bard , Wonder'd to see Anacreon , but not Scar'd ; His Visage spoke him Old , but Fair , and Clear , Comely , and Merry , as he always Were , His Lips were Colour'd , and his Breath as Fine , As when alive , Perfum'd with Richest Wine ; Young Cupid Waited on him , as a Friend , And when he Reel'd , he held him by the Hand ; The Poet Kindly gave me , as I Stood , A well Chose Garland , Rich , and very Good , I Fondly Fixt the Present to my Head , Proud of a Gift the Great Anacreon made , And ever since the Fatal Time I knew , I Thirst like him , and Burn as Lovers do . FINIS . 
A90651	----	An elegie offer'd up to the memory of His Excellencie Robert Earle of Essex and Ewe Viscount Hereford, Lord Ferrers of Chartley, Bourchier and Lovaine, late generall of the Parliaments forces. / Thomas Philipot. Philipot, Thomas, d. 1682. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A90651 of text R40096 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.10[82]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 5 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A90651 Wing P1995 Thomason 669.f.10[82] ESTC R40096 99872566 99872566 162616 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A90651) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 162616) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f10[82]) An elegie offer'd up to the memory of His Excellencie Robert Earle of Essex and Ewe Viscount Hereford, Lord Ferrers of Chartley, Bourchier and Lovaine, late generall of the Parliaments forces. / Thomas Philipot. Philipot, Thomas, d. 1682. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. (port.) Printed for William Ley at his shop in Pauls Chaine, London : [1646] With engraved portrait of the Earl of Essex. In verse: "As some tall Oake 'gainst whom the envious Wind" ... Date of publication suggested by Wing. Annotation on Thomason copy: [illegible, cropped]th 1646. Reproductions of the originals in the Harvard University Library (Early English books) and the British Library (Thomason Tracts). eng Essex, Robert Devereux, -- Earl of, 1591-1646 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English. A90651 R40096 (Thomason 669.f.10[82]). civilwar no An elegie offer'd up to the memory of His Excellencie Robert Earle of Essex and Ewe, Viscount Hereford, Lord Ferrers of Chartley, Bourchier Philipot, Thomas 1646 794 1 0 0 0 0 0 13 C The rate of 13 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2007-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-07 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-08 Pip Willcox Sampled and proofread 2007-08 Pip Willcox Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELEGIE OFFER'D UP TO THE Memory of his Excellencie ROBERT Earle of Essex and Ewe , Viscount Hereford , Lord Ferrers of Chartley , Bourchier and Lovaine , late GENERALL of the PARLIAMENTS Forces . THE MOST NOBLE ROBERT EARLE OF ESSEX AND LO: GEN : OF THE FORCES FOR K : & PARL. portrait of Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, Lord General AS some tall Oake 'gainst whom the envious Wind Oft in impetuous Hurricans combin'd Does stand unmov'd , although assaild by all The angry Gales , yet of it selfe does fall When there 's scarce Breath enough i' th sullen Aire To ravell or disturb a Virgins Haire : So this brave Lord who like a swelling Rock At Keynton , Newbury , had stood the Shock Of death , unmov'd , where he himselfe had flung Amidst his Troops with all his Terrors Hung This death at last did like a drousie sleepe O're his becalm'd unguarded Sences creepe . What Springs of Teares shall we disburse ? what Terse Curld Metaphors now stick upon his Hearse ? Tears are but dull and , common rights they are The stipend of each vulgar Sepulcher Here Seas themselvs should be lav'd out , and streams Be lick'd up by the Sun's refulgent Beams That in the day's great Eye there might appear For this great Ruine too , a Funerall Tear Whole Cataracts should bee exhald , and then Distill'd in liquid Obsequies agen , Such shoures are most proportion'd to his Fate And to his losse such Teares Commensurate , What Shrine or Trophies shall our lavish Art As Tribute to his Ashes now impart ? What Dole of Obelisqu's shall wee entrust To stand as Alphabets unto his Dust ? Alas ( Great Lord ) what Urne is fit for thee ? Who to thy selfe art Urne and Elegie And for Supporters wee our selves become Congeal'd with Sighs Supporters to his Tombe . What Gummes or Spices shall wee now prepare T' enshrine his Dust ? since they but fluid are And obvious to Decay so soone , they 'l bee Transform'd themselves into more Dust then Hee , No , Hee has left his Name , which shall embalme His Earth , and all Corruption so becalme This when , his Sear-cloath is Dissolv'd and Spent , Shall to it selfe bee its own Monument ; What Tapers now shall wee afford his Shrine ? About the Chaos of his Dust to shine 〈…〉 his Honor'd Breast And is lock'd up now in his Marble Chest Shall fill their Roome , and from the gloomy Night Of his dark Vault , Dart a perpetuall Light . What Heaps of Palme and Laurell shall wee lay As Chaplets drop'd upon his livelesse Clay ? No let us rather Sprigs of Olives strow Upon his Monument , which there will grow , And by our Teares manur'd shall so increase It shall bee stil'd by all the Arke of Peace . How Crippled now Nature does seeme , her Frame Is disproportion'd and her Junctures lame Since from her Bulke this mighty Limb is lop'd ; And as when Flowers by early Fate are crop'd From off their Stalke the mourning Stem appeares As if it wept their losse bath'd ore with Teares : So now when Hee that seem'd even to Cement Nature's vast Fabrick , from her Building 's rent By Death's unthrifty Hand , the whole Compact By this one Blow is so resolv'd and slack'd 'T is fear'd 't will languish into Dust , and all The heap of Men entomb too in its fall , For at that Breach thy Soul flew out at , wee Our selves ( Great Lord ) must bleed to Death with Thee Since then ( Fair Soul ) thou by thy Fate doest gaine Triumphs and Palmes , and wee alone sustaine The Losse , and Death attempting to benight With his blind Clouds the Glory of thy Light With which so long amidst our Orbe you shone Has fix'd thee now a Constellation In Heaven above , look from thy brighter Sphere On us , who like dull Ants lye groveling here Maim'd by thy Death , and if leane Envie dare To rake or paddle in thy Sepulcher May shee grope out her way to that , and find Thou with thy Spotlesse Beams didst strike her Blind ; Enjoy thy Crowne of Glory then , and bee As from all Guilt , so from all Envie free , And if in after ages , any Stone Shall bee by bold Detractors at thee throwne T' will turne a precious one , and so combine To make this Crowne of Glory brighter shine . Thomas Philipot . 
A91771	----	An elegie on the death of the Right Honourable Iohn Warner, late Lord Mayor of London. Rich, Jeremiah, d. 1660? This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A91771 of text R211042 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.13[38]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 5 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A91771 Wing R1341 Thomason 669.f.13[38] ESTC R211042 99869778 99869778 162934 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A91771) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 162934) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f13[38]) An elegie on the death of the Right Honourable Iohn Warner, late Lord Mayor of London. Rich, Jeremiah, d. 1660? 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [London : 1648] Signed at end: Ieremiah Rich. Fecit. Imprint from Wing. Verse - "The sweetest, fairest, and the best of flowers,". Annotation on Thomason copy: "Nouemb: 13 1648". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Warner, John, -- Sir, d. 1648 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English. A91771 R211042 (Thomason 669.f.13[38]). civilwar no An elegie on the death of the Right Honourable Iohn Warner, late Lord Mayor of London. Rich, Jeremiah 1648 829 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2007-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-07 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-08 Pip Willcox Sampled and proofread 2007-08 Pip Willcox Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELEGIE On the death of the Right Honourable IOHN WARNER , Late Lord Mayor of LONDON . THe sweetest , fairest , and the best of flowers , Lose their choise rarity in a few run hours : The wandring , glorious stars , when night is done Go down , and vail their bodies to the Sun : And when great Phoebus riseth in a flame To view the throne of darknesse , and proclaim Joy to all drowzy Mortals , and doth say , Rise slumbering Man , arise , and welcome day . The Moon ashamed of her pale face , doth shrowd Her , in the bosom of some darkened cloud : And thus among earths Lamplets , there is one This day gone down , and left our darkened throne ; A glorious Star indeed , whose shining name Was blown by Honour , and the breath of Fame : His heart was faithfull , vertuous , and his face Was drest with greatnesse , goodnesse , truth , and grace : Vertue and wisdom taught him what to do , To unite all by love , and Justice too His lips , the lips of knowledge , in his eye Sate both humility , and Majesty ; There was high Honour , yet fidelity , There brightnesse sate in vertues bravery . He sate in Honours Chair untill the last , In spite of Envy , or her nine dayes blast : His house was here on earth , his heart above , He lived in loyalty , and died in love . Oh , had he shined still , his Orient light Might make us blush to see our oversight ! But he is gone : Times hour-glass being run , This Star went down to meet the morning Sun . Thus vain is earthly pomp , the flourishing Crown Of earthly royalty , death trampleth down . Thus is our wealth but want , our flower fades , Our light is darkness , and our sun-shine shades . Thus is our Honour lost ; thus like a Theam Is earth , and Dignity is but a dream . Thus is our glory grass , our bravery breath , Our light is darkness , and our life is death : And if they promise more , they do but lie , 'T is but a dream ; go earth , lie down and die : Go earth , lie down and die , go see The gallant confines of eternity : Go to Elyzium , go to Paradise , Where all the ancient Heroes live in bliss . Go dwell in endless glory , till thou tire Times swift foot-race , for time cannot expire Thy lasting joy : go live above thy name , That rides on lofty wings of flying fame . Earth is too base to dwell on , go and pass Those streets of Gold , like to transparent glass , And shining glittering pearl , whereon each Gate Is built : go kiss the Lamb emaculate , Go put on robes of glory , go and be Swallowed with endless immortality . There is no Sun , nor Moon , no clouds , nor rain , No frowns , nor fortunes , nor corrupted gain ; No curious gardens , nor no costly fare , No stately buildings , nor no worldly care ; Nor no ridiculous smiles , no jests , nor play , No recreation , nor no holy-day ; No drinking , cursing , swearing , nor abuse , No sin , no shame , no sorrow , nor excuse ; No slavery , guile , nor slander , nor sedition , No cozening fraud , nor goggle-ey'd suspition ; No rape , no theft , no murder , nor no fear , Dwels in high glory , though they wander here : But high unmeasured joy , and amity , And love , and peace , and vertues rarity , And Pearls , and Onix , and the Jasper stones , And Palms , and Crowns , and Kingly royall thrones ; And ravisht Allelujahs , which the brest Of Angels warble in eternall rest . Go earth , lie down and die ; and to thy trust , Oh earth , we recommend his Honoured dust To lie and slumber , till his agedeyes Shall wake from deaths dark lullabies : Untill the trumpet sounds , and heaven shall say , Rise from the dead all Mortals , come away : And if thy Monument shall leave his trust , And turn to ashes like thy mouldring dust , Thy fame that cannot die , shall be A Monument in the worlds memory . Alas , and is this all that earth can do ? A way vain glory , go , be intombed too . Ieremiah Rich. Fecit . 
A91805	----	A funeral elegy upon the most honored upon Earth, and now glorious in Heaven His Excellency Robert Devereux Earl of Essex and Ewe, Viscount Hereford, Lord Ferrers of Chartly Courchier and Lovaine, late Generall of England. / Written by him who doth with much grief here speak of brave Essex, Englands Phenix Peere. Josiah Ricraft of London merchant. Ricraft, Josiah, fl. 1645-1679. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A91805 of text R210596 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.10[81]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A91805 Wing R1429 Thomason 669.f.10[81] ESTC R210596 99869379 99869379 162615 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A91805) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 162615) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f10[81]) A funeral elegy upon the most honored upon Earth, and now glorious in Heaven His Excellency Robert Devereux Earl of Essex and Ewe, Viscount Hereford, Lord Ferrers of Chartly Courchier and Lovaine, late Generall of England. / Written by him who doth with much grief here speak of brave Essex, Englands Phenix Peere. Josiah Ricraft of London merchant. Ricraft, Josiah, fl. 1645-1679. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. (port.) Printed in the year one thousand six hundred forty and six in which, Septembers fourteenth day deceased brave Essex. Are to be sold by John Hancock, in Popes head Ally neer the Royall Exchange, London : [1646] With engraved portrait of the Earl of Essex. In verse : "Is Valiant Essex dead? 'tis sure a story!" Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Essex, Robert Devereaux, -- Earl of, 1591-1646 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- Early works to 1800. A91805 R210596 (Thomason 669.f.10[81]). civilwar no A funeral elegy upon the most honored upon Earth, and now glorious in Heaven, His Excellency Robert Devereux Earl of Essex and Ewe, Viscount Ricraft, Josiah 1646 626 2 0 0 0 0 0 32 C The rate of 32 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2007-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-07 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-08 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2007-08 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion A Funerall Elegy upon the most Honored upon Earth , and now glorious in Heaven , His Excellency Robert Devereux Earl of Essex and Ewe , Viscount Hereford , Lord Ferrers of Chartly Bourchier and Lovaine , late Generall of England . portrait Robert Earle of Essex his Exellence Lord Generall of the Parlimts : Army etc : Lately deceased winged skull IS valiant Essex dead ? 't is sure a story ! Since none do die who gain eternal glory . No , he is only vanisht from our sight , And made a star ; to give these Isles more light To see the way to peace , and to direct Their erring judgements from each idle Sect , Which trouble both Religion , and the State ▪ And are indeed the limen of that gate At which our miseries and mischiefes enter , The very spring of all our woes and center . But whither run I ? oh ! see ! observe the Sphears , How they bewail our Essex losse in tears : For with this light and airy shadow we Of fame and honor must contented be ; Since from the vain grasp of our Wishes fled Their glorious substance is , now , he is dead ; And speaks again louder , and louder yet ; Els while we hear the sound , we should forget What is deliver'd ; let hoarse rumors cry Till it so many ecchoes multiply , To waken our deaf sense , and make our ears As open and dilated as our fears , That we might feel the blow and feeling grive At which fain we would not , but must beleeve , And in this horrid faith behold the world From her proud height of expectation hurl'd ; Stooping with him , as if shee strove to have No lower center now , then Essex grave . Oh! could not all thy purchas'd victories Like to thy fame , thy flesh immortalize ! Could not all these protect thee , or prevail To fright that coward Death , who oft grew pale To look thee and thy battels in the face ? Alas they could not ! destiny gives place To none : nor is it seen that Princes Lives Can saved be by their Prerogatives . Yet since it is decreed thy life's bright sun Must be eclip'st ; thy race it being run : Be proud , thou dye'st in thy black obsequies With greater glory set , then others rise . For in thy death and life thou heldest one Most just and regular proportion . Look how a circle drawn by compass meet Invisibly is joyned head to feet : So doth thy fate and honor now contend To match thy brave beginning with thy end . And for thy name , it stands in crimson groun ▪ Edg-hill and Newbrey-marsh thy fame to sound . For in those fields thou did'st triumphantly Conquer the enemy , got'st the victory . Therefore thou wilt have for thy passing bels The drums and canons thunder forth thy knels . Then famous London shut your shops a space , And mourn for him who was your Islands grace . I should proceed , but sorrow wets my eyes ; And while some Muses write , mine only cries . Written by him who doth with much grief here Speak of brave Essex , Englands Phenix Peere . Josiah Ricraft of London Merchant . FINIS LONDON Printed in the year one thousand six hundred forty and six In which , SEPTEMBERS fourteenth day deceased brave ESSEX . Are to be sold by JOHN HANCOCK , in Popes head Ally neer the Royall Exchange . 
A92026	----	Upon the much lamented departure of the high and mighty Prince Oliver Lord Protector of England, Scotland and Ireland, &c. A funeral elegie. Rowland, John, 1606-1660. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A92026 of text R211097 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.21[11]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 6 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A92026 Wing R2072 Thomason 669.f.21[11] ESTC R211097 99869835 99869835 163506 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A92026) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 163506) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 247:669f21[11]) Upon the much lamented departure of the high and mighty Prince Oliver Lord Protector of England, Scotland and Ireland, &c. A funeral elegie. Rowland, John, 1606-1660. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [London : 1658] Verse - "Is the states Atlas dead, whose strongest brain". Signed: Jo. Row. C.C.C. Imprint from Wing. Annotation on Thomason copy: "1658: Oct 2.". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Cromwell, Oliver, 1599-1658 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English. A92026 R211097 (Thomason 669.f.21[11]). civilwar no Upon the much lamented departure of the high and mighty Prince Oliver Lord Protector of England, Scotland and Ireland, &c. A funeral elegie. Rowland, John 1658 885 1 0 0 0 0 0 11 C The rate of 11 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2007-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-07 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-08 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2007-08 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Vpon the much Lamented Departure of the High and Mighty PRINCE , OLIVER LORD PROTECTOR Of ENGLAND , SCOTLAND and IRELAND , &c. A FUNERAL ELEGIE . IS the States Atlas dead , whose strongest Brain Held it from Ruine , with his might and main ? Could not his Wisdome , Prudence , Prowess , Zeal , And rich endowments for the Commonweal , Nor Conqu'ring hand , nor peoples Votes , nor Tears , Nor Prayers for him to prevent their Fears Prevail against the stroke of Destiny ? No , 't is a Statute-Law that all must dye . Death is impartial , Kings , and Peasants must , When Death knocks at their doors , lye in the dust And fate wise Princes seldome so long spares As common men , their heads are full of cares , Which is the reason that by most is guest , Why Joseph younger dyed before the rest . Scepters and Crowns are oftentimes begirt With thorny cares that lying in the dirt , Few men would take them up , did they but know The thoughts of heart they bring with grief and woe . So Henry Bullingbrook on his deaths-bed , Henry the Fifth his Son admonished . Men oft-times strive for things they know not what , Which being gain'd , they wish they had them not . Crowns cannot respite time , nor hinder fate , But are more likely for to antidate . This Wise PROTECTOR that is lately dead , How was He toyl'd with thoughts that fill'd His head For to preserve from dangers that appear'd On every side most justly to be fear'd ? Would men lay this to heart I dare profess , They 'd never envy Princes happiness . They watch when subjects sleep , and counsel take For publick good , and for the peoples sake . The People press'd it , and the Parlement On Him they thought most fit for Government ; And strove to crown Him , but He that refus'd , And much adoe He had to be excus'd . Which shew's , that He was loath to undergo This burthen , but that God would have it so : Who heard the peoples voice up to the skies , Sadly complaining for their Liberties . Reflect on Him departed , whom , in vain , With Sighs and groans you would call back again . How did His great Achievements fill His soule , Almost ubiquitary , to controule , And rule such multitudes , so divided In mindes and hearts , hardly to be guided ▪ How did His great Employments make Him sad ; Needing more eyes than ever Argus had ! To see in every corner , and descry Mens private Plots , and hidden Treachery , Which did retard , and lay'd on Him more load ; Yet could not stop His vast designes abroad . Let England , Scotland , Ireland speak what Hee Perform'd , by making One , these Countries Three . Let France , and Holland , Portugal , and Spain , Denmark , and Turkie send to us again A true Report of Victories He got Where er'e His Armies martch'd , almost where not ? Raising his Trophies not farre from the Line ; Let but Jamaica speak His great designe : ( Hispaniola , by Calumbus found , Was first intended to be English ground : But here refus'd ; by the King of Castile Accepted . Gold may yet be gain'd by steil , Where that the cause is just , but private jarrs Have often hindred great attempts in warrs . ) The Indies , East and West will say no less ; His Name 's Renoun'd with the Antipodes . Each day brought a new Conquest , Flanders now In part subdu'd , almost they knew not how : Dint of his sword Dunkirk no sooner felt , But all the peoples hearts like Ice did melt . Nor Pompey , Cesar , great Alexander Nor great Emperour , the worlds Comander Prevail'd so farre , counting the time He steer'd At Helme : yet by this haste 't was to be fear'd That these his noble Acts did much portend Hee hasted drawing near unto his end . All things did prosper that he undertook : And if we nearly into causes look ; Hee ner'e attempted any thing , but Cries And Prayers made way for His Victories : His Devotion may examples give To Christian Princes that now do live ; That if they mean to speed , they must implore Aid from above , and seek to God before . Thus this Lands Gideon prosper'd alwayes , And , having settled Peace , ended his dayes . At such a time , when as most things do stand In a fair posture , both by Sea and Land , On the same Day of Thanks , design'd to bee , For Woster , and Dunbar's great Victorie . Wee wish that his Successour may excel , And bee the Sonne of great Jerubbaal . Vivit post FVNERA VIRTVS . JO . ROW . C. C. C. FINIS . 
A92027	----	An elegie upon the death of the right Honourable & most renowned, Robert Devereux Earle of Essex and Ewe, Viscount Hereford, Lord Ferrers of Chartley, Bourchier Lovaine, late Generall of the Forces of the Parliament of England, who deceased the 14. of September, 1646. Rowland, William. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A92027 of text R210643 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.10[97]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 7 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A92027 Wing R2073 Thomason 669.f.10[97] ESTC R210643 99869421 99869421 162630 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A92027) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 162630) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f10[97]) An elegie upon the death of the right Honourable & most renowned, Robert Devereux Earle of Essex and Ewe, Viscount Hereford, Lord Ferrers of Chartley, Bourchier Lovaine, late Generall of the Forces of the Parliament of England, who deceased the 14. of September, 1646. Rowland, William. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. Printed by R. Austin, London : 1646. In verse. Annotation on Thomason copy: "Octob: 23.". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Essex, Robert Devereux, -- Earl of, 1591-1646 -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, English. Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. A92027 R210643 (Thomason 669.f.10[97]). civilwar no An elegie upon the death of the right Honourable & most renowned, Robert Devereux, Earle of Essex and Ewe, Viscount Hereford, Lord Ferrers o Rowland, William 1646 1129 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2007-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-07 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-08 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2007-08 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion An Elegie upon the death of the right Honourable & most renowned , ROBERT DEVEREVX , Earle of ESSEX and Ewe , Viscount Hereford , Lord Ferrers of Chartley , Bourchier and Lovaine , late GENERALL of the Forces of the PARLIAMENT of England , who deceased the 14. of September , 1646. CAn Englands noble Champion [ ESSEX ] die ? That kept us safe from hostile Tyrannie ) Can he ( I say ) from us to 's dust depart , ( Ne're to returne ) and we not lay 't to heart ? Can we ( whose Shield he was ) not sensibly Bewaile our losse of him with weeping eye ? O Heavens forbid ! unworthy Nation we , Should we of his great worth unmindfull be . Though he 's extinct , yet let Posterity Keep up his name , that did ( our Liberty Safely for us and them to keep ) expose Himselfe , unsafely , to the rage of Foes . He prick'd the timpany of their great pride , Teaching refluxes to the flowing-tide Of those that fought so for Prerogative ; Therefore , ( though He be dead ) His Name will live . He first did lay our present Strengths foundation , ( Which prospers well ) t' unslave our British Nation , And oft did hazard 's life in bloody fight , Yet knew no quarrell but the publike right , For which he forc't Foes fortitude to flight : Therefore we grieve his Obsequie to write . He that the Victor was , is now the Prize : For he which gat us many Victories , Is vanquished himselfe , and forc't to lye At feet of death , who hath the victory . " See then that Prowesse , though it purchase praise , " Purchase it cannot health , or length of daies . " Both great , and good , yea valiant men must die , " When death ( impartiall ) strikes them , they must lie " In dust : the passing bell will tole for them , " That rang , erewhile , the Beggars Requiem . " The way he 's gone , is not a way untrod , " But is decreed by the eternall God , " To be the way , that ev'ry man must go : " Aswell a Friend , as he that is a Foe . " Death takes excize of all , and his is paid , " His soul's at 's place , his bodie 's to be laid " Where they in their best judgments do think fit , " Who with what else he left , have right to it . But is there not more in good ESSEX'S death Then yet I 've said ? let 's feare he 's gone from th'earth As one we were unworthy of : because Our sinnes against Gods sin-forbidding Lawes Have th' Almighty incens'd and made him frown , And in his wrath against us , to cast down This so great Pillar , that he might be set In better place , and there more glory get , For sins ( we know ) bring sorrowes back with fears . And we may now lye pickl'd up in tears , For that our Patriots so fast do dye Before our peace be made up perfectly . " Great God! let thy offended wrath surcease , " Behold thy people , send thy people peace : " Turn not so fast our Nobles into dust : " Be mercifull ( dear God ) as well as just . " If thou proceed to do as thou'st begun , " We shall be drosse when all the gold is gone . " 'T is thou , 't is thou alone , didst send this Griefe , " 'T is thou , 't is thou alone must send reliese . " O then recruit our losse , increase our friends ; " And so for what thou'st done make us amends . " To thee alone our Sorrowes do appeale , " Earth hath no wound too hard for Heaven to heale . William Rowland . AN EPITAPH FOR HIS TOMBE . ALL you who passe here by draw neere ; And with your tears bedew what 's here . For they 've as marble eyes as hearts , That cannot weep a tear in parts , But , like dull Stoicks , quite forbeare , When they do see , and read , or heare , Who lies herein : that ESSEX is The man , an Earle renown'd by his Most noble birth : whose father Queene Eliza had in great esteeme . And he himselfe , by Parliament , To b'Englands Generall had consent , And fought our Battells . Now he 's dead , Do not you rudely o're Him tread , Who hath So stout a Champion prov'd , And was therefore So greatly lov'd , That Fame hath his victorious browes Oft duly crown'd with Lawrell boughs . Who then to grieve will spare the cost , That England such a Peere hath lost ? And that no more of that same Blood Is left , to do England more good . William Rowland . AEtatis Suae 56 A MOVRNEFVLL CLOVD Ouer vaylinge the face of England for the sorrowfull death of his Exelence Robert Deuourux Earle of Essex and Ewe Vicout Herryford Lord Ferreres of Chartley Boucher and Louaine Lord General of all the Parlaments forces , & and dyed ye 24 of September 1646. BASIS VIRTVTVM CONSTANTIA depiction of tomb Hîc jacet in tumulo , praeclaro Sanguine natus ; ROBERTUS DAVEREUX , Miles fortissimus Armis . W. R. EPITAPHIUM in obitum ROBERTI DEVEREUX , Nobilissimi & Illustrissimi ESSEXIAE COMITIS . ESSEX Castellum Patriae , fortissimus HECTOR , Belligerans validè , generoso Stemmate natus , CIVIBVS & murus , necnon tutela COLONIS , Bellonae Conjux armatos duxit apertè , Et Patriae fixus , Regique fidelis in ARMIS , Candida Magnificis floruerunt cuncta potenti , INVICTVS , stabilis , necnon quo justior ALTER Haud Pietate fuit , nec Bello Major & Armis . Vota , proces , lachrymas , jam desine ( Candide Lector , ) Invito scelere , ac fortuna reposuit Altis : Parce tuis lachrymis , donârunt Numina CAELOS : Flebilis in tumulo , multi doluere Colores . Epilogus . Coeli animam , terrae Corpus , fortesque dolorem , Et Mundus Nomen , claraque facta ferunt . XIV . Calend. Novemb. M. DC.IVL . Tho. Thorne Londinensis . Published according to Order . London , Printed by R. Austin . 1646. 
A94732	----	An elegie upon the Honourable Colonel Thomas Rainsbrough, butchered at Doncaster Sunday the 29. Octob. 1648. J. T. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A94732 of text R211064 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.13[39]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A94732 Wing T18 Thomason 669.f.13[39] ESTC R211064 99869800 99869800 162935 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A94732) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 162935) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f13[39]) An elegie upon the Honourable Colonel Thomas Rainsbrough, butchered at Doncaster Sunday the 29. Octob. 1648. J. T. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [London : 1648] Signed at end: 'J.T.' Imprint from Wing. Verse - "Tvvas like your selves brave Royallists, such a blow,". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Rainborow, Thomas, d. 1648 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English. Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. A94732 R211064 (Thomason 669.f.13[39]). civilwar no An elegie upon the Honourable Colonel Thomas Rainsbrough, butchered at Doncaster Sunday the 29. Octob. 1648. J. T. 1648 540 1 0 0 0 0 0 19 C The rate of 19 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2007-06 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-06 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-07 Emma (Leeson) Huber Sampled and proofread 2007-07 Emma (Leeson) Huber Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELEGIE Vpon the Honourable Colonel Thomas Rainsbrough , butchered at Doncaster Sunday the 29. Octob. 1648. T'VVas like your selves brave Royallists , such a blow , As n'ere a subject of that Prince below Great Pluto's sacred Maiestie durst owne . But you are bolder Divels ; and have showne By this one barbarous act worse Furies dwell VVithin your breast then in the talk't of Hell , The powers of darknesse , in your heads , strange fires Of Lust within your veines ; thirsting desires For blood of Innocents ; rapines , butcheries , VVrath , malice , thousand oaths , ten thousand lies : These are flesh of your flesh , bone of your bone ▪ And if these be not Divels there are none . VVhen the bold Cymbrian was sent to kill Great Caius Marius ; he went lesse in ill : Durst not his hands in innocence imbrew : Cymbrians are Saints ( deare Cabs ) compar'd with you . But can the Dragons taile prevaile so far As to sweep down to th'dust of death a star Of such a magnitude ? such rayes ? whose sphaeare was in the heart of God , and only there ? Will not bold Atheists question providence And conclude 'gainst a Deity from hence ? Is there a righteous God ? and could he see , A naked , single valour , charg'd by three Arm'd furies , and not draw his own , nor lend A sword into the hand of such a friend ? Forsaken valour ! whether wilt thou flie For succour , when both heaven and earth deny To be thy second ? But stop stop my soule : Heavens waies are iust : earth may not heaven controule VVhat if Heaven purpos'd Rainsbroughs fall to be A prop for Englands dying Libertie ? And did in Love thus suffer one to fall That Charles by Treaty might not ruine all ? For who 'l expect that Treaty should doe good VVhose longer date commenc't in Rainsbroughs blood ? See noble Fairfax , and bold Cromwel see VVhat honours are prepar'd for thee , and thee . Conclude a peace with Charles ; thus you shall ride Triumphant , with your robes of Scarlet di'de In your own dearest blood : thus your Arrears You noble soules are paid ; the Tyrants feares Thus cur'd : thus ( if you be not wise ) you 'l feele In stead of Gold hee 'l pay you all with steel . Then let 's adore that providence whose waies , And works , doe all proclaim aloud his praise . And thou great Victim who wa'st set apart For us , shalt find a Tombe in every heart That is not prostituted to the Lust Of a right Reverend or Royall dust : And on that Tombe which doth such valour hold This Epitaph shall stand in lines of Gold . EPITAPHIVM . Here lyes as much true valour , as could dye : A sacrifice for Englands Liberty . Great , and Good Rainsborough , ( enough is said ) Through Chomleys pride and Cowardice betraid . J. T. 
A95392	----	An elogy upon the much lamented death of Mr Luke Fawne, junior, who dyed the sixth of January, 1650. being ten years, six moneths, and four days old. Tutchin, Robert. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A95392 of text R212072 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.15[72]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 3 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A95392 Wing T3386 Thomason 669.f.15[72] ESTC R212072 99870724 99870724 163145 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A95392) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 163145) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f15[72]) An elogy upon the much lamented death of Mr Luke Fawne, junior, who dyed the sixth of January, 1650. being ten years, six moneths, and four days old. Tutchin, Robert. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [London : 1651] Verse - "I'm big with Grief, That I can onely vent". Signed at end: Robertus Tutchein [i.e. Robert Tutchin]. Imprint place from Wing. Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Fawne, Luke, 1640-1651 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English. A95392 R212072 (Thomason 669.f.15[72]). civilwar no An elogy upon the much lamented death of Mr Luke Fawne, junior, who dyed the sixth of January, 1650. being ten years, six moneths, and four Tutchin, Robert 1651 428 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2007-06 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-06 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-07 Emma (Leeson) Huber Sampled and proofread 2007-07 Emma (Leeson) Huber Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELOGY UPON THE Much lamented Death of Mr Luke Fawne , junior , who dyed the sixth of January , 1650. being Ten Years , six Moneths , and four days old . I 'M big with Grief , That I can onely vent My Passion in a sad Astonishment : My Sorrows are turn'd rude , and do dispence A Fury greater , then thy Innocence . Could there be so great Guilt on such young Years , That justly could deserve these pious Tears ? Did the too partial Heavens but lend Thy Sight , Thus to engage us in Eternal Night ? Did they Thy Life on us at first bestow , Onely to make thee but a Ten Years Show ? But I have done ; Thou wert too good to be Continued in a Land of Miserie . We grieve Our Loss , not Thine ; for we 're left here To the sad Comfort of a sadder Tear . See how each Forehead 's furrow'd to a Frown , And every Eye its willing Tears drops down ; Mourning Thy Loss , as if the World and all Its Creatures suffer'd in Thy untimely Fall . Thy Loss is fatal to the World ; in Thee Nature has lost her highest braverie . Thy Parts in so young Years did strongly prove Thou wert her onely Darling , and her Love . How did Thy Sweetness extasie our Sense Into a wonder of Thy Excellence ! Thy Vertues were too great for to have grown In any clay besides what was Thine own . Thou wert the purest Dust , that e're was made T' enclose so bright a Soul within a Shade . — But Oh! it 's gone T' its last and greatest Dissolution . And our full Tears , at best , will prove to be But faint Drops of a Pious Extasie . Look back to th' Spring , and if you e're have seen Vntimely winds blast Trees scarce fully green , Know that our Loss is such , since He hath shown , E're a ripe Spring , such blossoms of his own . Fate sure past o're his years , and view'd his parts Arraign'd to th' Bar , not for his age , but arts . Whoever saw a loaded ear of Corn Not Earth-wards tend ? the empty upwards born : E're life they dye ; e're death thou life didst scorn . Piaetatis Ergò , sic cecinit , Robertus Tutchein . 
A95396	----	An elegiack memoriall of the Right Honourable Generall Deane, &c. Th. Tw. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A95396 of text R211556 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.17[25]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 6 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A95396 Wing T3390 Thomason 669.f.17[25] ESTC R211556 99870272 99870272 163275 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A95396) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 163275) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f17[25]) An elegiack memoriall of the Right Honourable Generall Deane, &c. Th. Tw. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. Printed by M.S. for Tho: Jenner at the South-Entrance of the Royall Exchange, London : 1653. Signed at end: "Th: Tw:". Verse - "Be dumb ye Muses who speaks rightly Him". Annotation on Thomason copy: "June 24". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Deane, Richard, 1610-1653 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English. A95396 R211556 (Thomason 669.f.17[25]). civilwar no An elegiack memoriall of the Right Honourable Generall Deane, &c. Th. Tw 1653 903 0 5 0 0 0 0 55 D The rate of 55 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the D category of texts with between 35 and 100 defects per 10,000 words. 2007-06 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-06 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-04 Elspeth Healey Sampled and proofread 2008-04 Elspeth Healey Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion An Elegiack Memoriall of the Right Honourable Generall DEANE , &c. Aetatis suae 42. depiction of the tomb of General Richard Deane, 1610-1653. BE dumb ye Muses who speaks rightly Him Needs the high Accents of a Seraphim , A Cherubs quill , & so perhaps his Verse May not prophane ( though it approach ) his Herse . The Antient and the Moderne Hero's seeme , Compar'd to ours , a poor low barren Theme : Poets and flatt'rers rais'd them to the skies , And who were scarce good men made Deities . Like China-dishes hid an age in mold , By great-grand children Gods and Saints inroll'd . They from mens fancies after death did grow : This was a Saint on Earth , a Star below . The Ethnick , Roman , Calenders are crost , What they pretend t'have found we 'r sure w' have lost Their actions after death still greater grew By lying legends ; His , in the worlds view , Stand high above the Paraphrase of men , And need no flattering , feare no envious pen . Hence then Detractors , for ( if understood ) The ill of him was better then your good . An humble soul hid in a sterne aspect The perfect'st friendship in suppos'd neglect . A learned head without the boast of books , A devout heart without affected looks . His great profession did in practice lye , Religion lockt up in sincerity . Nature and Grace did two extreams unite , To make a blessed sincere hypocrite . This present Age had never knowne his worth , Had not high Providence produc'd him forth , To stop the flouds of Greatnesse , and chastise , The insolence of swelling Monarchies : And by his acts the purblin'd world convince , Who chaine Nobility unto the Prince . A Princely soul he had , though Countrey-borne , That greatnesse could chastise , teach , use , and scorne . He in himselfe drew the Epitome Of a compleat well-govern'd Monarchie . Where reason ruling did the Scepter sway , To which the rest did willingly obey ; If his Affections 'gan rebellious grow , Religion quickly forced them to bow ; Whil'st in his dealings following Justice lawes , By exercise her noble habit drawes , Till at the length her Champion he is made , And her defence converts into his Trade . Then long ten years he posteth to and fro To help th'oppressed and suppresse the foe : For whom three Gen'rals had a high respect , For Councel wise , and valour to effect : Till , England clear'd , he curbs the Brittish broiles , Then into Ireland sailes ( Herculean toiles ! ) The Irish men , or rather Roman Frogs , He makes for safety leap into their Bogs . But he must leave them there , a greater cause Commands his presence ( maugre Neptunes Lawes ) The swelling Seas and crossing tides can't part Brave Deane from him for whom he kept his heart . Let others chase the Pirates , he on shore Must serve his Generall till Wars give o're : Who having quite subdu'd the numerous Scots Their Government unto his Deane allots ; Where he atchieves another Victory Over their hearts by honest gallantry ; Whilst wise men judged it a propitious doom Unto their land so to be overcome . For now his greatest bus'nesse seems to be To keep their factious selves in unity ; He at their instance climbes the rugged hills And darksome Groves that Caledonia fills ; Whil'st the fell Natives stand aloof and gaze , From craggy Rocks , in a profound amaze , To see the Hors-men march in places where They never saw ought but the wildest Deer : And in affright their Chiefes come falling downe , And vow they 'l ne're more plunder Field nor Town . His march was a quick journey , his retreat A pleasant walk with little bloud or sweat . And now may he in pleasure rest a while With his dear consort , and the time beguile . In Dalkeith turrets or her shady groves Whil'st to her Lute she sweetly sings their Loves . But this soft Musick thundring Cannons marre , Which send quick tidings of approaching Warre . And is a Duty or a Danger neere On Land or Sea , and Noble Deane not there ? Away he shoots like to a Star that brings The tidings of the fall of States and Kings : A Star in motion , brightnesse , influence , He doth not lead the Dutch , but drive them hence ; Twice beats them , first from Ours , then to their Wals , Which done , alasse our Star to Heaven fals . And it was time , so saw great Providence ; 'T was time to call this Heavenly spark from hence : His growing lustre might have dimm'd us all ; His value did percipitate his fall : For had he held his Course some few more years The world ( with me ) had turn'd Idolaters . Sic fatur Lachrymans . {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} Th : Tw : LONDON : Printed by M. S. for Tho : Jenner at the South-Entrance of the Royall Exchange . 1653. 
A96280	----	In memorie of that lively patterne of true pietie, and unstain'd loyaltie, Mrs Susanna Harris the vertuous wife of Capt. John Harris, who dyed the last day of October, 1649. Wharton, George, Sir, 1596-1672. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A96280 of text R211135 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.15[1]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 3 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A96280 Wing W1548 Thomason 669.f.15[1] ESTC R211135 99869868 99869868 163079 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A96280) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 163079) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f15[1]) In memorie of that lively patterne of true pietie, and unstain'd loyaltie, Mrs Susanna Harris the vertuous wife of Capt. John Harris, who dyed the last day of October, 1649. Wharton, George, Sir, 1596-1672. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [London : 1649] Signed at end: W.G., i.e. Sir George Wharton. Imprint from Wing. In verse. Annotation on Thomason copy: "Nouemb: 27. 1649"; "harton" following 'W.G.'. Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Elegiac poetry, English -- Early modern, 1500-1700. A96280 R211135 (Thomason 669.f.15[1]). civilwar no In memorie of that lively patterne of true pietie, and unstain'd loyaltie, Mrs Susanna Harris, the vertuous wife of Capt. John Haris, who dy Wharton, George, Sir 1649 300 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2007-06 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-06 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-07 Emma (Leeson) Huber Sampled and proofread 2007-07 Emma (Leeson) Huber Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion In Memorie of that Lively Patterne of true Pietie , and unstain'd Loyaltie , Mrs SVSANNA HARRIS , The Vertuous Wife of Capt. JOHN HARRIS , who dyed the last day of October , 1649. WIthin this sacred Dust SUSANNA lies Obscur'd from false-accusing-Elders eies : Once Independent , as are they that be The Servants of One-God , and none but He. A Leveller in Folio , such an one As Lov'd to Levell an Vsurped-Throne A Royallist besides , ( and here is all The Sable that attends her Funerall . ) For , She her Crown , her Country , and her Mate , Preferr'd and Fancy'd more then Earthly State . But now she 's gone : 't is meant her Better-part ; The rest lies here , to Crucifie His Heart VVho Wounded Hers ; Death hath dissolv'd the band VVhich Life and Love had knit 'twixt heart and hand . " Happy those Husbands thus in Women blest ! " Thrice happy Wives , which merit such a Test ! Rest Glorious Saint ! and may her vertuous life Last the Choise Embleme of the Rarest Wife : Untill the Trumpet sound , and bid , Arise , T' imbrace that Blessed union never dies . Good Lives and Actions usher us to Blisse , And not Cull'd Language , or Rich vanities : So that Vaine Praises were an uselesse sound , A sprinkling Water upon Holier Ground . Let such whose ill-spent-Lives have rendred cause Of just Suspition , leane on fraile Applause , She needs no Gawdy-Fictions : Nor is 't fit Her Graces be Profan'd in Home-spun-wit . Since faire SUSANNA in her Garden-Bowrs VVas not more Pious , or more Chast than Ours . W. G. 
A96478	----	An elegie upon the Earle of Essex's funerall. Wild, John. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A96478 of text R201170 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason E359_11). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 2 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A96478 Wing W2122C Thomason E359_11 ESTC R201170 99861719 99861719 113861 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A96478) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 113861) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 58:E359[11]) An elegie upon the Earle of Essex's funerall. Wild, John. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [London : 1646] Signed at end: J.W. [i.e. John Wild]. Imprint from Wing. Verse - "And are these all the rites that must be done,". Annotation on Thomason copy: "Octob: 29"; after J. W.: "ild". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Essex, Robert Devereaux, -- Earl of, 1591-1646 -- Death and burial -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. A96478 R201170 (Thomason E359_11). civilwar no An elegie upon the Earle of Essex's funerall.: Wild, John 1646 263 3 0 0 0 0 0 114 F The rate of 114 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the F category of texts with 100 or more defects per 10,000 words. 2007-06 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-06 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-07 Robyn Anspach Sampled and proofread 2007-07 Robyn Anspach Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion An Elegie upon the Earle of ESSEX'S Funerall . ANd are these all the rites that must be done , Thrice Noble Essex , Englands Champion : Some men , some walls , some horses put in black , With the throng scrambling for sweet-meats and Sack , A gawdy Herald , and a velvet Herse , A tatt'red Anagram with grievous verse , And a sad Sermon to conclude withall , Shall this be stil'd great Essexs Funerall ? Niggardly Nation , be asham'd of th●ods , Lesse valour among Heathen made men Gods , Should such a Generall have dy'd in Rome , He must have had an Altar ▪ not a Tombe , And there instead of youthfull Elegies , Grave Senators had offer'd sacrifice To divine Devereux : ô for a vote ( Ye Lords and Commons ye are bound to doo 't ) A vote that who is seen to smile this year , A vote , that who so brings not in a tear , Shall be adjudg'd Malignant : It were wise T' erect an Office in the Peoples eyes For issuing forth a constant sum of tears ; There 's no way else to pay him his arrears . And when we have drein'd this Ages eyes quite dry , Let him be wept the next ▪ in History , Which if Posterity shall dare to doubt , Then Glosters whispering walls shall speak him out : And so his Funerall shall not be done , Till he return i' th' Resurrection . J. W 
A96975	----	On the death of the Reverend Dr. John Goad. Wright, James, 1643-1713. 1689 Approx. 3 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2008-09 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A96975 Wing W3696A ESTC R186885 47683583 ocm 47683583 173038 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A96975) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 173038) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 2661:43) On the death of the Reverend Dr. John Goad. Wright, James, 1643-1713. 1 sheet ([1] p.). s.n., [S.l. : 1689?] In verse. Signed at end: J.W. Attributed to James Wright by Wing (2nd ed.). Date of publication from Wing (2nd ed.). Reproduction of original in: Bodleian Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). 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Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Goad, John, 1616-1689 -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, English -- Early works to 1800. Broadsides -- England -- 17th century. 2007-06 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-07 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-08 Jason Colman Sampled and proofread 2007-08 Jason Colman Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion ON THE DEATH Of the REVEREND Dr. JOHN GOAD . GOodness inspire me , while I write of One , Who was all Goodness ; but alas ! He 's gone . How false a thing is Humane Life ! The Best Of Men , are soonest sever'd from the rest . 'T is Fatal to be Eminently Good , Such die , almost , as soon as Understood . Tho' He , for whom we Mourn , liv'd longer , then The Prophet Limits to the most of Men ; Yet did his Days seem , ( to all those who knew His many Vertues , ) very short and few . And , one may safely say , most of the Times He saw were Evil , and Defam'd with Crimes . Labour and Sorrow did His Age annoy , Now chang'd to Bliss , and everlasting Joy. Can We , His Friends , at such a Change complain ? True , 't was Our Loss , but His much greater Gain . Fruitless ▪ if not unjust , is all Complaint , Happy are We , that once we knew a SAINT ! A Christian truly Evangelical , Of wondrous Charity and Love to all . A right NATHANIEL in his Conversation . Pious , beyond the Standard of the Nation . His Thoughts above the World , which , in respect To His own Conscience , He did quite neglect . His Science Universal , Vast His Parts : Ignorant , only , in Dishonest Arts. Which did excel , may a nice Question be , His Knowledge , or His Life in Piety . Learned , yet Humble , Grave , yet Chearful too , ( A happy Temper given but to few ) Such was the Venerable GOAD . Let us Then immitate His Vertuous Life ; for thus We Honour most His Memory ; thus shew , That We indeed , that Holy Man did know , And ( which of all advantages is best ) Thus , we shall meet Him in Eternal Rest . J. W. 
A96987	----	An elogie or eulogie on the obits of the Right Honourable Ferdinando Lord Fairefax vvho dyed upon Munday, the 13th of March, anno Dom. 1647. Walker, Henry, Ironmonger. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A96987 of text R210830 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.11[137]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 3 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A96987 Wing W375 Thomason 669.f.11[137] ESTC R210830 99869586 99869586 162790 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A96987) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 162790) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f11[137]) An elogie or eulogie on the obits of the Right Honourable Ferdinando Lord Fairefax vvho dyed upon Munday, the 13th of March, anno Dom. 1647. Walker, Henry, Ironmonger. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. (port.) Printed at London by Robert Ibbitson, dwelling in Smithfield neere the Queens head Tavern, [London] : 1648. Signed at end: H. Walker, S. S. Theol. Verse - "Far more divine, and cleer, is now, Lord Fairefax gone,". Annotation on Thomason copy: "march. 20th 1647"; after 'Theol' at end of text: "a coxcome". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Fairfax, Ferdinando Fairfax, -- Baron, 1584-1648 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English. A96987 R210830 (Thomason 669.f.11[137]). civilwar no An elogie or eulogie on the obits of the Right Honourable Ferdinando Lord Fairefax: vvho dyed upon Munday, the 13th of March, anno Dom. 1647 Walker, Henry, Ironmonger 1648 489 2 0 0 0 0 0 41 D The rate of 41 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the D category of texts with between 35 and 100 defects per 10,000 words. 2007-06 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-06 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-08 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2007-08 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELOGIE OR EULOGIE ON THE OBITS of the Right Honourable FERDINANDO Lord FAIREFAX ▪ VVho dyed upon Munday , the 13th of March , Anno Dom. 1647. depiction of standard bearer portrait of Fairfax blazon or coat of arms depiction of tomb depiction of standard bearer A CROSTICKE . FAR more DivINe , AND cleer , is nOw , LORD FAIREFAX gone , Above ; to praise JEHOVAH , at his Royall Throne ; Remote from Earth : He swift to Heaven ascended ( high ) Dect in a wreath of Tryumph , ( peircing through the skie . ) Into Celestiall glory ( upon Angels wings ) Now Halelujahs to the Lord of Hosts he sings . Adieu , brave Honour , England with brinish teares may say , Night clad in sable blacke , mournes for the losse of day . Death hath be friended Heaven with the Fathers soul , On whose meeke Son ; let Angells miriads of blessings roule . Light ( shining downe from Heaven ) the darkest cloud expells , On Earth ; when Sun with glittering most bright excells : Riseth in splendor , ascends with smiles : But sets in dismall turning , Death thus hath vail'd our light , and left us all in mourning . Fairefax ; valiant , and true : For Englands peace he stood , And to his wife , kindred , neighbours , was wise and good , Iust unto all ; And mercifull ; As orbs of Stars . Reliefe shin'd comfort , from his sparkled hands . And bars Effectuall , for truths defence he did erect : False hypocrites unmaske , and wickednesse detect . And now his soul 's in glory ( though Xenius mount above ) Xanthius his Son is here ; The Generall of love . The Etymologie of his name from the Hebr●w . חקפ ארפ אד ןינ יד דרפ Faradh-dhi-nin da Fere-Fakahh . The Hebrew of the Lord Fairfaxes name , translated into English . He hath separated a sufficient Sonne , that wounded the wild Asse . An ELOGIE . Renowned Fairfax , whom the State did love Is now ASSENDED to His GOD above , Hee liv'd and dy'd in Honour , full of years : His death sets sluces ope , to powre out tears . When wicked men began to rise , The godly Party to surprize , And make them slaves To many Knaves , To spoyle our Goods And spill OUR Bloods ; He parted with his Son most dear Who of their holes did them all clear , The Father's dead , and gone to rest above , The Son hath wrought our peace , if wee had Love . By God Almighties power , then let us all , Give him the Glory , and Love , reciprocall . By H. Walker , S. S. Theol. Printed at London by Robert Ibbitson , dwelling in Smithfield neere the Queens head Tavern , 1648. 
A97165	----	The apprentices lamentation together, vvith a dolefull elegie upon the manner of the death of that worthy, and valorous Knight Sr. Richard Wiseman. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A97165 of text R210701 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.4[45]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 3 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A97165 Wing W87 Thomason 669.f.4[45] ESTC R210701 99869471 99869471 160667 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A97165) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 160667) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 245:669f4[45]) The apprentices lamentation together, vvith a dolefull elegie upon the manner of the death of that worthy, and valorous Knight Sr. Richard Wiseman. P.W. 1 sheet ([1] p.) Printed for William Larnar, [London] : [1642] Signed at end: P.W. Verse - "Thus died the mirrour of the times;". Place of publication and publication date from Wing. Annotation on Thomason copy: "1641". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Wiseman, Richard, -- Sir, d. 1642 -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- Early works to 1800. A97165 R210701 (Thomason 669.f.4[45]). civilwar no The apprentices lamentation, together, vvith a dolefull elegie upon the manner of the death of that worthy, and valorous Knight Sr. Richard P.W 1642 385 4 0 0 0 0 0 104 F The rate of 104 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the F category of texts with 100 or more defects per 10,000 words. 2007-06 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-06 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-07 Robyn Anspach Sampled and proofread 2007-07 Robyn Anspach Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion The Apprentices Lamentation , TOGETHER , VVith a dolefull Elegie upon the manner of the Death of that Worthy , and Val●rous Knight Sr. RICHARD WJSEMAN . The Apprentices Lamentation for the death of Sir RICHARD WISEMAN . THus died the Mirrour of the times ; whose Fate We dare not murmure at , to expostulate , And reason with the Deity , t , were sinne , Nor dare we wish the act undone againe , With browes contracted and with moistned eyes 'T is lawfull to lament his Obsequies . And not to praise his Worth were to detract Here an omission would be thought an Act Of base Ingratitude ; and yet who knowes T' expresse his reall worth in Verse or Prose , Rhethorique's too barren , and all words to few To shadow forth those Prayses that are due To his blest memory , since we cannot praise Enough his matchlesse Virtue ; we will raise Our meditations , let our thoughts aspire , And what we cannot praise enough ; admire : And least wee seeme t' envie thy blessed State , ( Blest to eternity ) by our too late Laments . We 'ele stop the floudgates of our eyes , And cease to weep for thy sad Obsequies . Stop our teares current , and forbeare to moane , And turne our griefe to imitation . ELEGIES on the Death of Sr. RICHARD WISEMAN . AND shall the Fates thus uncontrould Rob us of that which we doe hold Most sacred , must pure Virtue bee The Subject of their crueltie . Will not their too impious hand Be swai'd by Wis●domes counterman'd ▪ Curst be the worthlesse man that threw The fatall stone , sure he well knew His Valour , that he durst not trie A Combat for the Victory , But had he knowne his Wisedome too He would not then have dar'd to doe , An Act so horrid unto one , Who came so neere Perfection . But t was thy Fate ( dece●sed Friend ) to be Th'untimely Subject of his cruelty ; What direfull Fate soever stops his breath , Yet see the Wiseman triumphs in his Death . P. W. FINIS . Printed for WILLIAM LARNAR . 
B01314	----	A funerall elegie on the unfortunate death of that worthy major Edward Grey, Iuly 26. 1644. J. A. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription B01314 of text990 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing A13). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 B01314 Wing A13 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[52] 99885187 ocm99885187 182537 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B01314) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 182537) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A4:1[52]) A funerall elegie on the unfortunate death of that worthy major Edward Grey, Iuly 26. 1644. J. A. 1 sheet ([1] p.). for I.W. at the old Baylie, [Printed at London : 1644] Signed: J.A. Verse: "Sad prodigy! Can famous valiant Grey ..." Imperfect: Stained, affecting imprint; imprint suggested by Wing. Reproduction of original in the British Library. eng Grey, Edward, d. 1644 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. B01314 990 (Wing A13). civilwar no A funerall elegie on the unfortunate death of that worthy major Edward Grey, Iuly 26. 1644. J. A. 1644 586 1 0 0 0 0 0 17 C The rate of 17 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2008-06 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-09 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-11 John Pas Sampled and proofread 2008-11 John Pas Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion A FUNERALL ELEGIE On the unfortunate death of that worthy Major EDWARD GREY , Iuly 26. 1644. Anagram . Regard I die . No longer J shall foyle the Cavalry : But be ye watchfull , stout , regard , I die . SAd Prodigy I Can famous valiant Grey Thus silently slide to his bed of Clay ? Returne our sorrows , sigh we forth a Verse , May deck the Pomp , and mournings of his Herse . But 't were detraction to suppose a Teare , A Sigh , or Blacks , which the sad Mourners weare , Our losse could value : He that names but thee , Must bring an Eye , that can weepe Elegie : Who in his face must weare a Funerall , Clouded with griefe for thy untimely fall . What ill aspected Planet then did lowre ? Which then transcendent in that fatall houre ? The splendent Sunne could not looke on and shine , But 's clouded , whiles thy glory did decline . Hath irefull Mars his spightfull influence bent 'gainst his owne sonne ? He 's still malevolent . Thy part t'hast acted well ; but Tragedie Ill prov'd , having a sad Catastrophe . Thy sable Curtaine was too soon o'respread , Even at thy noone to bring thee to thy bed . Unlucky hand , and heart with fury fir'd , Which passage made whereby thy soule expir'd . Yet we applaud the wisdome of thy fate , Which knew to value thee at such a rate , That for thy fall an Hecatombe it cost , And Mynne was offered to appease thy ghost . Thou needst no gilded Tombe , whereon t' engrave , The name of worthy Grey , which thou shalt have , So long as Glouc'ster shall that name retaine , Besieged erst by Brittaines Charlemaigne . Thy conqueting Arme made thy stout foe to yeeld ; Thy Sword had wonne the Trophies in the field . Thy Coate speaks thy high birth , but thine own praise Shall crowne thine Armes with never-fading Bayes . See the Argent-Lyon which hath Rampant stood , Now Couchant lie in Field of Gules and Blood . The Crescent Or , Greys second House doth marke , Of famous ancestry the House of Werke : But now decrescent is , it 's Or 's or'espread With Colour Sable , Or is turn'd to Lead . Farewell heroicke spirit , who art to be Of publique sorrow the epitome ; All sigh forth grones , meethinkes the Coats of Blew Are strangely changed into a Sable hew . But sorrow stops me , and my griefe 's undrest , And rude in language I 'le sigh out the rest . J. A. EDWARD GREY , Major . Anagrams III I. Though just reward mongst men I never may Attaine , yet sure God's Mi rewarder ay . II. For of Eternity I 'me not discarded , Though hence-from men I may goe irrewarded . III. Though great I was , now in the dust I lie . Great ones your selves , regard , a Worme I die . Respice sinem . Psal. 22.6 . Job 25.6 . Chronog . stren VVs , & eXpert Vs MaIor Grey CaDIt & eXpIra VIt. 1644. J. A. Printed at London for 〈…〉 the old Baylie . 1644. Notes, typically marginal, from the original text Notes for div B01314e-30 Colonell Mynne shine the same day . 
B01561	----	Minerva's check to the author, attempting to write an elegy upon the Right Honourable and much to be lamented Roger first Earl of Orrery, who departed this life at Castle-Marter in the county of Cork in Ireland, 16 Octobris anno 1679. T. B. 1680 Approx. 6 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B01561 Wing B190 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[111] 99882652 ocm99882652 182595 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B01561) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 182595) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A4:1[111]) Minerva's check to the author, attempting to write an elegy upon the Right Honourable and much to be lamented Roger first Earl of Orrery, who departed this life at Castle-Marter in the county of Cork in Ireland, 16 Octobris anno 1679. T. B. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : coat of arms (woodcut). Printed for Rowland Reynolds, at the Middle-Exchange in the Strand., London: : 1680. Signed: T.B. Verse: "That news hath wings, we ev'ry day do find ..." Reproduction of original in the British Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Orrery, Roger Boyle, -- Earl of, 1621-1679 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. 2008-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-08 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-09 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-09 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion MINERVA's Check to the Author , Attempting to write an VIVIT POST-FVNERA VIRTVS blazon or coat of arms ELEGY Upon the Right Honourable and much to be Lamented ROGER First Earl of ORRERY , Who departed this Life at CASTLE-MARTER in the County of CORK in IRELAND , 16 Octobris Anno 1679. THat News hath Wings , we ev'ry day do find , And Ill doth ever leave the best behind : Admire not then the death of ORRERY , Renown'd all 's days , should in a moment flie , Both far and near the World to terrifie . At Cork , at Dublin , London , and at Paris Too soon't arrives , and ROME , but there ne'er tarries , Till at both Indies , or where e'er more far is . ' Mongst the Worlds Treasuries , it there declare , Than any theirs , a Pearl more rich , more rare W' have lost ; thus ranging all the World about , Finds many zealous mournful Poets out : But still I thought the Muses triple Trine , And Learned Crew concern'd , must have design Some Eagles Quill should make the worthy Pen , To write their Dictates on the best of Men ; But chanc'd to view a mournful Elegy Upon his Death , enough to stupifie The Reader , whilst the Poet did invite Each Poetaster on him Distichs t' write . This Author took I for good warrant to it , To be as bold as any Errant Poet : But quick as Thought Minerva said in haste , Hold , hold , poor man ! don 't Time and Paper waste ; He was my Foster Child , 't was my good hap The Babe to dandle first upon my Lap , Who kindly took my Breasts , and throve so well , That in the Liberal Arts he did excell . Thy grov'ling Fancy , and too low pitch'd Eye , Cannot reach up unto the Poets Skie : Be not like those that to shoot up are-bold , At what their dazled sense cannot behold : Thine hand to th' Stars thou may'st extend as well , As ORRERY's due praise conceive , or tell : His Noble Birth , Life , Death , is a fit Story , Reserv'd to Crown some Poet Laureat's Glory : His Dust is Sacred , therefore do not dare The Muses Darling , and the Graces Dear , With thy rude Rhimes , devoid of Time and Measure , Once to prophane , ( a Sacred Poet's Treasure . ) I bless'd him young thus 'bove thy reach , and stature , Besides what Mars bestow'd on 's Noble Nature . Thou fain would'st tell how th' Graces still invite him Their Guest , when Mars doth cease t' excite him Brighter in Arms , than 's Arts ere-while to shine , In God's and 's King 's cause still defending thine . His care to breed brave Horses thou would'st write , In Peace for Pleasure , and in War for fight : Thou fain would'st talk on ' s Vict'ry at Knockny Clarshy , And give him ( next to God ) the God-a-mercy ; While thousands yet alive would with thee say , His Prowess ( under God ) obtain'd that Day . But what is this to all that he hath done , To th' Towns and Castles he by force hath won ? thou 'dst find an endless Task on 't , to declare His Peaceful Virtues , or 's exploits in War. In general terms I know thou'dst praise thus far , Prudent in Counsel , prosperous in War : But home to speak his praise , and to descend Unto particulars , there were no end . Singly admire his prudence in the thing , So well contriv'd that did restore the King , Whose constant Loyalty since th' Restoration 'S a worthy pattern to th' unstable Nation . Thou kenst not of the Knots , or the Meanders Of State-Intrigues , display'd ' mongst bold Commanders . Then lay thy Pen by , don't i' th' least Eclipse A General 's Glory by thy Pen , or Lips. Let England , Scotland , Ireland , mourning say , For threescore years and more enjoy'd have they , In ORRERY an Atlas , lost this day . His death 's a loss unparallel'd , the King A grave wise Counsellor , and most loving Subject hath lost , the Church a Gracious Son , The Realm a Peer , yea , and a Peerless one ; The Court a Pillar , th' Army a Commander Of high Conduct , as was great Alexander ; The Countreys loss as great yea greater rather , In ORRERY is lost a most dear Father . Th' hast company enough , who , than to mourn , Can't other glory add unto his Urn. I tell thee still thou need'st not , can'st not write Great ORRERY's due praise , who Shines too bright His Sacred Poems now but in the Press , Will speak his noble praise in fairer dress : His Wit and Worth were 'bove thy Ken or Story , Who therefore 's wrapt into immortal Glory . But ' cause thou had'st a mind to do thy best , Thou , with his Coat of Arms , a Mourner rest . Thou art forewarn'd ( she said . ) Now farewell Friend . So ere I had begun , I made an END . T. B. LONDON : Printed for Rowland Reynolds , at the Middle-Exchange in the Strand . 1680. 
B01663	----	An elegy on the most accomplish'd virgin Madam Elizabeth Hurne, who departed this life on the 27th. of July 1683. B. 1683 Approx. 5 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B01663 Wing B2 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[67] 99885198 ocm99885198 182552 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B01663) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 182552) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A4:1[67]) An elegy on the most accomplish'd virgin Madam Elizabeth Hurne, who departed this life on the 27th. of July 1683. B. 1 sheet ([1] p.). Printed by N.T., [London] : anno Dom. 1983 [i.e. 1683] Signed at end: B. Verse: "Thou most inexorable tyrant death ..." Reproduction of original in the British Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Hurne, Elizabeth, d. 1683 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. 2008-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-08 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-09 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-09 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELEGY On the Most Accomplish'd VIRGIN Madam ELIZABETH HURNE , Who Departed this Life on the 27th . of July 1683. THou most Inexorable Tyrant Death , Who do'st deprive all Humane kind of Breath ; Whose Partial-Dart do's pierce the Hearts of all , And ne'r regarding who it is does Fall , Do'st Mow down all Mankind in General : The Good and Bad are all a Case to Thee , The Wise-mans Fate and Fool 's alike we see ; For all are subject to thy Tyranny . Let Youth and Beauty both of them Combine ; Nay to these two we 'll Wit and Virtue Joyn , And all in their Superlative Degree , Yet sha'n't the least Remorce obtain from Thee : Witness one Fact Thou Perpetrat'st of late , ( Oh! the Vicissitude of Cruel Fate : ) A Fact Atchiev'd on this our British Shore , Which if the Wings of Fame so far has bore , It is Deplor'd its Spacious Turf all o'er : Fair Madam Hurne , ( in whom Concenter'd were The Graces all , ) whereby she did appear , The very Star of this our Hemisphere : Is Dead , this most Divine and Spotless Maid ; With Grief , I speak 't , in Death's Gold Bed is laid : But tho' she 's gone , her Name doth still remain Pure , Undefil'd , without a Spot or Stain , And shall Eternal Veneration gain . But Oh! my Genius faints , when Her I Name ; Divine Apollo , since my Muse is lame , Transform my Pen into the Tongue of Fame , Her Meritorious Virtues to Proclaim . While yet on Earth , she might be said in Heaven , To which her Thoughts Eternally were given : And tho' she locally remained here , Her better Part , her Mind was ever there . As for her Church , she most Discreetly chose , That which the Pope and Presbyter oppose , And in its Bosom took her soft Repose . Her Dear Indulgent Mother whom she Lov'd , And could not brook to hear her Disapprov'd ; But to her Loyal Precepts fix'd her Mind , And ne'r to Factious Principles Enclin'd : Altho' the Vipers Pester'd her a while , Vipers far worse than those of Fruitful Nile , Worse than the Curs'd Dissembling Crocodile : I mean those men , who by Denomination , The World call Whigs , but I the Pest o th' Nation : These all their little Arguments produce , In hopes they might her Loyalty Seduce ; But as a Rock fix'd by the Ocean side , ( Each towring wave does threaten with her Pride , As if it meant her Center to divide , ) Do's Laugh to see the sordid Ocean Roar , And than a Spoonful values it no more : Even so my Female Champion like a Rock , Did Unconcern'd sustain the mighty Shock , And Baffl'd both the Shepherd and the Flock : Or like St. George who made the Dragon fall , And with his Sword the hideous Monster Sprall ; So she with Reason did Confound them all , In fine , kind Heaven and Nature did bestow All the Rich Blessings that are here below , Upon her Sacred Head , and meant that she , Should be the Phoenix of our Britany : Who Heaven Observing so Divinely clear , Judg'd her Unworthy any Mortal here ; Therefore Advanc'd her to an higher Sphere : There her Transcendent Lustre to Display , And in the upper Rank of Saints Enjoy , An Happy , Joyful and Eternal Day . EPITAPH . MOurn Reader , Mourn , for in this Marble Tomb , Is Sleeping layn until the day of Doom , The Sacred Ashes of the Lovely Hurne ; Who chose this Place whilst Living , for her Urne : But hold kind Reader , to Asswage thy Grief , And to afford thy Anxious Thoughts Relief ; Know , that altho' her Body here doth lye , Her Soul by Angels wafted is on High , And Treads the upper Region of the Sky ; Where there is neither Envy , Grief or Pain , But all in Bliss Ineffable Eternally Remain . B. Printed by N.T. Anno Dom. 1983. 
B02516	----	An elegy upon the Marquess of Dorchester and Earl of Kingston, &c. Crouch, John, fl. 1660-1681. 1680 Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B02516 14872086 Wing C7296 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.2[295] Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[36] ESTC R34846 99889963 ocm99889963 182521 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B02516) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 182521) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A1:1[298]; A4:1[36]) An elegy upon the Marquess of Dorchester and Earl of Kingston, &c. Crouch, John, fl. 1660-1681. 1 sheet ([1] p.). and are to be sold by Walter Davis., London printed, : [1680] Signed: By Jo. Crouch, once his domestick servant. Date of publication suggested by Wing. Verse: "If to some silent tomb we laid our ear ..." Imperfect: A1:1[298] stained with slight loss of text; A4:1[36] stained affecting text. Reproduction of original in the British Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. 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Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Dorchester, Henry Pierrepont, -- Marquis of, 1606-1680 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. 2008-06 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-07 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-08 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-08 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELEGY Upon the MARQUESS of DORCHESTER , And EARL of KINGSTON , &c. 6. May. 1681 : IF to some Silent Tomb we laid our Ear , Fancy might such Oraculous Whispers hear ; Must Souls with Bodies dye ? must Virtue rust ? And Honour perish in a bed of dust ? If of Nine Muses Eight were faln asleep , One might stand Centry , and the Capitol keep ; 'T is I that One , weep o're a Learned Herse ; Some will my Duty praise , tho' not my Verse . Farewel Great DORCHESTER born to Inherit Thy Father's large Estate , but larger Spirit : Who fatally by his Own Party slain , Was by Your Loyalty reviv'd again . 'T was You maintain'd his dying Cause and Breath , Eluding all the Fallacies of Death : Doubly possest his Merit and Estate , By right of Primogeniture and Fate . But now the Kingdom with strange Whirlwinds tost , And fatal Naseby after Triumph lost ; The King ( Saint-like ) into Temptation led , From profest Foes , to Friends less Faithful fled . Oxford is close begirt , Stout hearts grow tender , And Loyal Pulses beat for a Surrender . Then did our Marquess , ( to his High Renown ) Bravely advise still to defend the Town ? If Heaven pleas'd , for His Majesties Future good , Worthy the Ransom of more Lives and Blood. You were its greatest Ornament and Grace ; Lov'd best , because best understood the Place . You comprehended in Epitomy , The Learning of that great Academy . Alstedian thoughts are narrow and confin'd , Compar'd to the Vast Circle of your mind ; Which , like that First Intelligence above , Did all Inferiour Orbs contain and move . Philosophy here , ( both Moral and Divine ) Did with the Lustre of all Graces shine ; Here Law did in its Inner-Temple dwell , With Mathematicks to a Miracle . Here Opticks shin'd , here Jacob's powerful Wand Did all the Armies of the Stars Command : Survey'd both Globes , and wisely took from thence Just Measures for his High Magnificence . Whereas some , ( clog'd with Earth and Ignorance ) Can ill adjust their own Inheritance . T' improve the barren Theory of these , In steps great Galen and Hippocrates , You judg'd ( tho' Envy might its Poison dart ) There cou'd be no disparagement in Art. Your Charitable Dodonean door Sent Echoes to the Prayers of the Poor . Your well-spread Table still for Guests did call , Was Charities great Burse and Hospital . Those Guests ( amidst Philosophy and meat ) ( More Ear than Appetite ) forgot to eat . But these Perfections ( Glorious in their Sphere ) May make us Famous , not Immortal here . Both Small and Great , Learn'd and Unlearned must Submit their Talents to be weigh'd in dust . Now DORCHESTER , Great DORCHESTER is dead , And all his Parts laid Level with his Head. But though his Years summ'd up the Age of man , Largely extended to a Giant 's Span ; It might some Circumstances interpose ( Like latter Frosts ) and kill a drooping Rose . This Turtle miss'd his dearest KATHARINE , As Good , as Great ; and only not the QVEEN ; Divorc'd by Death from his most Saint-like Wife , His Palsy'd Soul allow'd but half a Life . Then you that wonder at his Matchless Parts , Acknowledge Love above the Power of Arts. By JO. CROVCH , once his Domestick Servant . LONDON Printed and are to be Sold by Walter Davis . 
A96944	----	Characters and elegies. By Francis VVortley, Knight and Baronet. Wortley, Francis, Sir, 1591-1652. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A96944 of text R200973 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason E344_21). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 109 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 39 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A96944 Wing W3634 Thomason E344_21 ESTC R200973 99861575 99861575 113713 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A96944) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 113713) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 56:E344[21]) Characters and elegies. By Francis VVortley, Knight and Baronet. Wortley, Francis, Sir, 1591-1652. [8], 68 p. s.n.], [London : Printed in the yeere, M DC XLVI. [1646] Place of publication from Wing. The roman numeral imprint date is made with turned c's. Partly in verse. Annotation on Thomason copy: "July 15". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Characters and characteristics -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. A96944 R200973 (Thomason E344_21). civilwar no Characters and elegies.: By Francis VVortley, Knight and Baronet. Wortley, Francis, Sir 1646 18963 46 65 0 0 0 0 59 D The rate of 59 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the D category of texts with between 35 and 100 defects per 10,000 words. 2007-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-06 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-08 Robyn Anspach Sampled and proofread 2007-08 Robyn Anspach Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion CHARACTERS AND ELEGIES . BY FRANCIS VVORTLEY , Knight and Baronet . Printed in the Yeere , M DC XLVI . TO THE LOVERS OF HONOUR & POESIE . GENTLEMEN , YOu whose constitutions are even and equall , not over-balanced with earthly and base metall , love Honour and Gallantry in any man , & virtus in hoste probatur . You who know God made all things by his owne Rule of Proportion , ( in weight , measure and number : ) you who are friends to that Divine , Noble , and Royall Art of Poesy , for what is it but well weighed words , made even by that Lesbian Rule of Proportion ? you can best judge of these phancies dedicated to you , as they are meant . The subject of my Poetry is noble , and the noblest of Gods creatures , Man , brave men , loyal men , who have dyed like Ionathan and his brothers , either with the King , or in his Cause , ( most of them ) the other were worthy a better Muse as well as they . This way of service to the memory of the dead wants not presidents worthy our imitations , Kings and Prophets , and the greatest Law-giver , whom I will take for my first president of Poetry , even Moses , who from Gods owne mouth gave the Law to his owne people : he composed such a song , as the Lambe and Angels make use of it , ( Apoc. 15. ) which was his song of deliverance he left composed , and so first sanctified Poetry , as Christ and his Apostles in the New Testament by the allegation of the Psalmes and Prophets , who were both Poets and Vates . Also S. Paul sanctified the Heathen Poets . David , vir secundùm cor Dei , that pious Prince , that martiall King , that glorious man of God , truly deserved that glorious Epithet , Princeps Poetarum . Solomon , the wisest of men , composed his Songs and Canticles . David in this way of Poesy made an {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} for Saul and Ionathan . And Ieremy made the {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} for good Iosias . He that goes up to the mountaine of God , shall meet the Prophets with musicall raptures . The Jewes buryed their dead with great ceremony , and had their Praeficaes , women singers , their {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , their songs of mourning and lamentation , their burning of Incense and sweet odours for their Kings , and solemn mournings for their Princes . They mourned and fasted ( 1 Sam. 31. 13. and 2 Sam. 1. 12. ) for their Kings , they mourned many dayes , as for Moses and Ioshua , and so for Iosias ; for whom ( as I said ) Ieremy made the {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . The chief mourner at every resting place sung the usuall {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , or as we call it , the burden of the song ; like that in Ier. 9. 18. that our eyes may run downe with teares , and our eye-lids gush out with waters . And this they did in hope of Resurrection , as well as honour of the dead , for they comforted their friends with places of Scripture fullest of comfort , as that of Esay 25. 8. He will swallow up death in victory , and wipe away all teares : And Psal. 72. 16. They shall flourish and spring againe as the grasse on the earth . And they called the Church-yard , or burying place , BETH CHAIIM , Domus viventium , the house of the living . The Primitive Church used such Ceremonies in this way , as would passe for Popery amongst us now adayes ▪ though it was in the purest times of the Church used , ( so much as it was by mistake abused ) and turned to Idolatry . But if that were a just exception against lawfull Ceremonies , it may stand as well against Doctrine as Discipline , for both have beene abused , the one by Heretiques , the other by Schismatiques , and both ought to be observed , the one in ordine ad esse Ecclesiae , the other ad bene esse . So this kind of Poesie hath warrant beyond exception , and this ceremony of Buryall : He who wanted it amongst the Jewes was said to have the buryall of an Asse , so Ier. 22. Ieconia vvas said to have such a buryall . Thus much I have said to satisfie the curious , or rather ignorant concerning Poesy , and the honourable mention and memory of the dead : And they who had it not in the Primitive Church ( if it could be had ) were said to have insepultam sepulturam . As for my Characters and Translations , they are fruits of Phansie , and vvere but as Salads are to solid dishes , to sharpen the appetite : so these to my serious studies vvere , or as Davids Harp , to the melancholy thoughts of my imprisonment . I must acknowledge ( with thanks to God ) I found singular comfort in this way , and this sufferance , and that it set an edge upon my over-tyred and dulled braine , and these Phancies vvere the fire vvarmed them . My vvish is , they may be accepted of such as know how to judge , and have so much honour not to misinterpret good meaning , and my zeale to the Cause vvherein I suffer . I thanke heaven , God hath supplyed me vvith a large measure of patience and comfort , as pledges of his favour , and so much charity ▪ I wish them rather a right understanding , then any ill ; and such a proportion of inward comfort as may make them as happy in their Liberty as I am in prison . Let them therefore with Charity reade , what they find in this little Volume , and such an encouragement may produce to the view of the world , my more serious Studies , to which these were but a preparative , and as I said before , a salad to more solid dishes , which I will promise you shall be served up , if this please ; if not , I have not lost my patience , much lesse the comfort of my phancie , ( which none can take from me ) and I can content my selfe with that Greek saying , which suits me as well as if it had been made for me , {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . The Motto of my Family . AMICITIAS VOLO , INIMICITIAS SPERNO . I study my friends , and scorne my causelesse enemies . This is the Resolution of your Servant , Fr. Wortley . CHARACTERS AND ELEGIES . CHARACT . I. The Character of His Royall Majestie . MY Soveraigne is a King , whose Vertues make his claim as good to a Crown , as his blood and his birth-right doth to this : yet no King in Europe can derive his right from more royall , vertuous , and victorious Predecessors then he , nor better prove his title in relation to all three , then my Master can . What the Brittains lost to the Saxons , they to the Danes , and the Norman got from both , is his birth-right , besides the Kingdomes of Scotland and Ireland , and Principality of Wales , additions to the Normans Conquest : Had he begun his first Quinquenium , as he hath spent these last , and drawne that blood abroad which hath been spilt at home ; had he been as quick in justice , as he hath been apt to mercie ; had he brought in the Scots into this Kingdome , ( as his Father did ; ) had they not been called in , my Master had been the most powerfull and the most happy King in Christendome , but he was born to raigne when the Aspects of the Planets were malignant , and in unhappy conjunctions or oppositions , in relation to his Kingdomes , disposing Subjects to innovation in Religion , and immoderate desires of libertie , ( as that great Master in Astrologie , Tichobrahi , in his Observations upon that fatall Comet preceded the Germane war , foretold . ) T is true , Planets may dispose , but cannot necessitate ; Imperant astra sensui , non rationi , nil voluntatem impellunt , for otherwise they should be guilty of our sins , not we . When my Master is upon his Throne of Justice , he is like the tongue of the Ballance , and makes the Scales stand right and equall betwixt the extreames , Mercie and Judgement : but God cast into the scale of Mercie some grains of his favour , which turn'd the scale , and made him the most mild , pious , and best beloved Prince of Christendome : yet who can say that ever he feared to doe justice , or spared it , if not over-intreated by such as made too great an advantage of his goodnesse ? It was a saying of Seneca's , that Parcere omnibus & nullis est aequa crudelitas , but it is greater cruelty to the good to spare all , then to the bad to spare none . Seneca sayes , Clementia tutum Regem in aperto ostendit , for that , he said , begot the love of the people , and I say it should make him raigne in the hearts and affections of his Subjects ; but never good King was worse understood , nor more unhappily mistaken . All I can or will say , is , the faults which were laid to his charge in the beginning of his troubles , ( but whispered ) are now thwarted so , that they become {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , contradictory one to the other , and one of them must fall . At first he was weak , now he is thought too politique ; at first easie , now too stiffe ; at first too peacefull , now too martiall : In a word , I need not write his Character , if his History be not wronged ; I cannot make so good an one , as that will prove him : To which I leave him , but with hopes to see him break through this cloud , ( which over-shadowes him ) and shine as bright and gloriously as ever , or more , ( improved by these sad tryalls ) which shall be my Prayer for my Master , and ought to be of every loving Subject for his Soveraigne . II. The Character of the Queenes Majestie . THe Queene is a Lady of Illustrious blood and birth , as any of Europe , ( except her own daughters ) whose Father casts the scale , and gives it them , derived from him , who is really one of the best borne Princes of Christendome , except his owne Son . She was daughter to that Mars of France , Henry the Great , ( truly the greatest France ever had ) as well for Royall blood , Heroick vertues , as power and dominion . At home few Princes were so beloved , abroad none more feared , for his Sword was as glorious as his Wisdom . Her mother was a Lady of great blood and wisdome , as appeared by her Government of France , ( a people uncapable of {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , the government of Woman ) that must , and wil confesse it self more happy in her regiment , then it hath been ever since ( although victorious ) under the service or command of her two great States men the Cardinals , she commanding that in love and obedience , which reason of State hath since conquered in France . The beauty of our Queene was as royall and soveraigne as her bloud and vertues , and true parallels , yet concur in the centre . Wisdome and Constancie are her portion in this world , and her Piety bids faire for the next . Her Wisdome appeares to all admiration , for she hath out-done all agents of her sexe , much more of her quality , in her negotiations , her love adding wings to her spirit , and that strength to her body , to expedite what the most active here or abroad thought improbable , nay impossible to be effected . For her Constancie , I wonder at that , more then this , that for a Crowne she dare not change her Religion , having such a President as her glorious Father , ( in all but that ) and yet admire it more , considering her love to the King , and the advantage her wisdome assures the change would bring to their designes , the perfection of the presidents , the one in constancie , the other in change , Ladies being more apt to follow the old French , then the new English fashion . If I knew her not wise , as royall and pious as either , I could most admire her favours to those of our Nation in France , considering her sufferance , and her Husbands here ; yet she is still a Sanctuary to her Husbands friends , ( a rare president of Charitie ) and in all this so cheerfull , she rather encourageth others , then seemes to sinke under such a weight of afflictions , and in this exceeds her selfe as much as her sexe in the other . Though I would not have her mutable , yet from my soule I wish her conformable to the King in her Religion , which must be the work of heaven ; In the meane time I wish that we were as really charitable , as she is truly pious , that she could see our faith by our good works , that they might as much convince her conscience to change , as reason of State might and does move her reason to that conformitie , and truly binds her to it . In a word , were she thus , I know no Nation under heaven so happy as we must then confesse our selves , who have now made our selves Ludibrium mundi , the scorne of the world , as much despised abroad , as we lately were glorious : who like Esops dog , have forsaken the substance , and snatched at shadowes , and our losse is really as irreparable , as his is fained , if heaven help not . III. The hopefull Prince . AS the sea is the Centre of the Element of water , to which all rivers tend , and in which they emptie their fulnesse : So is my Prince the Sea of Royall vertues , the Centre of Princely blood , from which we hope springs of vertues , and honor , nay rivers will break forth and inrich the world in future ; As all Rayes have a point where they begin , and a Centre or point of concourse either directly or by reflex where they meet or terminate , so there is no line or ray of vertue , that meets not in this point of concourse , no point of pietie of honor which we may not petere principia from his Royall Progenitors , and terminate it in him . Fashions follow the humours of the people , and they the dispositions of mens mindes , dispositions are much governed ( in respect of the remote cause ) by the influence and aspects of the Stars , and that by the supreame cause of causes : If we looke with the eyes of nature , we may wonder at the times ; if of grace ; wee have deserved the worst wee suffer , by abusing the best blessings wee injoyed . If this hinder not , I know no reason , but wee may looke for happy times , and derive them from these lesser wheeles , moved by the greater . Looke on my Prince , if you ( Martiall spirits ) expect action , and derive him from that Boanerges , the sonne of Thunder , Henry of France , the greatest of that name , nay of her Kings : If for peacefull and politique government , looke northward upon King James the Solomon of his time , the Prince of peace on earth : If you looke to be glorious in forraigne conquests , derive him from William the Conqueror ( who began younger then he ) and with happy successe subdued his Rebels , joyned with the power of France , and made both Henry of France and Philip his Sonne know , that he meant to be a Conqueror : If you looke for glorious action further from home , derive him from the First Richard , or the First Edward , whose names were as terrible to Infidells , as William to the Saxons , & as much renowned amongst all Christian Princes : If nearer home , draw his line from the Victorious Edwards , the glorious Henries : If you would have him subtilly politicke , with lesse respect to Soveraign honour , fetch him from the Eleventh Lewis of France : If more wise and truly valiant , and better skill'd to govern the English , either in the Martiall or Civill way , or Politicke , derive him from him , from whom he derives his right to the Crowne , the Seaventh Henrie : If you would have him pious and patient , and struggle with his Stars with prudent magnanimitie : joyned with these vertues , looke upon his Royall Parents , and pray that like our third Henrie , they after these stormes may be as happy in my Prince their Sonne , our hopes , as he and his Queene were in our First Edward , in relation to both Kingdomes : that after as long a raigne of his Royall Parents , he may ( as he did ) give law to both Kingdomes , and settle the three Kingdomes , and leave them in as much glorie , as he did this . IV. A true Character of the Illustrious James Duke of York . THe Duke of Yorke is a Prince for his birth may compare with any of Europe , ( being my Master , his Brothers parallel ) and I dare say cannot suffer in the comparison . He ownes his Royall Father , and is as like him as Nature could cast him in so Princely a mould : so like he is , we may invert that Royall Epithet was given his Father , Jacobissimus Carolus , to Carolissimus Jacobus : and he makes it good . Those who know him , know I flatter him not , if I say his disposition ownes his Illustrious blood , and his Gallantry speaks the languages of his birth . I dare promise his Princely Brother a gallant second , and as faithfull as he can hope him . As valiant Clarence was to our glorious 5. Henry , so shall James be to his victorious Brother . Had Frances Mars her glorious 4. Henry seene these blossomes springing from his Flower-de-luce , he would have rejoyced as much as so great a King could , to see his dearest daughter , and his so lively Character their mother so happy in this blessing , as it repayres or counterballances the sad condition of her present fortune : And he would have righted his interest in them , and have made England know he was their Grandfather , ( which the world shall see by their glorious actions . ) It is not novelty , out of our Histories to produce examples , that our wisest and most victorious Kings and Princes have by a supreme power been raised out of the dust , and have erected stately monuments and glorious Tropheys upon such sad foundations as ours must build on ; So William triumphed over his Rebellious Normans , in spite of the power of France , and after over the English : so our second Henry , our third , our fourth , and seventh , ( to omit others ) made themselves glorious in spite of suppression and sad tryals , and were ( like gold refined in the fornace ) made more glorious , happy , and wise by their afflictions , for the sweetnesse of changes appeares best in oppositions . He knowes not true happinesse , who hath not felt some adversity . Sharp Schools make the best Scholars . Who knowes not the sad effects of Warre , cannot value Peace . And no Prince manages Peace so happily , as he who knowes the evil of War , yet knowes how to put on his Armes , as well as to lay them aside . In a word , this hardship our hopes have suffered , hath much improved them , and I dare promise to the world happinesse from it , and I hope a share in his , whose title entitles my hope and interest in him , as well as my Princely Master . V. The Character of a Noble Generall . A Noble Generall is a man who hath peace with heaven , and forgets not he is to make his accompt to God , as well as man , and therefore dares not doe that he knowes not how to answer to God , in respect of his conscience , nor man in regard of his honour : he knowes he is not fit for command of others , is not master of himselfe , and therefore studyes that first ; yet is not such selfe-lover that he forgets his duty to either God or his Prince , it being no question , whether a Generall should obey God , or man , he first examines the quarrell before he accepts his Commission , and that satisfyed dares dye in it , and that is his rule by which he directs his service . And as the Seaman by his compasse stears his course by that Card , yet varies his course as he does in his voyage , applying his experience to Occasions , yet still with an eye upon his Card , he often turnes his eyes inward , and there findes his Character of his owne charge : An Army of as different humours , and dispositions , as Hannibals Army was , and desires to governe his way : never one Nation was more intire in obedience , never Generall more absolute in command , never Generall studyed his Commission more , never Army executed it better . Had Carthage beene as good a master , as he a servant , he had mastred Rome . He cannot be happy in command , that knows not to obey , and by that learnt to command . That Prince or State puts an Army into a young Souldiers charge , its probable may pay as dear for his Learning , as he that trusts his fortune in a Ship without a Pilot : If he speede well he is more beholden to chance , then discretion ; this disadvantage is too great for a wise man to adventure the trust , and an honest man the charge : Passions and sensualities are not more obnoxious to the soule in the naturall Body , then these are to a Generall in relation to the body Politique , good servants they are , but dangerous masters : As the senses present objects to the Phancie , and that to the intellect , yet still the Will commands : so he is not in this without his well-chosen and well-rewarded intelligence and correspondency , nor without his owne Jugdement , and his choice Councells , yet keepes still the prerogative of his command , not so premptory , as absolute . And as the soule loves every member , yet makes use of it , and communicates liberally to its occasions , as it relates to the body , so he commands not but with as much love , yet indulges not so any member of his body , nor sense , or faculty of his soul , but he prefers the body to any member , and the soul to any sense , and will rather curbe , and suppresse an insolency or presumption in either , then indanger the whole , and knows that is lesse cruelty to the good to spare all , then to the bad to save none . He looks upon his Officers as his senses , and his Souldiers as his members , yet had rather cut off a finger then be deaf , or lose a hand then his eies . And this care of his is happily requited with a dutiful regard and affection unto his Souldiers . And yet he in respect to his Officers accompts himself singulis major , and to his Army , universis minor . In a word , as God trusts the soule with the charge and command of the body , so is he trusted with his Army , and is as loath to hazard that , but feares not : Much lesse denies to deliver up his commission , or make his accompt , when called for , by the supream power , and hath alwayes his accompt ready in respect to that supreame Commission of Gods , or that inferiour of Mans , and therefore feares no more to hazard or leave it ( when a just occasion commands it ) then a well satisfyed Christian to dye in God and his Princes just cause , whose faith hath already Crowned his head with glorious Martyrdom , and such a Generall deserves as well the glory of a Rom● Triumph , as the Martyr his Aureola . VI . A true English Protestant IS one who professeth the Doctrine and Discipline of the Church of England , established first by General Councels and Synods , and after confirmed by the knowne Lawes of the Kingdome , and professeth against the contrary . He sticks to the Protestation of Ausburge , whence he had his name ; he loves the unity of the Church so , that he endeavours next her verity in faith , her unity and conformity in Discipline with that Church , not daring to broach new opinions , nor preach them to disturbe the peace of his aged Mother . Private interpretations of Scripture he approves not , but submits his owne , and maintaines none against the received and approved Doctrine of the Church , whereof he is a member : He thinks that Evangelicall counsel is to be observed , that all things must be done in order and decencie : He conceives the King to be the Head of the Church , as it is personall , not spirituall , and hath sworne him Gods Deputy in Government , and trusted with the sword , which he must not beare in vaine : He dares not question his Authority , who is onely answerable to God , but in his heart honours him as his Vice-gerent , and knowes that to resist his power , is to resist him that gave it ; and though the penalty be damnation , yet he feares not that so much as the offence given to God , who gave the power : He confesses an obligation to Gods Morall Lawes , and Mans Judiciall , and that there must be as well obedience active as passive , to the one , as the other : He knowes Christs spirituall Kingdome opposeth not the temporall claime and power of Kings , but Cesar must have his tribute ( the badge of Conquest ) as God must have his in the acknowledgment of his protection . He dares call his Soveraigne the Anointed of God , since God called Cyrus a Heathen so , not for the holinesse of externall unction , but the internall character of supreame power , and Saul a demoniack , a persecutor , a murtherer : so he can make a difference between types and metaphors , the one being in persons , the other in words . He conceives passive obedience alwayes due to the power of the King , where active cannot be performed with a good conscience . He beleeves faith alone cannot , nor doth justifie without works , but both together , the first before God , the second before men . He beleeves God rewards above merit , yet that there is difference in glory , and reward , though all have fulnesse . Traditions and Ceremonies he reverences , as they are in Antiquity , and streame from the springs of originall purity , not to the necessity of Doctrine , but Discipline . He detests Parity in Church or in Common-wealth , as tending to Anarchy , and destroy those it will follow . He thinkes it not fit to pull downe the Cantrells of an Arche till the key-stone be settled , and then the greater the weight is , the stronger it will be ; he likes the fabrick of the old so well , he thinks the change may be dangerous . He dares not sweare against his conscience , nor vow implicite obedience to occasionall ordinances . He thinks no authority but the same , or a greater then that to whom he hath made a Judicial vow , can disanull it . He is loyall for Conscience sake to his Soveraigne , charitable for Gods sake to his Neighbour , and dares not doe that unto another , he cannot be content should be done to himselfe ; much lesse rob his Soveraigne of his birth-right , or deface Gods character ; he thinks Dixi vos dii estis belongs supremely to his Soveraign , ministerially to his subjects : he dares not distinguish betwixt the King and his Person , and thinke the one at Westminster , the other in his Armie ; and hazard that in the feild to save that at Westminster , he likes not that nice distinction forged in the Scoole of the Jesuits , derived from the Devills Logicke : His heart thinks no disloyall thought , much lesse dares he speake a word to lessen the reverence due to Majestie , not for feare of punishment , but the sinne ; who dares not forsake his Soveraigne in his adversity , lest God deny him in his necessity ; who in a dungeon can finde more comfort , then they who commanded him thither . He with Joseph finds his Keepers wrought by a supreme power to mercy , if not trust , whose cheerfulnesse is a comfort to his fellow-Prisoners , and no lesse advantage to himselfe , God making him the instrument of their happinesse in their adversities , and him happy in his gallant cheerfulnesse , and magnanimous patience . In a word , he dares in his Princes just quarrell meet death with as much courage , as David met Goliah , as Daniel went into the Lions Den , or the three Children into the fiery fornace , and in the midst of his tortures , can with as much cheerfulnesse sing his Nunc dimitte , as Simeon did with his Christ in his armes . This is your true Cavallier . VII . An Antinomian , or Anabaptisticall Independent IS one who wonders that S. Paul would refer himselfe ( though for conformities sake ) to a Councell , he having an equall share with Peter in the division of the Circumcision , and the uncircumcision : he cannot endure to heare of Councells or Synods , and is much troubled that he approves of the Altar , and yet well pleased that he refers the Minister for his livelihood to it , though he tythes not mint nor anise ( as not approving tythes ) yet he neglects the waightiest matters of the Law , and in this agrees with the Pharisee . You shall find him pointed in the New Testament ( with a Vae vobis ) who love the chiefe seats at feasts , and make long prayers in Widdowes houses , and lead silly women captive ; He approves not that Evangelicall councell , to worke out salvation with feare and trembling , for this toucheth too much upon our obligation to the Law ; Besides , feare is opposite to faith , and trembling to boldnesse ; he is as bold as blind Byard , and scarce will be beholding to Christ for his securitie ; He thinks himself of a higher form in the school of Gods Church , then to submit to the pedagogie of the Law Morall , Iudiciall , or Ceremoniall ; he hath found a shorter cut to heaven then the Catholicke Church ever heard of , and a cheaper , ( faith without workes ) he thinks Canonicall obedience a badge of the beast , and subordination to temporall or ecclesiasticall powers , of a forfeiture of the freedome of faith ; An oath he avoides as a snare for his Conscience , and is so tender in this kinde , he wisely refuseth the Nationall Covenant ; if he hath taken the oath of Supremacie , or that of Allegiance , he hath repented it with more sorrow and detestation then any of his sinnes ; he is confident the spirituall power of Christs Kingdome here , disingages him of all temporall obligation ; The Hornet is not a worse Neighbour to the Bee , then he is to the Presbyterian , and robs his Hive as oft both of his Honie and Bees ; he talkes much of a new began Kingdome of Christ , set up in the hearts and soules of the Saints , which dischargeth him of all Secular duty . He is confident , that this is that Kingdome of Glory here , which shall last a thousand yeeres , and expects no other . He hath heard the last Trumpe , which like the voyce of an Angel is not heard , but of those to whom it was sent . He is confident Christ hath already divided the world into two parts , the Goats and the Sheep , and they are severed . He thrusts the Presbyterian out of the flock , as Linsey Wolsey was out of the Jewish Temple . He will not allow a Bishop and Presbyter to differ in power , but Roman-like takes that himselfe as his due , which they could not agree on , and would make a Congregationall Hierarchie as absolute , as the Presbyter a Classicall , or the Bishop an Episcopall . In a word , he hath spun his Religion to so fine a thred , that it may more fitly be termed a Mysterie then a Profession : his Charitie is as invisible as his Faith , and his Hope as his Charitie : he is in this indeed to be praised , he is of so publike a spirit , that he would have a community of all things : he can endure no prerogative but that of theirs , ( that of Faith ) which gives him a title to all ours : and of so harmlesse an humility he is , he avoweth that we need no fig-leaves to cover nakednesse , Crescite & multiplicamini is the first command , and all he sticks to , he would have none baptized but such as can give an account of their faith , but thinks it needlesse to give any either to God or man of their works : he thinks that Faith is the forme that gives the esse to the Sacraments , but not good works the bene esse to Faith , and so either he will goe to heaven without them , or else he thinks that God doth his Faith wrong , and his owne promise more . VIII . A Jesuite IS to the moderate Papist , as the Puritan to the Protestant ; For his originall he is descended from Ignatius , and begotten in spirituall adultery upon the Popes Spouse : he was nurst with much care , and educated with as much in the Popes Schoole , at the Austrian charge , better read in the Politicks then Divinity , though in both learned beyond the common reach . The Anabaptist and hee looke severall wayes , yet they are like Sampsons Foxes tyed together by the tails with fire-brands , and commonly endanger the Country that harbours them . The Esseni were not more austere in the Jewish Church , then he in the Christian . They agree in this both alike , enemies to Cesar . He is to the Pope , as the Pharisee was to the High-Priest , alwayes of his councell , commonly of the Quorum : he will compasse as much ground as either to gaine a Proselyte : his endeavour is thankfulnesse to the Pope for care of his education , and to the Austrian for his charges : he requites them both , and becomes an usefull instrument to advance the Hierarchie of the one , and the Tyrannie of the other . The Pharisee was not a greater observer of Traditions then he , nor prouder of his Philacteree , then he of his Order ; he is so well vers'd in Questions , that the Pharisee did not trouble our Saviour more with Dilemmaes , then he with dangerous Problems doth the Catholique Church ; none improves an Order more then hee , nor is a greater husband of the common stock , which is so great an one , that with his golden key , and his pick-lock , or his scrue of Confession , he rules the Councels of most Princes , and crooks them to his owne ends . Though he seemes to deny the world , no man hath a greater share in it ; No man pretends greater piety to God , purity and humility in himselfe , nor charitable equity to Man , then he . He dares challenge God to account , and thinks him so great a debtor , that he is able to leave a huge treasure of Supererogation to the Church , and quit scores with him ; yet in conclusion proves a Bankrupt , and owes more then he can ever hope to pay ; and yet so proud , he scornes to compound with his Redeemer , or make use of his Surety . He thinkes Christ did himselfe and his Master the Pope wrong with his humility , and blames him he made no more use of his Legions of Angels to establish a Temporall Monarchy . There is no Text troubles him more then Peters paying tribute to Cesar , {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , & ter negabis , are farre more easie of digestion , and trouble him lesse to answer . Pro te & me he conceives are words of dangerous consequence , and had he been of Christs councell , should have beene spared . In a word , he hath gotten more for his Master and himselfe , then Christ ever challenged , or meant to Saint Peter , or his Successor , either in that Hierarchie hee claimes , or the Temporall power he usurpes , which he pretends is propter bonum Ecclesiae , with which clause or caution , he can absolve any Judiciall Oath , though sealed with the Sacrament , and signed by a Legion of Cardinalls , as Pope Paschall did his with Henry the Emperour ; so he prefers the Churches Liberties in Temporall things before his owne salvation , and the royall signature of the Sacrament . IX . The true Character of a Northerne Lady , as she is Wife , Mother , and Sister , IS the Wife to a Husband as intollerably hard as harsh ; yet like the Bee , she sucks honey out of this Hemlock , and gaines a good stock of honour and happiness out of this misfortune , and lets the world see it is more his then hers . She manages her little deduction out of his fortune so , that by her discreet disbursements he may see the true use of wealth , which he thinkes is rather in possession then use ; so he hath no more comfort of his wealth then the Indian mole in the golden mines , if he cast up any it may cost him deare , yet he gaineth not by it , it is for others use , not his owne ; not with any intention to inrich others , but by chance . That the Masculine is more worthy then the Feminine Gender , is a rule we take up in our childhood , and lay downe with our lives ; but she gives Lilly the lye , she proves that the Theologicall , and Cardinall vertues are of the female gender , and {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} and {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , potestas and potentia , power and ability too ; and concludes ( like a Mathematician ) demonstratively . As a chaste wife and happy mother she brought her husband a son , in whose education she shewes her selfe more like a father in her discreet management of his youth in travell , then a tender mother in distrust of Gods providence abroad , and doth in this like the wise Merchant , who trusts the Sea with his bullion and stock , and transacts it where exchange runnes highest , and so ballances his trading by the probability , not certainty of advantage in the returne ; whereas her husband would wrap his talent in a napkin , or hide it in a dung-hill , and breed his sonne no better then himselfe , were not she the better Merchant ; yet hers is but a mothers interest , his a fathers ; hers in blood , his in perpetuity . As for the sisters part , she hath out-done all presidents in that more then both the other , it being hard to finde a sister can be so tender a mother to her Brothers Orphane , that the childe ( were he come to her owne sonnes age ) could scarcely misse his mother , such is her care of it . And that which most commends her , is , she in her Noble Brothers imprisonment , hath managed his misfortunes with as much or more advantage then her owne , wasting her weak body in those noble services , nay over-witting those engins imployed to ruine her Brother . Like Moses shee stood in the gap betwixt her Brother and the Parliaments displeasure , nor would give over untill ( like him ) she by her intercession had set him free , and delivered him from the judgements which hung like a cloud over his head . She lost not the least advantage in relation to her Brothers honour , fortune or happiness . In a word , she is to her husband a loyall wife , to her sonne a discreetly indulgent mother , to her Brother such a Sister , as the wisest man would wish his owne , and I mine . Mothers , Wives , Sisters , you who would not erre , Steere all your courses by this Character . This is no faigned Character , but true , My soule could wish it were my Sisters due . Nor wealth nor titles could inrich our blood So much as this would , could they make it good . X. The politique Neuter IS an Hermaphrodite partaking of two sexes , and as unfruitfull to his Prince or country ; a man that dares not professe the Religion he was baptized to , nor protest against an Innovation , and so no Protestant : he reserves his choice for the prevailing partie , and for the present professeth that which they doe : wonders at the distractions in the Church , and Common-wealth , and in the mean time is more distracted in himselfe : he dares not owne his conscience now , and therefore that will change Masters , and turne witnes against him , when he stands most need of it : he would fain serve two Masters at once , and please both , but finding our Saviours words true , that he must hate the one , and love the other , he resolves to hate him he fears most , and to love neither , not firme to either : he loses the good opinion of both , and so fals betwixt two stools : God calls on him in the Old Testament with a quere how long he will halt betwixt two opinions , and Christ in the New promises him the Laodiceans reward : he is so far from trusting Gods mercie in Martyrdome , that he dares not trust his providence in wants ; he is as much troubled as David at the prosperitie of the wicked , but hath not the patience to goe to Gods House with him to enquire of their ends ; he will not beleeve Davids experience concerning the Children of the righteous , whom he never saw begging their bread ; he had rather leane upon the rotten reeds of his owne policie , then trust the firme rock of Gods providence : if he ever professed to be for the King , when his cause prospered , he presently repented it , and purchased the Parliaments pardon and protection , and paid at least two yeares purchase for it ; if he be a Prisoner , it is with accommodation , and by it he saves the charges of hospitalitie ; yet hopes that moneys thus disburst makes him a Martyr , and may be pleaded as well in bar of further assistance to the King , as a Privie seale , though it be disburst for the Parliaments use ; if for the Parliament , you shall never find him without a Royall protection , and purchased friendship at Oxford , and that sometimes is mistaken , and shewn to the wrong partie , and then he payes for it ; if either partie prevaile , he is in Misericordia ; if an Accommodation ( for which he prays more heartily then the forgivenesse of his sins ) help not , he hath so long endeavoured to get a dexterous use of his left hand , that he hath almost lost the perfect use of his right , and is become an imperfect perfect Ambodexter , or at best so cunning at leger-demaine , that he gets the repute of a notable Jugler ; In a word , he dares not seeme what he is , nor be what he seemes , but like luke-warme water having neither heat enough to warme the Stomacke , nor being cold enough to coole it , is rejected of both , and spued out as friend to neither . XI . The Citie Paragon IS a woman whose birth was greater then her portion , but her vertues greater then her birth ; who was marryed to a husband whose fortune exceeded his wisdome , yet his fortune in her was greater then his wealth , who manages his fortune so , that she improves his conscience as much as his wealth , and her wit makes him eminent in the City . She loves not ( with the Pharisees ) the highest places at Feasts , nor salutations in Assemblies , knowing Envy attends the first , and Pride the other . Her dresse is more comely then costly , modest then garish ; her visits , like Sabboth dayes labours , not frequent , and never without charity , or necessity undertaken : her entertainment to her husbands friends , or her owne , suits both their conditions ; more neat it is then curious ; and is more reall and solid then ceremonious . She desires her children may be so bred , that they may be seasoned in their childhood with those vertues which may make them happy in their age . And knowing Examples prevaile more then Precepts , she gives them none , but such as she would have them follow . Those troubles incident to rich men ( which they call misfortunes ) she makes blessings by her right use of them , knowing it is not the fruition , but right use , that makes us truly rich , nor the losse of wealth can make any so miserable as the abuse of it . If she heare any ill of her neighbour , she had rather suppresse it , then report it ; if any good , she will rather improve it , then enviously diminish it . If any uncertaine evill be reported of any good man or woman , shee breaks it in the egge , and will not give it the reputation of credit , much lesse of report : if any uncertain good , she had rather beleeve it then question it ; so she makes her worst neighbours better , and her good she improves . In bargaines for her husband , she rather makes a wise bargaine then a crafty ; she had rather save then circumvent ; the loves not to hide leven in the lump of her husbands fortune , nor dares trust her stock with laying up what Oppression must make good againe . She likes not gilded pills , she knowes they may prove too Cathartick . In a word , the State suffers what her husband gaines , that she wanted the power of a greater man , to doe more good , since her will is answerable to the best , and her wisdome not inferiour to her will . You City-dames who imitate Court-Ladies in their greatest state , Learne but the dresse which here you have , You may much cost and labour save : And be esteemed better far , Nay honoured more then Ladies are . Then thank my Country which hath lent Your City such a president . XII . A sharking Committee-man Is one trusted with more then he is worth : he is like Ezechiels lesser wheele , moved by the greater ▪ if he doe discharge his trust , yet there may be Treason in it ; if not , there must be knavery . He reads the Turkish History with passion , when he considers the great Turks policy to imploy greedy slaves , and the cunningest , in the places of greatest profit , that he may satisfie his people with his justice , and get all that by escheat , which hee had heaped by oppression . Hee feares not God so much as the people doe him , who sacrifice to him ( as the Indians to the Devill ) ne noceat . He hath still in his bosome the horror of two dayes of Judgement , the one at Westminster , which he fears more then the last when ever it come . The faces of the Committee for Examinations are more dreadfull to his sense , then the thought of the last day to his ●eared conscience . His Antidote is a Paramount friend of the Quorum , and if he faile him , he is a lost man . No Sheriffe was ever quicker with his Elegit , then he with his Capias for Body , Goods and Lands , which they call a Sequestration , though the party may justly plead the Statute of this Parliament in barre of his oppression , if the priviledge of person , or propriety of goods were as really intended as pretended , yet he fears no futura contingentia but his Paramounts favour , in which he hath no more terme then Villains have in Villanage , ( during pleasure ) that is , Dum bene se gesserit in omnibus . He heaps wealth to purchase favour , and gets that to purchase wealth , with which he buyes his Heire a Command , and in conclusion gets a Garrison of ease , where he and his Cub may kennell , and like the Fox retreats to his hole when he is hunted , this will make his peace ( if well managed ) with either party . In a word , if ever he come to a Jury , his countenance will cast him , for that is as full of guilt , as his conscience of horror . He who hath the least skill in Phisiognomie , shall finde furcam in fronte , or crucem in facie ; and if any cast his nativity , and will be at the charge of a Scheame , you shall finde Saturne and Mars in conjunction in the house of Mercurie , all malignant : yet he a sincere Professor , alias , a knave in graine , or a Traitor gradibus intensis . XIII . Britanicus his pedigree . A fatall prediction of his end . I Dare affirme him a Jew by descent , and of the Tribe of Benjamin , lineally descended from the first King of the Jewes , even Saul , or at best he ownes him and his Tribe , in most we reade of them . First , of our English Tribes , I conceive his Fathers the lowest , and the meanest of that Tribe , Stocke , or generation , and the worst how bad soever they be : melancholly he is , as appeares by his sullen and dogged wit ; malicious as Saul to David , as is evident in his writings ; he wants but Sauls javelin to cast at him ; he as little spares the Kings Friends with his pen , as Saul did Jonathan his Sonne in his reproach ; and would be as free of his javelin as his pen , were his power sutable to his will as Ziba did to Mephibosheth , so does he by the King , he belies him as much to the world , as he his Master to David , and in the day of adversitie is as free of his tongue , as Shimei was to his Soveraigne , and would be as humble as he , and as forward to meet the King , as he was David , should the King returne in peace . Abishaes there cannot want to cut off the Dogs head , but David is more mercifull then Shimei can be wicked ; may he first consult with the witch of Endor , but not worthy of so noble a death as his owne sword , die the death of Achitophel for feare of David , then may he be hangd up as the Sonnes of Saul were against the Sunne , or rather as the Amalekites who slew Isb●sheth , and brought tidings and the tokens of the treason to David ; may his hands and his feet be as sacrifices cut off , and hung up , and so pay for the Treasons of his pen and tongue ; May all heads that plot Treasons , all tongues that speake them , all pens that write them , be so punisht . If Sheba paid his head for his tongues fault , what deserves Britanicus to pay for his pen and trumpet ? Is there never a wise woman in London ? we have Abishaes . XIIII . The Phaenix of the Court IS a Ladie whose birth and beautie called her to the Court , as fit to attend Majestie ; yet her vertues and discretion fixt more honour upon her then either , though admired for the one , as much honoured for the other . Though her beautie like Hellens might beget a war in competition , yet these command a reverence , as much as those inforce affection : her words hold waight as well as her actions , she waighes them before she utters them , much more her actions which are twice waighed , and give authoritie to others , and are rather admired then imitated , yet ought as well to be imitated as admired : for her companie it is ( if voluntarie ) such as she would be thought to be : her reall devotion is canonicall in relation to order , if occasion fail not , and to her self , yet none more duly observes the assigned houres for Gods Worship : her frequent attendance on Gods service is not enjoyned as a penance , but spontaneous ; not with hope of merit , for that spoils and prejudices even charitie , which is the seasoning of our workes , but lookes upon mercie with humilitie , rather then merit with confidence , for she workes her salvation out of the fire with feare and trembling , yet she wants not a graine of lively faith , nor charitie , the one assuring her Soule , the other the world of that happinesse , which neither the subtiltie nor malice of the wicked , or their master can rob her of , nor the world take from her : As for her dresse , she had rather owne any infirmitie , either in colour , shape , or feature , then cover them with an undecent , much lesse an immodest attire , though her judgement even in this be like the royall stamp to bullion , which gives it reputation and denomination , and makes it currant , so doth her approbation any fashion ; In a word , she is honoured of those she reverences , and reverenc'd by those she loves ; she had rather know her self truly wise , then be thought so , yet would not onely be vertuous , but be esteemed so ; she knows there may be envie in the first without cause , and dishonour in the other without reason . Come Ladies you at deare rates buy The French wash and Italian dye : All you who paint they say will trade , Here is true beautie will not fade . Looke well into this right Court glasse , And learne by it your selves to dresse . AN ELEGIE Vpon the Right Honourable The Earle of LINDSEY . 1. GReat Lindsey's falne , yet did not fall by chance , For Sparrowes fall not but by Providence . What are our sinnes when such as Lindsey fall ? One who so often had been Generall . One nere deceiv'd our hopes by Sea or Land , And had been now as glorious in Command , Had our Reserve of Horse as bravely stood To their great Charge , as Lindsey made it good . But they pursue the chase , therefore we may ( And justly too ) say they lost us the day . Sure their Commission was not left so large , That a Reserve without Command should Charge . For a Reserve for safe Retreat should stand , And should not stir without expresse Command . Their Zeale to honour , and the Kings just Cause , Might make brave men forget strict Martiall Lawes . So Lindsey fell , as when the Phenix lyes In her rich Urne , another doth arise Even from her ashes : So from Lindsey's grave , Another Phenix ( we ) or Lindsey have . A gallant man , and of most noble parts , As great a Master of his trade , as hearts ; But the old Phenix ( in his Martiall heat ) Did great Gustavus , past his Cannon beat : With reverence yet old Christian speaks his name , Then boasts from Danish blood the English came ; Wee must acknowledge and confesse t is true , The Normans their discent from Rollo drew . And Rollo was a Dane by birth , yet wee Thought Lindsey ( mongst the Danes ) as brave as he : And we beleeve that our young Lindsey rather Improves his stocke , then borrowes from his Father . Hic jacet Robertus Bartu , Baro Willoughby , Dominus de Ersby , Comes de Snidsey , Magnus Angliae Camerarius , apud Edghill Serenissimi Regis Caroli {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} , A turmis Equitū ( in regis presidiū relictus ) in prelio vulneratus ( etiam ad mortem ) sed non sine Victoria cecidit . An Elegy upon the right Honourable the Earle of Northampton . I Must acknowledge , now I love thee more , ( When thou art not ) then ere I did before . The love wherewith I living loved thee , Is changd to honour of thy memory : As rarifi'd ayre turns to the purest fire , So what I lately lov'd , I now admire . Many professe , they for the King would die ; Thou for his sake , didst offered life deny ; Thou wouldst not beg , but Martyrdom command , They offered what thou wouldst not understand ; There 's not a hayre , which from thy head was torn , And in despite to Loyalty was worn In Triumph ; not a wound to thee was given , But they are in the black Records of Heaven : And when the Grand Inquest for blood shall come , They must strike Tallies for thy Martyrdom . How many Scotch Bawbies , cast in account , Would to the Talents David left amount ? For if wee reckon , wee cannot go lesse Then this proportion , this they must confesse ; They noble loyall blood , I dare be bold , Compar'd with theirs , will this proportion hold : What disadvantage hath our Cause , since ▪ we Become such loosers by a Victory ? Hic jacet Spencer Dominus Compton , Comes Northamptontae , progenie nobilis , & Conjugio foelix , & filiis utrisque dignus , qui sanguineo regi fidelitatem martyrio obsignivit : Nec magno Gustavo dissimilis victor in praelio ; juxta Stafford , per infortunium cecidit , Anno salutis , 1644. An Elegy upon the right Honourable the Earle of Kingston . KIngston , thy losse was Epidemicall ; It was indeed a generall losse to all . I will not name thy Ladies interest , Childrens , nor servants , theirs were farre the least ; Though I dare say thus much , for all the three , Th 'ave lost as much as in a friend could be ; No better husband liv'd , nor kinder father , Nor nobler master , joyning these together . I speak the losse but as it did relate , To God his Church , the King , and to the State : For his Religion it was pure and sound , And no man better understood his ground : A Protestant he liv'd , a Martyr dy'd , Professing truth , his truth by death was try'd : This I dare say , the King had none more able Nor really loyall at his Councell Table : Of brave resolves , and of a publick spirit , Who knew him best , knew he conceald his merit ; Discreet he was , and providently wise ; Kinde to his friends , and faithfull in advise . No man his Countrey better understood , Nor was more apt to do it reall good . Though he was rich , I dare pronounce him just , No man was more religious in his trust ; Nor better understood this kingdomes Lawes ; Yet he with noble blood durst seal the Cause ; Nor would great Kingston in the Cause have dyed , Had he not been in Conscience satisfyed As well as Law . These two hee durst not sever , Since God in this Cause joynd them both together . Hic jacet Robertus Comes de Kingston , ortu nobilis , conjugio nobilior , sed prole nobilissimus . {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} . An Elegy upon the right Honourable the Earle of Carnarvan . HEre lies the highest Fancy of our Times , Who Lucian like could sharply scourge our crimes . Whose wit Mercuriall was , high , and sublime , So near ceration , ' ●wanted only time : For he had all our Artists could require To m●ke th'Elixar , matter , art , and fire : All three sublimed to as great a heigth As Art and Nature could ; ( and all set right ) Thus near perfection brave Carnarvan fell , Who left behinde him scarce a paralell . If men shall rise in judgement , then I fear This loyall Lord shall condemn many a Peere , Who more obliged to the King then he , Have scarce returnd or thanks or loyalty . Hic jacet Comes de Carnarvan , & Baro Dormar , Mercurio magnus , sed Marti major , qui vitam hanc in Regis causa , cum armis deposuit , vulnere sed nobili ictus ( heu ) cecidit invictus . An Elegy for the Princely Brothers of the Illustrious Duke of Lenox . STay passer by , and fix thine eye , Oh see who here Intomb'd doth lye ; Three Brethren of Illustrious birth , Loyall as ever breathed on earth : Stuarts , and of the Noblest blood , But more because they made it good ; I dare pronounce their deaths as loyall As was their births , and actions Royall . Mistake mee not , it is their dust ▪ ( Not they ) the earth hath here in trust . Their soules are mounted up farre higher , Above the Element of fire , And shall unto this dust returne , Nay shall this very dust informe , When all this world shall be calcin'd , And in that generall urne refin'd : Nay which is more , they shall appeare , More glorious then they ever were : If Chymists by their art can show , What vegetives from salt may grow ; And make them in a glasse appeare , In specie , as they growing were . If salt of flowers , their formes can keep , Till fire shall cause them from their sleep ; How much more when that Trump shall sound , Shall fire , and ayre , the sea , and ground , Their treasures to their formes restore , More glorious then they were before . If Martyrs as the Romists say , Can Merit an Aureala ; I dare pronounce these three lie here , Deserve those Diademns to weare . It is the Cause men undertakes , Not sufferance , the true Martyr makes : The Cause is Gods , and therefore good , They seal'd this Cause , with Royall blood : If these to any can be due , Why not ( brave Brothers ) then to you ? En jacent hic tres Heroes Illustrissimorum Principum Lenoxiae , nec non Richmundiae ducum filii , & fratres , nec tanto patre , nec fratre ( quamvis Regali ) Indigni , qui diversi in preliis , sed unanimiter cecidere , qui Regi fideles , sanguine nec minus Regali , Regis causam obsignarunt , & morte verè nobili triumpharunt . An Elegy upon my much honourable friend the Lord Viscount Falkland . HEre Beuclark lies , Arts monopolist rather , Who engrost more then that most painfull Father , Grea●Origen ▪ who so out-vi'd the rest , Even all the glorious ▪ Fathers of the East . Besides he was a compleat Courtier too , Yet could the Souldier in his trade out do ; His noble fancy was indeed so rich , No pen of Europe flew a higher pitch : Envy it selfe must needs confesse that hee , Was Mars i' th Camp ▪ yet the Court Mercury . Faukland too forward prest in his advance ▪ Hoping to beat them from their Ordinance : An ill meant shot both to the King , and State , Untimely put a period to his date : Gods powerfull hand turns that great wheel we know , The lesser moves , so Starres work here below ; How else should Twinnes so differ in their fate , If Starres mans fortune did necessitate ? When heaven does with its punishments begin , It oft makes sinnes the punishment of sinne . We were Rebellious unto heaven , 't is reason We should be scourged with the Whips of treason . This is not done by fortune , chance , or fate , Our sinnes heavens justice doth necessitate . Vicecomes de Falkland vir Regi merito Charus , ex intimis ejus conciliis , & fidelitate clarus ; Musarum Militumque patronus , vir pius & virtute plenus , en jacet hic intempestive sepultus : Qui apud praelium juxta Nuebery vulneribus transfixus , in Regis causa ( Rege teste ) ●ecidit invictus , Anno Domini 1644. An Elegy upon the truly honorable Sir Charles Cavendish . VVE won thee Gainsborough , but with thee lost more Then thou wert worth , or all we got before . There noble He●ne , Marcham , and Beeton fell . ( Men whom their Armies could not paralell . ) There Candish fell , a man whose very name , Like Ziscus drumme , struck terror where it came . A man whose vertues justified his blood , And prov'd his own of Cavendish's as good , As that of Bruces , both did run in 's veines , And in his actions , men might read both streynes . Who knew him , knew there never lived a creature Of a more noble sweet engaging nature ; Yet to his daring nothing was a task , Should he his courage , not his reason ask : His errour was still where he had command , In action he would have too deep a hand . So by his own example , thought to make The too reserv'd , their cautious feares forsake : And so too farre engag'd brave Candish fell , A man whom both the Nations lov'd so well : As t' was with Homer in the Grecian Story , Both Nations claime an interest in his glory ; Where ere the Sun is by his journeys known , As his companion , there we Candish own . Hence we derive and prove his title good , The Scots derive him from great Bruces blood . Although the Scots in competition are With us for Bruces blood , we have our share In him , as well as they : from subjects we , They from their Kings derive his pedigree . But as for Candish we derive a claime , As just as their 's both in his blood and name . Hic jacet Carolus Cavendish vere miles , Gulielmi secundi Devoniae Comitis filius , & tertii frater , qui sub Illustrissimo Gulielmo Cavendish Novi Cast● : comitis , nec non Marthiniae , Equitum Cohortium praefectus , insolita magnanimitate Equitum Rebellantium Cohortem Caedens , heu cecidit invictus . An Elegy upon his noble friends and Allies the Earle of Chesterfields Sonnes . BRave Stanhops you have really made it good , You are discended from true Royall blood : Few Fathers have in this kinde been more crost , But fewer could so gallant sonnes have lost . But th' are not lost , who suffer in this cause , If we respect , or God's , or humane Lawes : Did Christ to Caesar tribute money pay ( The badge of Conquest ? ) what can subjects say ? Would he submit himselfe to Caesars Law , Who was a King ? must not his subjects draw ? You paid your Caesars tribute , in such blood , That I dare say , few subjects have so good : You drew your sword for Caesar , and you tri'd Your Fathers right ( which cannot be deni'd . ) Who is 't hath done the cause more right , then they ? And none could die more nobly for the way : There are but few to whom the King owes more , ( Except the Duke ) look through the Royall score , Then unto you ; he hath lost more then you , Three of the Royall blood , and you but two . Your sonnes have such a stock of honour wonne , They have enrich the blood of Huntington : What they had purchas'd , they on yours bestowed , And bravely paid to nature , what they owed . Pernobilis Philippi Chesterfeldiae Comitis , & Clarissimae Conjugis ejus , Regali stemate Huntingtoniae Comitis filiae , filii en jacent hic qui sanguinem sanguine sublimarunt , & morte etiam illustri ditarunt . Upon the right worshipfull and my valiant Countreyman Sir Richard Hutton Knight . DIvide the World ▪ twixt Peace and Warre , And these two have a glorious share ; This for them both I le boldly say , There 's none can go a Nobler way . What Honour can be due to either , Must needs be due to both together . The one a Judge , of whom we must Confesse , his Epithet , The Iust : The other , his renowned Sonne , Who hath farre greater justice done , That to his Conscience bravely stood , This seal'd his Loyalty with Blood . Our groanes are but like wombes of earth , Which labour in a second Birth , When all the World shall be calcin'd These shall appear like Gold refin'd : Our Saviour shall his Mintage own , Stampt with the Miter and the Crown , For this Badge all his Saints shall weare , Who in this Cause have suffered here . Hic jacet Richardus Hutton , Miles praenobilis , Iustissimique patris ejusdem nominis filius togatus : Prior , ban● obiit senectute , famâ foelix , patriae charus , & in pace : Marti dicatus alter , Regi fidelis ; apud praelium juxta Sherburne , in patria propria ; nec minus patriae quam Regi charus , in Regis causa , Bello ( heu sed civili ) cecidit . Upon the truly noble and valiant Sir Bevell Greenfield Knight . I Lov'd thee dearly Brother I confesse ; And shall I now begin to love thee lesse ? Thy death was truly noble , as thy blood ; Had not this beene so , that had made it good . Thy Grandsire had a Noble Spanish grave , And to thy name , a stock of Honour gave . Were our Chronology lost , Spaine for her glory , Will in her Annals write thy Grandsires story : We must confesse , a Gallant man we lost , But let Spaine speak , how deare the victory cost . I' have heard the Donnes themselves confesse it here , They scarce would buy a Navie now so deare . Neptunes in 's bounds ▪ near saw a bloodier fight , He never fear'd so much , to loose his right . The Proverb was made true , the Sea then burn'd , And all the Elements , to fire were turn'd ; The fearefull fishes , fled into the deep ; The unweeldy Whale then an even course could keep ▪ With the swift Dolphin ; they could not endure That horid fight , nor think themselves secure ; Neptunes Sea-mantle , was turn'd Scarlet then , Stain'd with the precious blood of dying men . This was thy Gransire ; yet we understand , Thy Noble death as glorious was by land . For thou hast added to thy Grandsires blood , And made that better which before was good . Hic jacet Dominus Benellus Greenfield , miles , sanguine clarus , Deo & Regi fidus , ad aras ; Amicis & patriae charus , Devoniae gloria , perpetuà dignus historiâ . An Elegy upon the Honourable his noble friend and Countreyman Sir William Evers . BRave Evers , men were borne to die we know ; How happy wert thou then , who couldst die so , That when thou didst this troublesome life lay down , Thou could'st exchange thy Helmet for a Crown ; And with the ' xchange , couldst so enrich thy blood , To make that better , was before so good ? Thy blood was noble , that we knew before ; But all men must confesse that now 't is more : Thy loyall death being added makes it mount , As figures enrich cyphers in accompt . If heavenly souls knew ought of earthly blisse , Thy happy soule would then rejoyce in this . Few who are now with thee in heaven above , Have left behind a greater stock of Iove : Yet you in stock of loyall honour were Thought to be richer then in that by farre : What would a soule have more then he'vens joyes there ▪ And such a stock of love and honour here ? When such a life shall such a death precede , We need no prayers ; nor offerings for the dead . Hic jacet Gulielmus Evers , Vitâ , sanguine & fidelitate clarus , qui Equitum turmacum praefectus apud Hessam juxta Eborarum in Regis causa cecidit : sic Martyrii Corona meruit aureola , sed certius à nobis aeterna meruit memoria . A remembrance dedicated to his noble friends and Allies , Sir Thomas Metham and Sir William Wentworth , who were slaine at Marston Moore neare York . SInce you two durst so bravely die together , My Muse dares not presume such friends to sever . I am no stranger to the noble blood Ranne in your vaines ; I know few have so good : Yet you have gone the Chymists subtile way , And have by death improv'd your blood wee say . Chymists the noblest vegetives destroy , Before they can their quintessence enjoy . Your bloods you two have quintessenced now , We to your memories reverence must allow : You have with honour both your lives laid down , And shall be stiled Martyrs for the Crown ; And in your Graves you shall that honour have , Which glorious Martyrs merit in the grave . An Elegy upon the truly noble and valiant Sir John Smith . HEe who a Romane Citizen could save From being made prisoner , was by Law to have A Civick Crown , which he might justly beare , As a distinction , and at Triumphs weare . So thankfull was wise Rome in her reward , And to her Citizens had such regard : What Honour then , what value , and esteeme , Was due to him , the Eagles could redeeme . Our Royall Standard at Edgehill was lost , At least engag'd , so that much blood it cost . Yet this brave man , made him who got it know , What duty Subjects to that Standard owe . Have you e're seen a chafed Lyon stand , With Hunters vext , and gall'd on every hand : Whilst all the Hunters various wayes contrive , To take this Lyon if they can alive : So gall'd , so vext , our noble Champion stood , The English earth dy'd with rebellious blood . Whilst none within the Lists presumes to enter , Least he should pay too deare for his adventure . At last resolv'd , he cuts himselfe a way , Not through meane Troops , but Regiments they say : Then straight he doth this welcome present bring , This new redeemed Prisoner , to the King ; The King doth both himselfe , and service right , He with that sword had serv'd him , made him Knight . Would this were written in the hearts of Kings , Both Peace and Warre , are manag'd by two things ; 'T is Punishment , and just Rewards that are The Weights and Ballance , both of Peace and Warre . From Noble Houses he , and Loyall came , Marcham he was by blood , and Smith by Name . But he made better , what before was good , I meane his Loyall name , and Noble blood . Hic jacet Dominus Johannes Smith sanguine satis nobili natus , qui Regis insignia ( etiam capta ) Regi , sed non sine Caede restituit , fidelis in bello ( heu civili ) dolo cecidit circumventus . An Elegy for Sir Henry Spilmam Knight . VVHilst thou yet livedst ( Spilman ) I honoured thee , I reverence now thy sacred memory ; Ther 's none I know hath written heretofore , Who hath oblig'd this Church , and Kingdome more . Thou hast deriv'd , nay prov'd our Church as high , As Rome can boast , and giv'n her pride the lie . Thou hast the series of her story shown , So hast o're us her Hirarchy o'rethrown . I read thy books , and I admire thy soule , Thy daring soule that durst proud Rome controule : Thou with their own Authorities , dost prove That which they would , but never shall remove : Thou prov'dst that Gregories Monke found Bishops here Durst check his pride , who after Martyrs were : Who held the rites and customes of the Fast , Which Polycarpus durst approve the best . Who twice to Rome as an Officiall came , To fix that feast , which now we must not name : Thou'st prov'd our Church as glorious as Romes , For Doctrine , Discipline , and Martyrdomes . Thou'st prov'd to us the mighty power of Kings , In calling councells even in spirituall things ; And temporall rights the Churches pedigree , Her frequent councels even in Brittany ; As a choyce piece of evidence a story Which we may stile great Brittaines chiefest glory , The Brittish Church , our Kings owe this to thee ; Shall we not reverence then thy memory ? Had'st thou been Rome's , thy supererogation , Had rais'd a stock of merits for our Nation . But thou ' art ours , I joy I live to know I had a friend good men shall reverence so . Henricus Spilmanus Eques auratus hic jacet , cujus solertissimae industriae non minus Ecclesia debet , quam Respublica Brittanorum ; namque Saxonum nostrorum mores , Concilia , Leges , etiam amissa nobis restituit . Nec in se magis , quam Prole Faelix : Obiit Anno Salutis 1642. Upon his Noble Friend Colonell Slanning . HEre Slanning lies who was the second best , Brave Greenefields rivall Vesper of the West ; As Pompey was to Caesar , so would he , None should his equall but a Caesar bee : For when he heard how bravely Greenfield fell , He would not over-live his paralell ; But covetous of as brave a death as he , He crowned his with glorious loyaltie : Of all the West the King had no two friends More really his , more glorious in their ends . An Elegy for my dear Godson and Nephew Henry Morton , Sonne to my good brother Sir George Morton Baronet . HAve you observ'd a Cedar wonderous straight ? Admired for its freshnesse , youth and heigth ; Cut down before it came to its full growth , Such the proportions were of this sweet youth : And such his fortune , loyall to the Crowne , Scarce writing man ( though man enough ) cut down . I must confesse ( brave youth ) thou hast made good My share both in thy name , and loyall blood ; The first I gave thee ( that 's thy name ) the other Thy blood , my sister was thy vertuous Mother : A Mother worthy of so brave a Sonne ; If heavenly soules know what on earth is done , Her 's would rejoyce , that thou could'st so improve So small a stock of time to purchasse love : And die so rich in that and reputation , Thou wert an honour to thy blood and Nation . All this in noble Morton was ; lies here A name will force from every eye a teare , Nay , from the souldiers heart knowes not to weep . Yet know he is not dead , he doth but sleep . As souldiers being alarum'd rub their eyes , So when the trump shall blow , Morton must rise , Not to a battell ( there no more shall be ; ) But to triumphant glorious victory . The crown of glory ( such as Martyrs there Are crowned with ) shall loyall Morton weare . An Elegy upon my honoured friends and Countreymen the valiant Collonels Howard , Heron , Fenwick , Lumpton , Claverin , and Carnaby . FIrst high born Howard to Heron led the way , Fenwick and Lampton , both fell on one day : Brave Claverin's heart was burst with griefe that he , Without revenge should their survivor be : The next to these stout Carnaby he fell , To make the number a just paralell . Six braver men then these the fruitfull North , Of Martiall spirits , in one age near brought forth : If we may nature check without offence , Shee was too prodigall in her expence : Six such brave men to be borne in one age And fall so soone must some sad fate presage . Had these six liv'd , the King had had no need T' have rais'd the South-parts , to make good the Tweede . These six I dare say had secur'd it more , Then Rome did with her Legions heretofore . Had Claverin liv'd t'have been their generall , H'had more secur'd the North-parts then that wall Severus rais'd so high , had it still stood , The presence of these six had been as good : But those same sinnes which cut of these , I feare Will make the passes over Trent as cleare : Our sinnes have brought in strangers heretofore , ( As friends proud conquerours ) and may do once more . An Elegy upon the right honourable the Countesse of Dorset . DOrset is dead , even she who could support Unenvied power ; and honour in a Court : Who by a wise King was plac'd there to be , The Tutresse of his Royall Progeny . Shee for the Mirrour of the Court might passe , Who ever lookt vertue reflected was . This Glasse was wrought and polisht with that skill , That would reflect still truth , but nothing ill ; She by sweet Gravity reproved youth , As God does lying , by his stedfast Truth ; High Close Committee proofe her vertues were , A Spanish Inquisition she could beare . Should both the Houses joyn , should they advance That powerfull Engine cald their Ordinance , And rayse a Battery , I dare undertake , It scarcely would the least impression make Into her Honour ; for her vertues were Above the proofe of that strange Engine farre . No pen is so Malignant , will not write , The Vertuous Lady , was her Epithite . Hic jacet Comitissa Dorsetiae , animae , corporis , & fortunae dotibus clara ; marito chara , & mundo : pro liberis provida , nec minus suis benigna , filiis foelix , fama foelici●r , sed fide foelicissima : Sic Vixit etiam in Aula ut Aulic●s vivere , Principes mori doceat . In this mean Grave which scarce appeares , A Lady lies , embalmd in Teares . That you may know these Teares to prize , They were distild from Princes eyes . Committed to this Ladies Care , Who in the losse had greatest share . Poore Princes you have lost much more Then you could value heretofore . Your Father stranger to his crowne , Scarce to his own deare children knowne : Nay , which is worse then this , you are Deprived of your mothers care . What loyall heart reads what 's writ here , Can chuse but sacrifice a teare ; I must confesse when this I writ , With loyall teares I watered it , To think how glorious I have seen My royall Soveraign and his Queen ; And to think how some now endeavour These two whom Heaven hath joynd , to sever ; T is Heavens Decree , it must be so , This is our faith , and this we know ; They both are pious , God is just , The Cause is his , and there 's my trust . Vpon Francis Quarles . I Must confesse that I am one of those Admire a Fancy more in Verse then Prose ; Yet thou in both workst on my judgement so , I scarce know which to choose , which to let go , As if Platonick transmigrations were , The Harp of David still me thinks I heare . Thy powerfull Muse hath so strong influence , Vpon my troubled Soule , and every Sense : For when thou Solomons mystick strayns dost sing , Thy Muse then speaks the language of that King . And when thou undertakst the Kings just Cause , Thy strength is such ; thy Reasons binde like Lawes . This doth thy reason and thy loyalty prayse , That crowns thy Statues with eternall bayes : Thy muse hath raisd , a Monument for thee , Thy prose a Pyramid of loyalty . Thy memory shall be precious here below , Whilst men the use of sacred learning know . Thy soule is with thy deare beloved Kings , And there with them new Halelujahs sings . Upon a true contented Prisoner . VVHat 's liberty it should be so desir'd ; 'T is only when deni'd to men , admir'd : W' are more displeased with the least negative , Than pleas'd with all that God to man can give . We are scarcely pleasd with Gods great'st blessings , health And liberty , unlesse God give us wealth . A little tooth-ach , a fit of the stone , Or gowt , destroys them ; and all these are gone : We are imprisoned in our beds and then , We wish the use of these good things agen . Yet whilst we had them , we scarce knew their good , They were heav'ns blessings , but scarce understood . The wretched slave is chaind unto his Oare , Now prizes that , he valued not before , His liberty ; yet may be in that State , He is more happy then he was of late In all these blessings free men could enjoy ; For their abuse , doth all their use destroy : If want of these a thankfulnesse produce For blessings , which we had not in their use : Are we not then more happy in their losse , ( Had we all that Lucullus did engrosse ? ) 'T is then the use , makes happy men , not having Of that we use not well , or still are craving More then we have ; be it or more or lesse , A thankfull state is mans true happinesse . Imprisonment , admit it neere so close , Is to a wise man but his soules repose ; And the lesse roome he hath , his soul 's more free Then when she had her wanton liberty . Weak eyes cannot endure the glaring light , Of the bright Sunne ; nor things which are too white . These doe disperse the Radii of the eyes , We better can endure the cloudy skies ; Were I immur'd so I could see no Sunne , My soule her wing'd horses could out-runne : I could with heaven a correspondence keep , As Ionas did close prisoner in the deep . The Prophet in the Dungeon was in heaven , Iohn in the Isle had all his visions given : Men in the deepest pits , see best by farre The Sunnes Eclipses ; and finde every starre , When sight 's contracted and is more intent ; ( So is mens soules in close imprisonment , ) We then can upwards look on things above , Worthy our contemplation and our love : We are not Sunne ▪ blin'd with reflections then , Of dazling glory , nor depend on men ; These mediums cannot then the soule deceive , It s in a dungeon can more cleere perceive : And lights most welcome ; then the least is more , When thus contracted , then the Sunne before . Are we not happyest when we least desire , And nothing that 's below the sunne admire ? When w' are united to our God above ( As wives to absent ▪ husbands whom they love ) By our souls union , when our souls on fire Inwardly burning with zeale melt in desire . A Nunc dimittis , with old Simeon sing , And wish each bell we heare , his knell should ring : And yet not weary of our lives , for then Imprisonment is a hell on earth to men . I have sometimes seene an indulgent father Make his deare child , rods for himselfe to gather , And then his wanton liberty restraine , Nay make him fetters of a slender twine , Sharply correct him , make him kisse the rod , Tries his obedience : And just thus does God With his deare children , ( if well understood ) Wise parents know t is for their childrens good . And know we not , God is more wise by far , And more indulgent then our parents are ? Art thou injur'd ? yet take thus much from me , Who sent thee thither , knowes what 's best for thee . Remember Job was for a tryall lent To Satan ; how he bore his punishment : God crown'd his patience , for he gave him more ( Besides the honour ) then he had before . Yet if in this thou lovest thy reward , God will not then thy patience regard . Nor paines nor patience the true Martyr makes , It is the Cause the Martyr undertakes . Martyrs are witnesses of truth to death ; This is but duty , so falls far beneath The weight of the reward : we dare not say That Saints can merit an Aureola . For we say when man does , what he is able , Come to Gods Scale , he is unprofitable , Our haires are numbred by our God we know , He sets them highest , whom he finds placed low . He in the Lyons den , did Daniel owne , And set upon his head the Favourites Crown . Art thou imprison'd ? looke up thou shalt find , Thou hast a strange enlargment in thy mind . Th' are more ingaged far , Imprisoned thee ; And shall come to accompt , when thou art free . I. Scilicet ut fulvum spectatur in ignibus aurum , Tempora sic du●o est inspicienda fides . Dum Juvat , & vultu ridet fortuna secundo , Indelibatas cuncta sequuntur opes : Vix duo tresve inter , tot restatis amici Cetera fortunae , non me turba fuit . Illud amicitiae sanctum , & venerabile nomen , Re tibi pro vili sub pedibusque jacet . Donec eris faelix , multos numerabis amicos , Tempora si ●uerint nubila , solus eris . Horrea formici tendunt ad mania nunquam , Nullus ad amissas ibit amicus opes . Mobile sic sequ tur fortunae legitima vulgus , In duris autem , remanentem rebus amicum Callebit inviso Caesar in hoste probatur . AS Gold 's unknowne , by fire not purify'd , So Friendship by Adversity is try'd . Whilst we can help , or Fortune seemes to smile , Friends follow bounty , as the Souldiers spoile . Scarce two or three of all my crowds remaine : The rest were Fortunes rabble , and not mine . That reverend , sacred name of Friendship lyes Without regard , as things they most despise . Whilst thou art happy , thou some friends mayst count , If the time cloud , thy sunne will scarce amount To Cyphers : For these friends like Ants will runne To better Stoicks , when all thy store is done . The giddy people follow Fortunes flowes , T is adverse fortune reall friendship shewes . Cesar ever in his greatest foe approves This pious friendship , and this vertue loves . II. De Ape . Martial . lib. 7. 32. inclusa electro . ET latet & lucet , Phaetontida conditu gutta , Ut videatur Apis nectare clausa suo . Dignum tantorum pretium , tulit ille laborum ; Credibile est ipsum sic voluisse mori . HId , yet transparent , in an Amber drop , As if inclos'd whilst she did Nectar sup , T is like enough , the Bee chose so to dye , Her paines cast in , might raise her price so high . III. De Formica . Martial . lib. 6. 15. DUm Phaetontea Formica vagatur in umbra , Implicuit tenuem , succina guttu feram . Sic modo quae fuit contemptu vita manente , Funeribus facta est , jam preciosa suis . THe Sun-bred Ant , being travelling in the shade , An Amber drop the slender creature staid . So she , who living , was despis'd of late , Being thus embalm'd , becomes a jemme of State . IV. Martial . de Vipera . FLentibus Heliadmi ramis , dum vipera serpsit , Fluxit in instanti , viperafera Gemam . Quae dum miratur , pingi se rore teneri , Riguit ; obstante factu repente gelu . Metetam nobili placeas Cleopatra sepulchro , Vipera si tumulo nobiliore jacet . A Viper creeping up an Amber stemme , The weeping Heliads turn'd her to a jemme : Whilst she admires to find her selfe thus held , She instantly was in that ice congeal'd . Why should that rich tombe Cleopatra please , Since Vipers have such noble tombes as these ? V. — O prodiga rerum Luxuries , nunquam parvo contenta paratu , Sed quaesitorum terrae , pelagique ciborum , Ambitiosa fames , & lautae gloria mensae , Discite , quam parvo , liceat producere vitam , Et quantum natura petit . — Non Auro Myrrhâve bibunt , sed gurgite pure Populis satis est , fluviusque Ceresque . OUr Prodigall Ryot will not be content With mean provisions , Caterers must be sent To search both Sea and Land ; and scarce are able To serve th'ambitious hunger of one Table . Learne with how small Allowance , man may live ; Nature doth no such vast Allowance give . The people drinke brooke water , cleere , and cold , Not perfum'd wines with Myrrhe in Cups of Gold : Of wholesome Bread , let them but have good store , And cleere brooke water , they desire no more . VI . De Archmedis Sphera . JUpiter in parvo cum cerneret aethera vitro , Risit , & ad Superos talia dicta dedit : Huccine Monopolis progressa potentia cura , Jam mens in parvo triditur orbe labor . Jura poli , rerumque fidem , legemque deorum , Ecce Syracusus , transtulit arte senex . Percurrit totum mentibus signifera annum , Et simulatu nova Cinthia , mense redit . Jamque suum voluens , audax industria mundum , Gaudet , & humana sidera mente regit . Ergo quid insontem , tonitru , Salmonea miror , Emula natura , parva repertu manus . JOve when in Glasse he saw a Spheare was made , He smild , and this unto the Gods he said ; Of man we need to take no further care , They Jeere our paynes , they now such Artists are : Old Archimedes undertakes our Trade , He in a Spheare , hath all heavens motions made . In which a Spirit included , seemes to move , The severall Orbs , and Stars , like those above . A Sun runs through the 12. signs , makes the yeere , Cynthia , with all her Aspects , doth appeare . The Rapid motion men dare undertake , To rule their stars too ; since they heaven can make . Why should we vex at Salmons guiltles thunder , Since emulous man , hath framed a greater wonder ? VII . De remora , piscicula . SOlus ego Actiacum potui retinere carinam , Et potui Baii rostra tenere duci● Semipedalis ego , quis haec corpuscula cr●dat , In ▪ cursu tantas detinuisse naves . CEsar for Actium bound , even I alone , Could stay ; when with his fleet he would be gone . My length but halfe a foote , my Body small , How could I stay Ships , under sayle so tall ? VIII . De flamma perenni inventa in urna apud Patavium , qua fracta extincta fuit flamma . PLutoni sacrum munus ne attingite fures , Ignotum vobis est , hoc , quod in orbe latet . Namque elementa gravi clausit , digesta labore , Vase sub hoc modico maximus Olibius . THis sacred Gift to Pluto I forbid Your theeves to touch , ( for t is a secret hid ) With Art and paines hath great Olibius shut In this small Urne , th'unruly Elements up . IX . De vicissitudine rerum . PAuperies , pacem ; pax , opes ; copia , luxum ; Sed luxus bellum , bellaque pauperiem . Pauperies turbam causat , turbaque quietem , Stant qui deciderent , quique stetere cadunt . Captivi capiunt , & qui domuere domantur , Jam victi suplex , qui modo victor erat . Sic plebae ●ndomitae , sic sunt sua fata tyrannis , Sic Deus alternas versat in orbe vices . OUr Poverty makes peace ; Peace , wealth and ryot ; Riot makes war ; War makes us poore and qui et : Our wants breed troubles ; after troubles , rest : They fall , who stood ; those lately fell , stand best . The Prisoners take those captives , them even now The Conqueror late , must to new Conquerors bow . So God disposes of all earthly States , Kings , and wild Commons , take by turnes their fates . X. De Ethiope baptizato . ILle niger sacris lotus quam exit ab undis , ( Nec frustra ) Ethiopem nempe lavare fuit . Mentem quam niveam , piceae cutis umbra fovebat , Jam volet ad nigras sancta columba lares . HOw white the Sun-parcht Moor from Jordan came To wash the Blackmore thus , was not in vaine , So white a soule lives in that pitch-staind Cell , The sacred Dove in that makes choice to dwell . XI . De quinque panibus , tot mille pascentibus . QUis novus Agricola , quae nova semina crescit , Cum perit , & major fit minuendo ceres . Millia tot virum panum sed quinque putasses Millia tot panum quinque fuisse virum . Who that new seedes , man , or that seede can guesse , Which spending , growes , and wasting doth increase , Five loaves whereof so many thousands fed , Yo'ud think the five were men , the thousands bread . XII . Ovidius in Ibim . DEsinit esse prius , contrarius ignibus humor , Et tepidus gelidus , flavit ab axe nothus . Et ver autumno , brume miscebitur aestas , Atque eadem regio vesper , & artus erit . Quam mihi sit tecum positis , quae sumpsimus armis . Gratia commissis improbe ruptatuis . Pax erit haec nobis semper dum vita manebit ▪ Cum pecore infirmo , qua solet esse Lupis . Terra tibi fruges , amnis tibi deneget undas , Deneget a●flatus ventus , & aura su●s . Nec tibi sol calidus , nec sit tibi lucida Phoebe : Destituant oc●los , sydera clara tu●s . Nec tibi Vulcanus , nec se tibi praebeat ●er : Nec tibi det tellus , nec tibi pontus iter . Exul inops erres , alienaque limina lustres , Exiguumque pet●s ore tremente cibum . Nec corpus querulo , nec mens vacet aegra dolore , Moxque die gravior sit tibi nocte dies . Sisque miser semper , nec ●is miserabilis ulli : Gaudeat adversis faemina virque tuis . Qui mala cum tuleris plurima , plura feras . Causaque non desit , desit tibi copia mortis , Optatam fugiat vita coacta necem . Luctatusque diu cruciatos spiritus artus Deserat , & longa torqueat a●te ●ora . My Translation transferred in wishes , to him , deserted and betrayed Cesars Cause , and his Comrade in adversity . FIrst fire and water shall to friendship grow , And from the North-pole warm South-winds shall blow , The Spring shall change to Autumne , snow shall burn , The Easterne Regions shall to Westerne turne Sooner then I friendship renew with thee , Once my Comrade , forsook thy Arms and me . Such peace shall henceforth betwixt thee and me , As wont betwixt the Wolfe and Lambe to be . May Brooks their waters , Earth her fruits deny , Nor wind , nor aire , thee with their breath supply ; May not the sun lend heat , nor moone shine cleare ; May never a star by night to thee appeare . May fire and ayre grow concreat as the glasse ; May sea and land refuse to give thee passe . All tatter'd maist thou goe from doore to doore , And beg thy bread amongst the wretched poore . May nere thy soule or body want their griefe ; May dayes give thee no ease , nor nights reliefe . Maist thou most wretched be pityed by none ; May they rejoyce , who should thy state bemoane . May all thy evils still increase and grow ; Maist thou desire to die , and no meanes know . May thy strong heart strive with thy will to die ; As in the rack maist thou in sicknesse lye . Like those that dye by piece-meale , or slow fire , Maist thou both feare to die , and death desire . XIII . A Paraphrase upon the Verses which Famianus Strada made of the Lutanist and Philomell in contestation , Pag. 399. Jam Sol , &c. WHen past the middle Orbe the parching Sun Had downward nearer our Horizon run , A Lutenist neare Tibers streames had found Where the Eccho did resound . Under a holme a shady bower he made To ease his cares , his severall Phancies playd , The Philomell no sooner did the Musicke hear , But straight wayes she drew neare . The harmlesse Syren musicke of the wood Hid in a leavy bush , she hearking stood , She ruminates upon the Ayers he plaid , And to him answers made . With her shirl voyce doth all his paines requi●● . Lost not one note ; but to his play sung right , Well pleased to heare her skil , and envy , he Tryes his Variety . And dares her with his severall notes , runs throw Even all the strains his skill could reach unto : A thousand wayes he tryes , she answers all , And for new straynes dares call . He could not touch a string in such a straine , To which she warble and not sung it plaine ; His fingers could not reach to greater choice , Then she did with her voyce . The Lutenist admir'd her narrow throat Could reach so high , or fall to any note : But that which he did thinke in her most strange , She instantly could change . Or sharpe , or ●lat , or meane , or quicke , or slow , Whar ere he plaid , she the like skill would show : And if he inward did his notes recall , She answer made to all . Th'inraged Lutenist he blusht for shame , That he could not this weake corrivall tame , If thou canst answer this I 'le breake my Lute , And yeild in the Dispute . He said no more but aimes at such a height Of skill he thought she could not imitate : He shows the utmost cunning of his hand And all he could command . He tryes his strength , his active fingers flye To every string , and stop , now low , now high , And higher yet he multiplyes his skill , Then doth his Chorus fill . Then he expecting stands to try if she His envy late would yeeld the victory , She would not yeeld , but summons all her force Though tyred out and hoarse . She strives with various strings the Lutes bast chest , The spirit of man , one narrow throat and Chest : Unequal matches , yet she 's pleasd that she Concludes Victoriously . Her spirit was such , she would not live to heare The Lutenist bestow on her a jeere , But broken hearted fell upon the Tombe She choose the sweet Lutes wombe . The warbling Lutes doe yet their Triumphs tell , ( With mournfull accents ) of the Philomell , And have usurpt the title ever since Of harmony the Prince . The Morall this , by emulation wee May much improve both art , and industry ; Though she deserve the name of Philomell , Yet men must her excell . Comparison . COblers are call'd Translators , so are we , ( And may be well call'd so ) we so agree : They rip the Soale first from the upper leather , Then steepe , then stretch , then patch up all together . We rip , we steep , we stretch , and take great paines , They with their fingers worke , we with our Braines . They trade in old shooes , as we doe in feet , To make the fancy , and the Language meete . We make all smooth ( as they doe ) and take care , What is too short , to patch : too large , to pare : When they have done , then to the Club they goe , And spend their gettings , doe not we doe so ? Coblers are often poore , yet merrie blades , Translators rarely rich , yet cheerefull lads . Who thinkes he wants , he is in plentie poore , Give me the Coblers wealth , I le aske no more . FINIS . Notes, typically marginal, from the original text Notes for div A96944e-670 Ziba of Sauls Tribe . Shimei of Sauls Tribe ▪ 
B02572	----	A mite from three mourners: in memorial of Thomas Glass, a pattern of faith and patience in the Churches, naturally caring for their state, who died in the lord, the 30th day of the Seventh month, 1666. being the same day twelve-month that the beloved John Wiggan (his fellow-labourer, and witness to the cause of Christ) was taken from the evil to come. A. C. 1666 Approx. 15 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B02572 Wing C8 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[56] 99885190 ocm99885190 182541 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B02572) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 182541) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A4:1[56]) A mite from three mourners: in memorial of Thomas Glass, a pattern of faith and patience in the Churches, naturally caring for their state, who died in the lord, the 30th day of the Seventh month, 1666. being the same day twelve-month that the beloved John Wiggan (his fellow-labourer, and witness to the cause of Christ) was taken from the evil to come. A. C. W. A. 1 sheet ([1] p.). s.n., [London : 1666] Signed at end: A.C.; "An anagram." signed: W.A. Imprint suggested by Wing. Verse of elegy: "O that my head were as a springing well ..." Includes an acrostick and an anagram. Reproduction of original in the British Library. 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Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. 2008-03 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-04 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-06 Judith Siefring Sampled and proofread 2008-06 Judith Siefring Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion A MITE from Three MOURNERS : In MEMORIAL of THOMAS GLASS , a Pattern of Faith and Patience in the Churches , naturally caring for their state , who died in the Lord , the 30th day of the Seventh Month , 1666. being the same day twelve-month that the beloved John Wiggan ( his Fellow-Labourer , and Witness to the Cause of Christ ) was taken from the evil to come . AN ACROSTICK . The Glass that ran so well , is now run out : Hark slumbring Virgins , hark to know the reason ! O haste to trim your Lamps ; look well about : Many are foolish , and will slip their season . Amazing Midnights Cry , is sure at hand ; Such as have Oyl in Vessels with their Lamps , Mat. 25. Go meet him as your Bridegrooms chosen Band ; Lift up your Heads : though foolish , fill'd with damps , Alas cry out , Pray give us of your store ; Sent are to buy , but find Shops ope ' no more : Sinners have also reason to weep sore . J pray the Church this instant may improve Vnto the end revealed from above . Jer. 18.7 , 8. AN ANAGRAM . Thomas Glass : Glass as Moth. GLass as a Moth's now crush'd , return'd to dust ; A brittle thing , not to be lean'd upon : The will of God herein is done , and just , Though for a time he brightly through him shon , To great refreshment of his Heritage , Amidst this hot , weak , weary , tyring day ; Making them wish , and ready to presage , That he amongst them might much longer stay . So fitted , furnish'd for Gods work was he , In which he labour'd , during heat and cold , And therein did obtain a good degree , In bearing up for God a Witness bold . But ah ! how diff'rent are our thoughts and ways From God our Lord's , that are so far above ? That Paths pursuant most unto his Praise , At first we seldom see , chuse , like or love . W. A. An ELEGY . MY Heart with grief and pain is prest , As over-charged in my Brest : Its struglings of a divers kinde , Perplex and intricate my Minde : Confus'd Entanglement appears , Of Sence , with Faith ; of Hopes , with Fears : Vicissitudes of Up's and Down's ; Of Smiles , that interfere with Frowns ; As Twins that mutually contend . To bring which Contests to an end , I thought it ill to keep them pent ; But in this order gave them vent . SENCE . O That my Head were as a springing Well ; Mine Eyes as Rivers , streaming down with Tears ! O that I in some Wllderness did dwell , Where none might mark my sighs , my groans , my fears ! Where Heart might break for what is come to pass By Gods fresh breach on my dear Looking - Glass . FAITH . Hold ! hold thy peace for shame ! The Lords at hand ; Let Moderation now to all appear ; Let Faith for Soul-submission give command ; Let Perfect Love check such tormenting Fear . Thy standing's founded as on Mounts of Brass : What mean such out-cries for a broken Glass ? SENCE If this my loss were personal alone , My Sin deserves it ; I should bear such strokes : But O ( methinks ) I hear poor Sion groan , ' Gainst me all day his Jealousie thus smokes : My Walls are fall'n , my Gates are burnt ( alas ! ) My Golden Pillars are as broken Glass . FAITH . Such swift severe dispatches , clad with wonder , Bring teaching Lessons to th' obedient Ear ; Who waiting in the secret place of Thunder , Attends with Silence , Rev'rence , Godly Fear : At least how Sojourners their time should pass , That 's measur'd by a running shaken Glass . SENCE . Hark! hark ! how Sion sighs , as put to shame ; My Children scatter'd , Plague doth thousands slay ; Poor London undone with devouring Flame ; Distress on Land , and bloody War at Sea. My Strength is not as Stones , nor Flesh as Brass ; Why am I broke as Shards , or abject Glass ? FAITH . But what 's the cause , in this confused noise , So few speak right , few smite upon the thigh ? Few get by heart the tabring Turtles Voice ; What have I done ? Ah Master ! Is it I ? Till such Reflects be made , expect ( alas ! ) A toyling Milstone , for a tiring - Glass . SENCE . I captive sit by Babel's Rivers brink , My Heart ev'n broke , my Harps on Willows hang ; When on poor Sion's Ruines I bethink , I cannot tune the Songs which once I sang . Her Heav'ns are Iron , and her Earth as Brass ; Her Silver Dross , her Diamonds as Glass . FAITH . Such worldly Sorrow tends to Death at length , Not to Repentance ; lie not on the ground : Take Gospel-Armour ; gird thy Loyns with strength : With search the troubling Achan may be found . If Grace provide thee Shooes of Steel and Brass , Thou may'st stand Harping on this Sea of Glass . SENCE . The Righteous perish , Good Men snatch'd away ; The rest led Captive : ( how am I bereft ! ) Most leave their Station ; Mighty Men decay . If any pleasant Picture yet be left , Upon its Comeliness a wind doth pass : Thus all my Hopes dash as a Christal Glass ! . FAITH . Those costly Coverings ( likely ) did provoke To burning Jealousie , when over-priz'd , And must be dash'd by a displeased stroke ; As Moses ' Serpent , when 't was idoliz'd . If that was stamp'd on as a piece of Brass , No marvel 't is so with a beautious Glass . SENCE . Have pity ( saith she ) while I thus bemoan ; My Sin 's remembred , and my Son is slain ; More natural to care for me was none : How can such Losses be repair'd again ? who 'll sow , and send the feet of Oxe and Ass , Besides all Waters , as did painful Glass ? FAITH . Take heed , take heed , lest Flesh be too much ey'd , In what th' Anointing onely can repair : Broke Sycamoors by Oaks may be supply'd ; Fall'n Bricks by Stones , to make the Palace fair ; But by such patching 't will be worse , ( alas ! ) New generous Wine will break old Shop-worn - Glass . SENCE . Alas ! who then shall live when God appears ? Who can the Test of such Refinings bear ? When Fire and Furnace he in Sion rears , Sinners in Sion must be fill'd with fear . His Eyes as Flames , his Feet as burning Brass Will melt hard Adamants as fluid Glass . FAITH . The Fire indeed is hot , the Breach is large ; But He sits by , to do us , make us good : If one Hair fall not but with special charge , If Lilies , Sparrows , have their Paint and Food ; If God takes care of Oxen , Birds , and Grass , He 's more concern'd in his dear precious Glass . SENCE . Ah that both Saints and Sinners could lament , In Town and Country , where this Glass did run , The golden hours they foolishly mispent , Ere this his Generation-Work was done ! Had we an Hiram skill'd to work in Brass , Jachin and Boaz might be rear'd for Glass . FAITH . 'T is true , he 's sick , and sleeps , whom Jesus lov'd : But they that sleep so , shall do well at length ; They rest from Labours , are from Sin remov'd : Weep not ! He 's gone but to renew his Strength ! We face to face shall see him : for ( alas ! ) We saw but darkly through that fractur'd Glass . SENCE . Must I be strip'd then of my choice Attire ? To offer Isaac , is an heavy Trial : Must I be season'd thus with Salt and Fire ? How hard a Lesson is this Self-denial ! My Nail's remov'd ; its weight is fall's , ( alas ! ) Cups , Flagons , great and small , all broke as Glass . FAITH . Take heed of murmuring : When God comes down To bind up Jewels that on Earth he finds , To raise and fix them in a glorious Crown , He calls for chearful Gifts from willing Minds : When he would have a Laver made of Brass , Mark how each Daughter offer'd up her Glass . SENCE . These are hard Sayings ! Deep to Deep doth call ! My Flesh begins to fail , my Heart to sink ! 'T is hard to feed on Vinegar and Gall ; To eat with Ashes , and with Tears to drink . From me ( if it be possible ) let pass Such deadly Draughts , mixt is a breaking Glass . FAITH . Cease Rachel's Weeping ; Hope is in thine End : Thy Children to their Border God Will bring ; He 'll plead thy Cause , thy Right He will defend : Then Kedar's Dwellers , and the Rock's , shall sing . Thy Countenance , that black and scorched was , Shall shine in brightness like transparent Glass . A. C. Notes, typically marginal, from the original text Notes for div B02572-e600 Jer. 9.1 , 2. Isa . 22.4 , 5. Psal . 55.5 , 6 , 7. Jer. 31 , 15. 2 Sam. 18 , 33. Zeph. 1.7 . Phil. 4.5 . 1 Thes . 4.13 . Psal . 39.9 . 1 John 4 , 18. Psal . 125.1 , 2. Zech. 6.1 . Micha 7.9 . Nehem , 9.33 . Lam. 3. per totum . Psal . 79.5 . Nehem. 1.3 . Lam. 4.1 Psal . 94.12 , 13. Micha 6.9 . Psalm 81.7 . Heb. 12.28 , 29. 1 Pet. 1.17 . 1 Cor. 7.29 , 30 , 31. Psal . 44.9 , - .16 . Isa . 51.18 . Jer. 21.6 . Isa . 24 . l2 . & 3.25 , 26. Lam. 1.20 . Job 6.12 . Jer. 15.18 . Jer. 8.6 . Ezek. 21.12 . Nahum 2.7 . Ezek. 7.16 . Mark 14.19 . Hos . 5.15 . Isa . 47.2 . & 3.23 , 24. Psal . 137.1 , 6. Lam. 2.18 . & 5.15 . Joel 1.13 , 16. Levit. 26.19 . Isa . 1.22 . Lam. 4.1 , 2. 2 Cor. 7.10 . Josh . 7.10 . Ephes . 6.13 , 14. Josh . 7.13 . Lam. 3.40 . Ephes . 6.15 . Deut. 33.25 Rev. 15.2 . Psal . 12.1 . Mich. 7.1.2 . Isa 57.1 , 2. 2 Sam. 1.27 . Isa . 42.22 . Isa . 40.6 , 7. Psal . 103.15 , 16 Act. 14.15 , 18. Isa . 2.16 , 17 , 18. Exod. 34.14 . Isa . 42.8 . 2 Kings 18.4 . Jer. 22.24 , 28. Lam. 4.20 . Job 19.21 . Chap. 6.14 . 1 Kings 17.18 . Philip. 2.20 . Numb . 27.16 , 17. Isa . 32.20 . 2 Kings 2.9 , 14. Numb . 11.17 , 25 , 29. Isa . 32.9 , — 20. Isa . 9.8 , 9 , 10 , 11. Matth. 9.16 , 17. Numb . 24.23 . Mal. 3.2 . Isa . 31.9 . Chap. 33.14 . Rev. 1.14 , 15. Isa . 64.3 . Nahum 1.6 . Isa .. 48.10 . Mal. 3.3 . Matth. 10.30 . Luk. 21.18 . & 12.6 , 7. 1 Cor. 9.9 . Matth. 6.26 . to 30. Acts 20.37 , 38. Matth. 9.15 . Prov. 5.11 , 12 , 13. Chap. 17.16 . 2 Sam. 18.18 . 1 Kings 7.13 , 21. John 11.3 , 11 , 12. 1 Thess . 4.14 . Rev. 14.13 . Isa . 57.1 , 2. Chap. 52.8 . 1 Cor. 13.12 . Exod. 33.5 . Gen. 22.1 , 2. Heb. 11 , 17. Mark 9.49 . Matth. 19.22 . Isa . 22.24 , 25. 1 Cor. 10.10 . Mal. 3.17 . Zech. 9.16 . Isa . 62.3 . 2 Cor. 9.7 . Exod. 38.8 . Chap. 35.21 , — 29. John 6.60 . Psal . 42.7 . Lam. 3.54 . Vers . 18 , 19 , 20. Psal . 102.9 , 10. Matth. 26.39 . Jor. 31.15 , 16 , 17. Chap. 50.34 . Isa . 51.22 , 23. Chap. 42.11 . & 24.14 , 15. Lam. 4.8 . Psal . 68.13 , 14. Rev. 21.18 , 21. 
B02736	----	Elegie on the much to be lamented death of the Right Honourable, Alexander Lord Reath, one of his Majesties most honourable Privy Council, and Exchequer, &c. Departed this life, March 21 1698. Donaldson, James, fl. 1697-1713. 1698 Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B02736 Wing D1849 ESTC R171805 52211812 ocm 52211812 175661 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B02736) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 175661) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English Books, 1641-1700 ; 2745:6) Elegie on the much to be lamented death of the Right Honourable, Alexander Lord Reath, one of his Majesties most honourable Privy Council, and Exchequer, &c. Departed this life, March 21 1698. Donaldson, James, fl. 1697-1713. 1 sheet ([1] p.) J. Reid?, [Edinburgh : 1698] Caption title. Text within black border. Imprint and author from Wing. Reproduction of the original in the National Library of Scotland. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Melville, Alexander Melville, -- Lord Raith, d. 1698 -- Death and burial -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, English -- Scotland -- 17th century. Broadsides -- Scotland -- 17th century. 2008-05 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-08 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-09 Megan Marion Sampled and proofread 2008-09 Megan Marion Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion ELEGIE On the Much to be Lamented Death of the Right Honourable , ALEXANDER Lord REATH , One of His Majesties Most Honourable Privy Council , and Exchequer , &c. Departed this Life , March 21 1698. IT seems the Heavens begins to frown , the World draws near an end When Wisdom drops down to the Grave , that did this Land defend ; Great A'banie , go mourn a while , my Quil is droping Tears , Thou lost not such a Friend I trow , no not this Hundred years ; Now Wisdom , Charity and Love , put on your ragged Gown , There is a Jewel very rich , this day , fall'n from your Crown ! The Voice of Poor , like Echo cryes , making a dolefull Sonnet , Until the Council find a Head , that well can fill his Bonnet . His Wisdom lay in Silence long , until it got a Vent , Like precious Oyntment gave a Smell , the King than for him sent : And gave him places Honourable , he did Deserve them All , In future Ages for to come , will be Chrononical . Dame Nature has been very bold , that Fram'd him at first , The Motto of his Emblem was , GOD sayes , Be Good and Just ; And when he came into the World he was endu'd with Grace , Than Reason did take hold thereon , and sat in Natures place : Vertue sent him to her Garden , to see what Flower he would pull , There he puld Grace , like Aarons Rod , that buded ever still : Then Vertue fell in Love with him , ' cause he had chosen the best , She sayes to Honour , follow him , he is my Real Guest . When Vertue saw that Honour went , and followed at his back , Wisdom cryes aloud , I will run with Truth , to be his Cloak : And that will serve him all his Life , what e're he can need , But I 'le defy the Universe to take from it one Threed : As Solomon did Wisdom choise , for to obey GOD's Will ; So I resolv'd to follow him , and will do ever still . The Ark was of a curious Bulk , but was not very much . Yet it contain'd the World great , yea and the Holy Church . King David was but a little Man , Sober , but not Machia , Yet Wisdom found him out a way , to kill the Great Golia . His Virtuous Person and its Worth , before Others to discrive , For Vertue , Wisdom , Parts , and Grace , there 's few like him alive : His Wisdom like the Jordans Flood o'reflow'd , refresht the Land , His Council great as Oracles , but none could it withstand . He spake in council like to Job , with out all kind of fear , Gray Hairs rose up , and gave him praise , his Wisdom did admire . His Worthie Noble Family , even from their very Youth , The whole Track of their Life has been to Suffer for the Truth : Till Phoebus rose with mighty heat , in all his Radiant Beams , They Sail'd the Goulf , against the Tyde , came to the Crystal Streams . Now thy Successour Leven Great , he is a Man Belov'd In Council , State , and Mighty Warr , the King has him approv'd ; He did behave himself so well abroad by Sea and Land , Which made the King put him in Trust , Hye Keeper of SCOTLAND . Though now L : Reath lyes in this Tomb , according to GODS Will , His Name and Fame continue shal in future Ages still . You Seraphims and Cherabims , Salute him with a Bless , He 's gone from Earth to Heavens Glor , that truely Honour'd was , Ten Thousand Ages yet to come , is but to him one day . That Beatiphick Vision great , he will enjoy for aye . As One of the Saints , all clade in White , upon Mount Zion Hill , Through Ages of Eternity the Lamb will follow still . Tho Friends should make the Rivers run with Tears that 's shed below , He will not rise for all their Cryes , till the last Trumpet blow . 
B02908	----	On the death of Sir David Falconer of Newton, Lord President of the Council and Session. R. D. 1686 Approx. 1 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B02908 Wing D81 ESTC R171676 52614591 ocm 52614591 175818 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B02908) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 175818) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English Books, 1641-1700 ; 2752:4) On the death of Sir David Falconer of Newton, Lord President of the Council and Session. R. D. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [Edinburgh? : 1686] Caption title. Mourning border. Signed at end: R. D. Place and date of publication from National Library of Scotland. Reproduction of original in: National Library of Scotland. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Falconer, David, -- Sir, 1640-1686 -- Death and burial -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- Scotland -- Early works to 1800. Broadsides -- Scotland -- 17th century. 2008-06 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-07 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-08 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-08 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion MEMENTO MO●● MEMENTO M●●● decorative border with skull and crossbones, skeletons, etc. ON THE DEATH OF SIR DAVID FALCONER OF NEWTON , Lord President of the Council and Session . NOt to disparage other Hero's praise , Whose Temples have been wreath'd with Themis Bayes : In this our Age we truly may averr , None liv'd more lov'd , then worthy Falconer . The Barr declar'd him Learn'd and Eloquent , The Bench a Grave Judicious President . His Parents , Children , and good Lady , prove His great Obedience , Piety , and Love. His Life ( ah ! short ) was from his tender Youth ; All Diligence , Integrity , and Truth . Nothing could him from equity withdraw . Law 's a dumb Judge , he was a speaking Law , And could no more from that just Rule decline , Than Sol can stray from the Ecliptick Line . R. D. 
B02929	----	Elegie on the universally lamented death, of Duncan Ronald: Director depute of the Chancelary, and writer to His Majesties signet. Who died at Edinburgh, August 1700. Dempster, George. 1700 Approx. 5 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B02929 Wing D983A ESTC R175931 52614601 ocm 52614601 175824 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B02929) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 175824) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English Books, 1641-1700 ; 2752:10) Elegie on the universally lamented death, of Duncan Ronald: Director depute of the Chancelary, and writer to His Majesties signet. Who died at Edinburgh, August 1700. Dempster, George. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [Edinburgh : 1700] Caption title. Mourning border. Signed at end: Mr. George Dempster. Place and date of publication suggested by Wing (2nd ed.). Imperfect: creased with slight loss of text. Reproduction of original in: National Library of Scotland. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Ronald, Duncan, d. 1700 -- Death and burial -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- Scotland -- Early works to 1800. Broadsides -- Scotland -- 17th century. 2008-05 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-08 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-09 John Pas Sampled and proofread 2008-09 John Pas Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion ELEGIE On the Universally Lamented Death , of DUNCAN RONALD : Director Depute of the Chancelary , and Writer to his Majesties Signet . Who died at EDINBURGH , August 1700. D This year at Rome the Jubilie doth stand ; But whether Death or Pope doth most Command , My Querie ! pray tell me Travler now , Where Death inhabites , Reigns , and pays his vow ! If you can tell me , where this King do Lodge ; I 'le be thy vassal , and thy sorley Drudge . U Death ! Death ! our Kings , our Queens , our Nobles all , Our Knights , our Barrons , Lairds , by thee they fall ; Our Dives , Lazrus , Senecas , and Lords ; Can never scape thy deadly fatal Cords . Why is it so ! By hear us alone decree , Men must be living , also men must die N But ah ! Death , now thou carries high thine hand , Thou soars aloft ; we cannot thee Command : Thou shoots ( like Cupid ) Arrows from the Skyes , Thou sends thy da●ts , 〈…〉 the mortal Dies , Ah me ! why so ! can nothing 〈…〉 〈…〉 Dimonds never 〈…〉 C No , no , say'th Death : for why ! my time is come , My Scepter Crown , are old and Reign nigh run ▪ I'm but a vassal of the pow'rs above ▪ I must display the Banner of my love . For Death 's my name , a Lyon I must be , Untill my day's be turn'd to Eternity . A Now Judgements nigh , the World is near an end ; My Sword is sharpest when I must Defend , My cause ; and my Commission I display , When dust I send to Dust their Natives clay . So Queries are but idle , vain to thee ; Read Birth , Death , Judgement and Eternitie . N For if I could have spar'd a Lov'ly Face ; Helen of Troy , might damped me with Grace . If Riches ; Cresus might have brib'd me then : If Grace or beauty , or the sons of men , Then might I have had Thousands at my hand , Of Absoloms , and Solomons to stand . If Learning Cicero , Seneca , these Wits , Wou'd play'd me Musick , when I took my Fits , Alse well as DAVID ; But no Harmonie Can Wound Me ; Magick , cannot Blind mine Eye . Nay , Kings and Emperours are my Trophies still , Who then can Bribe me , who has all at Will. R Thy DUNCAN RONNALD , Depute of the Rolls , The Keeper of Thy Chartors , Seasines , Scrolls , Might been Preserv'd , if Grace or Parts might do : But who 's the Man , I spare , of Candour , now . Yes , weep ye may , ye Scribes and Writers throng ! But ye that Weep , must meet Me Ere 't be long . O Kindness of Nature , Sympathie Indites , Our Mourning over RONNALD , and Invites : He was a Man of Geni●usness and Arts , Divine and Moral ; Lov'd by Men of Parts . What 's more ; He had the Popular Applause , Of Commons , Learning's , Enemies , and Foes . N He carri'd Civil in his Post and Chaire Of Honour's District , void of Anxious Fear ; Content with Fortune , Providence's Decree , And vain Ambition , Emptiness did 〈…〉 For fear of With'ring here among his Foes . A Well spoke , O Death ! Crown Me with Mortal Rayes , Come , stay no longer , quickly cut My Dayes ; Since We must Pass to Heav'n through Baca's Vale , Hoise Anchor , Death , set M●zons on thy Sail : For Dye We must , before we come to be , With DUNCAN RONNALD in Prosperitie . L For We must walk by Faith , as RONNALD did , And get Our Chartor-Party , to be ●id , In Our Recesses : Pray'r must be the Key , Love and Assureance , twofold Charitie . Then JESUS Merits , Jacobs Ladder can , Make Scarlet Sins , made whiter than a Swan . D Death , Death , deny us Fate of Sudden Calls , Seize but Gradatim , e're you break Our Walls ; Then Sound Thy Trumpet , as a Jona Shrill : Our Bodies Yield , decay to Dust they will. For Moulder Dwindle , and consume to Dust , Men ( Dust they are ) Return to it they must . Hoec raptim & cursum Composuit , Mr. GEORGE DEMPSTER 
B03160	----	An elegy on that illustrious and high-born Prince Rupert, who dyed on Wednesday November the 29th. A person of quality. 1682 Approx. 3 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B03160 Wing E364 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[129] 99885219 ocm99885219 182613 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B03160) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 182613) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A4:1[129]) An elegy on that illustrious and high-born Prince Rupert, who dyed on Wednesday November the 29th. A person of quality. 1 sheet ([1] p.). Printed for Langly Curtis, London, : 1682. Signed: Written by a person of quallity. Verse: "Farewell, thou bravest of the great, farewell ..." Reproduction of original in the British Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Rupert, -- Prince, Count Palatine, 1619-1682 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. 2008-05 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-08 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-10 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-10 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion MEMENTO MORI outline of tombstone including emblems of Death which surrounds text AN ELEGY ON That Illustrious and High-Born PRINCE RUPERT , Who Dyed on Wednesday November the 29th . 1. Dec. 1682 FArewell , thou Bravest of the Great , Farewell , When Fame shall thy Unbiast Virtues tell ; Thy Match no History shall ever find , Thou Universal Favourite of Mankind ; Whilst Factions Boyl , whilst Bandying Parties clash , And meeting Tydes their angry Billows dash , Whilst Heat meets Heat , and thwarting Ferments Reign , Rupert alone , firm to Truths Golden mean Held his , even Souls miraculous Ballance right , The Countries Darling , yet the Courts delight ; Honour in Thee , united all Her Charms , In glories Race , in Battle and in Arms ; No fiercer Fires e're fill'd a Heroes Breast , In Peace thy mind a perfect Halcyon Nest , Where Manly Virtue kept Her Princely Throne , Yet so retir'd as if Her State were gone : A mind so firm , all irregular Heat , The restless Burning Feavour of the Great ; A mind where all Perfections mixt so well , The equal Glory of a Camp or Cell . When future Ages shall with Honour tell Things Dismall , that black Master-peice of Hell , The Royal Martyrs Wound , a Blow so great , Posterity shall start but to repeat : In the sad Tale , Great Ruperts Deeds shall come , And blossom on his Sacred Masters Tomb. No hand more Active , and no sharper Sword , The Throats of Englands Rebel Hydra gor'd ; And if in that lost day , when Fates dire Blow , Had destin'd Truth and Loyalties overthrow ; Inth ' Universal wrack , Great Rupert sunk , Whilst starting Fortune from his Bannors shrunk ; His Courage only swel'd his Sails too High , Till his great Soul onset his Victory : Our English Hannibal , like him , alone By his unmannaged Conquests overthrown . Whilst that mad Chandteer , with fury hurl'd , Ambition drives the Jehues of the World ; Whilst Ensignes fly , Drums beat , and Trumpets sound , Or Conquering Heroes are with Lawrells Crown'd , Fames deathless Book shall keep in Leaves of Brass , Proud Ruperts Name enroul'd till Times last Glass : Nor is thy Memory here only Crown'd , But lives in Arts , as well as Arms renown'd ; Thou Prideless Thunderer , that stoop'd so low , To force the very Bolts thy Arme should throw , Whilst the same Eyes Great Rupert did admire Shining in Fields , and sooty at the Fire : Perceiving thee advanced in Fields and Arms so far At once the Mars and Vulcan of the VVar , Till Dancing Cyclops shall thy praise repeat , And on their Anvils thy tun'd Glorys Beat. Written by a Person of Quallity . LONDON , Printed for Langly Curtis , 1682. 
B03226	----	An elegy on the death of William late Viscount Stafford, who was beheaded on Tower-Hill, on Wednesday, December 29th. 1680. / By a person of quality. Person of quality. 1681 Approx. 6 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B03226 15604632 Wing E413 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[148] ESTC R36112 99890136 ocm99890136 182632 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B03226) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 182632) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A4:1[148]) An elegy on the death of William late Viscount Stafford, who was beheaded on Tower-Hill, on Wednesday, December 29th. 1680. / By a person of quality. Person of quality. 1 sheet ([1] p.). Printed for William Miller, at the Guilded Acorn in St. Paul's Church-Yard, where you may be furnished with most sorts of bound or stitched books, as Acts of Parliament, proclamations, speeches, declarations, letters, orders, commissions, articles of war or peace; as also books of divinity, church-government, sermons on most occasions, and most sorts of histories, poetry, plays, and such like, &c., London, : 1681. Verse: "When Sol had set his day at one at noon ..." Within mourning borders. Reproduction of original in the British Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Stafford, William Howard, -- Viscount, 1614-1680 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. 2008-05 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-09 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-12 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-12 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELEGY On the Death of William late Viscount Stafford , Who was Beheaded on TOWER-HILL , on Wednesday , DECEMBER 29 th . 1680. By a Person of Quality . WHen Sol had set his day at one at Noon , An Ancient Lord , of the Church of Rome Was executed , and there then did die For Treason great , against His Majesty ; Designing Government to overthrow , And Christian Religion , to lay low , Whereby to turn , the whole English Nation Into Blood , Murder , Sword , and Conflagration , And to figure us of the Pope's die , To become Devils in Divinity . He 's a Deceiver , from the beginning , And only learneth men , the Trade of sinning ; Shews them the Mountains , and exalts them high , Only to throw them headlong from the Sky ; Like a cunning Fowler , still his Nets doth lay For Night-Birds , Owles , while others flie away : So that the Prisoners pay for coming there , As Sparrows taken , by the Hawks in the Air ; Ambition like , the soaring lofty Kite Flies still so long , at last flies out of sight , And by using of that violence still , At last drops down , and falls by its own ill : So Vice gives all its Children , but a false Light , The Flame goes out , with an eternal Night . 'T is strange Religion , thus should point to Blood , Therefore not so easily understood ; Yet 't is so , let us do what we can , So that it concerneth , nay every man ; Because , in dayly Fears , about our Lives , To lose our Children , and our dearest Wives ; Nature strives , still , to preserve it self , As the gay Dutch-man , travels towards the Dolf : Looks that he 's well provided to go on To take his Journey , whether short or long ; Therefore we all look after a Disease , That so recovered , we may take our ease ; Since Health 's the I lower of all Blessings high , As the Sun 's the Coach-man of the Sky . This is a Cause , relates to our Religion , Who would have men , to be reasonable ; Yet teaches men , how secretly to act ill , And plays the Fool , with the rebellious Will ; The Charms false , and only from the Devil , The great Mountebank of the whole World's evil , That still draws on poor Souls to be undone , As Mists are scattered by the brighter Sun : This therefore teaches us their artful Harms , To be aware , of such like kind of Charms ; Because we see , all Vice is like an Eel , Which still , doth trip up , it s own natural heel ; Like Darkness , pleas'd with its own dismal hue , Glides off from Colours , that are brave and true : All men being pleased , with their own Actions still , Whether they prove , for good , or whether ill , And as Light , is above the Darkness still , So the High-born English , do fear no ill ; Their Faith 's in God , and their Manners high , That renders them the Allies of the Sky . We having then at length , no more to do , But affect good Manners , and none new ; For Vices , we our selves , are given to , Things that do always , conjure up our Woe ; That we should no such fatal Object be , To be lamented in Calamity ; Since 't is the Pleasure , of the alwise Heaven , To make different Objects , not all even . In short , does Languages teach men to be uncivil , Why then they 'r the Goblins of the Devil ; Who while they laugh , their Hearts another way , As false as Water-men , on every day ; Yet Nature doth provide for each Disease , To find a Remedy , for us still to ease . The Dog , when sick , he goes unto the Grass , And there lies down , and playing like an Ass ; At length grows well , and whisks he on again , As the brisk Coney , after a shower of Rain : Charity therefore , always doth begin at home , To look to our Enemies , the Church of Rome ; To love our King , and to honour him still , And to see our selves , be guilty of no ill ; But like Travellers , go on the Golden Way Of the Protestant Truth , without the least delay ; For Heaven proves , most auspicuously kind To men of Truth , and of a generous Mind ; By saving , and protecting of them still From the Devil , and his Accomplices of ill : Therefore we have reason , and that all To study to be just , both great and small ; Since Mischiefs , as they fatten , stand in need Of to be purged , and gently still to bleed ; Therefore give Eare , and to Reason still draw nigh , For Death has ended this Lord's Tragedy . POSTSCRIPT . GEntlemen and Ladies , you did all see A Popish Lord in great Extremity , Suffering as an Example , to deter all , Not to design , their Native Countrey 's fall : Therefore for a Light , was here hung in the way For all like Marriners , to make Holyday : Let us take warning then , so shall we be Happy both here , and to Eternity . FINIS . LONDON , Printed for William Miller , at the Guilded Acorn in St. Paul's Church-Yard , where you may be furnished with most sorts of Bound or Stitched Books , as Acts of Parliament , Proclamations , Speeches , Declarations , Letters , Orders , Commissions , Articles of War or Peace ; As also Books of Divinity , Church-Government , Sermons on most occasions , and most sorts of Histories , Poetry , Plays , and such like , &c. 1681. 
B03274	----	An elegy upon the death of the most illustrious princess Heneretta. Dutchess of Orleance, Maddam of France, &c. R. Philopolymathes. 1670 Approx. 5 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B03274 Wing E474 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[114] 99885213 ocm99885213 182598 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B03274) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 182598) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A4:1[114]) An elegy upon the death of the most illustrious princess Heneretta. Dutchess of Orleance, Maddam of France, &c. R. Philopolymathes. 1 sheet ([1] p.). Printed for John Clark at the Harp and Bible in West-smith-field., [London] : [1670] Signed: R. Philopolymathes. Place and date of publication suggested by Wing. Verse: "OUR day's o'recast Melpomine come on ..." Despite the title, this is an elegy to Henrietta Anne, daughter of Henrietta Maria. Reproduction of original in the British Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Orléans, Henriette-Anne, -- duchesse d', 1644-1670 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. 2008-05 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-08 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-10 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-10 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion An Elegy Upon the Death of the Most Illustrious Princess HENERETTA . Dutchess of ORLEANCE , Maddam of FRANCE , &c. OUR day's o'recast Melpomine come on Assist my Fancy , now I am alone , Disturbed Spirits come my Soul affright , Your doleful presence fits my Fancy right , T' Express this Tragedy then let me choose The saddest of the Nine to be my Muse , So shall my Verse with sighs and growns be full , Fitting th' occasion though my Fancy's dull . I be who t'other day rejoyc'd to hear , Our Royal Princess came to Dover Peer , Where Roaring Guns their Martial tune did sound , Whilst Neptunes subjects danced all a round , And Barges keeping time ( scarce known before Danc'd a Curranto with her to the shore . Where she her welcome by that hollow sound That chears the English , but the French doth stound , Each Man more breath there from the Air did borrow T' Express their Joy but soon 't was turn'd to sorrow . Then come sad Muse and briney tears distill Instead of Hellicon into my Quill , Our sudden Joy , soon into grief was hurl'd Heneretta leaving England , left the World , Yet ne're 't was known before the Brittish Main , Was the blest Currant to the Eliazin , Such Happiness she injoy'd in English ground , As in the Gallick Court could not be found , She sought but found nothing there worth her stay She therefore broke her Fast , and fled away Unto those blessed mansions , where all cares Are ta'ne away , ther 's no such thing as tears , She bears a part with Saints in Heavens blest Quire Where we by her example may aspire . We live to dye strange Paradox yet true Since we 're but strangers we must bid adieu , Yet Heavens we must complain that you 'r unkind Thus to surprize us , and ne'r put 's in mind By Comets , Meteors that do new appear , But to give warning Princes deaths are near , Death we have fear'd you sir , since you began We think that nothing satisfie you can , But Princes Corps , you 'l brook no common Food , Since you the sweetness know of Royal Blood , In Ten Years space from Brittains Royal Tree , Four mighty Arms are broken off by thee . Heneretta dead this melts us all to tears . And every one a Niobe appears , Each Lady drowns with tears her sparkling eyes , Becoming Martyrs to griefs cruelties . 'T is true , she left us for a better state , To us unhappy , to her a happy Fate , Deatl was her Friend , though we of him complain , That called her from these Earthly cares and pain , Yet an 't we bear it , thus to loose a Friend , W● needs must hate what to our Love puts end . But heark me think I do already hear , The Heavens themselves with most meliodious cheat Chant sacred Anthems , heark sweet mellody Princes souls compose this Harmony , Whilst Mortalls here below do weeping cry Our Joy is fled unto Eternity . An Epitaph . ●tay Traveller and thou shalt see , Mortal yet a Diety , Princes are Gods , his word doth cry Yet tells them they like men must dye , Beauties Master piece here doth lay , What silks and eloath , nows clad in clay , The Sun of beauties now is made Dark , by Deaths interposed shade , Majesty 's here laid in dust , This tells you Fates decrees are just , All must obey their just command Death's Summons no man dare withstand , Though many from him fain would keep , Whilst Captives to him truly creep , Behold a Princess here doth lye Soon snatch'd from Earths Felicity , She came to see her Native Land , Where Pleasures was on eve●y hand , But such trifles wan't her Aim , She came , and saw , and overcame , She saw Earth's joy was vanity , So took her leave , and went to dye . R. Philopolymathes Printed for John Clark at the Harp and Bible in West-smith-field . 
B03626	----	An elegy upon the most lamented death of the right reverend Dr. John Gauden late lord bishop of Worcester; who deceased on Friday, September 19th. 1662. in Worcester. Heath, James, 1629-1664. 1662 Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B03626 Wing H1324 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[57] 99885191 ocm99885191 182542 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B03626) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 182542) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A4:1[57]) An elegy upon the most lamented death of the right reverend Dr. John Gauden late lord bishop of Worcester; who deceased on Friday, September 19th. 1662. in Worcester. Heath, James, 1629-1664. 1 sheet ([1] p.). Printed for W. Gilbertson at the Bible in Giltspur-street without Newgate, London, : 1662 Signed: James Heath. Verse: "Now deaths decrees seem'd to be out of date ..." Reproduction of original in the British Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Gauden, John, 1605-1662 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. 2008-08 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-09 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-12 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-12 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELEGY UPON THE MOST LAMENTED DEATH Of the RIGHT REVEREND D R. JOHN CAUDEN Late LORD BISHOP of WORCESTER ; Who Deceased on Friday , September 19 th . 1662. in Worcester . NOw Deaths Decrees seem'd to be out of date ; But mark the spleen of Vnregarded Fate ; No Learned Funerall had infam'd the Year , Nor was the State yet pensiv'd with a Tear , The throng of Coarses bid us only see And Transiently view Mortality ; But this most sorrowed Herse commands us Weep , And sumd-up Grief as His Memoriall keep , And in the swollen Confluents of our Eyes , Loves Universall Tribute to Comprize . Here shall the different Opinions meet , And their divided streams each other greet : Here shall the Murmuring Floods in Grief Conform , And their sad passions raise without a storm : While to the Ocean of his Fame they run , Not minding whence their Rivulets begun ; For in this Ceremony all Unite , And joyne Devotions in his Funerall Rite : Mixing their Sighs and Prayers in concent , And tax the Parcae not the Parliament . But let us parentate who know to mourn The Churches sorrow in this Prelates Urn. And is our Father , our Restorer dead ? who 'l Peace begin , or mediate in his stead ? On whose blest Lips 3 Gasping Realms did wait : And from his Oracle did receive their Fate ; He hath resign'd the Life he onely breath'd The Vse to us was long before bequeath'd . He that the Perplext discords of our peace , With his Harmonious Unison did cease ; He that the Gangreen of the State did cure , First made it willing , able then t' endure ; Open'd the Splendour of the Dawning day , And like the Baptist first prepar'd the way : Him Orpheus , Galen , Prayers could not save , Nor free the Captive from the Conquering Grave : Time was Obliged ; 't was in vain to sue , Blest Restitution , thy First Fruits were Due . For th' heavenly powers when they held their hand And crost their Arms at Rebels bold command ; ( When the Defencelesse Sword had lost it's Edge , Against that scaly Monster Priviledge ; When its continuall Renascent strength , Gainst single Loyalty prevail'd at length ; ) Proud with this Champion did the HOST defie , ( Conviction's greater far then Victory ) And having prov'd him to the wisht event , Withdrew the Hero to his Heavenly Tent. Adieu great Chrysostome , our Danaan showrs , Shall ever water thy Sepulchrall flowr's , So Heaven PLANTS thee in a Diocesse , By thy TRANSLATION to eternall Blisse . JAMES HEATH . LONDON , Printed for W. Gilbertson at the Bible in Giltspur-street without Newgate , 1662. Notes, typically marginal, from the original text Notes for div B03626-e10 Medicastri , a Sermon preached before the L General Monke and th● Lord Mayor , &c. 
B03976	----	Englands sorrow for the death of his late Majesty King Charles the II. of blessed memory. Knap, J. (John). 1685 Approx. 3 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B03976 12850362 Wing K666 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.2[172] Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[34] ESTC R14327 99882835 ocm99882835 182519 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B03976) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 182519) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A1:1[173]; A4:1[34]) Englands sorrow for the death of his late Majesty King Charles the II. of blessed memory. Knap, J. (John). 1 sheet ([1] p.). Printed by George Croom, at the sign of the Blue-Ball in Thames-street, over against Baynard's-Castle., London, : 1685. Signed: J. Knap. Me. Dr. Verse: "Unsluce yours tears for shame: what can you keep ..." Item at A4:1[34] imperfect: stained, affecting text and imprint. Reproduction of original in the British Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Charles -- II, -- King of England, 1630-1685 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. 2008-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-08 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-09 Megan Marion Sampled and proofread 2008-09 Megan Marion Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Englands Sorrow For the Death of his late Majesty King CHARLES the II. Of Blessed Memory . UNsluce your Tears for Shame : what can you keep Your Eyes within their Sockets , and not Weep ? Have we a Jewel lost , more worth by far Than Affrica and both the Indies are ? And can you stop the Currant of your Tears , And not Beflood your selves o're Head and Ears ? O Fie ! fall down before his holy Shrine , And weep as fast as ever it did Raine , Stamp , and with Tears inundate all your Cheeks , And split his very Marble-stone with Streeks ; For we have lost that lovely Silver Dove , Which was a Pledge of God Almighty's Love : 'T is Flown away ; and left its Corporal Arke , ( Until the Resurrection ) in the Dark : Our splended Sun is Set , and gone away , And ne'er will Rise again till Judgment Day : The Meekest , Sweetest , and the Best of Kings , Is mounted on a pair of Angels Wings ; And by a Summon sent from God ) is gone To set upon the Everlasting Throne : O! that I might ( if it but Lawful were ) Whisper with Reverence at his Sacred Eare , And ask if he in earnest had his Breath Stop'd by the Handkerchief of Sawcy Death ; I can't believe it was ; sure 't is a Lye. The Elect shall only Changed be , not Die : And he I 'm confident was one of those Who being almost free from Sin was Chose : And so he did not Die as some Report , But went a Live to the Coelestial Court ; There to receive ( stead of a fading Crown ) One that I 'm sure will never Tumble Down . Therefore ( when we perpend his Happiness , If we do Mourn ) we ought to Mourn the less : For ( tho fond Nature bids us Weep a while , When we consider that ) we ought to Smile . Truly ( to Mourn no more ) I hold it Best ; Come draw his Curtains close , and let him Rest : Tho he is gone , yet he has left in s stead The Bravest Prince that ever wore a Head : Long may he Live to wear the Crown and Flourish , Till all his Enemies Fret , Pine and Perish . by J. Knap , Me. Dr. LONDON , Printed by 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 at the Sign of the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Thomas street , over against Baynards-Castle . 1685. 
B04341	----	An elegie in memorie, and at the interring of the body of the most famous and truely noble knight, Sir Henrie Mervyn. Paterne of all true valour; worth, and arts, who departed this life the 30. of May, and lyes interred at Westminster, anno Do: 1646. Mercer, William, 1605?-1676? This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription B04341 of text036 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing M1737). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 9 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 B04341 Wing M1737 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[81] 99885205 ocm99885205 182566 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B04341) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 182566) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A4:1[81]) An elegie in memorie, and at the interring of the body of the most famous and truely noble knight, Sir Henrie Mervyn. Paterne of all true valour; worth, and arts, who departed this life the 30. of May, and lyes interred at Westminster, anno Do: 1646. Mercer, William, 1605?-1676? 1 sheet ([1] p.). Printed by Jane Coe, London, : 1646. Signed: By W: Mercer. Verse: "With wondring raptures, darting at the ayre ..." Reproduction of original in the British Library. eng Mervyn, Henry, -- Sir, d. 1646 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. B04341 036 (Wing M1737). civilwar no An elegie in memorie, and at the interring of the body of the most famous and truely noble knight, Sir Henrie Mervyn. Paterne of all true va Mercer, William 1646 1254 3 0 0 0 0 0 24 C The rate of 24 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2008-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-10 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-12 Megan Marion Sampled and proofread 2008-12 Megan Marion Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELEGIE In Memorie , and at the Interring of the Body of the most famous and truely Noble Knight , Sir HENRIE MERVYN . Paterne of all true Valour ; Worth , and Arts , who departed this life the 30. of May , and lyes Interred at Westminster , Anno Do : 1646. With wondring raptures , darting at the ayre Much griefe and anguish , sadnesse and dispaire , With mournings , ●usings , madnesse , and a mind Cast downe so low , disconsolate , combin'd , With cruell thoughts , to teare the Stars , and strive To plucke the Planets ; who by power deprive Those admir'd Spirits , so inspir'd with worth . And rob those rare Excellencies of earth ; What fatall planet ; placed in the Skye Durst thus tryumph ? What cruell destinie Durst dare to meddle , or molest thy Spirit , Which did all Vertues to the full inherit ? The rarest Modell of admired Parts , Pure quintesence , of exquisite deserts , So Singular , no Second could admit , The very essence of all acute wit . The Emphasis of ev'ry praise we read , And Source from whence all knowledge did proceed , The life of learning and a light to all That liv'd , or had their being on this Ball . Nature is nothing , if it hath not Art ; But it in thee , perfection did impart In such abundance , that I doe believe Art , here , by nature , was superlative , Thy thoughts were such : they soar'd on sacred wing● Vnlimited , to Sublunary things , Were all subleame , or at the least too high , for usuall Spirits , Mens Capacity ; Throughout all Nations , Notable for Fame , Whose worth , all after ages shall procleame , Who scorn'd the honors of this present age , Nor found it fit , thy vertues to , ingage With such as strove , in State to be extol'd , Or wrapt by favour , in a new fram'd Mould , Let all the Muses , mourne in sable Coats , Heav'ns Quiristers , sing Melancholyk notes ; Let all the Arts , both Morall , and Divine , All Curious Poets , add one mournfull line To shew their love , our losse , and let them pen The highest praise , appropriate to men , And yeeld them all ; as attributes most due , To doe him honour , and againe renue Their Verse once more ; and write upon his Chest . The quickest Wit , the rarest mind , the best . Dame Natur 's darling , singular in skill , Of all the arts , and sciences , no quill Can Comprehend , Contrive , or Calculate , His true de-merits ; nor can Elevate . His Worth ; nor yet Apelles Coloured art , Nor Zeuxes pencill , if alive , impart His prudence , and his pregn●nt Eloquence , His practice , rare performance , Eminence , Nor yet his outwards , objects of our Eye , None could at all , draw to the life ; but lye And let them be , but as they are the ayme , To figure forth , things signity'd by them ; Nor hath he left , behind , one so expert , Upon the Stage ; equall to play his part , Yet all these could not , add one houres increase Vnto his time , you see all flesh is graffe . No usuall quill could draw so rare a shape , The best Experience , could not well escape , But it must erre , nor none can draw his mind No more then they , Can fathom up wind . Wherefore in silence , I must cease , and wonder , So thou may'st stay , swift passenger , and ponder : What Peece of Earth , lyes here Intemb'd , and then Goe tell that Mervin , was the praise of Men . SIR HENRIE MERVIN ; Anagram . My hit's e'er in he'ven , Anagram . Here in my Urne : My hit's ever in he'ven , then doe not mourne . There rests my soule ; my earth ; Here in my Vrne . Anagram . Here in my Vrne , in secret where J lye , Confin'd by fate , or humane destinie . Fame passing hence ; strooke in a Maze , stood dombe , And writ these words , vpon my painted Tomb With sighes , and teares , and Sacrifized Groanes , And left them all , as witnesses at once For to be view'd who having tribute pay'd , Straight vanisht quite ; these were the words were said , Epitaph . Mervyn the Modell morall and divine , Of all that Natur 's knowledge could combine , Lyes here , but yet for all of this Conceive His boundlesse worth , Could not come to the Grave But lives ; and still , so long as time doth last , His fame ( shall far , exceed the Worthyest . Who in a word , proves truly such a Theame That you may read Minerva in his Name . To the Island of England , and the Vniversall Ocean . O English Island , hence forbeare to boast : You boundlesse Oceans , which surround its Coast , Disclose your secrets : neither swell with pride , Since Mervyn now , the Marinors best guide , Is gone ; for if , thy stormy Waves arise , No Art , nor Skill , can Christendome devise To compasse safely ; he , was onely hee , Who could tryumph , and in thy deepe did see Those hidden dangers , which devour'd a world , For want of knowledge , and were headlong hurld , Beyond their bounds ; but O! What Trophees can Be then Created : for so rare a Man ? No ; none at all ; but such as may seeme Odd , And must be made : by Neptun who 's a God . And that is this ; the sky's shall change their kind Into a Curtaine ; and constrain the Wind To stay ; and henceforth never more shall blow , But be a substance , and no ayrie show Shall thence proceed ; but shall as Emblem 's flye Gaiz'd on , and wondred at , with mortals eye : As signes of honour ; and shall so remaine , Till Mervyn be , rais'd from the dust againe . HENRIE MERVYN . Anag . Renue my hire . HENRIE MERVYN . Anag . Merry in he'ven . Dystichon Renue my hire ; and make me one of them That 's Merry in he'ven , 't is all whereat I ayme . Eccrostick . Here , learnings Compend , Miracolous in Arts Estrang'd doth lye ; ( Endow'd with divyne Parts ) No more to more , Removed from our Spheare , Remaines above , Vnstaind , in spotlesse Ayre , Iust and ingenuous Yet he must Submit , Even unto death , Nothing can Conquer it But his perfection , who made him perfit , Where Mervyn liv's , with Angels , in Delight . By W : MERCER . London , Printed by Jane Coe , 1646. 
B04434	----	On the death and horrid murther of the most reverend father in God, James Archbishop of Saint-Andrews, Lord Primate of Scotland Murray, Mungo, 17th cent. 1679 Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B04434 Wing M3108 ESTC R180799 53981684 ocm 53981684 180288 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B04434) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 180288) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English Books, 1641-1700 ; 2824:38) On the death and horrid murther of the most reverend father in God, James Archbishop of Saint-Andrews, Lord Primate of Scotland Murray, Mungo, 17th cent. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [Edinburgh : 1679] In verse. Caption title. Imprint suggested by Wing. In two columns, within heavy black mourning border. Signed at end: M.M. Reproduction of the original in the National Library of Scotland. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Sharp, James, 1613-1679. Elegiac poetry, English -- Scotland -- 17th century. Broadsides -- Scotland -- 17th century. 2008-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-08 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-12 John Pas Sampled and proofread 2008-12 John Pas Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion On the DEATH and Horrid Murther OF THE MOST REVEREND FATHER IN GOD , JAMES ARCHBISHOP of SAINT-ANDREWS LORD PRIMATE OF SCOTLAND . ELEGIE . 'T Is none but Bleeding Sacred Tears that are Admitted in our Sorrows to have share , On Learn'd Saint Andrews Urne , none must have place , But from Divines , right Consecrate with Grace : The Primate , and the High Priest of our Land , Murther'd and Martyr'd by Hells Cruel Band : Assassin at , kill'd , in such Horrid way , As may move Heav'ns , in Night to turn our Day . The like Martyrologick wits knew ne're , Turks , Pagans , Heths , Jews , sham'd such Act to hear , With Pitty makes Rocks weep , and Earth to shake Fearing of Doom-dayes Earth-Quake to partake , Bad Omen that Gods Latter Judgement shall To Albions Sphere before full Time befall . Her Infamy , Disgrace , and endless Stain , So nigh the Temple Aron should be slain . Grave Patriarch , True Prophet , and Grave Father , Apostle Just , Martyr'd in one together . The Breast-plate who of Righteousness did bear , Ag'd , Reverend , the Badge of Peace did wear . Me thinks it s●d , Thy Snowy Head did not Those Villans stop from Butchering Swords and Shot . Inhumane Fact , Prodigious , 'bove all deeds , Can be compar'd to none but Regicids ; From whose profession ( if that I were one ) That Act would , bring me , had I Heart of Stone . A Jesuitick Trick , no Church maintains , Save Independent-Presbyterians ; Who has with Romes , this Year wrong'd Britains more , By Plots and Murders , than ere heretofore . Oh! brave Saint Andrews , Massacred , thus dies For others sins becomes a Sacrifice . Great Charles grief , to him such loss should be , In Church and State prop'd His Authoritie . At Restoration was chief Instrument ; Restor'd Religion to her Government , From Babels-Tongues , Divinity has fred A Verdent Garland has the Mitre bred . Philosophy , Theology , in whom And all Their Virtues strove betimes for room ; Humble , most Courtly , ne're deny'd Address To orphans , Widows , and the Fatherless : The Mirrour of all Piety and Good , In a Grand , Church-man ever understood : Was with Sage Council , Justice , Mercy load , Obeyed King , Lov'd Country , feared God ; Thy Guiltless Blood , shed by Hells Fiends most strange , As Abells did , calls from the Heavens , revenge . Undoubtedly if in their pow'r it were , Heavens Heirarchie would likeway Massacre : In Soul a Seraphim plac'd there as due ' Mongst Martyrs , whiles Gods wrath do them pursue . JAMES SHARP , Anag . A SERAPHIM . The first Protestant Bishop heard or read In Scotland for Religion Murdered . M. M. 
B04435	----	On the death of his Grace John Duke of Rothes, Lord High Chancellor of Scotland, &c. Elegie. Murray, Mungo, 17th cent. 1681 Approx. 3 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B04435 Wing M3109 ESTC R180800 52614798 ocm 52614798 175983 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B04435) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 175983) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English Books, 1641-1700 ; 2757:24) On the death of his Grace John Duke of Rothes, Lord High Chancellor of Scotland, &c. Elegie. Murray, Mungo, 17th cent. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [Edinburgh? : 1681] Mourning border. Signed at foot: M. M. Reproduction of original in: National Library of Scotland. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Rothes, John Leslie, -- Earl of, 1630?-1681 -- Death and burial -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- Scotland -- Early works to 1800. Broadsides -- Scotland -- 17th century. 2008-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-08 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-12 John Pas Sampled and proofread 2008-12 John Pas Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion ON the Death of his Grace JOHN DUKE of ROTHES , LORD High CHANCELLOUR of SCOTLAND , &c. ELEGIE . ISRAEL for Moses fourty days did Mourn , Our Joy to Grief , twice fourty days may turn ; Scotlands Conductor , ROTHES , Wise and Brave , Ah! now Himself Conducted is to Grave : ROTHES did Rule our Helm in Storms , and Grace The Halcyon Calmness of our Oceans Peace : Dread Comet , ah ! too dreadful not in vain . Fatal to Albions Pole , and Charles his Wain ; Judicious DVKE , able to quench all Jarrs , On which may rise Uncivil , Civil Warrs , Most prudent States-man , Sage to Reconceal , Knowing thy Kings Will , was the Kingdoms Well , In Court , in Camp , in City , Field , or Town ; Worthy to bear a Batton or a Gown . No Fate could make thy Loyalty relent : Nor Bondage of thy long Imprisonment ; Give Thou then Griev'd , it was that then the while Thou could not Serve thy Master in Exyle ; Yet there Thy Thoughts , and Corrospondence too , Acted the most a Prisoner could do ; Yet never Winter made of Summer , more Joyful to Thee , when Heavens did Him Restore : And made Thy Self after a long Restraint : A Vig'rous , and most Active Instrument , For which , Thou didst Thy Monarchs Love Inherit , The due Reward of Thy Desert and Merit ; A Love most Firm , and Great , to be Admir'd , But Chang'd to Sorrow , since Thy Breath expyr'd . Great DVKE , Lord Chancellour , Gen'ral , Thesaurer , His Majesties most High Commissioner . What Greatness could Thou Want , Thy King could Give , Who only in Thy Destiny did Grieve ; He Could not also give Thee long to Live. Yet , since Heavens Doom , no Flesh from Death reprives ; Thou' rt Mourn'd by Scotlands Representatives ; Thy Death makes York , our High Commissioner Sad : He , even more High , then ere our Nation had . To Pen Thy Praise , exceeds all Poets Skill ; And does require Apollo's Choisest Quill ; Sure then Thy Name great Honour does obtain , To whom the Highest Praises are but Mean. Then Blest are You Coelestial Minds that move , Uncessantly the Spacious Orbs Above ; For if Your Toyl prove Irksome , You may Rest , And Trust Your work to this New Heavenly Guest . M. M. 
B04436	----	On the death of the illustrious David Earle of Wemyss, &c. One of the most honourable lords of his Majesties Privy Council. Elegie. Murray, Mungo, 17th cent. 1679 Approx. 5 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B04436 Wing M3110 ESTC R180801 52614799 ocm 52614799 175984 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B04436) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 175984) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English Books, 1641-1700 ; 2757:25) On the death of the illustrious David Earle of Wemyss, &c. One of the most honourable lords of his Majesties Privy Council. Elegie. Murray, Mungo, 17th cent. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [Edinburgh : 1679] Mourning border. Imerfect: cropped at foot with loss of text. Reproduction of original in: National Library of Scotland. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Wemyss, David Wemyss, -- Earl of, 1610-1679 -- Death and burial -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- Scotland -- Early works to 1800. Broadsides -- Scotland -- 17th century. 2008-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-07 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-08 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-08 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion On the DEATH of the ILLUSTRIOUS DAVID EARLE of WEMYSS , &c. One of the most Honourable Lords of His Majesties Privy Council . ELEGIE . AS Great Men do , their Vassals charge and call , Them to attend anothers Funerall ; Neptune bids Triton warn each Christal-Spring A Floud of Tears into Forths-Firth to bring , To wait His murmuring Tydes , upon Wemys Shore , That Noble Earles Death still to deplore , Whose Hollow-Rockie-Caves , with Eccho's may Teach Swans to weep , in an unwonted way , And Rampant-Lyons , hence to roar with Grief , Their Lord and Master is bereav'd of Life : Each Navigator sails Fifes pleasant Coast , To moan the Anchor of their hope is lost ; For whom built Peer and Harbour safe and sure , No raging storm can Shipping there injure : But all this nothing to those Sorrows , that Of which this Kingdom must participat ; King , Nobles , Gentry , Clergy , most concern'd , A braver Subject Monarch ne're govern'd ; Wish'd that his Soveraigns-Crowns in concord flourish , And Heav'ns good-success all His Projects cherish , Whose , and the Publique's safety did desire , Free from all Plots , Rebellion can conspire ; Straight Loyal-Rule to States-men of the Land , How to Obey , and likewise to Command : From Passion free , unto sound Council prone , Rich'd with the Wisdom of a Solomon : Promotion and Seditious wayes did hate , Endeavour'd rather to be Good than Great ; Court Parasitick flatteries did scorn , By whom Truth and Integrity were born : To Law and Gospel Zealous Constant Friend , Religious VVorship in the Church maintain'd ; Faith justify'd with unfaign'd Charity , The Luckie H 〈…〉 Liberality . In Virtuous Actions all the Age excell'd , At VVork a Thousand Souls daily upheld ; Gave Colledges , Schools , Artists , and each Muse Incouragement Their Genious to use ; Augustian Sp'rit , yet of Meek humble mind , The Worlds best Breeding by Thee was refin'd ; Renowned Fame of whom can well report , More Hospitable ne're kept Princely Court , Fraughted with Courage and Mag'nimity , Honour'd all Orders of Nobility ; In Converse Mirthful , Jovial and Sweet , VVith Clemency made Mercy Justice meet ; With Coal , and Salt , enrich'd Thy Countrey more , Then all the Traffiquers for Indian Ore : As Boas did , His Family o'resee , Thy Beasts were fatned by the Masters eye : In whose affairs were nothing wrong that went , Whom Tenents , Servants , ever may lament . Brag'd not of Blood , as many now-a-days , Though from M cduff ( Fifes Thane ) Thine did arise . In Matching , and Alliance did digress Ne're from the splendor of his worthiness : Sad Pryzless loss to Name , ( its ancient Chief ) Thereto shew friendship beyond all belief ; As Scripture tells , Joseph of Husbands best , And Isaac the most loving do attest , Of Noble Wemys , may future times record , The best of Husbands , and most loving Lord : Thy Deathless Praise spread through the Univers , ( As is Thy Merit ) can no Pen express ; Full sixty nine years lustre lent this Clyme , In all whose Days , most Peaceful , free of Cryme ; Hence call'd to Heav'n , to have eternal Rule , Notes, typically marginal, from the original text Notes for div B04436-e10 David Earl of Wemyss , Anagram , 
B04934	----	On that devout and industrious gentelman, George Monteith, merchant in Edinburgh, who departed this life the 2. day of Juny [sic], 1685. A funeral elegie. / N. Paterson. Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688. 1685 Approx. 3 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B04934 Wing P696 ESTC R181521 51784596 ocm 51784596 175005 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B04934) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 175005) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English Books, 1641-1700 ; 2709:10) On that devout and industrious gentelman, George Monteith, merchant in Edinburgh, who departed this life the 2. day of Juny [sic], 1685. A funeral elegie. / N. Paterson. Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [Edinburgh? : 1685] Caption title. Place and date of publication suggested by Wing (2nd ed.). Reproduction of original in: National Library of Scotland. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Monteith, George, d. 1685 -- Death and burial -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, Scottish -- Early works to 1800. Broadsides -- Scotland -- 17th century 2008-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-06 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-07 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-07 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion On that Devout , and Industrious GENTELMAN , GEORGE MONTEITH , Merchant in Edinburgh , who departed this Life the 2. day of Juny , 1685. A Funeral ELEGIE . DEvout and Precious Soul should I in verse , Attempt they glorious virtues to reherse , It were a contradiction to expresse , And bring to numbers what is numberless : Verses must loss their feet , and Elegies Give up their running to our melting eyes ; Yet reason sayes , that it can be no Crime What we may speak in Prose to writ in Rime . Witness the Sacrid Scriptures , it 's no wrong To vent a Lamentation in a Song . So rational a grief who utters it , At once both show's his sorrow , and his witt . I 'l not imploy my Muse to chide stern death , That with Blood-thirsty haste did cut thy breath , When thou thy self did chide the fates delay , Gasping from those sad times to be away . Nor with Fantastick flight implore the sphears , To bath thy memory with us in tears . While we believe that new Jerusalem Where now thou art , Surmounts both us and them . Thou now art infranchised , and at large , And from our Warrs death Seals thee a discharge . Where clad in Robes of Immortality Thour' t levi'd with the glorious Hierarchy . For here below thou wer 't in each Estate Humble , active , prudent , just , and temperat , And with both actions and thy thoughts expence Did keep thy Conscience still without offence . Who knew thy vertues well , thy understood Thou wert an Angel cloath'd with flesh and blood . Thy birth above the common levell was , Thy Nuptial types in honour did surpasse . Thou was not troubled with mad Midas itch , Yet GOD did bliss thy store , and made thee rich . Thou was a man of business , and yet , To serve thy Maker was they chief delight . Wherefore GOD takes thee home , where now thou sings Grave , wher 's they conquest ? death where are thy stings ? Dignum laude virum Musa vetat mori . N. PATERSON . 
B04935	----	On the death of his excellence General Dalziel of Binns, one of the members of His Majesties most honourable Privy Council. A funeral elegie. / N. P. Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688. 1685 Approx. 6 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B04935 Wing P697 ESTC R181522 51784597 ocm 51784597 175006 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B04935) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 175006) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English Books, 1641-1700 ; 2709:11) On the death of his excellence General Dalziel of Binns, one of the members of His Majesties most honourable Privy Council. A funeral elegie. / N. P. Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [Edinburgh? : 1685] Place and date of publication suggested by Wing (2nd ed.). Epitaph at end of sheet in Latin. Reproduction of original in: National Library of Scotland. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Dalziel, Thomas d. 1685 -- Death and burial -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, Scottish -- Early works to 1800. Broadsides -- Scotland -- 17th century 2008-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-04 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-05 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-05 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion On the DEATH of His EXCELLENCE GENERAL DALȜIEL OF BINNS , One of the Members of His MAJESTIES most Honourable Privy Council . A Funeral Elegie . THou Child of Sin and Fate , who only can Measure the true Dimensions of a Man , Who with impartial and triumphant Wings O'retakes the poor mans Flight as well as Kings , And with thy Martial All-controuling Drum , Beats a cold March to the Eternal Home , Tyrant o'r tyrants , who , with Fatal Force , Betwixt the Soul and Body makes Divorce . No more thy Trophies boast , thou here must yield , Here 's on thou could not Conquer in the Field , Who , spite of all the Forces him withstood , Has div'd for Honour in a Sea of Blood. Who , whersoe're he Fought , or Seige did lay , Honour and Conquest did their wings display . Whose Heart by night nor day did ever feel A cowards damps , oft sleept in sheets of steel . That Soul of Chivalrie , which no delight Could weaken , or the face of Death affright , The Great DALȜIEL , who with undazled eyes , Affronted all the Flames from Steel could rise . Just like the generous Eagle dare oppose . The proudest light that ever in Heaven arose . His Actions all were Generous , and Free , And did no Interest own , but Loyaltie , He lov'd not Wars for Wars , nor Strise for Strife , Not Prodigal , nor Nigard of his Life , He did not loftly spare himself , but then He did exact the like of other men . For of his Generous , and Martial Heart , Courage and Judgement had their equal part , He was the Genius of the Camp , yet knew , When to Retire , and when his Foes pursue , He knew all Order of tumultuous War , Ranks , Files , March , Counter-march , to make a Squar , And from a Squar , to raise a Diamond , And all Battalias ever yet were found . How to Encamp , Entrench , and any part Where Nature fails , to Fortifie by Art : How to Desend , or to assault a Town , And Courtings , Bulwarks , Plat-forms to beat down . He knew no treacherous Arts , nor cheating Charms , But masculin Courage , and the Laws of Arms , With these he made his Souldiers well train'd Men , With these he brought them on , and off again . It was by those , he to his latest Breath , In every War , Conquest Propound , or Death . Like a Majestick General , by those , He sold his Souldiers Lives dear to their Foes . By his Example every minor Band , Did take new Force from his Heroick Hand ; Souldier inspired Souldier ; Foot , the Horse ; But he them both ; so great 's a Generals Force . Who by his Valour , made it understood , An ounce of Honour's worth a pound of Blood , His never daunted Courage undervalu't The iron salutation of a Bullet . Therefore some grovling cowards low-pitcht eye , That could not reach triumphant honors Skie . What their affrighted sense could not behold , Without being dazled , yet to carp were bold . But he at home , abroad , and in all parts , His Blade imbrew'd in Rivers Sprung from Hearts . Yet with such Moderation that he made It clear ; War was for Physick not for Trade . In Ireland , and in Musco , and at Home , Like Hercules he Monsters overcome . In all which Interprizes we might see His Counsel , Courage , Generositie . He knew when to be harsh , when to be mild , And did esteem each Souldier as his Child . And train'd them so , which Care was not in vain , They as their Father Reverénc'd him again , And with the Prophet did him thus bewail , Horse-men and Chariots of our Israel . But now being Enfranchised , and at large From all our Wars , Death seals him a Discharge . He with the Souls above and Hierarchie , Has Valour turned into Extasie , Where till the Earth and all its Trophies lie A scattered Heap , and Time it self shall die . He shall live unallarm'd with the blast Of any other Trumpet but the last . Invictissimi Ducis Thomae Dalȝelli EPITAPHIUM . Non potes exiguo claudi Dalȝelle Sepulchro , Tans brevis ingentem non capit Vrna virum . Te Duce Monstra jacent Patria teterrima , cum nil Restaret , superi scandis in astra poli . N. P. Niniani Patersoni ad Amicos Paraenesis . Ille ego lugentum expertus solator , acerbis Heu premer ipfe malis ! luctu ! atque labore ! ruino ! Omnibus exhaustus jam casibus , omnium egenus Defici● ; Medicasque manus fomentaque quaere Vul●tribus ( sed summs ) meis . Nunc tempus amici Reddere ●pem , immeritis var●●●…es exolvere curis . 
B04936	----	On the much lamented death of the valiant Major William Cockburn, who died at Stonie-flet, June 6. 1683. A funeral elegie / N. Paterson. Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688. 1683 Approx. 5 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B04936 Wing P698 ESTC R181523 51784598 ocm 51784598 175007 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B04936) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 175007) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English Books, 1641-1700 ; 2709:12) On the much lamented death of the valiant Major William Cockburn, who died at Stonie-flet, June 6. 1683. A funeral elegie / N. Paterson. Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [Edinburgh? : 1683] Place and date of publication suggested by Wing (2nd ed.). Caption title. Imperfect: left edge stained and torn, with loss of text. Reproduction of original in: National Library of Scotland Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Cockburn, William, d. 1683 -- Death and burial -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, Scottish -- Early works to 1800. Broadsides -- Scotland -- 17th century 2008-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-04 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-05 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-05 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion ON THE MUCH LAMENTED DEATH of the Valiant MAJOR WILLIAM COCKBURN , Who died at Stonie-flet , June 6. 1683. A Funeral ELEGIE . THis world 's a boyling gulph of greefs & fears , The Rendevouz of anxious sighs and tears : This worm of five foot long , this moving span , Compos'd of sin , and dirt , we call a man , Is the tost passenger ; what tho the ga'le Be strong , or weak , the Ship is still a Sail ; Whither the Passengers do stand , or lie , She keeps a straight course to eternitie . And who so can the longest passage boast , At last th' Eternal Haven salute he must . A pregnant , ( tho a pensive ) proofe is here To make this truth as with sun beams appear . Here the undantoun'd COCKBURN full of years That ne'er gave place to ignominious fears , Who like the Roman Scevola hath stood Bashing in flamm's his hands , his feet in blood , Who in the storms of Warr , by day and night , Could never flee from any thing but flight , ( Till now unconquer'd ) yet at last he must Lay down his valour in a bed of dust : But with a deathless and renowned name , Happy in Fortune , Familie , and Fame . He was no carking dunghill miser , yet God blest him with a plentiful Estate : From which , as from an overflowing store , He blest the backes and bellies of the poor . And with an active , and sagacious care , He knew both when to spend , and when to spare . 〈…〉 prayer , and praise , at morning and at even With pious fervencie addrest to Heaven , ●●s house a Sacrid Temple did become : 〈…〉 Souldier in the Camp , a Priest at home . 〈…〉 one may be ( tho rare ) as Scriptures note , 〈…〉 once both a Centurion , and devote . A Souldier and devote , with Loyalty , 〈…〉 ormist too , and each in high degree , 〈…〉 in this age when it s considered well Appear at least next to a miracle . A Father , and an Husband past compare , 〈…〉 knew , which greatest was his love , or care . 〈…〉 ly as I hear'd Friends and Strangers tell Spouse and Children made the parallel : ●hom he hes left five unspotted Plants , ●ill the Nation with such blessed Saints , The pledges of his fruitful love , and bed ; Happy be he that might such darlings wed . To him that brings not an unworthy flamm ' , Kind may they be , as Heaven hes been to them ; In them he lives , to them he did bequeath His vertues as a legacie at death . And every one but some fantastick snake Will love the off-spring for their Fathers sake . His EPITAPH . HEre lyes an honest heart , a valiant hand , Knew both how to obey , and to command , A loving Father , and an Husband kind , A Souldier both in body , and in mind ; So stout that to the pale beholders wonder He durst encounter the amazing thunder . And did the Honour of the Scots advance , By prowess both through Germany , and France ; His valour and his Loyalty was seen , Against the Rebels at the Rullȝion Green. He Hector and Ulysses both in one , Knew to match valour with discretion . In point of Honour when his spleen did rise , He quell'd his foes by lightning from his eyes . His martial frown it could at once controul , And cure the Lethargie of a cowards Soul. Nor did his worth alone consist in warrs , In him Minerva joyned was with Mars , He owed a breast to which it did appeare , Valour and vertue native Tennants were ; Yea vertue sway'd her Scepter there , for both He fear , and baseness equally did loath . And in his Heart , which was a Sign of Grace , God , and the Church , and King had chiefest place . As King and Church did gratefully regard him ; So God hath call'd him home now to reward him . Therefore let 's modestly bewail our crosse Heavens gain , and his can never be our losse . Optima quaeque dies , miseris mortalibus aevi Prima fugit : subeunt morbi , tristisque senectus , Et labor , & durae rapit inclementia mortis . Virgil. Mr. N. PATERSON . 
B04937	----	On the lamentable death of Lady Lee, younger: who departed this life, February 28. 1686. A funeral elegie. / N. Paterson. Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688. 1686 Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B04937 Wing P701 ESTC R181525 51784599 ocm 51784599 175008 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B04937) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 175008) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English Books, 1641-1700 ; 2709:13) On the lamentable death of Lady Lee, younger: who departed this life, February 28. 1686. A funeral elegie. / N. Paterson. Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [Edinburgh? : 1686] Title vignette: skull & crossbones with text "memento mori." Caption title. Reproduction of original in: National Library of Scotland. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Lee, -- Lady, d. 1686 -- Death and burial -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, Scottish -- Early works to 1800. Broadsides -- Scotland -- 17th century 2008-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-04 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-05 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-05 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion MEMENTO MORI skull and crossbones, hourglasses On the Lamentable Death of the LADY LEE , Younger : Who departed this Life , February 28. 1686. A Funeral Elegie . WHat is this World ? but endless Toil and Strife Tumults , & Toys , that wastes our wretched Life : Distempered Mutinies , Uproars , and Factions , At best , the Pomps and Triumphs of vile Actions . In which we have to'r Burial , from our Birth , A Moneths Mourning , for a Moments Mirth . That which presents Delight in fullest measure , Tickling the Fancy , with deluding Pleasure , It is as transitory , as a Flower That blooms and blasted is , both in an Hour . Lo here an instance , in a sprightly Maid , In Courtly France , and Gen'rous England bred . Who could set forth both Nations in their dress ; Their Ceremony , or their State express . Blest with the Honour of a glorious Birth , The greatest Happiness , we have on Earth . Her Ancestors enjoyed all Earthly Pleasures , Being Men of Myriads , and massy Treasures . Whose Valour , and sage Prudence , did advance Some of them to an Embassy for France . Fortunes , and Honours Minions ; who by far Outstript Competitors in Peace and War ; To a Descent so high , and honoured , She did obtain , an equal Nuptial Bed ; Match't with the LOCKHARTS , who in Deed & Word , Second to none are , for the Gown , or Sword. Scotland ( for both ) in an Immortal Fame , Beyond their worth , shall never sound a Name . Being matched so ; disdaining to be coy , She losed her Self in labyrinths of joy . And liv'd as merry , as the Youths of Greece , When they from Colchos brought the Golden Fleece , No Erisycthous Miser , Beggar rich , Who have , and have not ; curst with Midas itch . Her Heart was satisfied with her Store ; And did not wretchedly gape , and pine for more . A Princess Tongue , and Hand , and Heart had she , Harmonious , large , and liberal , and free . No Rumor vext her , she was nere so low , Nor did she care , what Storms of State could blow . Court was her Crime , if any such there be , Not being possest with barbarous Chastitie ; Like that coy , peevish Plant Pudesetan , That shrinks at the approach of every Man. No , no , no time that Goddess doth record That burn'd the Temple where she was ador'd . Yet all these sugred Pleasures period have In this sad seisure of the loathsome Grave . Their Plenty passed reach of Pen , or Tongue , And were too great , to have continued long . All which upon review , give us to know , All Pleasures here have but a painted show . N. PATERSON . Immodicis brevis est aetas , & rara senectus . Mart : Vsque adeo nulla est sincera voluptas Solicitumque aliquid laetis intervenit . Ovid. — Medio de fonte leporum Surgit amari aliquid . Lucret. Laetus in praesens animus , quod ultra est Oderit curare : & amara laeto Temperet risu , nihil est ab omni parte beatum . Horat. MEMENTO MORI skull and crossbones, hourglasses 
B04939	----	To the memory of the Right Honourable Thomas Lord Napier who died in France, Anno Dom. 1686. A funeral elegie. / N. Paterson. Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688. 1686 Approx. 5 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B04939 Wing P704 ESTC R181529 51784601 ocm 51784601 175010 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B04939) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 175010) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English Books, 1641-1700 ; 2709:15) To the memory of the Right Honourable Thomas Lord Napier who died in France, Anno Dom. 1686. A funeral elegie. / N. Paterson. Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [Edinburgh : 1686] Caption title. End of verse in Latin. Place and date of publication suggested by Wing (2nd ed.). Reproduction of original in: National Library of Scotland. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Napier, Thomas Nicolson, -- Lord, 1669-1686 -- Death and burial -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, Scottish -- Early works to 1800. Broadsides -- Scotland -- 17th century 2008-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-04 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-05 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-05 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion To the Memory of the Right Honourable THOMAS LORD NAPIER Who died in FRANCE , Anno DOM. 1686. A Funeral ELEGIE . WHO without pale Amazement ponder can The Dissolution of the Frame of Man ? Heavens Master-piece , in whom the ETERNAL drew His Portracture , for ravisht Earth to view , That Heavenly , and Immortal sparks , might sway . The Monarchie of brittle Clods of Clay : Whose twisted Chains compos'd of Love , and Wonder , Dissolves like Ice , like Glass does brake assunder ; So that each Man of Low or High Degree , When weighed is lighter found than Vanitie . So swists this span of Frailtie , Life , We know Eagles compared , are supposed slow : Posts on the Earth , Ships on the Sea , the Wind , Motion it self is hovering left behind ; These to our Faith ( the Souls enlightned Eye ) Scriptures makes Emblems of Mortalitie . And by dear-bought Experience , it appears Youth's downs may fall , as well as grizlie Hairs . The Patient , and Phycisian , strong and Weak , To Death the King and Beggar are alike : If sins add fewel to the fire of Hell , Thrice happie he in Youth that dieth well . Then onely NAPIER , Thee We must confess Plac'd in the Zenith of all Happiness : To whose Nativity the Fates did owe All Glories , smiling Fortune can bestow . A Birth , blest with such Honours , Vertues , Parts , That Court , or Countrey can boast for their Arts : A Name , all Albion over ( it is clear ) For Learning , Valour , Prudence had no PIER . Hence they , and onely they , possest that Name , As a just Donative of Glorious Fame ; Which still from Age to Age no Limits knew , Till Glories crescent to a Circle grew ; Which passing the Worlds bounds could bounded be By nothing now , but vast Eternitie . Scarce four and twenty times the posting Sun , Through his Coelestial Inns , the signs , had run Till Heavens great Privy Council ( ruthless fates ) Above the Saphir Rafters him translates : Where he pure Vertues Pleasures might obtain , Who only here , had tasted of their pain . Whose comely Person to our ravisht Eye Vi'd only with his Soul for Beautie : Yet handsomness was but the outward Shrin To vail the Glorious Saint was lodged therein ; His Judgement was so clear , it knew no night , His Apprehension active as the Light ; Whose Vigour could Discover and Discern The deepest Mysteries , frail Man can learn. That had he liv'd , with that same Approbation , H 'had write a Comment on the Revelation , As that great miracle his Grand-syre did , Admir'd by all alive , ador'd when dead . Such was this Noble Lord , where ever known , Amazing Strangers , loved of his own . At Home , Abroad , his Vertues prov'd his Name , H 'had NA PIER in the Deserts of Fame ; Yet his short Time deny'd to tell Us what , Leaving Eternity to open that ; Onely deserv'd such Trophies : at his Urn That France and Brittain both at once do mourn . N. Paterson . Foelix qui portum subiit , in quem si quis intra primos annos delatus est , non magis queri debet , quam qui cito navigavit ; Seneca . TOlle caput luctu mersum , quando omnia functa Aut moritura vides ; obeunt noctesque diesque , Astraque , nec solidis prodest sua machina terris Ortum qnicquid babes finem timet : ibimus omnes , Ibimus ; immensis urnam quatit AEACVS umbris . Ast hic quem gemimus , foelix ; non ille rogavit , Non timuit meruitve mori ; nos anxia plebes , Nos miseri , quibus unde dies suprema , quis aevi Exitus incertum : sed & hic jam numine plenus , Et dubios casus , & caecae lubrica vitae Effugit immunis fati : Christique beatus Dulcibus alloquiis & vivis vultibus ardet . Statius Evangelizans . 
B04940	----	To the memory, of the incomparable Sir Andrevv Ramsey of Abbots-Hall. Provost of Edinburgh, counsellor to His Majesty, Lord of the Session, &c. Who departed thi life, January 17. 1688. A funeral elegie. / N. Paterson. Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688. 1688 Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B04940 Wing P705 ESTC R181530 51784602 ocm 51784602 175011 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B04940) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 175011) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English Books, 1641-1700 ; 2709:16) To the memory, of the incomparable Sir Andrevv Ramsey of Abbots-Hall. Provost of Edinburgh, counsellor to His Majesty, Lord of the Session, &c. Who departed thi life, January 17. 1688. A funeral elegie. / N. Paterson. Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [Edinburgh : 1688] Title vignette. Caption title. Place and date of publication suggested by Wing (2nd ed.). Reproduction of original in: National Library of Scotland. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Ramsay, Andrew, -- Sir, d. 1688 -- Death and burial -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, Scottish -- Early works to 1800. Broadsides -- Scotland -- 17th century 2008-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-04 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-05 Emma (Leeson) Huber Sampled and proofread 2008-05 Emma (Leeson) Huber Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion MEMENTO MORI To the Memory , of the Incomparable SIR ANDREVV RAMSAY OF ABBOTS-HALL . Provost of Edinburgh , Counseller to His Majesty , Lord of the Session , &c. Who departed this Life , January 17. 1688. A FVNERAL ELEGIE . AS to divide the Winds that disagree , When in Tempestuous Storms they mingled be , And lay their Stern Encounters so asleep , That they may whisper Musick to the Deep , Impossible to us it is ; no less , Thy Praises , or our Griefs , are to express , Great Abbots-Hall ! Thy worth they only know , Who are above , when we do mourn below , By Intellect and Love , Ye converse there , Things banished our muddie Hemisphere . Soul-wounding-grief , and wonder , are the two , Sole Legacies , Thou leaves us here below . And could not Thou have stayed with us a while , Till Thou had seen a fully purged I le . Thou Edinburghs Glory , Pleasure of our eyes ! Yet blest be God , it is with no surprise . Although our woeful Comfort who can smoother , Is only this , we 'll ne're losse such another . And this compleats our Tragedie , beyond This , Fate can hardly give a greater wound . Our Nation 's Bankrupt grown , all men may see , Beyond the hopes of a Recoverie . When Gallantry and Justice have their Fall , In Collington and Generous Abbots-Hall , For we could say , while they were both alive , The Kingdoms Honour could all Storms survive . Never did active Soul of Sacred Birth , Inform a more Celestial piece of Earth , Than Abbots-Hall , who scarce has left behind , A Subject , of a more Majestick Mind . How did He all our angry Broiles appease , And with His own Unrest , procure our Ease . He car'd not what Turmoils possest His Breast , So that the Town from Tumults , was at rest . For alwayes like a Monarch , He did Reign , Above dull-piti'd Envie , or Disdain . Yet never did He to Preferment rise By Scrapes , or Bribes , or such base Simonies . He Calm'd all Quarrells , Vanquisht every Spite , And made each Enemie His proselyte . More than ten years , which spoke His high Renown , He was the Angel-Guardian of the Town . Where he made void the Poets sad Regrate . Of just Astreas long bewail'd Retreat , His every Act that Opprobrie cancell'd . In Him she spoke , in Him she Breath'd , and Dwell'd . We may affirm it since our Saviours Birth , He was Her truest Deputie on Earth . What ever Sentence from his Lips did fall , His Prudence made it still Rhetorical . When this whole Island Floated in a Sea. Of Disobedience , and Disloyaltie , He by his Wisdom all these Syrens past , Being pinioned unto the Loyal Mast . His Goodness , and his Wisdom , was so Great , He Equally both Knaves , and Fools , did Hate . If what we Great or Generous Esteem , Exemption from the Grave could justly claim , He had ( could now Fates Rigour be abated ) With Enoch and Elias been translated . And yet though Death dissolved hath His ; Frame , He 'l be immortal in a lasting Fame ; If Generosity from Death could save , Great Abbots-Hall He had escapt the Grave . But now being Heavens Inhabitant , and Guest , He unmixt Sweets enjoyes amongst the Blest . Yet may His Fame on Earth , till time shal die , Yeeld unto nothing , but Eternitie . N. Paterson . O anima emigra , Christo moriente quid horres ? Vivam seu Moriar , Sanguine vivo Dei. Transitus è vivis , Vitae melioris Origo est , Aut potins Vitae mors ea Principium . 
B04941	----	To the memorie of the much honoured, and much lamented Thomas Robertson bailie and builder of Edinburgh; who departed this life; September 22. 1686. A funeral elegie. / N: Paterson. Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688. 1686 Approx. 5 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B04941 Wing P706 ESTC R181531 51784603 ocm 51784603 175012 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B04941) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 175012) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English Books, 1641-1700 ; 2709:17) To the memorie of the much honoured, and much lamented Thomas Robertson bailie and builder of Edinburgh; who departed this life; September 22. 1686. A funeral elegie. / N: Paterson. Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688. 1 sheet ([1] p.) Printed by J: Reid., Edinburgh, : [1686] Caption title. Imperfect: creased, with some loss of text. Date of publication from text. Reproduction of original in: National Library of Scotland. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Robertson, Thomas, d. 1686 -- Death and burial -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, Scottish -- Early works to 1800. Broadsides -- Scotland -- 17th century 2008-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-04 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-05 Emma (Leeson) Huber Sampled and proofread 2008-05 Emma (Leeson) Huber Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion To the Memorie of the much Honoured , And much Lamented THOMAS ROBERTSON BAILIE and BUILDER of EDINBVRGH ; Who Departed this Life ; September 22. 1686. A Funeral ELEGIE . THis World 's a boiling Gulf of Griefs and Fears , Where We have still occasion of new Tears ; Still something that molests us , whence we know Heaven cannot be possessed here below . What Heart ? but that of Adamant , can hear , Not making Eyes , pay Tribute to his Ear ; That THOMAS ROBERTSON is dead ! a Fate , Which sounds just like the downfall of a State ; Or some great Monarch , who with awful Hand Did sway a Scepter , both o're Sea and Land. Who was a Father unto all in need , On whom Ten Thousand did depend for Bread. Another Abraham whose Vertues vie , With all the Lights that twinckles in the Skie ; So that our Fancie is opprest with Glorie , That fill'd our Eyes with Wonder , Tongues with Storie . He did attain to Fortunatus Purse , And Amaltheas Horn , without a curse . Yea when his Prosperous Spring-tides did prevail , His Barge was never burdened with sail : Such unambitious Looks he did advance , As could have put Pride out of countenance . And with the Product of his Heavenly Stock , He succour'd all on wheel of Fortune broke . And did imploy in Building Thousand Hands , Such Monuments , as to Amazment stands ; Where Beauty mixt with Strength , doth so comply To serve at once the Viewers Use , and Eye : Like wise Seths Pillars , which have solid stood From Age to Age , spite of a threatning Flood . That to the Worlds last end there shall be known No Builder like to THOMAS ROBERTSON ; Whose glorious Character for ever is ; He turned Dung-hills into Palaces . With all that Cost and Cunning Beautified , That adds to State , and nothing wants but Pride . All which within the Skies their heads do shroud , As they would ease great Atlas of his load . But this was not our Hero's chief Renown ; That he Inrich'd and Beautified the Town . Nay more within his Glorious building falls , For he erected Men , as well as Walls ; And like a Solon when a Magistrate , By Law and Building both preserv'd our State. And with a Sumptuous , Free Magnificence , Made Donatives both to the State and Prince . So that some Learned Bard to come shall sing , He was a Subject could oblidge a King. Nay he oblidg'd the Age , who left behind Live Characters of his Heroick Mind , Six Generous Models of himself whose Name Are both the Wonder and Discourse of F●●● He with his Lovelie Mate from the first Start Of Hymens bond , ran Heart still yoak'd in Heart . Inflam'd alike with that Soul-Melting Fire , That their two Souls joined still in one Desire ; Their house a Temple was where Prayer and Praise , Did Blesse their nights , and sanctifie their Dayes Which Prayers , and Alms unto Eternitie With GOD , and Man embalms his Memorie ; Since like old Enoch , he to Blesse is gone , I'ts not his Death , but his Translation . Why then should we accompt his Gain our Losse ? Heavens hath the Gold , the Earth contains his Drosse . Non domus sed hospitium corpus est , brevem omnino moram si cum AEternitate comparetur trahimus . Quod si domesticae calamitatis vulnere afflicti , imis sensibus reponant , dolorem leniet . Crucius . Intervallis distinguimur , exitu aequamur . Seneca . Vitae summa brevis spem nos vetat inchoare longam . Hora fugit , rapido volvuntur tempora lapsu ; Singulus accelerat Fata suprema dies : Vitae damna brevis , decus immortale rependit ; Effugit ardentes posthuma fama Rogos . N : Paterson . Edinburgh , Printed by J : Reid . 
B04942	----	To the memory of the right Honourable Margaret Countess of Weems. Who departed this life at Weems, February 20 1688. A funeral elegie. / N. Paterson. Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688. 1688 Approx. 5 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B04942 Wing P706A ESTC R187029 51784604 ocm 51784604 175013 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B04942) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 175013) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English Books, 1641-1700 ; 2709:18) To the memory of the right Honourable Margaret Countess of Weems. Who departed this life at Weems, February 20 1688. A funeral elegie. / N. Paterson. Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [Edinburgh? : 1688] Caption title. Place and date of publication suggested by Wing (2nd ed.). Reproduction of original in: National Library of Scotland. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Wemyss, Margaret Leslie, -- Countess of, d. 1688 -- Death and burial -- Poetry. Elegiac poetry, Scottish -- Early works to 1800. Broadsides -- Scotland -- 17th century 2008-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-08 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-10 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-10 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion To the Memory of the right Honourable MARGARET COUNTESS OF WEEMS . Who departed this Life at VVeems , February 20 1688. A FVNERAL ELEGIE . LIke as an aged lofty-fronted Oak , Whose Verdure , Boughs , and Shelter , might provock , The proudest in the Dodonean Grove , Which Superstition did devout to Jove , Hath many blasts , and many Sun-shines known , At last unto the dreadful Axe falls down , So Dies this Lady , whom the Age did find , Perfections Zenith to all Woman-kind . But as when thorow crouds we make our way , It falls , that each mans haste , the whole doth stay , So fares it in this Subject ; that I doubt So much would pass , that nothing can get out . For as Her Birth was honourable , and hie , Come of the greatest of Nobility . Her Brother , the Great Rothes , nothing under His Princes Darling , and the Ages wonder , Whose Worth , and Wit , such hight of Honours won , That made him Vice Roy , to the Imperial Throne . Her self by Heaven , and Earth so honoured She heir'd three Earldoms with Her nuptial Bed In all the which , either for Wife , or Mother , Scotland shall never parallel another : She in the Floods of Wealth , practis'd Austerity , And in a throng of Hypocrites , Sincerity . When crost ( by Pious Patience ) she was able To make misfortunes look most amiable . That her Familiars concluded all , Dam Nature , had forgot to give her gall . Her Humors so well poised all did see , In stead of 〈◊〉 , she got Geometrie . So stedfast 〈◊〉 to her was all one matter If smiles , 〈…〉 , did cause the eyes to water . Of Fortunes both , she still such measures had , The hottest Sun casts still the blackest shade . Where honesty is fixed , there no wind Can blow 't away , or glittering look it blind . She knew that the just Heavens oftimes decree , For joyes uncertain , certain miserie . That glorious nothing , guilded emptiness , Honour ; did Her great Soul the more depress . So humble always , that Her very glance Put pride imperious out of countenance . She did abhor the world , tho lodg'd therein , As fish continue fresh , in seas of brin . In midst of Delicats she was content , To make her Feasts , but hungers banishment , To Reason alwayes she did sense submit , And made it bridle ranging appetit . She neither was too bashful , nor too bold ; Patern to young , and Patron to the old . Her Charitie , made her be like the Sun , Extending Light and Heat to every one ; That with the rest she had this divine qualitie , That most resembleth Heaven , Liberality . She of all , wherewith God had her endued , Her self a Stuard , more than owner shewed . None of this ages iron-hearted wretches , That rather part with God , then Gold , or riches . Who to Eternity , will feell the knell , Wealth was the bridge that past them post to Hell. So debonair and complaisant was She , Her Mind and Mouth had still a Sympathie . Nor with these peevish Dams , could she complie , Who what they covet most , do most deny Truth rides in Triumph , when Fig-leaves do fail , Hypocrisie it is but Vertues Vail . But She excelled in a high degree , Both in Devotion , and in Charitie . The great Examplar of all Good , beneath Wee 'll say She Liv'd , while others only Breath , She Liv'd , and Died , a Lady most compleat , And which is wonderful , as Good , as Great . To Ages all , then Lady Weems here lyes Justly sir nam'd the Pious , Good , and Wise , Nunquam parca minus quam hic , quae commaniatoti Genti sceptra tenens , aternaque foeder a servans Quae magnos parvosque terit , qua fortibus aquat Imbelles , populisque duces , seniumque juventae . Si frequentius de morte tua , quam de vitae longitudine cogitares , non dubium est , quin ardentius te ipsum cirrigeres . N. Paterson . 
B04954	----	An elegie on the death of Mr. William Dunlop principal of the University of Glasgow Paul, James, fl. 1700. 1700 Approx. 2 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B04954 Wing P877 ESTC R181557 53981692 ocm 53981692 180296 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B04954) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 180296) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English Books, 1641-1700 ; 2824:46) An elegie on the death of Mr. William Dunlop principal of the University of Glasgow Paul, James, fl. 1700. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [London : 1700] In acrostic verse. Caption title. Attributed to Paul by Wing. Imprint suggested by Wing. Text within heavy black mourning border. Reproduction of the original in the National Library of Scotland. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Dunlop, William, d. 1700. Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. Broadsides -- England -- 17th century. 2008-04 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-08 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-10 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-10 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELEGIE On the Death of Mr. William Dunlop Principal of the University of Glasgow . — Quis talia fando temperet à Lachrymis ? MUst we now our Ideas thus imploy , Ah's Death lament in stead of Joy : Sader's our State than when scarce Aeneas , To Dido could tell 's Ideas ; Even worse then when to Jacob 't was told , Rent Joseph is , whereas but Sold. WE ought therefore his Praises to resound , In Thousands since his Match isn't found . Lo He like Holy Lot , his Time spent here , Loving his GOD , and Him did fear : In Preaching He , like Luther was a Star , Any Convincing that did Err ; Moses for Meekness , Aaron in his Speech , DEspising Ill , and well did Teach , Uriah 's Sp'rit , in Him did ly of Gold , None so Precious to be Sold : Like Joseph for 's Parts , the KING did'm Promote , O're passing many in his Coat . Plac'd by the KING , the Colledge to Govern , PIety to Plant , did Discern : Rightly , yea , by our Lords , He was Elect'd , In Speed cur Trade for to direct . None could , so well with Peace Debates agree , Concerning Gentlemen , as did He. In Nestor's Age , His Equal was , I don't believe , Paul like He was , when here He did survive , All His rare Virtues , I cannot Rehearse , Lowing my Sails , I end my Verse . Mors ultima linea Rerum . Quae me fugerunt hic Lector corrigat aequus 
B05113	----	An elogie with an accrostick and an epitaph on the death of that laborious servant and minister of Christ, Mr James Janeway; who departed this life and put on imortality; the 16th. day of March 1673/4. S. R. 1674 Approx. 10 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B05113 Wing R70B Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[76] 99885203 ocm99885203 182561 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B05113) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 182561) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A4:1[76]) An elogie with an accrostick and an epitaph on the death of that laborious servant and minister of Christ, Mr James Janeway; who departed this life and put on imortality; the 16th. day of March 1673/4. S. R. 1 sheet ([1] p.). Printed for Thomas Cockeril, London, : [1674] Signed: S.R. Aetatis Suae, 15. Date of publication suggested by Wing. Verse: "Ah! Whither, whither, into what abyss ..." Imperfect: stained, affecting imprint and text. Reproduction of original in the British Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO. EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org). The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source. Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data. Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so. Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor. The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines. Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Janeway, James, 1636?-1674 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. 2008-09 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-11 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-12 Megan Marion Sampled and proofread 2008-12 Megan Marion Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELOGIE WITH AN ACCROSTICK And an Epitaph On the Death of that Laborious Servant and Minister of CHRIST ; Mr. James Janeway ; who departed this Life and put on Imortality ; the 16th Day of March 1673 / 4. M●rs ommibus Commune est . An Elogie . AH ! Whither , whither , into what Abyss Of Sorrow , and unfatom'd Grief , is this In which my troubled Soul is plung'd ? what Seas Of terrour causing ( what strange ) thoughts are these ? What ai●es my Heart , that thus with fear it quakes ? What ? have the Furyes with their hissing Snakes , And flaming Torches , left their Dark abodes ? VVhat ! hath Black Dis , and the Infernal Gods , Let loose those Hellish Fiends , confin'd to lye In that Infernal place Eternally ? Ah? No : great JANEWAY'S dead : whose name ev'n struck Such fear , that ( nam'd ) the Throne o● darkness shook ? Th' Infernal Legions trembled at his Name , More than th' Dice Charmes , Thessalian Witcke● frame . Their Great Antig'nist , who so oft assail'd Their Pow'r , and ( spite of all their spites ) prevail'd , He who so often did retake the prey , Which else those Cursed Fiends had born away , Now 's Dead : But FAME ( loth to divulge his death . ) Refus'd to give her Trump its wonted Breath : She deck'd her self in Sable Weeds : Then took A ruthful Gesture , and a Mounrnful look ; And with great Grief ( Tears bursting out , ) did shew That he was Dead ( alas ! by far too true ) : VVhich when those Damned Spirits heard , they all VVith joy ( if joy's in Hell , ) kept Festivall : They joy to think that he from whom they fled , And were so oft o'recome by , now is Dead . He was — But Oh! that some Celestial one VVould tell me what ! 'till then I can't make known . CALIOPE , and all the Learned NINE ( Nay though with Great HYPERION they combine , ) Cannot sufficiently Sing forth his praise , Unless Divine Assistance time my Layes I shall but Blot , and Blur , ( and not Indite ) His worth : then Lord , inspire my Pen to VVrite ! But why digress I thus ? he 's known so well , That who , or what he was , I need not tell : His Learning , Labour , Gifts , and Graces , shew His worth ( which in his want we dearly Rue ) : His Life confirm'd his Motto still to be , HOLY , and BLAMELESS in the high'st Degree : Such was his Death : he could Triumph , and Sing Grave w●ere's thy Victory ! Death where 's thy Sting ? He was a Burning and a shining Light ( In this so wicked Age ) to judge aright Unto that place of Bliss , t' which now he 's gone , ( Except true followers ) now he 'l live with none . A Star a Famous star which did appear VVith such great Glory in our Hemispheare Is fallen : know ye not , ( ye know full well , ) A Great Man 's fallen this day in Israel ? I would , I wish ( and therein I 'de bear part ) That JANEWAY were ingrav'd on every Heart : When ( else ) our Hearts would sin , they would forbear For shame when as they find his Name writ there . Ah! Cruel DEATH , could thy impartial Dart Be Level'd at , and pierce good JANEWAYS , Heart ? Had he been one to whom the Glass of LIME Had run Three 〈◊〉 't were less ; but in the prime And Flow'r of all his Days ! Ah , Cruel DEATH . Then , to deprive him often Life , and Breath ; And Launch him-forth in to Eternity ! Virtus Post , fueri vivet . Was he so fair and tempting to thine Eye , That thou did'st long , and take ? or was 't that he In this respect made like to Christ might be ? Or , wer 't solic'ted by the Pow'rs below , ( Who fear'd Subversion , and an overthrow ) ? No , 't was not Fate , or any other Pow'r : But Gods Decree , that caus'd that fatal hour . And wherefore Lord ( when as the Harvest 's large , ) Remov'st thou those , who 're faithful in their charge ? VVhen faithful Labourers are so scarce , then will Their Nunber lessen , and diminish still ? VVhen Canaies out so fast , so fast decay , 'T is a sad Omen , God will take away His Golden Candlestick from us , and give It those , who will more answerably live . And art thou gone SWEET SOUL ! hast thou forsook Thy Earthly House of Clay ? he could not brook Those daring sins , which ev'ry where are found In all Relations , and Degrees t' abound ; For when he saw 't , with holy Zeal he hurl'd Contempt on this , and fled to th' other VVorld . And could he dye , and yet no blazing Star , Or Comet ( usually portending VVar , ) Presage his Death ? Ah! no : alas ! alas ! The great decrease of worthys , that , that was A certain sign : which seen , he would no more Stay here behind 's ( Companions gone before ) . Alas ! alas ! and shall he now depart VVithout the sighs , and sobs , of ev'ry heart ? Oh! that mine Eyes had pow'r to draw up All , and each Spring , into my Brain ! and sup Th' Ocean into my Brest , that 't might supply Perpetual moisture to my weeping Eye . Come , VVidows , Orphans , all who 're in distress ; Let this be th' Object , here your Grief express . And you ( * Dear Friend , ) who had so large a share Of his Affections , and of ev'ry Pray'r , 'Twixt whom the Name of Brothti past : alas You shall no more behold him as he was : You shall no more on Earth , behold , or see , His Heav'nly face : and therefore now with me , And with this Troop of Mourners , bear a part , To weep and Mourn with an unfeigned Heart . Let 's weep whole Flood 's of Tears , that may surround His Tomb ; and keep th' impure from holy Ground : Then Metamorphose them to Chrystal pure , And grave his Fame for ever to indure . And you his Hearers weep , Oh! weep full fast ; Now use your Tears , this day may be your last . He spent his Strength and Life for you : Oh! then In Tears , strive to retaliate it agen . Come , come , be liberal for God observes : And in ordained Bottles , there preserves Them as the Tokens of your tender Love To , and esteem of him : by Grief you 'l prove Your Love was real : Weep , and do not grudge , God sees your Grief : and thereby will you judge . An Accrostick . Jt is a Truth , Ripe Fruit is soon'st pull'd down : And 't is like Truth , he ripe , receiv'd his Crown . Much pains , much fear●s , much care he here exprest : Eternally he now ●njoyeth Rest , Sorrow and 〈…〉 doth stay . Jn Heav'n all 's joy : no Night , ensues his day . All Earthly things do change : are transitory : No change is incident to Heav'ns Glory . Ere we 're aware , our Thread of Life ( being spun ) Whilst we 're secure is cut , or Life is done . And now ( from heav'n . ) his Voice this seems to be You all must dye : prepare to follow me . An EPITAPH . WHat is 't ( Spectator ) thou would'st see , or know Who 's here Inter'd ? Alas ! I dare not show VVould'st know his Name ? why , no unhallow'd ea●… Must hear it nam'd : avaunt then , come not near You who 're Prophane : but you whose Gentle Eye Can weep at will ; know , JANEWAY here doth lye : Here Lyes his Body : But , his Soul 's at Rest , In Glorious Glory , not to be exprest . To his Late Wife , but now sorrowful Widow . YOur Lost is great . 'T is true : but 't is much le●… That ( though a Widow ) you 'r not husbandless ; ( The God of Heav'n , and Earth's , Espous'd to you ) Lessen your Grief : for why , Behold , all do Lament your Loss in theirs : Look how their Eyes Pay back Tear-Tribute to his Obsequies ! Ah! cease those floods of tears : though Death doth sever Your self , and him ; yet know , 't is not for ever : For when , that , nought shall of this all remain , You 'l meet in Bliss , and never part again . S. R. Aetatis Suae , 45. NOx Erat et nigra velaverat omnia veste Herebam Nexis tecam ego brachietis , Membraqque lanqui duto reparabam fassa sapore Cum steti● ante oculos Pallid us ille meos Scire velu quid agam ? vivo modo , simodo vivit P●nano ●ners , animae Corpus inare suae , Sed 〈◊〉 ingratas cev vivi Ducimus auras Er 〈◊〉 evan●mem languida vita moram ; San●tu● sed JANEWAY castae Pietatis mago Pramia sudorum quos habet ante tenet . Es 〈◊〉 supremae te●●get consinia metae Hic Dixis Merti cur mihi tarda venis ? Nunc ubi seradies fatalem v●x erat horam Quae solvat vin c'lis te quoqque corporeis Laetus in Elysa mecum spatiabore ripa Qua Lauri vitreas lucus inu●brat aquas . FINIS . LONDON , Printed for Thomas Cockeril . 〈…〉 Notes, typically marginal, from the original text Notes for div B05113-e10 * Mr. Nat. Vincent . 
B05880	----	A rhetorical rapture as composed into a funeral oration at the mournfull moving of His Highnes stately effigies from Somerset-House. / By Mr. Slater. Slater, Samuel, d. 1704. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription B05880 of text274 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing S3969). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 11 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 B05880 Wing S3969 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[40] 99885181 ocm99885181 182525 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B05880) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 182525) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A4:1[40]) A rhetorical rapture as composed into a funeral oration at the mournfull moving of His Highnes stately effigies from Somerset-House. / By Mr. Slater. Slater, Samuel, d. 1704. 1 sheet ([1] p.). s.n., [London : 1658] Imprint from Wing. Verse: "Had not our sins or'e our prayers prevail'd ..." Reproduction of original in the British Library. eng Cromwell, Oliver, 1599-1658 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. B05880 274 (Wing S3969). civilwar no A rhetorical rapture as composed into a funeral oration at the mournfull moving of His Highnes stately effigies from Somerset-House. By Mr. Slater, Samuel 1658 1570 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2008-01 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-05 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-06 Pip Willcox Sampled and proofread 2008-06 Pip Willcox Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion A RHETORICAL RAPTURE AS COMPOSED INTO A FUNERAL ORATION At the Mournfull Moving of His HIGHNES Stately EFFIGIES from SOMERSET-HOUSE . By Mr. Slater . Si mea cum vestris valuissent vota Britanni , Non essem exiguus tanti ploraminis actor , Túque tuis Armis , nos Te potiremur O Cromwel . HAd not our Sins or'e our Prayers prevail'd , We might have now for them , not Thee bewail'd : Thou thine owne Arms enjoy'd , we joy'd in Thee ; Nor had there been this grand Disparitie , So mean a Muse mourn so Heroick Worth , But our kind Angel brings Fame's Treasures forth . Fame sounds the Victories which Thou bequeaths Christendome , crowning Thee with Laurel wreaths : Seventh Henry's Chappel may Thy Corps entombe , But for Thy Monuments the World 's the room : Seventh Henry's or Cromwell's Chappel , which you please Call it ; or , to Them Both , Chappel of Ease ; Or , Honors Cabinet ; or , Valours Tent To repose in , after the Day is spent , To rise at sound of Trump , clad cap a pe pe In bright Armour of Immortalitie . But soft , Must CROMVVELL to an Abbey goe ? The name of Abbeys is to Cromwell's Foe : 'T is true , That Nobles zeal was very hot ; According unto Knowledge , Was it not ? Knew Hee not too-too-well the Tromperies , The fond Fripperies of the Friaries , Dull Abbey-lubbers glutt'nous Luxury ? Zeal qualified thus , though hot , is not dry ; Not so dry , to swallow them at a gu'p , The Crimes of Abbeys did themselves eat up . Go CROMVVELL then , down to the Abbey go , Down to thy mother bow : Thy Daughter ( know ) Toll'd thy Great Bell ; the Prim-rose fading young , The old Stock-Gilly-flower could not last long . Go , Honorably down , to Thy long Home , Thy Mother Earth hath deck'd Thee up a room : Ah! Kind Mother , that never forsaketh In life time Man of her Fruits partaketh , And dead , into her Bosome is receiv'd ; Such kindness , not known , might not be beleiv'd ; Patient Grizels Passive Great Grandmother We dare not in be-dull'd silence smother Top of our Kindreds so stupendious Kindness , Left Ingratitude blast us to Blindness : To give thy children Bread , Thou suffering Long furrows in thy Back , and they whistling The while ; and when that we ( Clods of Clay ) must At length come to our selves , Dust unto Dust , Thy very Bowels be digg'd up for us ; Why doest Thou suffer ? Why we serve Thee thus ? Like Agrippina art Thou upon it set To cry Occidar modò Imperet ? To gain thy Dirt-Bloud Off-spring Heavenly Crowns Without a Tear courting their heavy wounds ? Go CROMVVELL peaceably , to thy long Home , There needs not any bustling to make room : Divine Eliza's , and Sixth Edward's Dust Deposited in rich Carcanets , in trust Till glorious morn of Resurrection , Will ( in a Land-skip of th' Ascention ) To congratulate thy Sereness , rise , Flying quick into thy Followers eyes : Whence such an Inundation of Tears , That out-vied Thamesis , shrinking with Fears , Glides ghastly to the Main-Guard for recruit : The mobled Ocean ( as its Natives , mute At the Starting news ) flowes to th' Funerall Of his Great Master , and out-weeps 'um all : The trickling Brine blazoning , All Strike-fail To RICHARD ; Oliver's Blazing Star , the Whale . Flaming Comets Divination hold , But Whales , extinct , Divinity unfold : Jonah's Pulpit , ( dead ) turn'd Prophet , shew'd Thee Thy Death , swallow'd up into victorie . Trees six-and-sevens toss'd : the Storm 's Deep-witty ; While Sixty-six throws out the Seven-Hill'd City , Griev'd Tyber , crimson'd with Companions gore , New-sleeks in her own wash Romes rivell'd Whore : How 's Babylon Babel'd ! Her Merchants cry ; Ruining Storm , ruin'd , ecchoes as I. Go from this thy brave House of Somerset To a braver , trimm'd with Thee our Summer set : Sun-like , Go down into thy Western Vault ; Our Great Generals Bride-chamber let us call 't ; CROMWELLS and Cromwellines True-Lovers-Knot , Till to Glory waked , Their Gloomy Grott To rest in , or the Suns cool-silent Shade ; Where , Worms do drive a very subtle Trade I' th Royal ' Change of ( the Moons Hieroglyphick ) The Arched Vault ; by the Mysterious trick Of Bartering growing big as Burgesses , Trucking their Snips of Prince-worn Taffeties For whole pure Peeces of God-like durance : But ( see the Wit of Justice ! ) though t' advance Themselves a-while by gourmandizing gains , They neither Day nor Night spare any pains , But to Corpulentize ravenous Wembs Anthropophagize even Royal Stems ; Vengeance at last doth Covetousness repay , All Merchant-worms quite Breaking on Doomsday . Go to thy Monumental Home : 't is our part To attend Thee to thy Tombe ; where each Heart Entombing Thee our entombed Center , We , New Monuments , mongst the Old shal enter In doleful March , slowly to solemnize Our bounden Loyaltie in free-flowing eyes . Stand there , like Cristal Cloud-pointing Pyramid Carved by Angels for Great Brittains David , Providences second Sweetheart : There , Stand Dictator ( of the first word of Command ) To Englands Senators ; who , to Her true , Can ( best knowing Caesars and Senates due ) Dominion-debates make like That ; unite ; Arm Hands abroad , not Heads at home to fight . Stand a Mirrour to Christian Magistrates , A Terrour stand to Popish Potentates : Stand an Honour to Seventh Henry's Pile , An Horrour to Enemies of This Isle : Stand , in thy fair Effigies , erect , Admired Center of all Eyes : Reflect The Royal rayes of thy Majestick form Calmly on thy Spectators ; let no storm Intwist thy Brow at an approaching Foe , But seeing Thee he will a Convert goe . Go CROMVVELL then , Down to the Abbey goe , Down to thy Mother Earth : From Heaven know Honour keeps pace with Thee , unto thy Tombe ; Nor will it there forsake Thee ( as with some ) And back go with the Heralds : but fairly Hovering o're Thee , out of thy memory Brood numberless Protectors to this Isle , Who shall make Babylon frown , and Syon smile . The VVorlds chief General , march to thy long Home , March on thy Brave Herse to the worlds chief Tombe ; Thy Elias-Soul long since march'd away , The Mantle falling on our Elisha : Thy Souls march upwards was , thy Corps march down ; Thy Soul hath free Reward , Corps due Renown ; The Angels Treble-Anthem That singing is , Adam's Heavy Slumber debasing This ; But This to That shall rise , That welcome This ; Prerogative and Priviledge joyn in bliss : March , March away ; March down to thy long Home , Millions of Mourners sigh to see Thee come . Ye pretty chirping Choristers of th' Air , Warbling wilde Elegies , nimbly repair To His Chariot : there , Melody-spent , die , Out-doing Art in Natures Poetrie : But yet hold out , 'till ye have sung Him home , To pick Him , out your Feather-beds , one of Downe . Great Grandmother of walking Worms , grave Earth , Our Dry Eyes may portend deserved Dearth ; Admit our Plea , Only light Sorrows whine , The Grandeur of our Groans does surmount thine : But Dame , — lest You gravell'd with groans , falter , All-a-row , Souldiers , row Him home by Water . Phoenix of Princes Fame doth OLIVER own , And prophecy'ng thus , or'e the World 's now flown ; An Angels Quill dipt in Babylons Blood Shall make My CROMVVELL fully understood : Till then ( Muses , Rhet'rick , shortning thy rate ) OLIVER's own Acts CROMVVELL best celebrate . THE EPITAPH . STay , Pilgrim , Stay ; Tread gently ; Mourn a while O're that rests under , Th' Honour of this , Isle : Englands PROTECTOR , Victorious OLIVER : Europe's Arbitrator : The World's Wonder : The Nine Worthies grace-chymickt Quintessence : Diamond of Saints : Darling of Providence : Amboyna's Blood-shed's Cure : A Pearl i' th' Eye Of Romes , Spaines , Universal Monarchie : Who broke the Irish-Harp : the Welch new-strung : Refin'd Parliaments : did old Scots new-dung : Was wise Servant : a religious Master : Provident Parent : Bounteous Lord : no Waster : Captives Ransomer : poor Pilgrims Patrone : Champion 'gainst Gods Foes , Chaplain to his owne , Hast , Pilgrim , Hast ; Trip nimbly hence , Be gone : Lest free in Tears Thou freez into a Stone . To be sold by Isaac Pridmore at the Golden Falcon near the New-Exchange . 1658.