FAME'S MEMORIAL, OR The Earl of Devonshire Deceased: With his honourable life, peaceful end, and solemn Funeral.  
— quis talia fando  
Mirmydonum, Dolopumue, aut duri miles Vlissi  
Temperet à lachrimis?—  
AT LONDON Printed for Christopher Purset, dwelling at the sign of the Mary magdalen's head near Staple Inn in Holborn, 1606.   

To the Rightly right Honourable Lady, the Lady Penelope, Countess of Devonshire.  
MOST NOBLE LADY, had the blessings whilon bestowed, and too soon deprived, been as permanent, as they were glorious: the world had not then had such a general cause of just sorrow to bewail, nor I of particular grief to inscribe, the present loss of so worthy a lord: but a most sad truth it is, Fate may be lamented, never recalled: upon which infallible axiom, desperate of all possibility, either of regaining the same, or hoping his peer▪ as much as in the reach of my weak talon lay (unusual to this style) I have endeavoured to register his memory, whose memory will grace my labours. To you, (excellent Lady) it was intended, to you it is addressed: not doubting, but whatsoever hath been of him said, and truly said, your honourable favour, will allow the favourable protection of your expressest patronage, who whiles he lived endowed you and justly endowed you, with all the principals of his sincerest heart, and best fortunes. Let not therefore (worthy Countess) my rasher presumption, seem presumpuous folly, in the eyes of your discreeter judgement, in that without your privity (being a mere stranger altogether unknown unto you) I have thus adventured, to shelter my lines, under the well-guided conduct of your Honourable name: grounding my boldness upon this assurance, that true gentility is ever accompanied (especially in your sex, more specially in yourself) with her inseparable adjunct, singular Humanity, principally towards those, whom neither Mercenary hopes or servile flattery, have induced to speak but with the Privilege of troth. And as for such, who misdeem virtue without cause, innocency shall pity them, though not eagerly with mortal hate: yet simply with naked truth to which envy is ever opposite. Thus (Madam) presuming on your acceptance, I will in the mean while, think my willing pains (hitherto confined to the Inns of Court studies much different) highly guerdoned, and mine unfeathered Muse (as soon dead as borne) richly graced, under the plumes of so worthy a protectress.  The honourer and lover of your noble perfections, Io: FORD.  

To each affected Reader.  

Perverse construction of a plain intent,  
NEither is scorned, respected, or despised:  
LOsing of their sleight loves, who never meant,  
PEculiar knowledge, willingly is prized,  
CONTEnted happiness, Secured peace,  
OF self content is ever happiest ease.   

DEVOtion to the careless is mere folly,  
NO SHallow envy of malicious IRE,  
Can move my resolution, grounded wholly  
On hopes of better judgement, I desire  
The favour of my favourers, not any  
Unwilling eyes, I strive not to please many.   Non omnibus studeo, non malevolis.  

To Master john Ford of the Middle Temple, up on his Fame's Memorial, this Madrigal.  
IF that renowned Lord (whose powerful fame,  
in strength of wars, and calms of peace exceeded)  
hath after death purchased so great a name,  
that it must prosper as it hath proceeded:  
Then must in time those spiteful plants be weeded;  
which living yet, him living would have choked:  
and those sweet wits touched with a sacred flame  
of his rich virtues, shall advance the same.  
But thou (by those deserts in him provoked  
that song his honours which so much exceeded;  
whose pleasant pen in sacred water soaked  
of Castaly did register his worth)  
Reapest much part of honour for thy pen,  
through him: fair mirror of our Englishmen,  
whom with due dignity thy Muse set fourth.  BAR: BARNES.  

In eundem.  
Vivit, in aeternum vivet Dux inclitus armis,  
Mountioyus: vivet Ford Poema tuum,  
Maior uterque suo genio. Vi carminis Heros,  
Materiae faelix nobilis autor ope,  T. P.  

THE EARL of Devonshire deceased.  

SWIFT Time the speedy pursuivant of heaven,  
Summons to glorious virtues canonised,  
The lasting volume where worth roves uneven  
In brazen characters immortalised;  
Where merit lives embraced base scorn despised:  
Linked to untainted Truth sprung from the same,  
Begets his eaglet-towring daughter Fame.   

Fame, she who long couched her imperial crown,  
Within the blinded dark of swarthy night,  
Sores now aloft triumphant up and down,  
With radiant splendour gayer than the light,  
And by how much more known so much more bright,  
Proclaims aloud defiance to disdain,  
Which her with thoughts profane should entertain.   

Nor doth she lackey in this vale of mud,  
This razed world, but still in state arise,  
Lifting her plumed crest from out the flood  
Of Sea and Land: whiles she with wonder flies  
About the circle of the topless skies:  
And Spirits most heroic doth inflame,  
With adoration of her sacred name.   

Base Fear the only monument of slaves,  
Progenitor to shame, scorn to gentility,  
Herald to usher peasants to their graves,  
Becomes abjected thoughts of faint servility,  
Whiles haughty fame adorns nobility:  
Planting her gorgeous throne upon the crest,  
Of honour casked in a royal breast.   

This makes gross dregs of souls admire the verse  
Of shrill strained Artsmen whose Ambrosiac quills  
Whiles they deserts Enconiums sweet rehearse,  
The world with wonder and amazement fills,  
Affrighted with the threats of horrid ills:  
Astonishing the chaff of pampered men,  
With high reared accents of their golden pen.   

O that some sacred poet now survived,  
Some Homer to new mourn Achilles' loss,  
Our dear Achilles' loss, of life deprived,  
Who living, life in dangers death did toss,  
Not daunted with this hazard or that cross:  
O that he lived with scholyes most divine,  
To cote and add one worthy to the nine.   

The nine had passed for saints, had not our time  
Obscured the beams of their bright splendent praise,  
By a more noble worthy whose sublime  
Inuicted spirit in most hard assays,  
Still added reverent statues to his days,  
Surmounting all the nine in worth as far,  
As Sol the tincture of the meanest star.   

Now hovering fame hath veiled her false recluse,  
Makes reputation and belief her warrant,  
Wonder and truth her convoy to traduce  
Her train of shouts accomplishing her errant,  
Venting concealed virtue now apparent:  
Imprints in Canons of eternal glory,  
Worth's monumental rites, great Mountioyes story.   

Great MOUNTIOY? were that name sincerely scanned,  
Mysterious Hieroglificks would explain,  
Each letter's allegory grace the hand,  
By whom the sense should learnedly be drawn  
To stop the dull conceits of wits profane:  
Diving into the depth of hidden art,  
To give but due to each deserving part.   

That is with homage to adore thy name,  
As a rich relic of memorial,  
A trophy consecrated unto fame,  
Adding within our hearts historical,  
High Epithets past hyperbolical▪  
Yet all to mean to balance equal forage,  
And sympathise in jointure with thy courage.   

Live, o live ye whom poets deck with lies,  
Raising your deeds to fames which never end,  
Our Patriot stains your fictions, no disguise  
Of painted praise his glory shall extend,  
His own great valour his deserts commend:  
Such is his sounding notice all do know it,  
No poet can grace him, he every poet.   

None him, He all can grace, his very story  
Gives laurel to the Writer crowns of bay,  
The title of his name attributes glory,  
The subject doth the Author's skill bewray,  
Enlarging still his theme and scope to say:  
Nor is one found amongst a world of men,  
Who perfect can, his actions with his pen.   

Had he himself like lulius Caesar wrote,  
Whiles as he lived his own acts commendation,  
In fluent Commentaries used to coat  
Each hazards conquest by a true probation,  
exemplified with terms of arts relation:  
Then had he winged in height of fame for ever,  
His fame his name (as now) been razed never.   

Go yet Ritch-stiled Peer and overtake,  
(Thy self shalt privilege thyself by merit)  
Thy soules-united Essex for whose sake,  
Thou didst advance thy love, which did inherit  
The dear reversion of his elate spirit:  
Then go great Montioy lustre of this age,  
Place still thy name in pompous equipage.   

When first his birth product this prime of hope,  
An imp of promise mild proclivity;  
Gracious aspects even in his Horoscope,  
Praedominated his nativity,  
alloting in his arm nobility:  
That being nobly borne he might persever,  
Inthro'nd by fame nobilitated ever.   

Now when his infant years waxed mellow ripe,  
Balanced in pithy scales of youth's discretion;  
As past the childish fear, fear of a stripe,  
Or schools correct with deeper grave impression,  
He scorned the mimic thoughts of base condition:  
By earnest documents foreshowing wholly,  
His just contempt of unreguarded folly.   

For having sucked the rudiments of learning,  
Grammars Elixir juice and quintessence,  
He soon approved his judgement by discerning  
Applying with industrious diligence,  
To follow studies of more consequence:  
Then by a syllogistick kind of war,  
He ruminates on thoughts which nobler are.   

He learns sharp-witted logic to confute;  
With quick distinctions, sleights of Sophistry,  
Inritching his rich knowledge doth it suit,  
And sounds the depth of acquaint philosophy,  
Himself the mirror of morality:  
And proves by instance Aristotle lies,  
Who young men's aptness to the same denies.   

He studies it, yet is himself the subject,  
Subject of civil virtues, chief of good,  
Art's pith and nature's darling, honour's object  
As noble by his wit as by his blood,  
Honour and wisdom on his forehead stood:  
Thus now to court he goes there to remain,  
For court should none but nobles entertain.   

Noble he was, witness his elate spirit  
Whose unappalled stomach scorned compare,  
Noble he was, witness his peerless merit,  
Which stained competitors, witness his rare  
Renowned examples do the same declare:  
Noble he was, in that he could not brook  
To have his equal, or for sword or book.   

O had his ancestors but heretofore  
Dreamt such a son should spring from out their line,  
They might have truly grieved, and evermore  
Have blushed to think on it, that one divine  
Should be their offspring, deeming it a sign  
Of a less glorious happiness for them,  
Better might they have drawn their race from him.   

The happy they that are or shallbe ever,  
Deducted from the issue of this blood,  
Immortal be this name worn-wasted never,  
The Index to true fame, happy the good  
Allied in him by kin or Brotherhood:  
Such his desert nor time nor malice termed it,  
His youth first promised and his years confirmed it.   

For being now appendent to the court,  
His presence was the court to draw it to him  
The saints of that smooth Paradise resort  
With pleasure to behold, beholding woe him,  
And what their favours can they vow to do him:  
Yea he rejoiced the earth's great deity,  
That such a subject graced her empery.   

Here he began to taste the fragrant smack,  
The catapotion of heart-easing love,  
Here he perseverd to assault the wrack,  
Of supple passion, proving to disprove,  
That any soil firm-setled thoughts should move:  
Here was he first who taught what should be done,  
How Ladies should be loved, served, wood and won.   

In this secured solace of sweet peace;  
He nurc't his younger joys, not wholly bend  
To wanton, sick, lascivious, amours ease  
But to more primer passions of content,  
of civil mirth and jocund merriment:  
Mirth in his looks, and virtue in his tongue  
Fresh as the balm, smooth as the mermaids song.   

Activity abroad, dalliance in chambers,  
Becomes a perfect courtier, such was he,  
What maiden breast so nice, as locks of amber  
Could not enchant with loves captivity?  
Free spirits soon are caught when slaves go free:  
What uncontrolled soul is so precise,  
As may, yet will not taste earth's paradise?   

Mountioy (the mounting joy of heavens perfection)  
Was all a man should be in such an age,  
Nor void of love's sense, nor yoked in subjection  
of servile passion, theme for every stage,  
Honour for him did honours pawn engage:  
Be witness slanders self, who must avow  
Virtue adorned his mind, triumph his brow.   

Nor did the pleasure of these courtly sports,  
Indeer him to the softness of such ease  
His ever-mounting thought far more imports,  
The thirst of fame such formed Ideas please,  
The resty delicates of sweet disease:  
To run a race at tilt, to catch the ring,  
Did greater glory to his projects bring.   

Let smooth-chinned Amorists be cloyed in play,  
And surfeit on the bane of hateful leisure,  
Let idle hours follies youth betray,  
Unto the idle shame of boundless pleasure,  
Such petty apes of silk want reasons measure:  
Great Mountioy saw such looseness of the witty  
Which seeing did not more disdain than pity.   

No, his deep-reaching spirit could not brook  
The fond addiction to such vanity,  
Reguardfull of his honour he forsook,  
The smicker use of court-humanity,  
Of rural clownage or urbanity:  
He loved the worthy and endeavouring proved,  
How of the worthy he might be beloved.   

Now he delights to see the falcon sore,  
About the top of heaven: then to chase,  
The nimble Buck, or hunt the bristled Boar  
From out the Sty of terror, now the race;  
Barriers and sports of honourable grace:  
Not games of thriftless prodigality,  
But plots of fame and fame's eternity.   

For after toys of courtship he affaies,  
Which way to manage an untamed horse  
When, how, to spur, & rain, to stop, and raise,  
Close sitting, voltage of a manlike force,  
When in career to meet with gallant course:  
As Centaurs were both horse and men: so he  
Seemed on the horse nor could discerned be.   

Such private exercise which limned the way  
To public reputation was his scope;  
Each hour graced hour, & each day graced day  
With further expectation of great hope  
Nor did his youth his noble levels stop:  
He aimed at high designs, and so attaynd  
The high assigns to which his spirit aimed.   

Lo here the pith of valour moulded fast,  
In curious workmanship of nature's art:  
Lo here the monuments which ever last,  
To all succeeding ages of desert,  
Noble in all, and all in every part:  
Records of fame, and characters of brass,  
Containing acts, such acts conceit do pass.   

Triumphant soul of such a princelike Lord,  
O I could dry the fountains of mine eyes,  
Upon thy coffins hearse and every word,  
Which sorrow should out-sigh or grief implies  
I could resolve two drops of sacrifice:  
And spend them on the ever gaping womb  
Of the unseasoned earth thy sacred tomb.   

The sweetest cygnet of thy comforts heaven,  
Thy life's last paradise, thy hearts first love  
Could not bemoan the loss of thee bereven  
With more sweet-piercing plaints than I have strove,  
To volley my discomforts yet approve  
(Dear creature) thy to dearly bought distress,  
By vulgar censures base unhappiness.   

But ah be still thyself, let not defame,  
Of the rude Chaos aggravate thy woes  
The multitudes blind slander is no shame;  
Rusticity his joy by malice knows,  
The better best in judging better shows:  
Let gross uncivil hinds regardless sleep,  
Remember thou thy loss, remembering weep.   

So mayst thou knightly youth who wert his friend,  
Companion to his chamber and his bed,  
His love's much largesse did to thee extend,  
And made the rumour of thy name be spread,  
Even to thy native West where thou wert bred:  
Ah do not him forget who honoured thee  
With perfect rites of mutual amity.   

Nor canst thou stop the floodgates of thine eyes,  
Great Peer of worth, and state who grieved thy thrall,  
For Peerless Essex strife who sought to rise,  
In virtuous honour which procured thy fall  
Devonshire bewailed thy dangers bitter gate  
Then in requital of much more than this  
Sigh thou for him, still love, and cherish his.   

As much grave patron of sage wisdoms lore,  
Mayst thou lament thy friends untimely race,  
Who ever favoured thee cause thou hast boar,  
(Whiles he was Ireland's viceroy) thy great place,  
Of treasurer in most respected grace:  
His death deserves thy tears to solemnize  
His ceremonious funeral obsequies.   

Ye safe secured fathers of wise peace,  
Just senators and magistrates in awe,  
Wealthy home-breaders which engross your ease,  
Ye learned legists of contentious law,  
Ye rulers all who him victorious saw:  
Fear ye like strokes as him of life deprives,  
He was a brazen wall to guard your lives.   

Double toung-oyled courtiers whose neat phrases,  
Do model forth your wits maturity,  
In honeyed speeches and sick-thoughted graces,  
Cloaking your souls in sins obscurity,  
Yet fan your lightness in security,  
Weep on his reverent coarse: for such as he  
Now is, (not as he was) yourselves shall be.   

But o forsaken soldiers ye have lost,  
The Atlas of your hopes your staff your stay,  
The staff and stay of your ambitious boast,  
Who guerdoned you with services due pray,  
On him the burden of your treasure lay:  
Reason commands your sorrow for whose sake,  
Himself all toil of pains would undertake.   

Like Mars in arms triumphant ye have seen,  
This warlike champion whose undaunted mind  
Was never yet appalled but still hath been,  
Steeled against the worst, nor hath, declined  
To dull distrust but evermore enshrind  
In goodly views of horror ready priest,  
To purchase glory by his hands unrest.   

Witness (ye wars of Belgia) who tell,  
Of his eternal fame heroic spirit  
Incomparable height which did excel,  
The common height of common stomachs merit  
He lineally did thirst of worth inherit:  
A chronicle of lasting memory,  
A precedent of matchless soldiery.   

Let every private action of desert,  
Be themes for other pen's to labour in,  
My quill shall only known reports insert:  
Who public credence and belief may win  
Not to be taxed with fictions Idiots sin  
Time cannot wrong nor envy shall not wound,  
The lawful right of his due praises sound.   

O who will lend me some deep-moving style?  
Or add unto my bluntness quick conceit?  
What gentle goddess will vouchsafe a smile  
To mine unpolished muse? what tempting bait  
Of formal grace upon my lines will wait?  
What power divine of some more angel woman,  
Will make me think my verses more than common?   

Flint-hearted Lycia may with mild aspect,  
Cast up the sigh of some fore-matched scorn  
And in the mixture of disdayns neglect,  
My death-bewayling scope of grief adorn,  
reviving dullness of a wit forlorn:  
Amongst the fancies of her rival lover,  
Some groan with this dear nobles funeral cover.   

No beauty full of change forbear thy care,  
An Angel more celestial pays her vows,  
Upon her lord deceased who did not spare,  
To gratify the frontiers of her brows,  
With as much pleasure as content allows:  
Thou Lady on my lines cast favours glory,  
Whiles I inscribe great Mountioys Irish story.   

When fickle chance and deaths blindfold decree,  
From the tribunal seat of awful state,  
Had hurried down in black calamity  
Renowned Devoreux, whose awkward fate,  
Was misconceited by fowl envies hate:  
Back was he called from Ireland to come home,  
And noble Mountioy must supply his room.   

Look how two heart-united brother's part,  
The one to slaughter, th'other to distrust,  
Yet sorrowing each with other pawns his heart  
As being loath to go, yet go they must,  
Either to horror and a death unjust:  
So Essex parts with Mountioy, either mourning  
The loss of others sight as near returning.   

So Mountioy parts with Essex, and now flies  
Upon the wings of griefs to tents of terror;  
Or else to vaunt his name above the skies,  
Or leave his lifeless carcase as a mirror  
Of monumented fear to friends of error:  
Vowing revenge should on that land extend,  
Which wrought the downfall of his worthiest friend.   

Vnblessed soil (quoth he), rebellious nation,  
Which hast with treachery sent troops to death,  
Butcher of valiant bloods, earth's reprobation,  
heavens curse and nature's monster drawing breath,  
By others wracks (as trial witnesseth)  
Since by the means of thee my friend hath died,  
Mine arm shall scourge the looseness of thy pride.   

Incenc'st with rage and treble-girt with force  
Of justice, force and valour on he goes,  
With sword and fire void of a smooth remorse,  
He greets the strength of his half-conquered foes,  
And on them yokes of bondage doth impose:  
or all must yield to mercy, or else fly,  
Yet flying all must fight, and fight die.   

But o far be it from the height of fame,  
To triumph on submission, he would not  
Not tyrantlike in bloodshed boast again,  
He hated it as to his worth a blot,  
By lenity more honour hath he got.  
He was as by his favourites appeared,  
More feared then loved, yet much more loved than feared   

Destruction to the stiffnecked rebels stout,  
(Stout in their headlong miseries) was bend,  
Ruin unto the false inconstant rout;  
But favour to the willing still he meant,  
A perfect noble mind's true document:  
A rule infallible experience bred,  
To strive for conquest, spare the conquered.   

What myriades of hosts could not constrain,  
He by his courteous mildness brought to pass  
What all devoir of mercy could not train,  
By his victorious power enforced was,  
Both words of milk, and thunderbolts of brass  
Attended on the pleasure of his nod,  
They deemed him for a human demi-god   

And thou Tyrone the idol most adored,  
Amongst the superstitious mutineers,  
Whose deep ambitious reach was still implored,  
To raise more millions of treacherers,  
Of homicidiall cruel slaughterer's:  
Even thou thyself, when any traitor spoke  
of Mountioy, at that very name didst quake.   

That very name did prostitute the heart  
of mischief-breeding counsels in the dust;  
In hearing of that name they felt the smart,  
of vanquished dread as augur to distrust,  
Which was by fear enthralled, by doubt discussed:  
Mountioy a name importing threats of thunder,  
Frustrating hopes of life, and life asunder.   

Mountioy a name of grim severity,  
Mountioy a name of meekness peace and love,  
Mountioy a name to rain temerity,  
Mountioy a name which virtue did approve,  
Mountioy a name which joy did ever move:  
Mountioy a charter of invicted fame,  
Yet Mountioy was far greater than his name.   

His name which stretched beyond the boundless limits,  
Of all the oceans empire and made known  
His haughty chivalry in foreign climates,  
Which by the trump of glore was loudly blown,  
In courts of greatest princes of renown:  
Each palace with an echo speaking shrill,  
Rosounded his fair deeds of honour still.   

The wily Irish whose inveterate hate,  
Unto the laws of justice near would bow,  
Whose sleights no power of power could abate,  
Or ever undermine before till now,  
With gentle menace of a pliant brow:  
This man more than a man, this god in arms,  
United ceasing plots of further harms.   

Now they began to see, and seeing feel  
The sweet of concord, bitterness of war,  
The sharp reproof of double-edged steel,  
The peace of peace how wretched brawlers are  
How blessed the secure, content doth far  
Exceed contention, better shun wars toil,  
Then ever live in faction by the spoil.   

The son against the Father long opposed,  
The Uncle with the nephew at debate,  
The friend with troops of foe-like friends enclosed.  
Brother with brother set in mortal hate,  
Kin which with Kin did kindred violate:  
Duty, alliance, friendship blood, and love:  
All striving he to concord all did move.   

Peers in defiance of each others greatness,  
Nobles complotting nobles speedy fall,  
He reconciled, & made them taste the sweetness,  
Of happy league & freed them from the gall  
Of steep destructions ruin, ruins thrall:  
Tigers and lions, bores, and raging Bulls,  
Hath he atoned with Leopards & Wolves.   

A land of penury scarcity, and want  
He hath inritcht with plenty, ease and store  
A land where human reason was most scant  
He hath endowed with wisdoms sacred lore  
Accosting it more fertile than before:  
A land of Barbarous inhumanity  
He hath reduced to blessed piety.   

Now had he ripened all his hopes at full,  
Imparadized his soul in dear content  
And wrought the nature of a people dull  
To what his glory aimed at when he meant,  
To set a period to his banishment:  
And greet his native soil with much desire  
To get a guerdoned favour for his hire.   

Now did he feed his labours with delight  
Of viewing his diviner sovereign,  
presenting conquests of well mastered spite:  
unto her gracious love, and thence obtain,  
Her willing acceptation as a gain  
Of reward after toil, and glad her years,  
In strengthening her dominions chase fears.   

But o ere he could apprehend that joy  
She flew from earth to bewtifye the heaven,  
Eliza died, death's javelin did destroy  
The ever boast of England fate had weaven  
The twist of life, and her of life bereaven  
She died and left the world in tears of terror  
To weep her loss and wonder at her mirror   

Never it was her hap to see that land  
which long had boiled in stern rebellious treason  
To be subdued unto her mild command  
And vaunt the Trophy of that peaceful season  
Malice did ever blind their senses reason:  
She died ere rumour could that ease relate  
The news was happy, but for her to late.   

To late for her and for our Lord to late  
Her death for him too soon, but short anon  
Distrust was turned to trust, for in great state  
England's Maecenas in succession  
was soon made known by praclamation  
And undertook the Burden of the crown  
Advancing merit low disgrace threw down   

As Caesar led his captive slaves to Rome  
To grace his triumph magnify his fame  
So now did Mountioy with Tyrone come home  
Victorious, welcome, adding to his name  
(By favour of our King who gave the same)  
A Style of honour to his blood innated  
Devonshieres ennobled Earl was created.   

In Robes of peace accoutrements of rest  
He was advanced a Counsayllour and joyed  
The soft fruition of a graver breast  
Not with the Brunt of warfare more annoyed  
Nor with the dint of hazard overcloyde  
But sat with judgement to discern of laws  
Which he had guarded with his sword applause.   

In him was England two-fold fortunate  
He was her champion and her Senator  
Both to defend her good and moderate  
To fight both for her safety, and confer,  
Both to encourage subjects and deter  
Reuollter's from offending, both in one  
And one in both himself he was alone.   

Thus loving all he lived beloved of all,  
save some whom emulation did enrage  
To spit the venom of their rancour's gall,  
Which dropped upon themselves & made the stage  
A public Theatre for follies badge  
Their shame will still outlive their memory  
Only remembered in infamy.   

Such poorer in desert then rich in worth,  
Are but as shadows which appear but are not,  
Such but disgorge lank indiscretion forth,  
Of needless repetitions which declare not  
True grounds, when for the truth itself they care not,  
Yet hold themselves abused and highly scorn,  
To brook the chance to which themselves at born.   

Go weak betrayers of your witless madness?  
Your malice will revert upon your breasts,  
Not looks of graver niceness nicer sadness,  
Can shadow imputations of unrests,  
His greater spirit at your fondness jests:  
You vex yourselves, not him, and make men gaze,  
At your own wrongs which your own tongues do blaze   

Sink blind detraction into lowest earth,  
Lest ballad-rimers tire their galled wits,  
Scorns to their patrons making ivycelesse mirth,  
To gross attentors by their hired writs,  
Dispraise with such poor hackneys better fits:  
Well may such envy those heroic deeds,  
There apprehensions lean conceit exceeds.   

Fame-royallized Devonshire settled now,  
In well-deserved place of eminence,  
The expectance of his wisdom doth allow,  
By canceling affairs of consequence,  
And by endeavours of sage diligence:  
Approves his greatness, largesse to apply  
The fruits of dear-experienced policy.   

Not puffed with weening self-affected pride,  
Common to upstart honours counterfeit,  
But favouring the worthy he supplied,  
Deserts necessities, and made the height  
Of his advancement on their needs to wait  
" True nobleness with breath sucks noble spirits  
" When bastard brood's conceit but bastard merits.   

Men raised to float of fortune from the mud,  
Of low dejection and at length grown great,  
Forget that they are men, and scorn the blood  
Of mean alliance, boasting in the seat  
Of empire which ambition doth beget:  
Such not esteem desert but sensual vaunts,  
Of parasites and fawning sycophaunts.   

Be tyrants kings to such servility?  
And peasants servile to such curs of shame?  
Devonshire the issue of nobility:  
Avoided rumour of such foul defame,  
True virtue graced his mind, applause his name:  
Applause his name, which whiles the heavens divine  
Contain their lights upon the earth will shine.   

True virtue graced his mind be witness ever,  
The provident forecare of wise discretion,  
His wary prudence which did still endeavour  
To hold him from the wrack of spites impression,  
From faith approved he never made digression:  
" That is true prudence when devoid of fear,  
" A man untouched himself upright doth bear.   

True virtue graced his mind in which was grounded  
The modest essence of firm Temperance  
Which never was with fortunes change confounded  
Or troubled with the Cross of fickle chance,  
Distrust his spirit never could enhance  
That man is perfect temperate whose life  
Can never be disturbed but free from strife.   

True virtue graced his mind, witness his courage  
His resolution armed Fortitude  
Witness his stomach's prime which strived to forage  
Extremes even by extremities subdued  
Slaves with the eyes of pity he reviewed  
He who can Conquer miseries in need  
Enjoys the height of fortitude indeed.   

True virtue graced his mind, witness at last  
His sober carriage, twixt the scales of measure  
Who when he was in awe of justice placed  
Studied how to the meanest to do pleasure  
So rare a gift in such a man's a treasure:  
Sincerest justice is not to decern  
But to defend, aid, further and confirm   

True virtue graced his mind, witness all these  
Which in his person were essential  
Ready to help the poor, the great to please  
In rites of honour, neither great or small  
Would he prefer, but merit poised them all  
Since all these virtues were in him combined  
Truth will avow true virtue graced his mind:   

Not in the wrack of Prodigality  
Nor thriftless riot of respectless mean  
Did he extend his liberality  
But to his honours credit, where was seen  
Apparent worthiness, he still hath been  
A Patron to the learned and a prop,  
To favour studies now despised crop.   

Thou marrow of our English poesy  
Thou life and blood of verse canst record this,  
The Bounty of his zeal can gratify  
Thy labour's of endeavours: what was his  
He granted to thy muse's happiest bliss  
A liberal Maecenas to reward thee  
A Lord of special favour to regard thee.   

By firm allegiance, courtesy, and kindness,  
unto his prince, his peers, his friends in deered:  
By stern constraint, meek scorn, & willing blindness,  
Of all his foes, backbiters grudgers feared  
He in his lifetime evermore appeared  
Peace, pity, love, with mildness, ease, and rest,  
Ruled, forgave, joyed, his soul, his wrongs, his breast   

Linked, in the graceful bonds of dearest life  
unjustly termed disgraceful he enjoyed,  
Contents abundance, happiness was rife  
Pleasure secure, no troubled thought annoyed  
His comfort ' sweets, toil was in toil destroyed  
Maugre the throat of malice, spite of spite  
He lived united to his heart's delight.   

His heart's delight who was that glorious star  
which beautified the value of our land,  
The lights of whose perfections brighter are  
Then all the lamps, which in the lustre stand  
Of he avens fore head, by discretion scanned  
Wits ornament, earth's love, loves Paradise  
A Saint divine, a beauty fairly wise.   

A beauty fayrely-wise, wisely discreet  
In winking mildly at the tongue of rumour,  
A saint, merely divine, divinely sweet,  
In banishing the pride of idle humour  
Not relishing the vanity of tumour:  
More than to a female of so high a race;  
With meekness bearing sorrowssad disgrace.   

A sad disgrace? o that the eyes of sense  
Should pry into the nature of the worst  
Poor fortunes envy greatness eminence,  
Because themselves in worldly cares are nurc't.  
Deluding types of honour as accursed  
When they themselves are most accursed of all  
Who being lowest lower cannot fall.   

Even as a choir of modell-tuning birds,  
Chirping their lays in natures pliant strain,  
Even so these courtiers flowed in terms of words,  
Until the Nightingale in sweet complain,  
Did urge the rest as ravished to refrain:  
So this heart-stealing goddess charmed their ears,  
To hear her fluent wit, they blush at theirs.   

Let merit take her due, unfeed I write,  
Compelled by instance of apparent right,  
Nor choa'kt with private hopes do I indite,  
But led by truth as known as is the light,  
By proof as clear as day, as day as bright:  
I reck not taunting mocks, but pity rather  
The foolish offspring of so vain a father.   

Devonshire I write of thee a theme of wonder  
Wonder unto posterity succeeding,  
A style importing fame as loud as thunder,  
Sounding throughout the world: the times yet breeding  
Shall deify thee by thy stories reading:  
Making large statues to honorifie  
Thy name, memorials rites to glorify.   

As oft as james the monarch of our peace,  
Shall be in after chronicles recited,  
In that to heavens applause and subjects ease  
England and Scotland he in one united,  
A sight with which true Britain's were delighted:  
So oft shalt thou eternal favour gain,  
Who recollected'st Ireland to them twain.   

A work of thanks in strengthening the force  
Of such an entire Empire now secure,  
A world within itself which while the course  
Of heaven continueth lasting will endure  
Fearless of foreign power, strong and sure  
A bulwark intermured with walls of Brass,  
A like can never be, nor ever was.   

'twas the Puissant vigour of thine arm,  
'Twas the well-labouring project of thy brain  
Which did allay the further fear of harm,  
Enriching Britain with this happy gain  
Of blessed peace which now it doth retain,  
It was thy wary resolution brought it,  
It was thy ready policy that wrought it.   

Thou were't a Phoenix, such a bird is rare  
Rare in this wooden age of avarice,  
When thirst of gold, not Fame may best compare,  
with those of choicest woe th'rich men are wise,  
" Honest, if honesty consist in vice  
" Strong purses have strong friends he hath most praise  
" who hath most wealth: o blindness of our days?   

Dye thoughts, of such corruption we intent  
To show the substance not the shadowed gloze,  
The praise we speak of doth itself commend  
And need's no ornament unlike to those  
who by proconion's virtue doth impose  
A task upon our quill, not what we would,  
Do we infer but what in right we should.   

He whom we treat of was a precedent,  
Both for the valiant and judicious,  
Both Mercury and Mars were resident;  
In him at once, sweet words delicious,  
And horryd battle were to him auspicious:  
Both arms and arguments to force or train,  
To win by mildness, or by threats constrain.   

Two special beauties chiefly did adorn  
His fair unblemished soul and spotless mind,  
To god religious he himself hath borne,  
With zealous reverence in zeal enshrind,  
And to his prince still loyal ever kind:  
At thons monarchic government he trembled,  
'Cause it the others deity resembled.   

Devout in fervency of ardent love  
Unto the value of salvation,  
The due respect of sovereignty did move,  
Unto his prince's throne an intimation  
Of fear, not masked in smooth dissimulation:  
He of his race hereafter may be vouched,  
That he was sound in both, in both untouched.   

What more yet unremembered can I say,  
And yet what have I said that might suffice?  
He was the trophy of a greater day,  
Then time would ever limit to our eyes,  
He was a peer of best approved guise:  
He was the best, the most, most best of all,  
heaven's pride, earth's joy, we may him justly call.   

heavens pride? for heaven into him infused,  
The quintessence of ripe perfection,  
No gift on him bestowed he hath abused,  
But bettered by his better life's direction,  
Keeping contempt of virtue in subjection:  
A penitential contrite votary,  
To sanctimonious taintless purity.   

Earth's joy, for in the earth he lived renowned  
By all the excellency of nature's art  
With all the boast and pith of honour crowned  
That royalty to merit could impart,  
The wreath of joys was set beneath his heart  
The light of worths delight, the Pharaos' tower  
Which was refulgent by his Lordly power.   

Thus in the jollity of human pleasure  
Advanced to steps of state and high degree  
Beloved and adored in equal measure  
Of greatest and the meanest fates decree,  
Bend power against his power, for (ay me)  
(Fie on that for) whiles he in glory stood,  
Of worldly pomp cold drooped his noble blood.   

O what Heraclitus would spare his eyes  
To shower tears in showers and distill  
The liquid of a grieved hearts sacrifice  
Which will consume itself, what doleful knell  
Of piercing groans will sigh the worst of ill  
The worst of ill, the worst of cruel fate,  
Could spit even in the bitterness of hate   

All ye who hitherto have read his story,  
Just Panegyrickes of Heroyque deeds,  
Prepare your eyes to weep, your hearts to sorry  
The wrack of darkness which from death proceeds,  
The murder of delight which murder breeds,  
Lo here an alteration briefly changed  
Now all but joy, now from all joy estranged.   

o Coward times why do you keep your days?  
o Orbs of heaven why do you run your course?  
o seas why do not floods your waves uprayse  
And ne'er reflow again with moderate source?  
o Sun why dost not quench thy beams hot force  
o why do all things certain settled tarry,  
Save men's short lives who still unconstant vary.   

Instance unpartial death, deaf sorrow's subject  
Pleasures abater, fickle youth's despiser  
Headstrong in malice, in affected object  
To every sense, the subtle sly enticer  
To guilded hopes, the heaven's will's revisor  
Instance his triumph, instance his sure dart  
Which misseth none, hits home still to the heart.   

Now had the season enterteyned the spring  
And given a welcome to the days of mirth,  
When sweet harmonious birds began to sing  
With pleasant roundelays which graced the earth,  
By long expectance of the blossoms birth,  
When at the dawn of Flora's trimmed pride  
Ere she presumed the air, great Devonshiere died.   

He died, a sullied word, a wore of ruth:  
For ever be it stamped in misery:  
Fearful unto the old, hated of youth,  
Marked with the fingar of calamity:  
Blotted from light of day, night's Heraldry,  
He died, brief accents but enduring woe  
The letters for whole dates of griefs may go.   

Torment of mischief how thou grat'st my breast,  
Mischief of torment how thou rackst my soul,  
Unhappy cares how is your heart distressed,  
Wretched unhappiness which dost control  
The bliss of comfort, and alike enroll  
Sad fortune in the dust, break life asunder,  
Death is life's miracle, scorns thankless wonder.   

Wonder o wonder of short breathed error,  
A relic consecrated to defame,  
A curb unto the wise to fools a terror;  
A terror of contempt, fear hate and shame,  
A black oblivionizing of worths name:  
A razor out of memory the merit,  
Of many noble peers and peerless spirit.   

Who died? not he whose apparel base thought  
Was steeped in the puddle of servility,  
Not he who days of easy softness sought,  
But threats of horror fitting his nobility,  
To coronize high-soared gentility:  
Who died? a man? nay more a perfect saint  
Leaving the world in tears of sad complaint.   

Life ah no life but soon extinguished tapers?  
Tapers? no tapers but a burnt outlight  
Light? ah no light but exhalutions vapours  
Vapours? no vapours but il-blinded sight?  
Sight? ah no sight but hel's eternal night?  
A night no might but picture of an elf?  
Ah elf? no elf but very death itself.   

Then life is death, and death the farthest goal  
Of transitory frailty to conclude  
The freedom of the while-imprisond soul,  
And stop the streams of heat by death subdued  
To wan and chilly cold, fate's hand is rude:  
None favouring the limit of an hour,  
But doth all sort of states alike devour.   

Devour thou them and surfeit on the bait,  
Of thine insatiate rapine? exercise  
The utmost of thy vengeance nor delay it?  
Let meager gluttony yet tyrannize,  
To use extremes? thy power we despise:  
Kill whom thou darest, since Devonshire did depart,  
We scorn the malice of thine envious dart.   

Sleep still in rest, honour thy bones enshrine,  
(Victorious lord) sweet peace attend thy grave,  
Mount thy best part with angels wings divine;  
About the throne of jove in quires to crave  
By madrigals the joys that thou wouldst have.  
So ever shall while dates of times remain  
The heavens thy soul, the earth thy fame contain.   

If to be learned in the Arts of skill  
If to be beautified with choice of nature,  
If to be guiltless from the soil of ill  
(Save soil of slander) if the perfect feature,  
Consist in being heaven's quaintest architecture  
Than ever shall while dates of times remain,  
The heavens thy soul the earth thy fame contain.   

If to be feared and loved be human glory,  
If to be dowed with plenty of desert,  
If to be chronicled in honour's story:  
If youth which grave discretion did convert  
Itself in commendation may insert:  
Then ever shall while dates of times remain,  
The heavens thy soul, the earth thy fame contain.   

If wisdom stand in checking rasher folly,  
If virtue do depend on perfect zeal,  
He in the one was wise, in th'other holy;  
If to regard the prosperous common weal,  
Be shows of commendation to reveal.  
Then ever shall while dates of times remain,  
The heavens thy soul, the earth thy fame contain.   

If to be virtuous, zealous, valiant, wise,  
Learned, respective of his country's good,  
Upright, in case of conscience precise,  
Just, bounteous, pitiful, noble by blood,  
Be to deserve the name of livelihood.  
Then ever shall while dates of times remain,  
The heavens thy soul, the earth thy fame contain.   

For thou wast all of these too high for earth,  
Therefore more fit for heaven where thou rainest,  
The angels joyed thy souls delightful mirth,  
And therefore fetched thee hence, whereby thou gainest  
The fruit of paradise where thou remainest:  
And ever shalt remain from us bereaven,  
Great as thou wast on earth, more great in heaven.   

But o give leave ere I forbear my pen,  
Thy worth in what I may t'exemplifie,  
And set thee as a precedent to men,  
The due of thy desert to amplify,  
And thy humanity to deify:  
Of thy much merit to cast up the sum,  
Thus be thy epitaph, and here thy tomb.   

His Tomb The Epitaph.  

The course of time hath finished now his breath,  
whom brunt of war could never force to death:  
whose thirst of worth the world could not suffice,  
within a breadth of earth contented lies.  
betwixt the gods and men doubly divided,   

His soul with them, his fame with us abided;  
In this his life and death was counteruaild,  
He justly lived beloved, he died bewailed.   

And so his happy memory,  
Shall last to all posterity.   

Day weareth day, hour consumes hour,  
Years years, and age doth age devour;  
The man who now beholds the sun,  
Ere it decline his life is done.   

So by this great Lord doth appear,  
Whose honoured bonesly buried here;  
Whose bones though they interred lie,  
His glorious name will never die:   

But live in praise,  
To after days.   

Here lies he dead who living lived in Fame,  
Consumed in body, fresh reviv'd in name;  
His worthy deeds exceeded term of date,  
Alike his praise will never stoop to fate.   

For who is he that can suppose,  
That stones, great Devonshire could enclose;  
Whose noble acts renowned were,  
Whiles as he lived every where:  
England rejoiced in his valours due,  
Which Ireland felt, and feeling did it rue:  
but now by destiny here sleeps he dead,  
Whiles as his glory through the world is spread.   

Urging the great in emulation,  
Of his true honour's commendation.   

No one exceeds in all, yet amongst many,  
Yea amongst all he could do more than any;  
Though more then mortal virtue graced his mind,  
He was unto a mortal end confined:   

and forced to yield unto death's force,  
who in his shaft hath no remorse:  
Princes, beggars, great and small,  
he spareth none, he killeth all.   

So did he rob high Devonshire of his breath,  
whose worth in spite of death will out live death;  
advantage such his merit doth retain,  
He in his name will live renewed again.   

And so though death his life deprive,  
His life in death will new revive.   

By  
cruel dint  
of death's respectless dart,  
Great Devonshire's soul  
did from his body part:  
And left his carcase in this earthly slime,  
whiles his fame's essence to the skies did climb:  
Roving abroad, to fill the latter days  
With wonder of his JUST deserved praise:  
So that each AGE will in the time to come,  
Admire his worthiness, and mourn his TOMB:   

Which they shall ever count a shrine,  
Of some deceased saint divine.   

Lo here  
I rest,  
who living  
was adored,  
with all the honour  
Love could have implored:  
what earthly pomp might beautify my name,  
In pride of glory I enjoyed the same:  
A Champion ever ready to defend her,  
A senator pressed always to commend her:  
Though with my heart's delight my life is graced,  
Yet I in peace of death was crossed at last:   

And now entombed here I lie,  
A mirror in eternity.   

O what so ere thou be that passest by,  
Look on this hearse and weep thy eyelids dry,  
The monument of worth, the angels pleasure,  
which hordeth glories rich invalued treasure:  
The relics of a saint an earthly creature,  
Clad in the perfect mould of angel feature:  
who lives even after life, now being dead,  
welcome to heaven in earth canonised.   

The shouts of fame,  
Echo his name.   

In blessed peace and soul-united rest,  
Here sleeps the carcase of a peer most blest;  
Whose downfall all the plots of cursed fight  
Could not procure, or terrify his might:  
but evermore he tamed the pride of folly,  
and castigated drifts of slaves unholy,  
Yet death at last with force of vigour grim,  
When he had conquered many, conquered him.   

and here amongst the quiet numbers,  
Of happy souls he sweetly slumbers.   

The boast of Britain and the life of state,  
The pith of valour, nobleness innate,  
Foes scourge, friends hopes, sustainer of the poor,  
whom most men did embrace, all men adore.   

Fautor of learning, quintessence of arts,  
Honours true livelihood, monarch of hearts,  
The sacred of spring of a virtuous womb,  
Lies here enshrined in this hallowed Tomb.   

From out whose Phoenix dust ariseth,  
Renown, which earths whole globe enticeth.   

Lo here nine tombs, on every tomb engraved,  
Nine Epitaphs showing that worthies nine  
For each peculiar on a tomb hath craved;  
That their deserts who while the lived did shine  
Might now be monumented in their shrine,  
Yet all those nine no glory hence have gained  
For Devonshire in himself all nine contained   

The nine poor figures of a following substance  
Did but present an after age's mirror.  
Who should more fame than they deserved advance  
And manifest the truth of that times error  
Including Devonshiere earth's admired terror,  
For all the Poets who have sung of them  
Have but in mystery adored him.   

O now drop eyeballs into sink of mud?  
Be harsh the tunes of my unfeathered muse?  
Sorrow suck up my griefs? consume the blood,  
Of my youth's mirth? let meager death infuse,  
The soul of sadness to untimely news?  
Dead is the height of glory, dead is all  
The pride of earth which was angelical.   

Ah that the goddess whom in heart I serve  
(Though never mine) bright Lycia the cruel  
The cruell-subtile would the name deserve  
Of lesser wise? and not abuse the jewel  
Of wit, which adds unto my flame more fuel,  
Her thoughts to elder merits are confined  
Not to the solace of my younger mind.   

Be't so? yet on the theme of this I'll spend  
The residue of plaints and ever mourn  
The loss of this great lord, till travails send  
More comfort to my wretched heart forlorn,  
Who since at home disgraced abroad is borne  
To sigh the remnant of my wearied breath  
In lamentation of his hapless death,   

Sheath up the sword of war, for Mars is dead  
Scale up the smoothed lips of Eloquence,  
For flowing Mercury is buried,  
Droop wisdom Numas grave intelligence,  
Is vanished, Affricans stout eminence,  
In Devonshire lies obscured, for he alone  
Exceeded all, they all died in him one.   

Charles the great is dead who far excelled  
Charles whom former times did call the great  
Charles who whilom lest on earth he dweled,  
Adorned the exaltation of his seat  
By the alarm of deaths grim retreat,  
Is mustered to the camp from whence he came  
Cherub's, and Seraphims of dateless fame.   

O that a man should ever be created  
To eternize his glory here on earth:  
Yet have his pomp of glory soon abated,  
Even at the present issue of his birth  
And lose the Trophy of that instant mirth  
here is the guerdoned meed of victory  
No sooner to achieve, assoon to die.   

Is death the reward of a glorious deed?  
Is death the fee of valour? is desert  
Repaid with death shall honours gain Proceed  
By loss of life? o than a coward's heart  
Of earthly comfort hath the better part  
Then better live in peace and live, then try  
The brunt of conquest and regardless die.   

Dye thoughts of such disgrace die thirst of state.  
Dye thoughts of empty aired ambition  
Dye thoughts of soaring majesties elare  
Die inclination to conscript condition  
Dye pride of Empire sou'raignetyes commission,  
All that in soul of life may be esteemed  
Oh die, fat cannot be with bribes redeemed.   

Dye portly hunger of eternity  
Dye hot desires of unbounded pleasure,  
Dye greediness of false prosperity,  
Dye giddy solace of ill suited leisure,  
Dye hopes of hoardward canker-eaten treasure  
Ambition, Empire, glory, hopes and joy  
For ever die, for death will all destroy.   

For death will all destroy as he hath done,  
In seizing to his strong remorseless gripe  
All triumphs Noble Devonshiere ever won,  
Plucking the blossoms of his youth unripe  
And make them yield unto his thankless gripe:  
But, ahwhy should we task his dart uneven  
Who took from earth what was more fit for heaven.   

He was more fit for heaven then to survive  
Amongst the chaff of this un seasoned age,  
Where new fantastic joys do seek to thrive  
By following sensual toys of follies rage,  
Making the gloss of vice true virtues badge:  
He saw that shame which misery begun it,  
Seing he did it scorn and scorning shun it.   

Hence sprung the venom of empoisoned hate,  
Poor malediction's sting, who did despise  
Bright honour's stamp, which in his bosom sat,  
For that he could not brook to temporize  
With humours masked in those time's disguise:  
But let dogs bark? his souls above their anger  
They cannot wound his worth with envies slander.   

He sleeps secured and in blessed slumber's  
of peaceful rest he careless rests in peace,  
Singing loud anthems with the sacred numbers  
Of happy saints, whose notes do never cease:  
But evermore renewing fresh increase  
Whiles he doth sing and angel's pleasure take,  
We mourn his death and sorry for his sake.   

Not for his sake but for our hapless own,  
Who had so rich a prize and did not know it,  
jewel's being had for jewel's are not known,  
For men in happy fortune do foreslow it,  
The value when 'tis lost doth chiefly show it  
So wretched is our blindness, and so hate full,  
As for the gifts we have we are ungrateful.   

Even as a poring scholar who hath read  
Some Cosmographick Book, and finds the praise  
Of some delicious land deciphered  
Cast's sundry plots how by what means and ways,  
He may per take those pleasures, months and days,  
Being spent he goes and ravished with the main  
Of such delight he near returns again,   

So Devonshiere by the Books of inspiration  
Contemplating the joys of heavens content  
In serious thoughts of meditation  
Which he in perfect zeal had long time spent  
Thirsting to be immortal hence he went,  
He thither comes and glorying it in that spear  
Unmindful of this home, he triumphs there.   

Long may he triumph over topping clouds,  
Of our all-desperate moulds vexation,  
Pitying the sorrow which our danger crowds  
With joyless taste of true joys desolation,  
Whiles he enjoys his soul's high delectation  
Long may he live whom death now cannot move  
His fame below, his spirit wings above.   

Above the reach of human wits conceit  
Above the censure of depraved spite  
Above earth's paradizes counterfeit.  
Above imagination of delight,  
Above all thoughts to think or pens to write  
There doth he dateless days of comfort spend,  
Renowned in his life, blest in his end.    

Anagramma ex Camdeno. CAROLUS BLUNTUS. Bonus, ut sol clarus.  

IN life upright and therefore rightly good,  
Whose glory shined on earth and thence a Sun  
By his renown as clear he's understood,  
Whose light did set when as his life was done:  
Bright as the sun, good ever to advance,  
The soul of merit spurning ignorance.   

Good in the virtue of his powerful arm,  
Which brought more peace to peace, chased fears of harm,  
And whiles he lived a wonder mazed the light,  
Two suns appeared at once, at once as bright:  
For when he died and left his fame behind,  
One Sun remained, the truest Sun declined.   

Dignum laud virum,  
Musa vetat mori.