MAUSOLEUM OR, THE CHOICEST FLOWERS of the Epitaphs, written on the Death of the never-too-much lamented PRINCE HENRY.  Cosa bella mortal passa, e non dura. 
EDINBURGH Printed by Andro Hart. ANNO DOM. 1613.   

MAUSOLEUM▪ OR, THE CHOICEST FLOWERS OF the Epitaphs, written on the Death of the never-too-much lamented PRINCE HENRY.  

EPIT. 1  

Lo here entombed a peerless Prince doth lie,  
In flower and strength of age surprised by Death,  
On whom, while he on Earth drew vital breath,  
The hope of many Kingdoms did rely;   

Not without cause: for heavens most liberally  
To him all Princely Virtues did bequeath,  
Which to the worthiest Princes here beneath  
Before had been allotted severally.   

But when the world of all his Virtues rare  
The wished fruit to gather did expect,  
And that he should such glorious works effect,  
As with the worthiest Fame might him compare   

Untimely death then from us did him take,  
Our loss, and grief, heavens gain, and joy to make.   
W. Q.   

2  
OCcidit ante diem juvenum flos, gloria stirpis  
Regalis, Patriae spes, columenq suae.  
Occidit ante diem patri, populisque Britannis  
Flendus, & his junctis foedere, amore, sacris.  
Occidit ante diem, gesturus Principe digna,  
Accelerasset et ni fera Parca necem.  
Occidit ante diem, virtutis & ubere fructu,  
Et mundum exemplo funere destituens.  
Occidit ante diem, si vota & commoda spectes  
Publica, vel vitam si brevitate notes.  
Sin vitam spe●tes partam illi morte perennem,  
Haud jam, par Superis, occidit ante diem  
Walter Quin.   

3  
STay Passenger, see where enclosed lies,  
The Paragon of Princes, fairest Frame,  
Time, Nature, Place could show to mortal eyes,  
In Worth, Wit, Virtue; wonder unto Fame.  
At least that part the Earth of him could claim,  
This Marble holds hard like the Destinies:  
●o● as to his brave Spirit, and glorious Name,  
The one the World, the other fills the Skies.  
Th'immortal Amaranthus, princely Rose,  
Sad Violet, and that sweet flower that bears  
In sanguine spots the tenor of our woes,  
Spread on this stone, and wash it with thy tears.  
Then go and tell from Gades unto Ind,  
Thou saw where Earth's perfections were confined.  
W. D.   

4  
A Passing glance, a lightning long the skies  
That vsh'ring thunder dies strait to our sight,  
A spark, of contraries that doth arise  
Then's drowned in the huge deeps of Day and Night:  
Is this small small called life, held in such price  
Of blinded Wights, who ne'er judge aught aright.  
Of Parthian shaft so swift is not the flight,  
As life, that wastes itself, and living dies.  
Ah, what is human Greatness, Valour, Wit?  
What fading Beauty, Riches, Honour, Praise?  
To what doth serve in golden thrones to sit,  
Thrall Earth's vast Round, triumphal Arches raise?  
That all's a Dream learn in this Prince's fall,  
In whom sade Death nought mortal was at all.  
W. D.   

5  
OF JET,  
Or porphery,  
Or that white stone  
PAROS affords alone,  
Or these in AZURE dye,  
which seem to scorn the SKY:  
Here Memphis Wonders do not set,  
Nor ARTEMISIA'S huge frame,  
that keeps so long her lovers Name:  
make no great marble Atlas tremble with gold  
To please a vulgar eye that doth behold.  
Phoebus, the Muses, Love, hath raised of their tears  
A Crystal tomb to him where through his worth appear  
W. Drummond.   

6  
Fair Britain's Prince in th' April of his years,  
The Heaven [enamoured with his springing grace]  
Rest to herself, for to enrich the Spheres,  
And shine next Cynthia in the starry chase.  
And well enjoy he might so high a place;  
For frowning Neptune's liquid field of fears,  
And this poor mote of dust that all upbeares,  
To his great mind seemed too too small a space:  
Yet it his coarse doth keep; [dear pledge] o'er which  
Affections flames huge Pyramids doth raise,  
All graven with golden letters of his praise.  
But ah deprived of a gem so rich!  
Great Britain now but great to all appears,  
In her great loss, and Oceans of tears.  
Ignoto.   

7  
Ciò ch' il Pianéta che distíngue L'hore  
Alluma e cínge, e cio ch' il gran Mar lava,  
Tutto quel è la sepoltura cava,  
Del magnanimo ARRIGO, ricco d' Honore.  
Ignoto.   

8  
WHy Pilgrim dost thou stray  
By Asia's floods renowned?  
Or where great ATLAS crowned  
With clouds, him reaches 'bove Heavens milky way?  
Strange Wonders to behold.  
By Isis' streams if thou'lt but deign to stay,  
One thou shall find surpassing all the told.  
For there's in little room,  
The PRINCE of men, and Man of Prince's Tomb.  
Ignoto.   

9  
HEre lies the World's delight,  
Dead to our sight, but in Eternal light.  
These nine who by him moan,  
The Muses were (alas)  
But through his fatal case,  
Are changed like wailing Niobe in stone.  
She clad in Sable robes,  
Who in a deadly sleep  
Such pearly streams pours from her Crystal globes;  
Is Virtue that complains  
She wanteth Argos hundredth eyes to weep;  
Or Iris silver rains.  
That winged Penthasilea in the Air,  
Fame is, his praise who rolls,  
Twixt both the starry Poles.  
With earnest eyes to skies, and Bay-crowned hair,  
Installed on virtues throne,  
This Ghaistlie Sire that tramples pale Despair,  
Brave honour's called, who scorns to give a groan,  
For in the Programme of his life he reeds,  
men's Hopes of him surmounts ALCIDES deeds.  
Ignoto.   

10  
CRudeli crudaque Patri, Patriaeque ruina  
Raptus, ut aethereis insereretur avis:  
HENRICUS modicae (Sanctum Caput) inditur Vrna,  
Maximus Ille, suo ni genitore minor.  
Hugo Hollandus.   

11  
DEath (that by stealth did wound Prince HENRY'S heart)  
Is now ta'en Captive, and doth act the part  
Of one o'ercome, by being too too fierce,  
And lies himself dead under Henry's Hearse:  
He therefore now in Heavenly runes doth sing,  
Hell where's thy triumph? Death where is thy sting?  
George wither.   

12  
TWo Kingdoms strove for Interest in one Prince,  
Heavens claimed me from them both, and rest me hence:  
Scotland my Cradle, England hath my Hearse,  
The Heavens my Soul, my Virtues live in Verse.   

13  
I lived three Kingdoms hope, foes terror, parent's life,  
I died their dearest loss, their joy, their endless grief.  
Robert Allyne.   

14  
WHom all the vast frame of the fixed Earth  
Shrunk under: now a weak Hearse stands beneath:  
His Fate he passed in fact, in hope his Birth,  
His youth in good life, and in spirit his death.   

15  
Blessed be his great Begetter, blest the Womb  
That gave him birth, though much too near his Tomb.  
In them was he, and they in him were blest:  
What their most great powers gave him, was his least.  
His Person graced the Earth, and of the Skies,  
His blessed Spirit, the praise is, and the prise.  
Geor Chapman.   

16  
DId he die young? oh no, it could not be,  
For I know few that lived so long but he,  
Till God and all men loved him: then be bold,  
That man that lives so long, must needs be old.  
William Rowley.   
FINIS.