FUNERAL ELEGIES; Consecrated to the immortal memory, of the Right Honourable the Lady Katherine Paston, late wife to the truly noble, and heroic, William Paston of Oxned Esquire.  Vivit post funera virtus. 
LONDON, Printed by T. Cotes, for Andrew Crook, dwelling at the sign of the Gun in Ivy-lane. 1637.   

To the no less honoured, for virtuous habits, and natural endowments, than high birth, the Lady Elizabeth Bertue, Daughter to the right Noble, and most accomplished Lord, ROBERT Earl of Lindsey, etc.  
Madam,  
TO render an acknowledgement of those great engagements and duties which I shall ever owe to the illustrious memory of that most serene and truly honourable Lady your dear deceased Sister, to whom you were as nearly allied in virtue as in blood, I humbly present these modest Elegies to salute your maiden palms: Not only mine, but the generally received opinion, of her most conspicuous worth, and honour hath importuned me (who was her most unworthy beneficiary) to undertake the performance of this service; and the unstained candour of your noble disposition persuades me not to despair of your gracious acceptance.  
Your Honour's most humbly devoted servant Ra. Knevet.   
Funeral Elegies.  

Eleg. 1.  
ANd must our brows with Cypress sad be bound?  
Because Calista is with glory crowned,  
Immortal splendent bays, that grow upon  
Mount Zion high, not earthly Helicon.  
In sable dark must we our bodies dight?  
Because our Saint is clad in robes of white.  
Shall we on earth sob forth our Elegyes?  
While she sings Allelujah in the skies:  
Our sorrows are preposterous, and we err  
In offering patheticke songs to her,  
Whose virtues rare require a Lyrists quill,  
Or rather Panegyrists learned skill.  
Homer, and Virgil carolling her praise,  
(Had they lived now) might well have won the bays,  
Although the Iliads, and the Aeneids both,  
Had ne'er been borne: these works were built on froth:  
For 'tis a question, not resolved yet,  
When Ilium was sacked, or whether it,  
Was ruined by the greeks at all; and why  
Should Virgil censured be for flattery?  
'Cause he derived the great Cesarian name,  
From Varlets, that survived their City's flame,  
From one that left his friends, and wife engaged,  
When bloody Mars, and fiery Vulcan raged:  
Doubtless a pious Knight, and debonair,  
Who brought his wronged Mistress to despair,  
Then fled from her, whom basely he deceived,  
Though nobly she had him, and his relieved.  
True Virtue is my subject, and that such,  
As seldom did ere Woman own so much.  
Honour's great example, beauties bright throne,  
The Temple of sincere religion,  
An Altar of unfeigned piety,  
The Golden branch of true nobility,  
The Palace of the Graces, and the sphere,  
Wherein no cloud, nor meteour did appear,  
The Pyramid of love, Truth's precious shrine,  
The help, and hope of all the sacred nine,  
The Treasury of thoughts pure, and sublime,  
The Phoebe, and the Phoenix of her time;  
All these was she: yea more than these was she:  
But what she was, clear Angels only see;  
For tongue, or pen of Man, cannot express  
Such bright unlimited existences.  
She was: she is declind: she being gone,  
The World that had two Suns, hath now but one;  
And we enveloped in a night of sorrow,  
In darkness mourn, despairing of a morrow;  
For who can be so rich of hope, t'expect  
That Nature can her Parallel erect,  
Since she on her expended hath such store  
Of gifts, that she's become a bankrupt poor?  
As when some wealthy Tradesman doth demise,  
The sum of all his richest merchandise,  
In a fair vessel to the fickle seas,  
Hoping to reap a plentiful increase,  
By this adventure; but the Winds conspire  
With froward Neptune, to cross his desire,  
And ruin all his hopes, for in one hour  
The greedy Ocean doth his goods devour:  
So our rich Argosy (which freighted was,  
Not with Tobacco, Indigo, nor glass,  
But with pearls, gems, gold, amber, spiceries,  
Arabian gums, and what the treasuries  
Of the two Indieses could afford) is lost,  
Her fair carine's wracked on the shelvy coast  
Of frail mortality: The Grave hath won  
Natures chief jewel, and the World's undone:  
The golden chain of causes is dissolved,  
And Chaos (that so long hath been involved  
In the unseen abyss) attempts to rise,  
And make both Orbs, and Elements his prize.  
The World's soul's fled; the exit of her breath,  
Threatens (I fear) an universal death;  
For in her fate all virtues did decline,  
All beauties were eclipsed, and ceased to shine:  
But if true honour shall her end survive,  
If real worth shall in her absence thrive,  
Posterity shall her example praise,  
For such great benefits, numbering those days,  
Which she spent here on earth, with pebbles white:  
Princes shall trophies rear, and Poets write,  
Striving to make her name last with her bliss,  
And raise her fame as high as now she is.  
As the Pantarba, brightet of all gems,  
Doth darkest nights enlighten with her beams,  
And by a hidden sympathy, attract  
Adjacent stones, in heaps together packed;  
But Nature, lest a jewel so renowned,  
Should lose esteem, by being often found,  
Hath in the bowels of the centre, hid  
This precious secret, and decreed beside,  
That being found it soon again is lost,  
If not preserved, with wondrous care, and cost:  
So our bright Goddess, (whose resplendent worth  
That in this night of vice, did rays send forth  
Of sanctity divine, drawing all hearts,  
To honour, and adore, so high deserts)  
Was soon snatched hence, yet not through our neglect,  
Or want of due obsequious respect;  
But rather 'cause Heaven thought the world unfit,  
For such a gem to be a Cabinet.  
The Coral growing in the Ocean blew,  
Wants hardness, and retains a pallid hue:  
There churlish billows oft the same do daunt;  
But when air breathes upon this wat'ry plant,  
It instantly becomes a crimson stone,  
And many precious properties puts on;  
The Artist than it with pure mettle decks,  
For Infant Kings, to wear about their necks.  
So pious souls, that in the Ocean wide,  
Of this tumult'ous universe abide,  
No firm existence, nor fair lustre have,  
Tossed to and fro by every adverse wave,  
Of sorrowful disasters, but when Time  
Hath them advanced above the stars sublime,  
Then consorts they become of Angels bright,  
Adorned with golden crowns, and vestures white.  
Thus change of native soil brings Souls to bliss  
A Wiseman much by travel bettered is.  
But ye fair eyes, 
Apostrophe to La. E. B.  like diamonds richly set,  
On a white, rosy, circuled carcanet,  
That late swelled up the streams of crystal 
ast; The name of the river running at the foot of Oxned.  Bure,  
With your more crystal tears, and rills more pure,  
Forbear to drop those pearls, lest your sad none,  
Transform yourselves to stars, and us to stone:  
(Thrice honoured Lady) you that lately were  
The sweet associate, of your Sister dear,  
When ye like those auspicious lights did shine,  
Which happy calms to Mariners presigne.  
Like Turtles chaste, or silver-brested Swans  
Stroking the thin air with their snowy fans,  
Ye late appeared: but cruel Death (God wot)  
With ruthless blade, hath cut the Gordian knot  
Of your society, Death only could divide,  
Such blessed bonds, a league so strongly tied.  
Nor can expense of sorrows find redress,  
For this sad accident, or make it less:  
Griefs are no cures for ill's, and do arise  
From humane weakness, not from reason wise.  
When great Darius, of his consort dear  
Deprived was, by Atropos severe,  
To grief he rendered up his royal breast,  
No solace would he take, nor any rest.  
Then grave Democritus informed the King,  
That he from death, to life his Queen would bring,  
If he would grant him, what he should entreat,  
For the effecting of a work so great:  
Darius condescends, and bids him ask,  
What means he thought convenient for this task:  
Names of three Persons only he requested,  
That never had with sorrow been molested,  
For losses of a kinsman, or a friend.  
The King then did strict inquisition send,  
Through all his Kingdoms, to search out such men:  
But when they could be no where found nor seen  
He found his error, and the fatal law  
Of unmoved destiny, and nature saw;  
Hence took he comfort, and with bounty high;  
The Wiseman for his cure did gratify.  
Grief is a passion, and all passions must  
Confined be, unto a measure just,  
Lest they like swelling spring tides overthrow  
The banks of Reason, and the same oerflow:  
Like Nilus they are not, who rising high  
Presageth plenty and fertility;  
Nor must they always in their channels run,  
Like him, but suffer intermssion:  
For sorrow that is never spent or done,  
Flows like th'infernal River Acheron:  
And they who with perpetual groans express  
Their passions, for a friend gone hence in peace,  
Like croaking frogs in muddy styx become,  
While the bewailed enjoys Elysium.  
jove (on a time) the Goddesses did call  
To an assembly, where among them all  
He dignities and honours did impart,  
Well corresponding with each one's desert:  
Too late Dame-Sorrow to this meeting came,  
Whom jove (for tardiness) did justly blame  
For he bestowed had all his gifts before,  
And had for her no honour left in store;  
But she importuned him, for to confer  
Some favour, or gratuity on her:  
He (having nothing else) unto her lent  
The tears, and plaints, which are at funerals spent:  
Now as each Goddess loves those persons well,  
Whose sweet oblations she is wont to smell,  
So if to sorrow we shall often bring  
Sad sighs, and mourning, for an offering,  
She never will forsake us: But if we  
Neglect her humble votaries to be,  
Withdrawing those sad duties she requires,  
Like one despised, she soon from us retires.  
If tears concerned the good of souls deceased,  
Of if they could add aught unto their rest,  
I should turn Heraclitus, and lament,  
Until my eyes had all that moisture spent,  
Which from the brain they take (this being done)  
They should dissolve themselves, and in tears run,  
Expending in an office so divine,  
Both humours aqueous, and crystalline:  
But since that tears (on such occasions shed)  
Nor benefit the living, nor the dead,  
Let us them for a better end reserve;  
They rightly used, for precious balms may serve:  
Nor do I Stoical paradoxes hold;  
For they deliver, that no Wiseman should  
Give way to griefs, I rather think it fitter,  
That none should drink too deep of cups so bitter:  
But never did excessive sorrows merit  
Such liberty, and freedom to inherit,  
As lately, when she left our horizon,  
Whose presence made our age a golden one:  
Honour, Grief, joy, shall never cease t'express  
Her Virtue, Death, and present happiness:  
And if that Reason, shall prohibit all  
immoderate tears, for such a funeral,  
The Nights shall mourn in blacks, and Morn's, shall weep,  
Until Calista wakes, from her last sleep.   

Eleg. 2.  
Retreat (sad passions) to your channels now,  
Let sorrows inundations cease to flow:  
Griefs, (which distinguish Mortals from the Gods)  
Ought to be limited with periods,  
Lest action by such torrents overborne,  
Should virtue leave abandoned to the scorn  
Of faithless Fortune, her undoubted slave.  
Then cease (ye weeping Hyades) to lave  
That marble shrine, wherein those relics lie,  
Which (whilom) harboured such nobility,  
That all our tears shed there (though we were sure  
We could drop richest pearls or amber pure)  
Were to be valued, or esteemed no more,  
Then if a cistern small should spend his store,  
To gratify the swelling Ocean:  
No more, then if fond Time should lend a span  
Of his finite dimension, to supply  
The wants of infinite Eternity.  
Her worth was so sublime, so clear, so full,  
That humane intellects prove weak, and dull,  
While they the same contemplate, wanting might,  
(Like bastard Eaglets) to behold such light.  
The Caspian-seas stand mured in hilly bounds,  
Yea Neptune's Empire, airye jove surrounds;  
A lucide Orb of fire doth these enfold,  
The heavens about the Elements are rolled;  
heavens are invovled with heavens; the stars decline  
Unto their periods: Time and Place confine  
This great magnificence of Nature's store,  
But She (whose early absence we deplore)  
Surmounts all these immensities, as far,  
As doth the largest sphere, the smallest star.  
I injure her (I fear) while I compare  
Those things, which frail, and transitory are,  
With that immortal, unimagined bliss,  
Which crownes her, in her Apotheosis;  
Then stoop (my Muse) from that celestial place,  
Whose radiant lustre, and translucent grace,  
Those crowned Candidates can only gust,  
Who have put off their mourning weeds of dust.  
Like that fair Bird, in snowy plumage dressed,  
Which silver Po doth plow with his soft breast,  
Singing his requiem, to the sighing stream;  
So let my Muse assume the stately theme,  
Of true nobility, and real worth,  
While she in buskined strain, strives to set forth  
True honour to the life; list to my song,  
Ye that have souls; to you these Odes belong:  
If Men will not give ear, than Rocks and Trees  
Shall conge's give, and echo plaudit'es,  
While I of her do sing: for virtue's fire  
Doth animate more bodies, than the Lyre  
Of Orpheus could: her pure celestial heat  
Invites the God's themselves, with Men to treat.  
Virtue alone, is to be valued more,  
Then many painted scutcheons, or a score  
Of swelling titles, for numerous descents,  
And titles, be but her gay ornaments:  
It argues but a spirit dull and cold,  
To summon monuments and statues old,  
For proof to gentry, or a name to rear,  
On what the worms have left; as if we were  
Devoide of arts and hearts, whereby to merit  
That praise, and bays, which virtue should inherit;  
And must become beholding unto stones,  
For all our styles, and reputations:  
But where illust'rous ancestry we find,  
Annexed unto an honourable mind,  
Nobility there shines like Luna bright,  
With orbed face, amongst stars of lesser light.  
As cyphers (by themselves) no sums design,  
But if with figures ye the same combine,  
Large numbers they compose; so ancestry  
For nothing stands, if virtue be not by.  
What need I thus expatiate, or search through  
The golden grove of ethics, for to show  
A definition, or a character  
Of this heroical habit, since in her  
(Of whom I sing) nobility did shine,  
With such pellucid rays, and beams divine,  
That it essential seemed, and not acquired;  
Not accidental, but from heaven inspired.  
Heaven lent her to the earth, and would not trust  
With such a gem (too long) a world of dust;  
But like a prudent Creditor becomes,  
That calls for quick repayment of those sums,  
Which to profuser Prodigals he lent,  
To free himself from further detriment,  
Which through forbearance of so large a debt,  
Must needs result; Had she been longer kept  
On Earth, perhaps base Earth would then have vaunted  
Of her fruition, whom the blessed heavens wanted.  
The Lily, Rose, and fragrant Violet,  
Those choicest gems of Flora's cabinet,  
Show life's epitomes, and then retreat  
To longer deaths, in Vesta's bosom great:  
Where they must sleep, until Apollo shall  
Come from his southern progress, and recall  
(With his reviving heat) them to review  
The world, and it adorn, with their bright hue:  
For as Antheus, by his stronger foe,  
Thrown to the earth, recovered vigour so;  
So do terrestrial seeds from earth derive  
Their vital strength, and humour nutritive.  
The Sun resigns to Vesper, and each star  
Retires at the return of Phoebus' car;  
Thus by a natural vicissitude,  
Alternally things altered, are renewed  
In their corruptions, ever rise, and fall,  
Till in a conflagration general,  
This World like the Arabian Bird shall burn,  
That an immortal Phoenix, from her urn  
May rise, arrayed with those illustr'ous plumes,  
Which neither age decays, nor time consumes.  
But the (whom we lament) although she tried  
No more than one short life, and but once died,  
Yet her one funeral did on us light,  
More like a public ruin, than the weight  
Of any private cross, yea we may call  
Her death, a grievance epidemical,  
A loss, which no reprisal can redress,  
Whose greatness, rather silent griefs express,  
Then golden lines, for passions do exceed  
Those measures, which the modest Muses tread,  
Nor can the sorrows of a troubled mind,  
By any pen, or pencil be confined.  
But whether strays my wand'ring Muse misled  
Through Labyrinths of cares, by sorrow's thread,  
As if she were intent, with dreary lays,  
To aim at Cypress wreaths, not crowns of bays?  
Let sad Electra, hidden in her sphere,  
Lament incinerated Ilium there:  
Let Niobe in Sypileian stone,  
Latona's hate, and her own pride bemoan:  
Let Biblis melted to a cold clear bourn,  
For her incest'ous fires still wail and mourn.  
Yea let ambiguous tears those fun'ralls steep,  
Where riper Heirs, or younger widows weep:  
Like personated Mourners at the graves,  
Of some old crabbed, and decrepit knaves.  
Such feigned libations we abhor, and fear  
To make false immolations unto her,  
Who was so true, so noble, so divine,  
In name, and really a 
* Derivat. a Graec. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, purus.  Katherine.  
She had no spots like Cynthia, nor was she  
Mercurial, or like light Cythere:  
But She Astraea was: Astraea just,  
Who fleeing hence, did leave old Time intrust,  
To keep in wardrobe cold her robes of clay;  
But if these shall through his neglect decay,  
Yet shall she find at last this vesture frail,  
Transmuted to a fresh immortal veil.   

Eleg. 3.  

1.  
WHen Hils, and Valleys, wrapped in sheets of snow,  
Did penance for their summer luxury,  
And Winter old unto the world did show,  
The Sceletons of trees, muffling the sky  
With vapours cold, and strewing frequently  
The earth with wat'ry confects, than I stood  
On that fair tract, where Bure creeps lazily  
To pay his tribute to a greater flood,  
Cleped you're, none of the meanest of blue Neptune's brood.   

2.  
There I beheld the snowy Swan's retreat,  
Unto the silver creeks, with motion sad:  
Each face of things expressed a ruin great,  
But twofaced janus all in sable clad,  
Those joyous sports, and merryments forbade,  
Which whilom he was wont to tolerate:  
The Gods themselves (it seems) a feeling had,  
Of our disasters, when Calista's fate,  
Our sorrows, and her endless joys did propagate.   

3.  
Calista fair, at whose nativity,  
All happy stars auxiliary were,  
With kind aspects, shining auspiciously:  
For as each gentle God and Goddess clear,  
Pandora did adorn with bounteous cheer,  
Placing on her all properties divine,  
Which made her so unparallelled appear;  
So did both fixed, and errant stars combine  
With precious gifts, to dignify this Heroine.   

4.  
Though from illust'rous ancestors she came,  
From Lords sublimed, for chivalrous renown;  
Yet did her virtues overtoppe her name,  
And all those adventitious glories crown,  
Which Fortune, or high birth, had on her thrown:  
Her piety, and worth, was so immense  
That Heaven (it seems) sent this Panthaea down,  
As some great blessing, but revoked her hence  
For our ingratitude, or some such high offence.   

5.  
Death like Ulysses (while we were intent  
To sports, and triumphs, dreading no distress,  
And fearless of so dire an accident)  
Stole our Palladium hence, the Patroness  
Of all our hopes, and chiefest happiness:  
Then Feasts were turned to funerals, no name  
Was heard that any solace did express,  
And all our mirth, like burning Troy became,  
Consumed to cinders black, in griefs uncessant flame.   

6.  
As when the Vestal fires extinguished were,  
Through some unhappy Virgins frail neglect,  
Then Rome's Patricians, fraught with dreary cheer,  
In mourning habits dight, were wont t'expect  
The dreadful issue, of some dire effect,  
So when that lucid flame, which did maintain,  
Calista's life by cruel death was checked,  
Sighs did abound, and sorrows flow amain,  
Eyes did their banks inundate and each cheek distain.   

7.  
Man's a plant animal, a tree reversed,  
Whose root's the brain, his limbs the branches be,  
But blood's the sap, through every vein dispersed,  
Which aliment imparts with justice free,  
Unto each member of this mystic tree:  
Hair are the leaves, which do the same attire,  
Excrescent humours are the gums (we see)  
Flowing from thence; the fruit which doth aspire,  
Be actions good, or ill; the seed whereof's desire.   

8.  
But our fair plant, (the fairest that ere grew)  
Such apples on her Verdant branches bare,  
As the Hesperian Gardens never knew,  
Nor had Alcinous any fruit so rare;  
She was a tree, with which none might compare:  
This Tree by Heavn's decree transplanted is;  
We of her happy shade deprived are,  
While she removed into eternal bliss,  
Becomes a Tree of life, in highest Paradise.   

9  
Letter-puffed Pedants boldly dare aver,  
That every star another world contains;  
These, Cities in the skies would seem to rear,  
Yet build but Castles in the air (fond swains)  
That strange conclusions, from fanaticke brains  
Strive to produce, when they below might see  
(Perhaps) more Worlds; for Verity maintains  
That Man's Microcosm; each he or she  
Is of a greater World, the brief epitome.   

10.  
Man's head is heaven, the brighter stars fixed there  
Are Fancy, Intellect, and Memory,  
The senses eke like Planets do appear,  
Each in his sphere, the Heart which doth supply  
All parts with vital heat, is Phoebus' high;  
The liver is the Moon, whose pregnant breasts  
With purple juice embalmes this Monarchy;  
Four Humours are the Elements, and these  
The basement do compose of this celestial piece.   

11.  
But such a world was our Calista bright,  
As was the world, before it injured was,  
Through Woman's weakness, and a Serpent's spite:  
For as a sevenfold lustre than did grace  
Each glorious star, and planet, in his place;  
As than earth bred no plant of bad effects,  
Nor nourished any beast of savage race;  
So clearest worth adorned in all respects,  
This peerless Dame, who was the glory of her sex.   

12.  
Sharp-sighted Speculatists perhaps may find  
The causes of those colours, that array  
The flowery meads in May, some subtle mind  
May the abstruse decrees of stars survey,  
Or light on the (long sought for) Northwest way  
Th' Elixir may be found by Art; the cause  
Of swift Euripus flux, Time may bewray:  
But never shall appear in time, or place,  
So rare a creature, as divine Calista was.   

13.  
Nature turned Spagyricke in forming her:  
Of ordinary stuff she was not made,  
But of extracted matter, pure, and clear,  
Which Nature's Chemistry prepared had,  
By separating the good, from the bad:  
This happy temper did in her impress,  
Those rich endowments, with which she was clad;  
Virtue, and Beauty; Women blessed with these  
Become incarnate Angels, earthly Goddesses.   

14.  
As that fair Picture of the Cyprian Queen,  
Drawn by the Coan Painter, did exceed  
The bravest pieces, that were ever seen,  
Though it was not complete, nor finished;  
Even so Calista's life though soon it fled,  
Ere she of youth had passed the vernal Line,  
Before Time had her to her Solstice led;  
Yet this short life of hers was so divine,  
T●at it long lives of earthly Saints seemed to out shine.   

15.  
And though her lustre was extinct so soon,  
Yet she no Comet was, no falling star,  
No fading Meteour, or changing Moon;  
But she a Sphere was, wherein Virtues rare,  
Like fixed auspicious Asterisms did glare,  
Whose glories did the Deity invite,  
To free this blessed Orb, from earthly care,  
Transposing her to his eternal light,  
So to augment the splendour of his kingdom bright.   

16.  
She was betimes discharged from griefs, and fears;  
Yea grant, she might have interrestriall bliss,  
Exceeded a whole Myriad of years;  
Yet had she been no more like what she is,  
Than Atoms be to largest substances;  
For things finite, no due proportion hold,  
With any infinite existences:  
But in some measure, may our eyes behold  
Her past, and present state, by setting dross to gold.   

17.  
By help of Jacob's staff, the Artist wise  
May take the altitude of any star;  
But Jacob's ladder only will suffice,  
For us to view those blessings singular,  
Wherewith all pious Souls enriched are,  
The precious bowels of Mount Poosin,  
Pearls and rich Amber, which the Seas prepare,  
The choicest gems of Nature's Magazine,  
Are merely counterfeits, compared with wealth divine.   

18.  
(Oh lovely Sex) the World's most fair half part,  
That art by heaven's high providence designed,  
To be a coadjutrice, to impart  
Constant duration, to that mortal kind,  
Which God hath with his proper image signed,  
This precious jewels loss do thou lament,  
By whom thou didst such estimation find;  
For she is gone, whose virtues excellent,  
The chiefest price and lustre to all females lent.   

19  
(Ye gentle Ladies) Luminaries bright  
Of this world's sphere, terrestrial Goddesses,  
That murder like the Basilisks with sight,  
Who are by Nature's bounty, graced no less,  
Then Arts, and ornaments advantages;  
By her example fair discern, and see  
The way, that leads to truest happiness;  
Tread ye Calista's paths, and strive to be  
As chaste, as pious, and as good, as late was she.   

20.  
She was: her glass is run; her periods done;  
Oh sentence fraught with dole and dreary care.  
She was esteemed the age's Paragon,  
For qualities, and all those habits rare,  
Wherein heroical beauties ought to share;  
Oh honoured name, and fame that never dies.  
She is enthroned above the highest star,  
Crowned with the sum of all felicities;  
Oh bliss, not to be seen by any mortal eyes.    

Inscriptio funebris.  
Haec Niobe tegit, defletque funestus exuvias, celeberrimae D nae. D. Katherinae Paston, quondam Sponsae dilectissimae, dignissimi Viri Gulielmi Paston, Armigeri, filiaeque natu maximae, honoratissimi Domini, Roberti Comitis Lindisiae, Magni Angliae Camerarii, & Constabularii, etc.  
Haec Heroina sublimes suos natales summa v●rtute superavit, vixit omnibus tam corporis quam animi dotibus omnifariàm, abu dèque ornata, & honorata. Ex dolore puerperii pientissimè obiit 3. Calend. januar. An. Dom. 1636  
Tres Filiolos spectatissimae, speratissimaeq indolis superstites, mille verò moerores, suis reliquit.   

Epicedium.  

Needs She another Monument of stone,  
Who had so many better than this one?  
All which were Noble Hearts, whom her decease,  
Transmuted into marble Niobes:  
Each tomb was arched about with weeping eyes,  
Whom sorrows blasts, did likewise cristalize:  
True Piety, Virtue, Love, and honoured Blood,  
On both sides, as Corinthian columns stood:  
Three Children Angels were, which did disperse  
Youth, Beauty, Wealth, like flowers on each hearse:  
A foliage of humane frail estate,  
The basement of the work did variate:  
But Glory like a Pyramid above,  
The Fabric crowned, and reached the Court of jove.   

Though these, renowned Mausoleums were,  
Yet her sad Consort reared this structure here,  
That future Ages might from it collect,  
Her matchless merit, and his true respect.    
FINIS.