SPERO  
CEO. CHALMERS ESQ. F. R. S. S. A.    

A tropoïon Delion, OR, The death of Delia: With the Tears of her Funeral.  
A Poetical Excusive Discourse of our late Eliza.  
T. N. G.  Quis eius oblitus. 
HONI· SOIT·: QVI:·: MAL· Y· PENSE:·   royal blazon or coat of arms 
Imprinted at London for W. johnes at the sign of the Gun, near Holborn Conduit, 1603.   

To the right Honourable my Lady Anne, Countess of Derby, now wife to the right Honourable Sir Thomas Fgerton Knight, Lord Keeper of the great Seal of England, and one of his majesties most honourable privy Counsel.  
RIght Honourable, having no means at all to make known the humble affection I bear unto your good Ladyship, but in putting the patronizing of this my poor pains upon your Honour: hoping first, for the tender love you boar to the Delia of my sorrowing, you will deign both to look over it, & favour it: next, for the hearty love (in no little hono. kindness) your La. boar to your humble Servant my late Uncle Marm. Newton; who in the bitter pains of his death, discoursed the bountiful affection your La. boar unto him, and what loss he had sustained in losing so good a La. and Mistress: which corsite inwardly so grieved him, that he grew weary of the World, lamenting to his last gasp, that he had not time to prefer me to your ladyships favour, that his former love towards you, and your three honourable Daughters, dying in him, might live in me. And thus hoping that with the remembrance of both, your Ladyship will deign to accept my pains to your favour, in the amplest hope of my desire.  
Your ladyships devoted in all humility, Tho. Newton.   

To the right Honerable my Lady Anne Stanley, Lady St〈…〉g●.  

A. Silver flower from your rich orient eyes,  
N. A 〈…〉 e tricking down tho●e Alpe● where Beauty keepeth,  
Would more adorn the Tomb where Delia lies;  
Since that a Virgin for a Virg●n weary.  
Good Lady from your Heart one thought I crave,  
To th●●ke how poor your Delia lies in Grave:  
And to weep a tear, that will not move ye  
Infortunate was she, so dear to love ye:  
But I dare swear your eyes have wept ●ö many,  
That you are not a tear behande with any.  
T. N.    

To the right Honourable my Lady Francis.  

F. Ainting with sorrow this my youngling Muse,  
R. Equires as much of you for delia's death:  
A. Tear 〈◊〉: eyes, that are sorrows 〈◊〉,  
N. Ever drops one, for one so dear on earth,  
C. Ould all your tears at once be dry distilled,  
I. Know you would not leave one drop unshead,  
S. O dear you loved your Delia, wrapped in lead.  
T. N.    

To the right Honourable, my Lady Elizabeth.  

E. Yes that before her death, did then behold her,  
L. Amentes in flood of tears to lose their seeing,  
I. N yours no less I know, your tears infolds her:  
S. O heavy bears your heart, her loss of being.  
A. Dde one (good Lady) more, at my desire,  
B. Vt for to give my tears a worthier shade:  
E. Lse shall my hopes and pains with grief retire,  
T. Hat for your Sister's sake and yours, were made  
H. ere with my pains, my bounden heart I give,  
E. ●●●●o love a S 〈…〉 y, whiles I live.  
T. N.    

A POETICAL Excusive Discourse of our late ELIZA.  CASTITAS. 
LAte I sad Angel in an Angel's breast  
Enthroned late in glory, state, and bliss,  
But now displaced to mourn my throne at rest,  
I see how hrittle state, and glory is:  
My virtuous pride, so proud, was never seen,  
Not so preserved from blot, from breath, or stains  
Or ever was so rich in any Queen,  
As in this Delia whom I thus complain:  
No strangers eye but weeps that never knew her,  
What then can mine, that never lod'ge without her?  
Or what can D●●●● souls that still did view her?  
Or her chaste beauteous train that kept about her?  
Ye Nymphs to her linked all like burnished amber  
Why let ye death approach her privy chamber?  NYMPHAE. 
MAd in dispaise (poor souls) we fainting stood,  
Armed all with blades of hope & spears of prayers,  
Piked hangging down our hair to shed death's blood  
And drench his forces in a sea of tears.  
With storms of sighs we strived to weak his strength,  
And fought with earnest courage on our Knee:  
Yet palefaced Hag with creeping dart at length  
Deprived v● (wretches) of our Deity:  
When we awaked, and watched all sleepy hours,  
That midnight death each heavy brain doth cover,  
That end of all usurping ending powers,  
Robbed her of life, and us, who dear did love her.  
O Lord! why let ye such a one bereave her,  
That makes us all dispersed mourn, weep, & leave her.  HEROES. 
Our Wits that ever were employed to keep,  
Her sacred person safe and still secure:  
Our Eyes, that now upon her Hearse do weep,  
Scarce wink't at all, since first she seemed unsure.  
But wandered in our wisdoms arts, and skill,  
To find a mean, by all the means we could,  
Which mean we found, but being mortal still,  
No mean immortal could we find for gold.  
Wits witless thus, ceased to proceed in pain: 
Medium fuit Phisica.   
Eyes, eyeless thus, ceased to be blind in seeing:  
Heart, heartless thus, ceased longer to maintain  
That wrong, which had no help on earth a being.  
O World! why didst thou foster such a foe,  
To be chaste delia's traitor, Cynthia's woe.  MUNDUS. 
I Mourn for Delia, for I partly knew her, 
Regna propria, & Regna aliena.   
And partly knew her not; yet wholly mourn,  
The part that knew her well, makes other rew her,  
And both together, wail to be forlorn.  
For in the spacious multitude of me,  
I find a great defect, though one be small,  
The loss of Delia's crowned Virginity:  
But delia's grace and person most of all: 
Terra mortaliti subiecta num erum dim invit c●●lum. 〈◊〉 contra.   
In this (poor world) I differ from the Skies,  
For they enlarge and never break their number,  
And these they w 〈…〉, to thrones eternal rise:  
And th●s● I lose, 〈…〉'd in clay lie under:  
O Earth, why did thy womb bear such a brood  
That thus (remorseless) 〈◊〉 my delia's blood.  TERRA. 
DELIA, subject of the world lamenting,  
Was such a glorious issue of my womb,  
In her above the rest, grew my c 〈…〉 ing,  
But now the mother and her issue's tomb: 
Ad 〈◊〉 terra. Humus hum 〈…〉. Ci 〈…〉.   
Alas too timeless did I bring her forth,  
Since she too timeless is returned again:  
More joy I took to see her living worth  
Then thus in warpping of my Delia slain:  
Her life, how rich a life was it to many.  
The sight of her, how rich a comfort blistit:  
How then her death, is it not grief to any?  
Yes, grief; with cross of hopes to them that wished it.  
Delos I wail, and with mine eyes beweep her,  
That neither thou nor I hadst tower to keep her.  DELOS. 
IF any place of pleasure or delight,  
As Garden, Mount, or Vale, by rivers side,  
Had fed her vital spirits, with their sight:  
Then would not I have mourned, not Delia died.  
The whitest seat 
Whitehal.  I had, my Delia had it,  
The greenest 
Greenwich.  Palace of my breasts support,  
The richest Mount 
Richmond.  (the richest hands had made it)  
Washers, where she did lastly keep her Court:  
That time of last, would it had never been:  
Then had my late-dead Delia lasted ever.  
For one poor period of Time, my Queen  
And me, doth both in corporate and sever. 
In corporata mortte. Separata vita   
Then woe to thee, O Time for thou dost wrong us,  
That wouldst not lend us time for her among us,  TEMPUS. 
I Was the As●●list that did attend her,  
West to her vital web, her breathing scope:  
I was that Time, against my will, did end her,  
And he that set the passelesse point of hope,  
Along my Snaylish-iourney as I went.  
I led my Delia in a dextrous hand,  
And having traveled far (〈◊〉 last a Saint)  
My chaste companion, wish, me take a stand,  
Till she afresh had gotten breath and wind:  
Now I that had no joints to rest nor bend, 
Tempus tibiatum ferro in●umile. 〈…〉 pedatum Elephantis pedibus.   
Constrained to travel, left my Saint behind,  
Else had we travelled to our journeys end.  
Thou fatal Clotho, to my Sacred sweet,  
Wouldst not afford her Time, heart, breath, nor feet:  CLOTHO. 
I Smoke the Distaff in my bosom fast  
Whereon my delia's life was wrapped in Flax,  
And duly sat, till many years were passed  
My Distaff bare and thread full length was waxed:  
Which thread when first my Sisters 'gan to spin it  
How fast they drew, so fast it rolled and knotted, 
Nodi representant mise●tas tempora so●oris. Illum aureum, auream gubernationem. Nodus accumilatus. Vita sincin.   
That more their care and pain was to begin it,  
Doubting too timeless breach to it allotted.  
But having spun a full third part and more,  
The other two it turned all to gold,  
And spun not half so harsh as't did before,  
Till all at last upon a knot it rolled.  
So Lachesis, thy spinning and my pain,  
Was but to put on Time, and done in vain.  LACHESIS. 
ALas, had I had substance whereupon to pull,  
Or where withal to add unto her thread,  
My fingers should not weary, nor mine eyes be dull,  
Nor night, nor day from work lay down my head:  
For rich was he that might but kiss her hand,  
And much esteemed, that had her word of praise:  
How proud was he, might at her door but stand  
And hold a Pole-axe in her princely days?  
Amongst these riches then, how rich was I?  
That had both twisting, twining of the Clew,  
No greater riches with my Delia die,  
Than whom she loved, must seek their love anew.  
Oh had I (Atropos) Flax for her life, 
Morte moritur amor.   
Thou shouldst not only spin, but break thy knife.  ATROPOS. 
SO Angellike, immortall-seeming Saint,  
The tract of her most chaste and prosperous life,  
Did make the worldings think that scarce constraint  
Could bring her Thread once under yoke of knife.  
I cannot choose but mourn, her death, their grief,  
She did so love them: they no less deserved it.  
And held her next to Jove; on Earth for chief:  
Her as her love, and love as her preserved it.  
If Clotho's Distaff had been still supplied,  
And Lachesis small Fingers spinning longer:  
My Knife should still have hung close by my side,  
And neither edge nor point touched thread, nor wronged her,  
But Nature, thou art she that will't not give  
Substance of life, to make my Delia live.  NATURA. 
WHen first my curious Pencil did purtraie  
The pure composed limbs of Delia's form;  
Me thought my fingers strived to assay  
A work immortal, not terrestrial borne,  
And having brought it to a full perfection,  
The very Gods descended down to see,  
Their next celestial shape, with such affection:  
It pleased them so, they would have robbed me.  
But I more glorying in my labour taken,  
Grew jealous of the same, the whiles 'twas mine:  
Since when, my work itself had me forsaken, 
Aditus eius in mundum   
The Gods have seeted her in heaven to shine:  
Death was the fatal messenger that crossed her,  
She having spent my strength, I having lost her.  MORS. 
I Was that fatal executioner  
That gave that fatal stroke of Delia's death:  
I also was that fatal Messenger  
That brought this fatal news into the Earth.  
I was that thief which stole into her chamber; 
Mors est ultimus morsus.   
And first that made her saint, the Nymphs to wonder:  
I was that traitor which did fear no danger  
For acting treason to be rend asunder:  
Yet what I did, was by the Gods agreed,  
And not by me, but by the Powers above her; 
Mors non habet essentiam & nihil aliud est nisi actio deo●um   
They, not my dart, had made your Delia bleed;  
But for to make her know how they did love her:  
A Quire of Angels did descend beneath,  
To take her up to heaven, too good for earth,  ANGELI. 
CEase Nymphs with tears to overcharge your eyes,  
For Delia, weeps not now, that she hath left ye,  
Comfort yourselves in earth for she in skies,  
Comforted by them, which late bereft ye,  
So many years the Gods did let ye keep her,  
In tender love for to support your peace,  
But being gone, it nought avails to weep her.  
She now enjoys a crown of longer lease:  
Let this suffice how loath she was to part,  
So long as she had tongue, hand, eye or breath,  
Till when our Choir of Angels took her heart,  
She then bid welcome joys, and farewell earth.  
Where once each soul his delia's soul shall see,  
Crowed in another kind of Majesty.  FAMA. 
BRight heavens, you that enjoy our delia's soul,  
And death with Death that caused our Ladies mourn 
〈◊〉 est 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.   
That did the wisdom of our lords control,  
And strived against all Synthus power in scorn,  
Know this that Fame immortal is on earth,  
As you in heaven, and will not lose her so:  
You have her substance: I a God beneath,  
Will keep the substance of her life to show,  
I have her shape drawn in as lively die,  
As if my Delia were herself in being:  
And that's her delia's self unto my eye,  
I need no other Delia for my seeing:  
And yet me thinks she not in heaven essign'de,  
So plain I keep her Trophy in my mind.  
I Have in writing Golden Pens to praise her,  
In dateless Volumes of the silver air,  
The very style so lofty high shall raise her,  
That Time shall be too short to tear her hair:  
Wherein shall first her Chastity be writ  
As pure in Picture as itself was pure:  
Next her Religion, Love, her Art and Wit 
Fuit casta. Religiosa vera. Sit vivens Fama mortua corpore viuans anima.   
So fair, that delia's life may still endure,  
Then Synthus think thou hast thy Delia ever:  
The Heavens do keep her soul, thou keep'st her life,  
Which life (I vow) from thee shall never sever,  
Nor subject be to Fates Atropian knife  
Take this to wipe thy bleared eyes again,  
Her life is thine, though Heaven her soul contain.  CASTIT AS. 
AT length to Church I brought my Delia's Hearse,  
Blindfolded (for my eyes were blind with crying)  
And all a long the way in howling verse,  
I sung a Dirge unto her utmost dying:  
The Birds above, while I did sing beneath,  
With heartless yeelping filled the silver air,  
Ne with a shriller Quire than jon earth,  
For all I sobbed, I howled, and rend my hair:  
But then to help my Song my delia's Singers,  
(I mean her boys new turned to Black from Red,  
Like Lambs by Uthers nursed, with Orpheus' fingers)  
Mixed tears with Notes to see her buried:  
And to be changed to clay, her Robes from gold,  
Her princely Guard to Worms, her bed to mould.  NYMPHAE. 
NOw hath Attendance done the last command,  
That love or duty to our Delia ought:  
It need not watch her call, or slender hand:  
The one is mute, the other wastes to nought.  
Now are our Revels and our dancing sport,  
Turned all to sighs, each one to private plain:  
Now Delia can no more remove her Court,  
The Graue's her Palace, and the worms her train  
She is arrayed in Robes, in Pearl, in Stone:  
But not so rich as she was wont to be:  
For why; she lacks us Ladies every one,  
The worst herself, she lacks as well as we:  
Her Robes are sullen, such as Earth contain:  
Her Stones unpolished, Pearl, earths sinking rain.  HEROES. 
Our eyes did now behold their last beholding  
Of delia's shape, wrapped in obscurity:  
Till that the crummie Earth her corpses infoulding,  
Had blinded us with his condensitie:  
Returning then our thoughts, began to paint  
Her lively shape with new remembrance:  
And coming to her face, a new Complaint  
Grew, thinking on so sweet a countenance,  
That then we thought we had a new to make  
Both mourning vestments, tears, grave, hearse and all:  
For Delia seemed a new in life to wake,  
When was but done a new her Funeral.  
A grief unto us all, to them most wretched,  
To whom our Delia's love and bounty stretched.  PHISICI. 
With Chastity the Nymphs and noble Peers,  
Out over-weeried Wits and drowsy Eyes,  
Restless retires with droughtlesse spring of tears,  
To think how Delia in a cold bed lies:  
We thought our Art would have preserved her ever,  
But now we see his purest power and strength  
Was but for to prolong, (and not deliver)  
Her life, which death did overcome at length:  
No trust we put in Physics Arte at all  
But this; when always we began to make it,  
For life no more to be effectual,  
Till when her stomachs strength did fail to take it:  
Which weekenesse finding in her vital veins,  
Then ended she her life, and we our pains.  Sepulchrum CASTITATI Loquens. 
HEnce from my mouth, and wast no more thy tears:  
No tears prevail to take my Delia from me:  
No sighs can make my breast that thee up-reares  
Dissolve in two; with kneeling thus upon me:  
But to the greene-grasse sprouted hills be winging,  
Where pleasure doth release the time of sorrow,  
And where in pleasure sorrow sits a singing,  
When one sad soul another's breast doth borrow:  
There make a Chaplet of the sweetest flowers,  
That pretty pinked Grove or Dale doth yield:  
There shade thy temples in those templed bower:  
That canopize the haunters of the field:  
And round about thee in the Springing Medes,  
The Swains will finger Ditties to their reeds.  
OR else, gird Bow and Quiver to thy side,  
And run with Cynthia in the Pheboone-parke,  
To seek the Hart where he his head doth hide,  
With bended Bow whiles chopping Talbots bark  
That after Midday-heat some Willow under  
You may betake yourself to bathe and wash  
In some clear spring kept cool with such an number  
That none may see you naked to sport and dash,  
Thou mayst be happy, that in Bruiuses snow,  
Thy slight was not decreed nor delia's death,  
On every twig a thousand pleasures grave,  
That now a Heaven doth scarce resemble Earth:  
Leave kneeling tears, bid farewell Court & train,  
For them thou know'st not when to see again.  Sepulchrum NYMPHIS, Loquens. 
AS her I have dismi'st, so must I you:  
Nought can release your Queen my arms must keep her,  
No sad submission though you bend and bow,  
Are aught of force to make ye more beweep her:  
Bind up your hair,, wipe both your cheeks and eyes,  
Leave wring, kneeling, thumping of my breast,  
Envy not me, though in me, Delia lies.  
For she contented, gives herself to rest,  
For I am night, and bed, her life was day,  
Wherein coursed and recoursed her cares of mind,  
Which wearied her at last: but I for aye  
Am that sweet rest, wherein she rest doth find:  
O Nymphs! for Delia, why so much complain ye?  
Doubtless as good a Queen will entertain ye.  Sepulchrum HEROIBUS Loquens. 
ASsemble now no more for Consultation:  
(I mean, for delia's safety, life, and state)  
I take upon me now her preservation,  
All wits extending duty comes too late:  
You have committed her unto my keeping,  
She is my prisoner, I am her jail,  
The debt's so great, that neither gold nor weeping,  
Nor all the world beside, can be her bail,  
Bondage is judged to be her punishment,  
Death officer to execute her woe:  
For Time perpertuall imprisonment,  
Perpetual to earth, to Heaven not so,  
For Ioues sweet Mercury, will from her tomb,  
Release your Delia at the day of Doom.  Vermes MEDICIS Loquens. 
YOu that by Art procure the ease of man  
With short abridgement of continuance,  
'tis short you see for not beyond a span,  
The greatest Prince of all you can advance:  
Your ease is wasting ease, and Nature spendeth,  
Perchance you'll say it adds unto the breath;  
Not so in age, for than it but besriendeth  
The heart, to bring it to a pleasant death:  
For now your labours vain, you see at last,  
The leaves and Rules of Galen lies at rest,  
And now when all your hope is dead and past,  
No more you search to find Probatum est.  
Now what's your art in power, ne all you have,  
Cannot preserve her body in the Grave.  
FOr what's her body now, whereon such care  
Was still bestowed in all humility?  
Where are her robes? is not her body bare,  
Respectless in the earth's obscurity?  
Now where's her glory and her Majesty?  
Her triple crown, her honour, state, and train?  
Are not her riches all in poverty,  
And all her earthly Glories past and vain, 
Aequalitas morta●itatis inter Reges & pauperes est in morte & post mortem.   
Now where are all her cates, her glorious dishes,  
That were by death of sundry creatures spread,  
Her Fowls, her fat Quadrupidists and Fishes,  
Are they not living, now your Delia's dead?  
And we in life too filthy for her tooth,  
Are now in death the next unto her mouth.  
With that the greedy worms their heads shrunk down  
The grave shut close her heavy brooken ground,  
And crawling crept unto he lifeless crown  
Much like to Flies about a bleeding wound,  
Then all her Mourners eyes were veiled and blind,  
They weep not now with passion of the sight,  
But with a true remembrance of the mind  
They mean to mourn their Delia day and night:  
Thence they return, where Delis helpless lies,  
Each one betakes him to a private place  
To wipe the tears of over deluged eyes,  
Instead of her to welcome such a Grace;  
As all the Bounds of Europe, ne the Earth,  
Affords a wiser Prince of greater Birth,  
FINIS.   

In laud Authoris.  

PASS forth, pure ●em, to Subjects censuring,  
And what thy virtue yields, let Subjects read,  
Free is thy heart from false dissembling,  
For which; thrice happy, in so blest a deed:  
Small is thy port, yet with rich Truth art graced,  
And zealous Truth in highest Heavens is placed:  
Where she (great Empress) ever singing liveth,  
(Before his crystal Throne, which all good giveth)  
Moore white than Snow, freed from infirmity,  
Crowned with pure Laurel of Eternity;  
Many have writ sad Elegies of woe:  
But these true Mourners with her Funeral go.  
I: O: St. G.