Two Elegies, Consecrated TO THE NEVER-dying Memory of the most worthily admired; most heartily loved; and generally bewailed PRINCE; HENRY Prince of Wales.  
Hoc font derivata clades  
In Patriam, Populumque fluxit.  
LONDON: Printed by T. S. for RICHARD MORE, and are to be sold at his shop in Saint Dunston's Churchyard. 1613.   

TO THE HONOURABLE GENTLEMEN, and griefe-afflicted followers of our incomparable Prince HENRY, deceased.  

Interdum Lacrim●e pondera vocis habent    

COurteous Reader, I entreat thee patiently to bear with these few faults, in the first Poem, which through much haste are escaped:  
Stanz. for false read true. 1 lump lumps 2 maim fatal maim 10 or nor 18 satiate sat 24 Chain Claim 25 Career in Career 32 Kingling kindling   

A FUNERAL ELEGY ON THE PRINCE.  

THose base minds, unknowing, sensual, rude,  
That measure contraries indifferently;  
Whose Summumbonum is their sleep and food,  
Preferring moments, to Eternity;  
That GOOD, in ILL; and Soul, in Sense include;  
And bear no part in public Misery:  
May well be called that many-headed Beast;  
The spawn of Earth, and lump but indigest.   

And such, wise NATURE keeps in desperate care  
With hopeless things; that tho oppressed with want,  
Yet joy in grief; are hopeful in despair;  
And mortal in Affects, as Ignorant;  
They feel no motion, nor do bear a share  
In that main Cause which all good minds doth daunt;  
Sad Brittanes loss; DEATH'S maim, whose terror  
May mix our Tears, with cares; and grief with horror.   

But who, of gentle SPIRIT, and softened heart,  
Or who of Knowledge, and the minds discourse,  
One out of NATURE; th'other out of ART,  
That do not plunge themselves in sorrows sowrse?  
For these true qualities should bear a part;  
NATURE breeds Tenderness; KNOWLEDGE Remorse,  
Remorse breeds sorrow; Sorrow SENSE confounding  
With dreary Passion, and Heart's deepest wounding.   

And e'en as from some strange, and joyful Cause  
Proceeds oft times effects quite contrary,  
Which by (confusion of the Organ) draws  
The Mirth to Tears: so DEATH (preposterously)  
To snatch a kingdoms hope, 'gainst Nature's Laws  
So Dear, so Young; begets extremity  
Beyond loves ordinary course of tears,  
Such Passion swallows Pity up in Fears.   

Then if in Cause so weighty, tears so light,  
Express not these effects of gentle kind;  
Cold moves in mean; but numbs us with much might;  
And brightness overgreat may strike us blind:  
So in extremes in NATURE put to flight,  
Which lodged in the Centre of the Mind,  
Draws in tears moisture Sorrow to supply,  
Lest heart being burnt to Cinders, Passion die,   

Then in the depth of SENSE, my zeale-fraught breast,  
Wounded with grief and straining drops of BLOOD,  
Opening a vent to give my Passion rest,  
Yield tributary streams to TIMES vast FLOOD.  
Work LOVE, swell Seas; may that MUSE ne'er be blest,  
That drowns his WIT in standing Lake of mud:  
But Pegase Hoofs strike learned Helicon,  
Whose Rivulets now may run through ALBION.   

And as a liquid substance whiles one bend  
To hold it fast, by thinness apt to run,  
Is easier lost, and rather findeth vent  
By harder handling and compression:  
So worthier WITS within the Brain being penned,  
Breaking the bounds of such contraction,  
Rebound above their EARTH, that holds in vain,  
The fluent Numbers of their ravishing Strain.   

In TAGUS then some Swannet dip his Pen,  
And of this EAGLET-Issue sing the Fame;  
Renew his FIGURE in the hearts of men,  
Charm stupid SENSE; your Spell is in his NAME:  
And though this PHOENIX (fled from any ken)  
Have sacrificed his LIFE in Funeral Flame,  
A POETS Magic yet, prevails in death;  
Adds LIFE to Virtue; and gives Honour Breath.   

In moral TRUTH some later Poets feign,  
How when we leave this vail of misery,  
That Time gives Abstracts, which our names contain,  
Which flickering Fowl, that about Lethe fly,  
Catch in their beaks, but let them fall again,  
Such are rude men that drown all memory;  
But if a Swan do get a Hero's name,  
He consecrates it strait t'immortall Fame.   

Ye Isis Swans then let not Lethe's Fowls  
Profane his name; but may this PRINCE'S glory  
(Which Envy, Lethe, Time, or Age controls)  
Be sung of you in a Minerval story:  
Let this Fame's Sun through this round Transitory  
Shine, and ne'er set; and fixed like the Poles,  
Whiles some stout Atlas' props his heavenly frame,  
Let men (like Spheres) move round about the same.   

But I, in WIT the weakest; in ART the least;  
Knowing his death would cause the Muses slain,  
In will (though not in skill) strong as the best,  
Do give my Tincture to their purer grain:  
And though I bring but groundwork to the rest,  
That must erect this Trophy to his name,  
I shall be proud yet to have had a hand,  
Upon the Bases, where their Columbs stand.   

Then fair POSTERITY heavens Arbitress  
(That in Eternal Characters enrolles  
Those Worthies, rapt from Earth's unworthiness,  
Through the divine impulsion of their souls)  
Receive his memory which our zeals express,  
Deeply remembered in the Thespian bowls:  
That Times insatiate Orque (with kingdoms fed)  
May on his Ruins have his name be red.   

When first in childhood NATURE swayed his State,  
(All diligent Culture used to virtues Root)  
So soon he had disclosed the hidden Gate,  
That his high SPIRIT took wing in stead of foot;  
His timeliness did so prevent his date,  
That ere the Flower was looked for came the fruit:  
Thus Time in him gave spur to Nature's speed,  
And high-born thoughts his height of birth exceed.   

In him Earth's DEITY, with Heavens combined,  
To show their utmost cunning in a CREATURE;  
The Humours, and the Elements inclined  
To give to him heaven pointed form and stature;  
And GOD (by his rich Dowry of the mind)  
Rendered his Virtue Angel like in NATURE;  
And then but showed the world their Artful Prize,  
Then shut him up again from mortal eyes.   

His LIFE, and LIVES delight, was harmony;  
Whose Organs and whose Instruments were found  
Upon his PARTS in contrariety,  
To make sweet Music upon NATURES ground:  
But TIME too timeless in this Sympathy,  
Hasting his Close, this heavenly SPIRIT hath wound  
Up to the Spheres, and Orbs Celestial,  
HE was in NATURE so Angelical.   

His PRACTICE was (with more than manly awe)  
To sway the Sceptre of his world's Designs;  
Where by an upright hand he sought to draw  
Through all his actions, parallels and lines,  
Measured by JUSTICE, and by REASON'S Law:  
No sense perturbs, no passion undermines  
His glorious state, but kept his SOUL a shrine  
Burning in zeal of truth, and deeds Divine.   

His TIME by equal portions he divided  
Between his books and th'exercise of war:  
(War, the Tribunal seat where are decided  
The rights of KINGS: and studies that from far  
Survey the TIMES, how wandering and misguided)  
That Mars with wits Minerva seemed at jar,  
Which of them both should sway his Princely heart,  
Th'one with stern Arms; the other with mild Art.   

Upon PARNASSUS Mount he took his stand,  
A prospect fair of all discovery;  
(For nothing secret in Stars, Sea, or Land,  
Can be concealed from learning's clearest eye)  
Here would HE contemplate, and cast beyond  
The TIMES HORIZON, to Eternity:  
There might he satiate his Thirst, for nothing can  
(Excepting GOD) feed full the mind of man..   

And he that knew the MUSES still t'inherit  
The Prime and Privilege of the golden AGE,  
(Where heavenly Pleasure, Honour, and faire-Merit,  
Inflame Desire with an holy Rage)  
HE still embraced them: yet his fiery SPIRIT  
To GLORIES aim, so much he did engage,  
(Preventing or Presaging things to come)  
He used his EARS to Trumpet, Fife and Drum.   

And like as when the VIGIL of the night,  
(After the Starry RING had moved their course)  
Proclaims the Day; and then the GOD of Light  
(Roused from his Couch) doth mount his fiery Horse:  
So our FAME'S SON, with no less wished sight  
(After his Warlike summons) he would force  
Rest from his BED, and at those wished Alarms  
Mount his hot Steed, shining in glorious Arms.   

HE knew that Arms was th'exercise of KINGS;  
The spur to Fame, root of NOBILITIES  
He knew his BIRTH and SPIRIT had lent him wings  
To mount the pitch of all his ANCESTRY:  
He likewise knew Fame's Trumpet never rings  
Of delicate Courtship, but with Infamy;  
He knew that Soldiers used n'affected words,  
Whose Tongues are spears, their Oratory swords.   

By wars fair shadow, his discursive Thought  
Discerned the substance, and admired the Face;  
Bellona was his GODDESS, whom he sought  
With Knightly valour, more than courtly grace:  
Th'Impression of whose Figure so much wrought,  
That he would front her manly, and enchase  
Upon her sternest Brow, his tempered steel;  
ARMS had his heart; when LOVE had scarce his Heel.   

Not Canopies, but Tents took his DESIRE,  
Not Courts, but Camps; nor could the courtliest dames  
(Though they shot Eyeballs wrapped in CUPIDS' fire)  
Pierce his steeled Breast: but Bullets rolled in Flames,  
From thundering Cannons, had more power t'inspire;  
Where Towns for marks; & Crowns do stand for games;  
Where Foes subdued, for right of kingdoms wrongs,  
HONOUR might blaze with shield of golden Tongues.   

These were the Subjects of our PRINCE'S Aim;  
A plumed Cask, a Spear, a Sword, a Shield;  
Kingdoms his hope; Olympic wreaths his Chain;  
Barriers his practice, and the course of Field;  
We looked HE should have imped the wings of FAME;  
Charmed Death, ruled FATE, and made proud Fortune yield,  
And Lion-like have forrag'do're the EARTH  
To hunt his prey, and Crown his NAME and BIRTH.   

For who suggested not this ravished mind,  
To see him Career, and wield his Lance,  
What future TIMES such promising hope might find,  
How like HE was this Kingdom to advance?  
Who would have thought a SPIRIT unconfined,  
Should not have triumphed over Death and Chance?  
And o'resome vanquished FOE, in crimson Flood,  
Be crowned on Horseback sweeting dews of Blood?   

And who (in his Praeludium) did not see  
(Penned in the CHAOS of his manly Frame)  
The spirit of Cyrus in Minority,  
In boundless hope, and in a soundlesse Aim;  
And in contention for Priority;  
Not Alexander for th'Olympian Game,  
Could show more hearty thirst, and active Fire,  
Then he would do in his unquenched Desire.   

In State Designs, how full of State, and slow?  
In Thoughts searene; in Carriage grave and wise;  
His speech a Current branched from NATURES Flow;  
In Countenance, SAGE; Majestic in his Eyes:  
As if in HIM he would let Statesmen know,  
A PRINCE'S Wisdom not in wrinkles lies:  
GOD measures not his GIFTS by Age or years,  
His SENSE was hoary, although green his Hairs.   

In him was drawn the Model of a State;  
From Reason, Wrath, Desire, or Industry;  
Reason, to Government proportionate;  
Desire, to Trades; and Wrath, to soldiery;  
To range these powers, three virtues destinate;  
Wisdom with Fortitude, and Piety:  
Those three thus ordered States make Realms complete,  
As these three virtues, Princes good, and great.   

He was the grief of FOES: And e'en as fire  
Being newly kindled, ere it can burn bright  
Or'e-comes the smoke, and then it doth aspire,  
And out of vapour shows his proper light:  
So VIRTUE (envies object) doth acquire  
(maugre malignant Humours of despite)  
His native LVSTER●▪ so our PRINCE (Divine)  
From Foeman's fume, would make his FAME to shine.   

He knew himself: no flattering Glass could give  
So soothed a humour, or so smooth, a face,  
That he would not discern; he strived to live  
T'establish TRUTH in heart; as power in Place:  
From each of these his knowledge did derive  
Such equal right, which had so fair a grace,  
That TITLES proved but Instruments to praise,  
VIRTUE was Agent, and still wore the Bays.   

His virtual Impressions could rebate  
The venomous BANE of whorish Flattery;  
Which like a SIREN lurks in surging State,  
To sing great PRINCES to their Infamy;  
Which living deadness he so seemed to hate,  
That in the winde-swolne seas of Majesty,  
TRUTH steered his course, and kept his BARK from harms;  
He had Ulysses power 'gainst Circe's Charms.   

The hope of HIM, made frozen VIRTUE burn,  
Which took fresh fervour from his Kingling fire;  
To him all IRON hearts began to turn;  
For he was Loadstone to all Heart's desire:  
For HIM all Sexes and Degrees do mourn;  
And ever shall we (till our Breathes expire)  
Embalm his virtues, and upon his urn  
In LOVES sweet Incense, never cease to burn.   

What TYPES can WIT devise shall now be wanting?  
Yet who his HONOURS perfectly can blaze?  
What Heart, Tongue, Pen, thinks, speaks, writes, without scanting  
His full proportion of immensive Praise?  
But O thy FATE, when now our hopes were planting,  
To turn to Funeral Cypress, joyful Bays,  
It reaves my Sense: he was too fair to flourish;  
Too soon too ripe, and therefore like to perish.   

Why did the Parcoe cut his unspun thread?  
His SPIRIT of Fire t'his Element aspired:  
Was that the cause? why live we, he being dead?  
We are forlorn, and he too much desired:  
Our full-fed hopes were surfeited, and bred  
A new disease; and he we so admired,  
First took th'Infection, and bequeathed his Breath,  
Then we were cause of his untimely Death.   

And as a covetous Miser, midst his wealth,  
Fats in his JOY, then pines in thirst of more;  
So our rich hopes in HIM impaired joys health,  
And in abundance, we grew starved, and poor:  
Then TIME and DEATH that exercise their stealth  
Upon the Things wherein we set most store,  
As th'Instruments of FATE, hauerobed us quite,  
For Heaven is jealous of the world's delight.   

No Object dearer; nor no LOVE so crossed:  
If ever good cause suffered under might;  
If ever JOYS were checked in proudest Boast;  
Or ever Claim did non-suit kingdoms Right;  
Our Cause, our JOYS, our Right and all are lost,  
TIME, DEATH, and NATURE armed with Fates despite,  
By this one fatal blow so deadly given,  
Doth make us groan under the wrath of heaven.   

sorrow sit down then, and with bended Head,  
Bearing thy Chin against thy griefe-charged Breast,  
Behold the hungry Grave now to be fed,  
With world's delight, and cause of thy unrest:  
Be not appeased; forget thy Food, thy Bed  
Remembering him; OH never more digest  
So dear a thought, but let thy heart, and Brain,  
Solicit still thy Passion to complain.   

Now Musics Sirens that were wont to move  
His soul harmonious, with your sweet consents,  
howl your lost joy, your Hope, your Life, your Love,  
With your cracked voices and your Instruments:  
Disjoin yourselves, and like the Turtle Dove  
Alone bewail your loss in languishments:  
Pine and consume, and like the dying Swan  
Sing Dirges for yourselves, and him that's gone.   

And ye the Noblest estate of men  
(Soldiers) embast in these degenerate times;  
Though ye afford most matter to my Pen  
Texcite your Tears; yet lest my harsher Rhymes  
On your sad cause, do make you mad again,  
Rest to your Passion: Hark the Churches Chime●  
Ring to GOD'S service; serve him then in Peace,  
Wax poor in spirit, and let action cease.   

But ye dejected Spirits of his TRAIN,  
Ruined in fortunes, and distressed in mind;  
Of my Complaint receive this horrid strain;  
methinks your Passion should strike Reason blind  
With your immoderate woes; and though in vain  
Ye rage in Tears, like Seas with boisterous wind,  
Yet with full sails of grief you should be borne  
Till Mast were split, sails rend, and tackling torn.   

Now is my Passion with my soul at Wars;  
methinks the PILLARS of the world should shake;  
Alcides shrink, and showers of luckless Stars  
Drop from their spheres: me thinks the earth should quake  
graves gasp, Raunes croak, and all confused jars  
Forerun his FUNERAL: yet what can make  
The sight more ruthful? when his HEARSE appears  
A little Island compassed in with Tears.   

O now through ruptures of each wounded Hart,  
His living figure prompt our deadest hope,  
That Tears (erst choked with horror) may convert  
To give our Eyes their dew, and pity scope:  
Now let all sing a tear complaining part,  
For weeping Floods do now begin to open  
A passaage for their streams, which must extend  
In crooked Meanders without ebb or end.   

Prepare, prepare thou hollow hearted Tomb,  
To take to thy dead Arms, and to embrace  
A Tear dewed Hearse: never did NATURES Womb  
Produce his like: His Honour, Beauty, Grace  
Possess all Hearts; Posterity to come  
Record his Name, which may no time deface:  
And when Earth's glory in Confusion lies,  
Let CHAOS murmur virtues victories.   

All stupid sense which Britain Tears restrain,  
Be now dissolved, suggest the smallest Beams  
Of his true splendour, and each frozen vein  
Will melt in grief, and turn to licquid streams;  
On dryest Sorrow cast moist showers of Rain:  
Let heat and cold, moist, dry, with all extremes  
Fight with Confusion in each troubled breast,  
Which Time to quiet, never may digest.   

Let tears show Love, though robbed of comforts cause;  
For Canker TIME hath eat our hopes with rust;  
Let Passion melt, as Icy coldness thaws;  
Till windy sighs o'erwhelm us with their gust:  
Though tears nor passion wring from deaths fowl jaws  
Our joys delight now blended with the Dust:  
Yet since our Hope and joy in dust doth lie,  
Let Hearts strain blood; Eyes weep their fountains dry.   

Adore we than that dreadful sacred TRINE,  
That gives us Essence out of Vacuum;  
Nor 'gainst his Will let Rebel hearts repine,  
Who is the soul of soul's infusion;  
And though we seem thus forced to resign  
What we thought ours; but his possession:  
All fall before his mercies gracious THRONE,  
Admire his justice, and his ends unknown.   

Decist vain man be not degenerate  
In constitution of thy Soul and Mind,  
Presume not in thy Thoughts t'expostulate  
With God, who holds the lump of all thy kind;  
That bounds the Sea, and sets the world his date;  
Confines all things himself being unconfined;  
Nor can his Wills uncomprehended might  
Be linked, and tied to thy fond Appetite.   

Is not a Malefactor sore afraid  
To view th'aspect of MAN'S Austerity?  
Do not Faci●●●● Facts implore the aid  
Of human MEN, 'gainst laws leveritie?  
When cruel Wrath with gentle Piu's staid,  
Seems not stern justice yoked with Clemency?  
Which Sympathized together in one Sphere,  
Their Influence engender LOVE, and fear?   

How much more shall that Firm DIAMETER,  
Essential Sphere of MAN'S Direction;  
Heavens Architector; World's Artificer;  
The Quinessence of all Perfection;  
Be loved in Fear, feared in Affection?  
Let then no dusty Wormling ever dare  
With his Eternal WILL to hold dispute,  
But wrapped in wonder, all be dumb and mute.   

The LAW is fixed whose Bounds may none transcend,  
Which different Causes in one Chaine-combines;  
All things by providence begin, and end,  
Which generally orders: next assigns  
A special power to FATE; which doth extend  
And singularly parts in Place, and Times:  
So that GOD'S general Ordinance firm must stand:  
And FATE still use his unavoided Hand.   
— Dijs Pietas mea  
Et Musa Cordi est.  
Deflevit CHRISTOPHERUS BROOKE  
FINIS.