POEMS.  
UPON THE Death of the most Honourable, THE LADY MAREHIONESS OF WINCHESTER.  
By R. Graham Esq.  
YORK. Printed by Alice Broad. and John White. at the Sign of the Lion and Lamb in Stonegate. 1680.   

AD Honoratissimum Dominum, Dominum Marchionem Wintoniensem, in obitum Illustrissimae Dominae Marchionissaes.  
Luctus Siste tuos tandem, Wintonia; Sponsam,  
Non Mors, Rivalis Jupiter ipse rapit.  
Inter Caelicolas titulo meliore potitur:  
Dixeris Uxorem, dixerit ille Deam.  
Quaeque Comes fuerit Sociali fadere juncta  
In Terra; Coelis nunc Comes esto Jovi.   

AD Nobilissimas Dominas, Dominas Mariam et Elizabetham de Paulet.  
Quid fletis, charae Matris cha●issima Proles?  
Quae vixit, regnat non moritura Parens;  
Et quot faeminei Sexus superabat Honore:  
Tota jam Caelestes auteit illa Deas.  
In caelis Honor est; induto Numine gaudens:  
Divina est tandem, quae pia Mater erat.   

TO THE Rt. Honourable the Earl of Wiltshire upon the Death of the Rt. Honourable the Lady Marchioness of Winchester.  

WHen our Illustrious fixed Star  
(Turned Planet first) began to err,  
Leaving the North, and then her Nation  
To meet with her great Constellation;  
We hoped (as all Caelestials are)  
Her motion might be circular;  
Or, like great Stars might disappear,  
And Shine again another Year.   

But she, by fatal Ordinance,  
In England risen to set in France;  
And from her lower Circle there  
Took flight into an higher Sphaer,  
That her bright Soul (by Heaven's care)  
In vehicle of purer Air  
Might conduct have. Which Element  
Ere since (as if 'twere penitent  
That it should give malignant Breath,  
And be found guilty of her Death)  
Hath turned its clearness into Clouds,  
And under Mourning daily shronds.   

Nay France (at last) now shames to see  
Its Clime with Virtue disagree;  
And grieus the Heavens should devise  
Their Nation thus to Tantalise.  
As if they only sent her forth,  
That it might know, not have, her worth.   

Her Fate in Clotho's Book was writ  
In such fair Characters, that it  
Was plainly read at distance by  
The Art of blind Astrology,  
And dim Starlight; which bid us fear  
A Northern Lady's fall this Year.   

As th' ' Heaven did portend her Fate:  
So they her Death do celebrate:  
And all their blazing Lights display;  
Turning the Night to Holiday.  
Each Star's a Torch t' attend on her  
Dead Hears, and guide the Mariner.   

Methinks at her Approach I see  
The British channel turned dead Sea;  
Salt water beyond course fall low,  
And each proud wave forget to flow.  
Great Neptune shakes his watery Head,  
As if his Tethys had been dead.  
Since She is dead cease Nature hence  
In one to crowd all Excellence.  
It makes our Loss too great; the Prize  
Too rich for pale Death's Avarice;  
Whose greedy Jaws hath learned the skill  
To make Distinctions; and will  
Not take his Prey on what is Least,  
But what's both Greatest and the Best.  
And since there is not of her Sex  
One left to fall Executrix  
To all her Virtues, let them be  
Distributed by Legacy.    

TO THE Rt. Honourable the Lady Mary, and Lady Elizabeth Paulet.  

WHat greater Cure could Jove devise  
To stop the flowing of our Eyes,  
Then Her (for whom we wept) to show  
Now once again alive in You?  
Successive Streams of Joy and Woe:  
By Intervals our Hearts o'erflow.  
Nay Contrarietys', we see,  
May in one Subject lodged be.  
For while we look, you see appear  
In one eye Joy, th' other a Tear.   

Since you, Great Ladies, do Survive  
An happy Mother; stay, revive  
Our dying Souls: Two Stars (tho' less  
Yet) in Conjunction may bless.  
Your Influence (methinks) doth give  
Ease to our grief, and bids us live.  
By your kind Aspect we do feel  
Fresh Vitals our dead Nerves to swell,  
Our Hearts to move, a glowing Flame,  
To kindle in our Hearts again  
A new Devotion, a Hear,  
That bids us once again repeat  
Those Sacred Duties unto you,  
Which were your Goddess Mother's due;  
Or else at▪ least (if it urge no more)  
As Relics of a Saint adore.   

Leave not that fair House desolate,  
Which you, when present. Consecrate  
Into a Temple; where all we  
Desire your Worshippers to be.  
Leave not your Votaries (just when  
They may be said to live again)  
'Twixt joy and grief, for fear we by  
Your Absence do relapse and die.   

Great Phoebus, else prolong that Night  
Before those Angels take their Flight;  
And, if they needs must go away,  
Sleep on, forget to rise that Day   
FINIS.