THE MVSES thankfulness, OR  
 
A funeral elegy, Consecrated to the perpetual memory of the late All-Honourable, and All-Noble Lord, Robert, Baron Spencer, of Wormleighton, &c.   

To the Right Honourable William Lord Spencer Baron of Wormlaighton.  

With due respects, and just observances  
I offer up my faire remembrances,  
lively continuing, by this true record  
Long lasting memory, to my honoured Lord;  
I doubt me nothing but I am come short  
( Against my will 'tis though) in my report:  
My genius is too mean, too poor, too low,  
Let me crave pardon yet for failing so,  
Since I haue done my best, accept then this,  
pass by my errors, that you find a miss;  
Each man a live knew his exceeding worth,  
Nor need it to haue been by me set forth,  
Can though a thankful heart forget to bring  
Earnest acknowledgements for every thing  
Rright plenteously received? the Muses were espected by him, and they thank him here.    


Dieu defend le droic   
Des Tres-illustres et Nobles gentilsh ommes 〈…〉 Baron. 〈…〉 &c. 〈…〉 Richard Spencer& sir Edward Spencer Cheual   

To the three illustrious Sons living, of the late All-honourable on earth, but now All-glorious St. in heaven, Robert, Baron Spencer.  

William Lord  
Spencer Baron  
of Wormleighton.  
Richard  
Spencer.  
Sir Edward  
Spencer K.   

lo here( renowned Gentlemen) I bring  
The due acknowledgements, the Muses sing  
In lively, and perpetual memory  
Of him, who, though the Fates ordained to die,  
Hath left untainted Honour, free from stain  
To his posterity; then great's your gain,  
Faire your enjoyments, and your 'haps are good,  
That haue your veins fil'd with so Noble blood;  
So are his virtues in your hearts combined,  
The rich endowments of his blessed mind;  
Be also like him, in this very thing,  
Be courteous, to accept this offering.    

The Muses thankfulness  

CAnst thou depart and be forgotten so,  
As if thou hadst not been at all? O no,  
But in despite of death the world shall see,  
The Muses which much honoured were by thee,  
Can black oblivion, utterly out brave,  
And set thee up above thy scilent grave,  
For Time, nor Age, nor yet can Death, or Fate  
Confine thy famed to an expiring date;  
Since all they can do, is to kill thy earth:  
Whose Dust wiped of thy soul, a second Birth,  
Regenerates the honour of thy Acts  
unto eternity. He that detracts  
The dead Mans good, defames his own intent;  
And makes obscured virtues, eminent.  
But( Noble Lord) this Monument they raise,  
With uncorrupted purpose to thy praise.  
All that they speak, is vnexacted, true and free;  
drawn clearly from vnalter'd certainty.  
Sith that the hand of death hath laid thee there  
Where men are all of them a like, and where  
All men in time must lie, eu'n in the earth,  
Where are no several rooms for State or Birth,  
Death having left thee nothing, but a Name  
In mens remembrances, merely the same.  
Of what thy virtue and thy worth hath done  
Renowned Spencer each thing else being gone.  
Now must the Muses thou wert wont to grace,  
Now leave thee in thy grave that darksome place,  
That few regard or haue respect unto;  
At least( if that at all) they faintly do.  
Where all attendance and observance ends,  
Where what was ill no countenance deffends;  
And what was good th'vnthankfull world forgets,  
Where all the Sunshine of our favour sets:  
Here shalt thou haue the service of their pen,  
They cannot be supposed to flatter, when  
They speak behind thy back, not to thy face  
There's no disimulation in this case.  
What benefit thou yeeld'st, them to sustain,  
That haue they lost by this thy death again;  
Yet( notwithstanding) thy great courtesy,  
Cannot enforce observance beyond thee,  
Who haue their hopes, or whose desires are hye,  
Let those dissemble, they konw how to lie  
And fawn like vassals, with such services,  
Muses seek not the meritlesse to please.  
And if mistaken by the paralax  
And distance of my standing, men did tax  
Me heretofore, that aiming too far off,  
I was too free of praises without proof,  
But here it is not so; and yet the choice  
Of those that I did make, had the free voice  
Of present times, their virtues to allow,  
For all of them did make a currant show;  
And if they failed in substance, yet it is  
No blemish to my faire observances;  
Nor can it as a fault to me be laid,  
True praises do adorn, the false obray'd;  
And oftentimes to greatness we are glad  
To attribute those parts we wish they had.  
But noble Spencer, I stand clear with thee,  
I haue a manumission to be free  
under correction, here I may make bold,  
To speak the certain truth. Thou canst not hold  
Mens tongues, who hearing thou deceased art,  
Of thy past life, their censure will impart.  
Here fairly will I thee anatomise,  
show how thy mind was built, and in what wise;  
And freely open what thou wert within,  
What the contexture of thy heart hath been,  
Which was so nobly framed, so well composed,  
That virtue never was so well reposed  
Then, in that goodly frame, that most faire seat,  
When all things quiet, and when all things sweet,  
Had a most peaceful and a blessed rest,  
Without disturbance; nor was ever breast,  
So free from passion that migbt tumults raise,  
Though in thy praise wert mute, and add'st no noise;  
Yet by thy silent modesty is found,  
The emptiest vessels make the greatest sound.  
And as dogges bark at those they do not know;  
So the base people, whose condition's low,  
Will slander thee, and mutter underhand,  
And censure things they do not understand:  
The worthier sort, who know we do not live  
With perfect men; to the deceased give  
just commendations, and are not unkind,  
Knowing themselves must likewise leave behind  
Those that will censure them, and they know how  
T'excuse, not urge, a passed error now;  
They haue more modesty then to insult  
When as thou hast no party to consult,  
No tongue, no advocate to show thy mind,  
They rather will lament the loss they find,  
By such a noble member of that worth;  
Knowing, how rare the world such men brings forth.  
E're may his name, his famed, and virtues shine,  
That we may imitate his worth divine,  
Like unto him win action to our will;  
Not to do good, we know is to do ill:  
His faith was not a dead or idle thing,  
But faith in heart, fruits from his hands did bring;  
But from his faith, of all good deeds the cause,  
And from his due observing of the laws  
divine, in which he did beyond compare excel;  
Let us proceed, his other gifts to tell:  
beams that shall break forth from his hollow tomb,  
Shall stain times past, and light the Times to come.   

YE Thrice three Sisters, which do rest vpon  
Pernassus hill, and drink of HELICON;  
Which round about that sacred Spring do sit,  
Well weigh your loss, and sadly mourn for it;  
Double your Lachrimas, augment your moan,  
For greater cause of grief was never known;  
Since that your worthy and best Patron's dead,  
tears too profusely you can never  shed;  
look not in city, Court or any place  
To haue your old respect and former grace:  
Now gentle blood, in Fancies school vptrain'd,  
Learning to be ignoble haue maintained.  
And now the Nobles which encouraged those,  
Which were bright wisdom's friends, dark errors foes;  
Are so far from affording former grace,  
They hold the Poets and Muses, but as base  
Beggars, or else far worse, the sorrow show  
When as you loose your friends you haue so few.  
Thy love( brave Spencer) hath his just reward;  
Thy noble friends bare thee a kind regard  
After thy death, nor do forsake thee, now  
Thy honour's coffer'd in the grave, but show  
That worthiness, which merits to remain  
lively examples, doubtless they shall gain  
A like regard unto their memory,  
For this their absolute integrity:  
Cause the praise-worthy Actions, These haue wrought,  
( Till the world fabric be to Chaos brought)  
To live perpetual in each ages Story,  
As the due trophies of their deserved Glory.  
For though stern Death hath born away this prise  
Whose worth the poor World scarce can equalize,  
Yet doth He live, although depriude of breath,  
Saincted in heaven, and renownde on Earth.  
Most Sacred be thy memory, outwasting  
All Genealogies: and Euer-lasting,  
whilst there be Elements, star, orb, or sphere,  
Dayes sun, or Nights moon, to direct the year:  
Whilst there be seasons named, autumn or Spring;  
Ought being, or, what may be called a thing:  
Nor is He dead, let that our Comfort be,  
Death's like the basilisk, if he first see,  
The object perisheth: but being espied,  
Falls: He saw Death first, killed Him; so Death Dyde,  
And He still lives in glory, why should then  
tears, sighs, or the least grief afflict us, when  
All are most Confident, He is now possessed  
Of what we yet but aim at, heavenly rest:  
Or if you needs will his sad death Deplore,  
Know, no Laments, can Him thats dead restore.  
Supprime iam Lacrymas non est reuocabilis istis  
Quem semel vmbrifera, Nauita vin●re tulit,  
Nam Rigidum Ius est,& Ineuitabile Mortis.  
Yet what is he that can a son persuade  
From tears, when he beholds his Father laid  
In his could sepulchre: or a Mother dry  
Her moistened cheeks, and instantly apply  
herself to laughter; when before her face  
She breathless sees, the Hope of all her Race.  
But though mankind Contend above their force,  
tears still will find their vent, and grief his course.  
Since life then so uncertain is and frail,  
That like vnskilfull mariners we sail  
Through unknown Seas: and quick-Sands every where  
Shallowes and rocks, and know not how to steer  
A desperate Course, ere we in pieces shake  
Our Crazed Bottoms; This short counsel take,  
Twixt Hope, Care, fear and Passion which thou hast,  
think every hour before thee is thy last.  
So by this means for all thy after deeds,  
Th'art bound unto each Minute that succeeds,  
All sublinary things, their beings woe,  
To future ruin: nothing said to grow  
But being once ripe to fall. when we begin  
Once to be tainted with original sin,  
The very first hour of our earthly strife,  
Doth take an hour off, from our future life.  
Laeta sit ista dies nescitur origio secundi  
An labour, an requies, sic transit gloria Mundi.  
And wisdom saith, This Worlds felicity,  
truly examined is but vanity.  
How quickly do all earthly joys decay,  
Forsaking their possessors; In a day,  
An hour, a minute, hard misfortunes fall,  
Which from our mirth do unto mourning call?  
O let our Muses tears without all end  
From th'inexhausted fountains still descend.  
Sith 'tis most true, this age is vain and strange,  
Time comes by turns with unexpected change:  
Behold Great men of famed and Rich renown,  
Death in their highest Honor, pulls them down.  
Then what are we, but fools of self-conceit;  
All what we haue, stands in a stagg'ring state.  
We weeping come into this world of Cares,  
scarce is our Prime, when wintring Age declares  
What weighty grief, our body doth oppress,  
When all our life's but battels of distress,  
bread with sin, born with woe, our life is pain  
Which still attends us, to our grave again,  
Then Earthly slime, wherein consists thy pride?  
In that faire Bed of worms where thou must bide?  
Oh! know that Glory goes into the ground,  
That thy faire face most filthy shall be found.  
Our sunshine joys, Time swiftly sweeps away  
This night we live, and die before the day.  
But why should Stags or ravens live so long?  
Why should not rather, that their age belong  
unto a righteous man, whose length'ned yeares  
Might assist our necessities, and fears?  
For savage Death hath ransacked that breast,  
Where a large Treasury of wit did rest.  
What's Gentry then? what's Noblesse? greatness what?  
The civil Purple, or the Clergy hat?  
The Coronet, or mitre; Nay the crown  
imperial? What is potency, renown?  
Ouations, Triumph, or the Conquering bays,  
wisdom or Wealth? Can these add to thy Dayes  
A Minute? No, a sudden chance will fall,  
Which from thy Mirth will thee to Mourning call.  
Inquire of Roman Brutus surnamed just,  
Or Salomon the wise, they both are dust:  
Learned Aristotle, Plato the divine,  
From Earth they came, and Earth, they now are thine.  
Where are the Worthies? where the Rich, or Faire?  
Where now the poor, or the Deformed are?  
Differing in Life, in Death they are the same,  
And though unequal tombs, haue equal famed.  
What attributes may we to Homer give,  
And other Poets; by whom all These live:  
Who as their putrid flesh is long since rotten;  
So in their obscure Graues had lain forgotten  
Like common men: Had not their Muse high flying,  
Kept both these worthies,& themselves from dying.  
We see the Conquerors with the Captaines spread,  
And lodgde in earth, as in the common bed.  
The All-commanding general hath no span  
Of Earth allowde, more then the common man.  
Folly with wisdom hath an equal share,  
The Faire and foul, alike entombed are.  
This is of all mortality the end,  
Thirsites with Naereus dares contend:  
And with Achilles, he hath equal place,  
That living durst not look him in the face.  
The Seruant with his Master, and the maid  
With her proud mistress, both their heads are laid  
Vpon an equal Pillow. Subiects keep  
Like Courts with Kings: I, and as softly sleep,  
Resting their heads vpon a turf of grass,  
As they on Marble, or on figured brass:  
Blind Homer in the grave lies doubly dark,  
Against him now base zoilus bares not bark.  
Be this then no small comfort unto you,  
The Gentry, and nobility, that knew  
This Great mans worth, his wisdom, Valour, piety,  
zeal to the sacred Trine, the unite deity:  
For though his body be confined to dust.  
His soul still lives amongst the best. The just  
Before remembered, with the Valiant, Wise,  
And such as strove all goodness to Comprise.  
He was possessed of much, and in full measure,  
Did in his bosom Thousand virtues Treasure,  
Which on this Earth he did but put to loan,  
Glories for virtues, he hath ten to one.  
Being like an orange three, on which was seen  
Still fruit though gathered, yet some likewise green.  
Nor let such as Lament him, blame the Fates,  
Be they the Commons, Gentry, or the States,  
That want his Noble wisdom to assist  
In Counsels, by which commonweals exist,  
And haue their flourishing being, blaming Time,  
That snatch from them a Father, in his prime;  
Rarely complete: For let all men know,  
He onely paid a debt which he did owe  
To God and Nature: Nor can frailty, sin  
transgress those limits we are bounded In.  
He's free from Care, with which this Earth is fraught,  
And Pale-fac't Death hath Life unto him brought.  
This sure he knew full well, or else more fear  
Would haue possessed him, when as Death did tear,  
His soul out of his Pious holy breast  
But he did know it was the way to rest.  
Ills that with wisedoms eye we do foresee,  
We do much fear when they approaching be.  
The Man that surely knows the thief will come  
Doth fortify the doors to every room.  
And thus with Weapons, and with walls made strong,  
fears not the thief, cause him he cannot wrong.  
Thus it did fare with him, he was prepared  
For coming Death, and therefore was not scared:  
He was no whit afraid, for he did know,  
Death could not wound, but cure him with his blow.  
he did with faithful Eyes his Name behold,  
Which was in the blessed book of Life inrold;  
And then his Contemplation higher flying,  
He feared not Death, nor was afraid of Dying:  
No more then is the Prisoner strongly guarded,  
That hopes with freedom to be soon rewarded.  
So was it with his soul, when Death drew near,  
It rather filled was with Ioy, then fear.  
Not one whit loathe her Prison to forsake,  
Her flight to heaven, unto her GOD did take.   
This little Moment of our life is the short space whereon dependeth all eternity of eternal joys or else eternal pains. When we rise in the Morning what know we the chance that will befall us before night. And if wee escape the Dayes peril, what will happen before the Morning. Therefore when we go to Bed, we should remember how that it is the very Image of our Graues; the Triumph, State and train of a Great man is partend the Day being gone, and the Night come all His rioting and banqueting is finished, and He in a Solarie Retreat, puts off his Gorgeous apparel, and strips himself naked to his shirt: So the pleasure of this Inconstant World shall pass, The Mightiest and richest of this World shall shall be stripped naked of all his Glories. Vanities and Riches. he shall carry nothing with him but a simplo Winding-sheet, more then the poorest and abject fellow.  
Let us therefore with the depth of our Hearts Repent▪ and think how the Axe is laid to the root of the three; When with an unfeigned remorse, our Hearts shrils within us, with angry grief against ourselves, then we may be assured that the Spirit of God works in us: it is a sign of true Repentance, when the Sinner( without hypocrisy) mends his wicked life, making first satisfaction to his Creator, by Fasting and Praying; Restitution to his neighbour in giuing to the poor for Christs cause▪ Visiting the sick, comforting and helping the afflicted Prisoner, giuing Hospitality& countenance to the Distressed Stranger. For, in the poorest wretch and most miserable Creature, the Highest and most Fortunate, doth see himself and his humanity, perfectly as in a true glass. Thus, our Mercy sh●● I give us security of our souls health, our charity and alms will meet us, and make our End most happy.  

For as the ston doth to the Center hast;  
Or as the Hare doth ioy when Hounds bepast;  
Or as the Eagles to the Corps do fly:  
So did his soul to God, when he did die,  
Death seemed not ghastly to his Ghostly wright,  
Cause while he lived, he did in Death delight.  
The stroke and strength of Death he often tried,  
For in his Holy Life he daily died.  
He likewise knew that Death was but a drone,  
Because he saw the sting of it was gone.  
His Faith's eye saw One, hanging on a three,  
By whose great power Death seemed dead to be.  
He knew Christ so, Death by his death did mend.  
He made it his last Foe, and his first Friend.  
For as Physitians poisonous Vipers beat,  
Till they their venom void, then healthful meat  
do of the flesh compose: so thou oh Lord,  
Dost to thy sacred Saints, this bliss afford,  
That grisly Death should not cause sad annoy,  
unto thy Members, but bring heavenly Ioy.  
For when his soul, had this Earths lump forsook  
It, by the swift wingd Posts of heaven, is took.  
Christs All-delightfull presence to behold,  
Which ever lives, and yet is never old.  
This made him like a patient lamb to lie,  
And breath forth nought but blis, when he did die.  
And when from sight of Earth, his Lights shut were,  
The blessed Land did to's Soul's eyes appear.  
When Death closing his lips forbade to speak,  
In silence He his mind to God did break.  
And when Death had extinguished Natures fire,  
His soul was free, and had her blessed dehre.   
For as Saint Chrysostome saith, That the end of the Labourer is sweet, when he resteth from his Labours. So the wearied traveler, longeth for his Nighes lodging, and the Storme-beaten Ship seeketh up for Shore. The Hireling oft questioneth when his year will finish and come out. The Woman great with child will often muse and study vpon her delivery: even so, doth he that perfectly knows that his death is but a way to live, And he that considers truly how that this Transitory life is but as a swift Post to Death: Like an Impetuous river which hasteth to the Sea( for so do we, which are Earth, speedily return to Earth) will sit on the door Threshold, with the poor Prisoner, who greedily expecting when the jailor shall open the door: every small motions makes him hope, that death is approaching to deliver him out of pain and misery, in taking him from this valley of tears. He looks for Death without fear, and desires it with affection, and expecting it with great devotion, He acteth the last part of his sore afflicting Life in this world. His gesture and end thirles the beholders eyes with sad compassion: His words of woe, seasoned with sighs, doth bath the Cheeks of the Hearers with still distilling tears: with weeping eyes he calls for help of Prayer, and like a hunger-starved beggar he howls and cries to that All-incomprehensible householder. Saying:  
O My God( All-lust, yet All-Mercifull) Open the Gates of thine infinite mercy to the greatness of my Miseries: Cast up the Ports of thy unspeakable pity, to my wearied Spirit; receive my soul into thy hands, and anoint her festered wounds, with the blood of thy Immaculate lamb, Christ Iesus. Amen.  

Mans life's a goal, one Death th'end of that Race,  
But thousand by-paths led unto the place;  
From th'east, the West, the South, the North, all come,  
Some slow, some swift paced to this general doom.  
These by the Warres fall, these the Seas devour:  
certain is Death, uncertain most the hour.  
Some die of Ioy, others with grief expire,  
Beneath could Artos some, others by Fire,  
The Torrid Zone casts, forcing them to endure  
The mad Infection, called the calenture.  
Some the Spring challengeth, and some the Fall,  
Winter and Summer others: but Death all.  
Diseases infinite haunt man alone,  
could Aches, fevers, the apoplexy, the ston,  
The wind, the gout, the cramp, the dropsy: these,  
Palsies and Aches on our Bodies cease.  
But surfeits most, which as Physicians say,  
Haue in the World, of Men been more decay,  
Then( if I may take a great Artists word)  
Haue dyed by Plague, by Famine, or the Sword.  
This heaven permits, and how may then poor man  
Contest against it; none so weak but can  
Take from his own and others sundry ways,  
But yet not add one Minute to their dayes,  
He fell by no such Riots or excess,  
But was Abstinious, one that did profess  
A moderate Diet, with such Temperature,  
As almost might, Health with long life assure;  
For in Sobriety he did excel,  
And alway did demean himself right well.  
A longer course of life he might haue run,  
And to this Land might more good turns haue done,  
He might haue been the ornament of Court,  
The subject of far honoured report;  
But though he be extinct, yet shall his name  
Be still preserved by long-liued famed.  
Though that faire virtues worthy louers die,  
Their memories survive eternally.  
Although Times stealing revolutions pass,  
And eating Age consumes the strongest brass:  
Yet generous acts, and virtues of the mind  
An honourable fresh remembrance find.  
He was the pattern of a perfect man,  
His singular endowments ever wan  
A general liking and a full applause,  
For his upright sincerenesse in each cause:  
By rule of Scripture he his deeds did square,  
And to observe the golden mean took care:  
His mind was like an Empire, rich and strong,  
In all defensive power against the wrong,  
That civil tumult or inuasiue Hath  
Might raise against the peace of her estate.  
It was a plentiful and fertile ground,  
Wherein all needful riches did abound.  
Labour increased what natiuely was bread:  
No part was barren, or ill husbanded.  
And with the pains of Industry and wit,  
In little time, He made such Benefit,  
Of conversation( the Commerce of Mindes;)  
That what his able observation finds  
In other knowledges of use, and good,  
Which in his own was yet not understood;  
Through this rich trade( whereby all good is known)  
converts them home, and plants them in his own.  
Which was so sweet and temperate a seat,  
Without th'extremities of could or heat;  
That it could easily itself apply  
To every useful Nature, properly.  
And so did yield such prosperous increase  
Of virtues qualified for war and peace:  
That not a Mind wherewith He did confer,  
Could utter speech of that particular,  
Though in the ways which other men professed;  
Wherewith his understanding was not blessed.  
And whatsoever He delivered forth  
In serious things, was of a Solid worth;  
Commodiously material; Full of use;  
And free from ostentation and abuse.  
And as that Empire of his mind was good;  
So was her state as strong wherein she stood.  
Her situation most entirely lay  
Within itself, admitting not a way,  
Nor any open place, infirm or weak,  
By which offensive purposes might break  
Into her government; or haue access  
Through the most familiar passages  
That lead vpon him, under faire pretence,  
Without discovering they ment offence,  
Before it was too late to give retreat  
To their proceedings. Nor could any heat  
Or violence of such invasion, make  
His passions mutin'; or his sergeant's forsake  
Their proper places. Nothing could disband  
The strength and order of his mind command,  
For never mind her nature better knew;  
Or could observe a discipline more due  
To such a Nature; or was fortified  
With works were more ingeniously applied,  
To answer all attempts and injuries,  
In their own kind and several qualities.  
And in that scope,( offences to avoid)  
The use of all those forces was employed.  
He put not on those popular aspects,  
Which greatness oft obsequiously affects,  
To win the vulgar fancy. For he knew,  
That humour would distracted him from the true  
And faithful Course wherein he should attend  
The public service; to a private end.  
And with too easy and familiar sense  
Make favour apprehended. And dispense  
With such neglect of duty as proceeds  
From that presumption which remissness breeds.  
But gave himself unto the public cause;  
And in the due performance of her laws,  
His studies are to public good dessign'd;  
Nor given, nor forced, to any other end.  
He was not of that soft and servile mould,  
That all impressions takes, and none doth hold;  
But his own Reason in himself did reign;  
What she inspired, he firmly did retain.  
He could not flatter greatness; Zanie humours;  
Or be obsequious to assuage the Tumours  
That in corrupted mindes did rise and swell  
Against him: But did residently dwell  
Vpon the purpose of a true intent;  
In whose successses he was confident.  
And could work ways to prosperous events;  
as well in unexpected accidents,  
As things projected and premeditate.  
In counsel, he was of so temperate  
And free a Mind, that Reason in his soul,  
Like an imperial presence, did control  
And silence all those passions that haue force  
To interrupt the passage of discourse.  
While to the clear and vneclipsed eye,  
Of his strong intellectual faculty,  
His well informed knowledge did present  
The state and nature of the Argument:  
The parts, th'entire, and every circumstance  
That was contingent, or had reference  
material to the thing consulted on.  
Which when his free discourse had passed vpon;  
His iudgement in conclusion did lay ope  
The ways, the means, he reasons, and the scope,  
What, how, whereby, and when, and where to do;  
And every due respect annexed unto,  
With such demonstrative and pregnant force;  
That, practise without speculative discourse;  
Nor speculation without practise tried;  
Nor both, without great prudence amplified,  
To know their uses and apply them well;  
To his aduise, could make a parallel.  
There is no man, though he before were glad,  
But when he thinks that we this Hero had,  
And now haue lost him, Though he be divine  
Made by his death, yet will his eyes drop brine;  
All them that knew him well do weep their turn,  
All in their hearts, though not in habits mourn,  
But for themselves, not him, let them lament,  
Whose happiness is grown their punishment.  
Me thinks I see all Arts do hang their head,  
even since the mournful minute he was dead,  
For he himself was Learnings lamp, and lent  
favour to such as were to study bent,  
He to Religious Pastors was a shield,  
And unto them encouragement did yield,  
He would accept the offering of their Quill,  
Not with a loathness, as against his will,  
But with much affability, and then  
He was exceeding liberal to those men,  
In whom he found true scholarship and wit.  
Which fairly testified he valued it.  
mild, affable, and easy of access  
He was, but with a due reseruednesse;  
So that the passage to his favour lay,  
Not common, yet it gave a gentle way,  
To such as fitly might, or ought to pass:  
And such his custom and his manner was.  
Commodities he took not vpon day,  
Nor made them lose their gains by long delay:  
He entertained them not with promises;  
Nor loved he poor mens sad attendances:  
He was a man that loved no great commerse  
With business, fearing that it might disperse  
Him, into other mens uncertainties,  
Whose giddy headed buzings, he still flies,  
And with a quiet calm sincerity,  
H'effects his vndertakings really;  
His tongue and heart, did ne're turn back, but went  
One way, and kept one course, with what he ment.  
The friendships that he vowed, most constant were,  
He used no mask at all, but always ware  
His honest inclination open faced,  
With iudgement were his deep affections placed.  
He was descended from illustrious blood,  
And by his nature he was truly good;  
His Enemies( if Enemies he had)  
Cannot reprove him of ought that was bad.  
Ther's never any had a heart less swerving,  
Nor was at more command, most truly serving  
under the regiment of his own care  
And colours, of that honesty he bare  
Then that of his, who never more was known  
To use immodest act that might haue shown  
The touch, but of a word that was obseane,  
Or cogitation any way unclean.  
All which, if that they can to glory raise,  
And being knit to one, can merit praise  
In after-times, then justly may I say,  
No name is like to live a longer day.  
The many houres until the day of doom  
Will not his datelesse memory consume.  
He leaves a deathless memory and famed,  
To be an Honor to the Spencers Name  
And Family, from whence he had descent,  
Which by his Worth he made more eminent;  
His corps return'd to earth from whence it came  
But from his acts doth rise his worthy famed.  
immortal man, whose name shall never die;  
But shall survive to all eternity  
How can the memory of such a spirit,  
Whose deeds of very envy got his merit,  
ever forgotten be? whom to just praise  
The worthy actions of his life did raise.  
All you the Worthies of our present dayes,  
Whose iudgement and experience knew his ways  
conversed with his actions and intents,  
In private and in public managements;  
To your true understandings it is known,  
That he might claim all honors for his own.  
But what's on earth Perdurable? If famed,  
Honour, revenue, if charity, good Name,  
Grace, favour, Merit,( for in him was lost  
Nothing of which mortality can boast)  
If any one of these, or All, could haue  
Reprieu'd this Worthy, from a time-lesse grave:  
He that's fallen thus low, still high had stood,  
Since all perfections did enrich his blood.  
unto what Key shall I my dull Muse raise,  
To Commend Him, that far exceeds all Praise.  
What I but onely strive at, had I done,  
I should but light a Taper before the sun,  
Burning a lamp at midday, and still owe  
The Dead, but speaking that which all men know.  
For sith this Worthy, did deserve to be  
placed in the highest sky, from thence to see  
The deeds of wretched mortals, being blessed  
And free from miseries which men molest:  
I, then to immortality, to rest,  
To that High place prepared for the blessed,  
Before the First of Dayes, His Glorious soul  
I will bequeath( there amongst Saints to Inrowle)  
His Memory in this Regenerate Birth,  
And what from Earth first came again to Earth.  
Now muttering envy, what canst thou produce?  
( Cast thy pure ston exempt from all abuse)  
How canst thou cloud the lustre of these parts?  
Say, what defects could weigh down such deserts?  
Summon detraction to object the worst,  
It cannot find a blemish to be'nforc'd  
( Though spitefully it utter all it can)  
Against him other then he was a man,  
And build of flesh and blood, and did live here  
Where all perfections never did appear  
To meet with any one so really,  
Within the region of infirmity:  
For though his frailty ever did bewray  
unto the world that he was set in ●●lay;  
Yet his true virtues, and his worthiness  
Being seen so far above his weaknesses,  
Must ever shine, whilst th'other vnder-ground,  
With his frail part shall never more be found.  
His Monument, while History doth last,  
Shall never be forgotten, or defaced.   
FINIS.