Poems consisting of Epistles and Epigrams, Satyrs, Epitaphs and Elogies, Songs and Sonnets With variety of other drolling Verses upon several Subjects. Composed by no body must know whom, and are to be had every body knows where, and for somebody knows what [by John Eliot] |
 |
On the Duke of Buckinghams Death. An Elogie.
|
 | Poems consisting of Epistles and Epigrams, Satyrs, Epitaphs and Elogies, Songs and Sonnets |  |
101
On the Duke of Buckinghams Death. An Elogie.
Yet were Bidentals sacred, and the place
Strucken with thunder, was by special grace
Nere after trampled over; if this blow
That struck me in my height, and brought me low,
Came from the hand of Heaven, let it suffice
That God requir'd no other sacrifice.
Why do you bruse a Reed? as if your rod
Could wound me deeper then the hand of God.
Why do you judge me ere the judgement day?
As if your verdict could Gods judgements sway.
Why are you not contented with my blood?
For hate of me, why make you Murder good?
He that commends the fact, does it again,
And is the greater Murtherer of the twain.
Oh high-revealed malice, that canst draw
Heaven out of Hell, check Gods proper Law,
Nadab and Abihu, that thus accord,
To offer your strange fire before the Lord.
Take heed 'twill burn you, 'tis a dangerous thing,
He that doth blesse a Murtherer kills a King.
I now have past your pikes, and seen my Fate,
My Princes favour, and the peoples hate.
Strange blear-ey'd Hatred, whose repining sight
Feeds all on darknesse and doth hate the Light
Shews any goodnesse in me, was I all
Marra corrupta, and stigmaticall?
Was I all ill? Yet those that ript me found
Some of my vitalls good; some inward sound.
I had a Heart scorn'd danger, and a Brain
Beating for Honour, life in every vein:
Nor was my Liver tainted, but made Blood,
That might have serv'd to do my Country good,
Had you not let it out: nor was my Minde
So fixt on getting as to make me blinde,
And to forget mine Honour, and my friend,
Witness those now, who need no more depend.
And those whose merits, I have made, and rays'd,
Will finde out somthing more, that may be prais'd.
All do not mourn in jest; ther's some one Eye
Shed tears in earnest when it saw me dye.
And whatsoere those Remonstrants make,
I never lost my self but for their sake.
That, God forgive them, for the rest Ile say,
I lov'd the King, and Realm, as well as they.
Strucken with thunder, was by special grace
Nere after trampled over; if this blow
That struck me in my height, and brought me low,
Came from the hand of Heaven, let it suffice
That God requir'd no other sacrifice.
Why do you bruse a Reed? as if your rod
Could wound me deeper then the hand of God.
Why do you judge me ere the judgement day?
As if your verdict could Gods judgements sway.
Why are you not contented with my blood?
For hate of me, why make you Murder good?
He that commends the fact, does it again,
And is the greater Murtherer of the twain.
Oh high-revealed malice, that canst draw
Heaven out of Hell, check Gods proper Law,
Nadab and Abihu, that thus accord,
To offer your strange fire before the Lord.
Take heed 'twill burn you, 'tis a dangerous thing,
He that doth blesse a Murtherer kills a King.
I now have past your pikes, and seen my Fate,
My Princes favour, and the peoples hate.
Strange blear-ey'd Hatred, whose repining sight
Feeds all on darknesse and doth hate the Light
102
Marra corrupta, and stigmaticall?
Was I all ill? Yet those that ript me found
Some of my vitalls good; some inward sound.
I had a Heart scorn'd danger, and a Brain
Beating for Honour, life in every vein:
Nor was my Liver tainted, but made Blood,
That might have serv'd to do my Country good,
Had you not let it out: nor was my Minde
So fixt on getting as to make me blinde,
And to forget mine Honour, and my friend,
Witness those now, who need no more depend.
And those whose merits, I have made, and rays'd,
Will finde out somthing more, that may be prais'd.
All do not mourn in jest; ther's some one Eye
Shed tears in earnest when it saw me dye.
And whatsoere those Remonstrants make,
I never lost my self but for their sake.
That, God forgive them, for the rest Ile say,
I lov'd the King, and Realm, as well as they.
EITAPH.
Reader stand still, and look, lo here I am,That was of late the Mighty Buckingham.
God gave to me my being, and my breath,
Two Kings their favour, and a Slave my death.
And for my fame I claim, and do not crave
That thou beleev'st two Kings, before a Slave.
| Poems consisting of Epistles and Epigrams, Satyrs, Epitaphs and Elogies, Songs and Sonnets | |