University of Virginia Library



On the Poems of the Author, his deare Brother, Master Thomas Beedom deceased.

Silence would best become me, and I feare,
I spoile the consort by intrusion heere.
Tis true, I need not adde unto his praise,
Nor bring my sprig to complement his bayes;
But that the neerenesse of our birth and name,
Calls me to sticke my pinion to his fame.
Then Reader know, we have not us'd our brains,
To usher in absurd, uncivill straines;
Such as might pale the Paper, blacke the Inke,
And cause the ghost of our dead friend to shrinke.


When judgements eye, his Poems shall discerne:
No, no, tis otherwise here thou mayst learne
Thy morall duty, and it will appeare,
Mayst please thy God, as well as please thine eare.
He needs must say, that will his worth commend,
He was an Academie to his friend.
And ready was (requested) to supply,
His need with soule, or bodies remedy.
Fran. Beedome.