Regale Lectum Miseriae: or, a Kingly bed of Miserie In which is contained, a dreame: with An Elegie upon the Martyrdome of Charls, late King of England, of blessed Memory: and Another upon the Right Honourable The Lord Capel. With A curse against the Enemies of Peace, and the Authors Farewell to England. By John Quarles |
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| AN ELEGY UPON The Right Honorable, the Lord CAPELL,
Baron of Hadham; Who was beheaded at Westminster,
for maintaining the ancient and Fundamentall Lawes of the Kingdom
of England.
|
 | Regale Lectum Miseriae: or, a Kingly bed of Miserie |  |
93
AN ELEGY UPON The Right Honorable, the Lord CAPELL, Baron of Hadham; Who was beheaded at Westminster, for maintaining the ancient and Fundamentall Lawes of the Kingdom of England.
March the 9. 1648.
Heu jacet, aut factis vivat ubiq; suis.
Disturbe me not, my thoughts are mounting high,
To build a Nest for Capells memory.
Fool that I am, I doe not meane, a Nest,
No, nor a Kingdome neither, that's the least
Of all my thoughts, It is a world, that shall
Be rul'd by Capells eccho; hollow all
Ye sacred Muses, and conspire to bring
Matterialls for this worke, and learne to sing;
For should ye weep, your eyes might undertake
To drown that world, which I intend to make.
Forbeare; your teares are uselesse, you must now
Gaze upon death with an undaunted brow,
Capell has taught us how to entertaine
The palled looks of Mars, by him we gaine
The art of dying, and from him we have
The diffinition of a Noble grave;
Rare soul, I say, thy ever active Fame
Shall build a world upon thy pregnant name,
And every Letter of thy Name shall raise
A spacious kingdom, where thy ample praise
Shall be recorded, every hearkning eare
Shall prove Ambitious, and admire to heare:
'Twill be a glory, when the world shall say
'Twas bravely done, his Soveraigne lead the way,
And he (as valiant Souldiers ought to doe)
March'd boldly after, and was alwayes true
To sacred Majesty; his Noble breath
Disdain'd the fear of a Tyrannick death;
Death added life unto his thoughts, for he
Contemn'd a life, if bought, with infamie.
The very birds shall learne to prate, and sing,
How Capell suffer'd for his Royall King.
Rouze then ye stupid sons of Morpheus; Let
This shining Sun of English valour set
And rise within your horizons, your hearts
I mean, and teach you how to sing in parts
The Anthems of his worth; oh understand
That this was he, whose death hath fill'd the land
With living sorrow; this was he, whose glory
Shall lend the world an everlasting story:
To build a Nest for Capells memory.
Fool that I am, I doe not meane, a Nest,
No, nor a Kingdome neither, that's the least
Of all my thoughts, It is a world, that shall
Be rul'd by Capells eccho; hollow all
94
Matterialls for this worke, and learne to sing;
For should ye weep, your eyes might undertake
To drown that world, which I intend to make.
Forbeare; your teares are uselesse, you must now
Gaze upon death with an undaunted brow,
Capell has taught us how to entertaine
The palled looks of Mars, by him we gaine
The art of dying, and from him we have
The diffinition of a Noble grave;
Rare soul, I say, thy ever active Fame
Shall build a world upon thy pregnant name,
And every Letter of thy Name shall raise
A spacious kingdom, where thy ample praise
Shall be recorded, every hearkning eare
Shall prove Ambitious, and admire to heare:
'Twill be a glory, when the world shall say
'Twas bravely done, his Soveraigne lead the way,
And he (as valiant Souldiers ought to doe)
March'd boldly after, and was alwayes true
To sacred Majesty; his Noble breath
Disdain'd the fear of a Tyrannick death;
Death added life unto his thoughts, for he
Contemn'd a life, if bought, with infamie.
95
How Capell suffer'd for his Royall King.
Rouze then ye stupid sons of Morpheus; Let
This shining Sun of English valour set
And rise within your horizons, your hearts
I mean, and teach you how to sing in parts
The Anthems of his worth; oh understand
That this was he, whose death hath fill'd the land
With living sorrow; this was he, whose glory
Shall lend the world an everlasting story:
You lust-obeying Tarquins, that permit
And tollerate your pleasures, to commit
Adulterated actions, and command
England, our poor Lucretia, to stand
Subject to our libidinous desires,
And cannot help her self, heav'n grant your fires
May soon expire, that at the last we may
(Like Tarquins) see you banish'd quite away.
Say, will your hung'ry appetites receive
No satisfaction? have ye vow'd to leave
No noble blood? A lasse how can your meek
And tender consciences, thus roar, and seek
Like greedy Lyons, scenting up, and downe
To finde your prey in every Royall Towne.
Where is that zeal which was in former times
A golden pretext, to your drossy crimes?
Doe ye not think of heav'n? have ye forgot
There is a God? or will ye owne him not;
Where is Religion (your upholder) fled?
What? is that murther'd too; or have ye spread
A vaile upon her, that she may not be
Observ'd, or own'd, but in necessitie,
Has not Religion all this while maintain'd
Your unjust cause? what money's ye have gain'd
Was for Religions sake, which still supply'd
Your wants, but now ye're full, that's lay'd aside;
Vnhappy is that land, whose People braggs,
That they have put Religion up in baggs.
Money preceds Religion now; but stay
Precipitating quill, I've lost my way,
Nay, and my subject too; how came my minde
Thus much to deviate; oh where shall I finde
My former subject? shall my thoughts abject
His memory, and own him with Neglect:
No, no, they shall not, come my Muse, repose
Let's thinke upon our Friend, and let our foes
Remember us, Capell, thy worth shall fill
The black-mouth'd concave of my mourning quil.
He was a Pompie, but receiv'd his harme
From Tyrants, not from Cæsar's noble arme,
He had an Army in his minde, could call
Vertue to be their bold-fac'd Generall;
He had no Pride, no faction to create
Or nurse division in his peacefull state;
He had a Court of Iustice in his breast,
But not to tyrannize, or make inquest
After the sons of Loyalty, or bring
Illegall Iudgements, to their legall King;
He had a heart, that never us'd to hide
The heate of envie, or the flames of Pride;
He had a Conscience never us'd t'exact
Upon a widdowed Kingdome, or extract
The treasures of a Nation, to defray
His owne desires, he never us'd to play
The Devill in the habit of a Saint,
Or teach his Agitators how to paint
A vice with pleasing colours, or prepare
His ready eyes to shed a zealous teare
With a false heart, he never striv'd to please,
And turne the peoples hearts with Peter Reyes;
And to conclude, he never would desire
Other mens faults to maintaine his fire;
Now Reader, thou hast heard he had a minde
Not morgag'd unto basenesse, but inclin'd
To honorable actions; It was he
That was the Embleme of true Charitie,
Yet some unworthy Spirits have exprest
He was a son of Rome, because his breast
Was fill'd with piety, and would still relieve
The Poore, whose wants, instructed him to grieve.
False are those base reports, he was a man
Alwayes reputed a great Puritan,
And not a Papist, and he had a care
To have that hated Book of Common Prayre
Read to his Family, himself would joyne
His aide to any thing that was Devine;
The church did seldome faile to entertaine
His Noble self, and his domestique traine,
Untill this blessed Reformation spread
It self abroad, and struck Religion dead;
And then indeed his Conscience would refuse
To let him heare some Rabshekah abuse
His Gods Annointed, and his reall heart
Could not endure to hear time-servers dart
Arrrows of envy at his King, and raile
Against his Consort, lab'ting to intaile
Disgrace upon their names, and fill the earth
With heapes of errours, and rebellious mirth;
These things his heart abhorr'd, he could not hear
His King abused with a patient care:
He was the soul of Loyalty, his minde
Was alwayes active, for he still inclin'd
His thoughts to goodnesse, striving how to bring
Peace to his Country, honor to his King;
He was a man that alwayes us'd to fly
Upon the wings of true sollidity;
He was compleat, and rich in every part,
His tongue was never traytor to his heart;
But now, ah now (I shall make Death too proud
To speake it) he hath lately left this clowd,
This world of envy, and is gon t'inherit
Those joyes which wait upon a Noble Spirit:
Now, now hee's gone to heav'ns sublimer court,
Where Iustice lives, a place, where false report
Shall finde no care; a place, where none shall dye
For being rich, or wise; there Loyalty
Shall be respected; there, the weeping eyes
Of Orphans shall be pittied; there, the cryes
Of Ladyes pleading for their Lords, shall finde
A full respect; where Vertue is refinde,
There must be happinesse, oh thinke but where
It is, (kinde Reader) and brave Capells there:
There, there, he rests, who stoutly trode the stage
Of blood, whose life, whose death, no age
Will ever paralel, his courage gave
A life to death, and pleasure to a grave;
He had a pleasing countenance, his face
Did seem to blush, but 'twas for their disgrace,
And not his guilt, he never seem'd t'expresse
The least of feare, but hasted to addresse
Himself to heav'n, and like a stagge, he bay'd
At his unsatiated hounds, and lay'd
His life before them, and contemn'd their powre
Because he knew, they onely could devoure
His little world; but for his soul, that went
Before a more conscientious Parliament,
Where now he rests in peacefulnesse, & doubles
His pleasures, whilst his foes survive in troubles.
And tollerate your pleasures, to commit
Adulterated actions, and command
England, our poor Lucretia, to stand
Subject to our libidinous desires,
And cannot help her self, heav'n grant your fires
May soon expire, that at the last we may
(Like Tarquins) see you banish'd quite away.
Say, will your hung'ry appetites receive
No satisfaction? have ye vow'd to leave
No noble blood? A lasse how can your meek
And tender consciences, thus roar, and seek
Like greedy Lyons, scenting up, and downe
To finde your prey in every Royall Towne.
96
A golden pretext, to your drossy crimes?
Doe ye not think of heav'n? have ye forgot
There is a God? or will ye owne him not;
Where is Religion (your upholder) fled?
What? is that murther'd too; or have ye spread
A vaile upon her, that she may not be
Observ'd, or own'd, but in necessitie,
Has not Religion all this while maintain'd
Your unjust cause? what money's ye have gain'd
Was for Religions sake, which still supply'd
Your wants, but now ye're full, that's lay'd aside;
Vnhappy is that land, whose People braggs,
That they have put Religion up in baggs.
Money preceds Religion now; but stay
Precipitating quill, I've lost my way,
Nay, and my subject too; how came my minde
Thus much to deviate; oh where shall I finde
My former subject? shall my thoughts abject
His memory, and own him with Neglect:
No, no, they shall not, come my Muse, repose
Let's thinke upon our Friend, and let our foes
Remember us, Capell, thy worth shall fill
The black-mouth'd concave of my mourning quil.
97
From Tyrants, not from Cæsar's noble arme,
He had an Army in his minde, could call
Vertue to be their bold-fac'd Generall;
He had no Pride, no faction to create
Or nurse division in his peacefull state;
He had a Court of Iustice in his breast,
But not to tyrannize, or make inquest
After the sons of Loyalty, or bring
Illegall Iudgements, to their legall King;
He had a heart, that never us'd to hide
The heate of envie, or the flames of Pride;
He had a Conscience never us'd t'exact
Upon a widdowed Kingdome, or extract
The treasures of a Nation, to defray
His owne desires, he never us'd to play
The Devill in the habit of a Saint,
Or teach his Agitators how to paint
A vice with pleasing colours, or prepare
His ready eyes to shed a zealous teare
With a false heart, he never striv'd to please,
And turne the peoples hearts with Peter Reyes;
And to conclude, he never would desire
Other mens faults to maintaine his fire;
98
Not morgag'd unto basenesse, but inclin'd
To honorable actions; It was he
That was the Embleme of true Charitie,
Yet some unworthy Spirits have exprest
He was a son of Rome, because his breast
Was fill'd with piety, and would still relieve
The Poore, whose wants, instructed him to grieve.
False are those base reports, he was a man
Alwayes reputed a great Puritan,
And not a Papist, and he had a care
To have that hated Book of Common Prayre
Read to his Family, himself would joyne
His aide to any thing that was Devine;
The church did seldome faile to entertaine
His Noble self, and his domestique traine,
Untill this blessed Reformation spread
It self abroad, and struck Religion dead;
And then indeed his Conscience would refuse
To let him heare some Rabshekah abuse
His Gods Annointed, and his reall heart
Could not endure to hear time-servers dart
Arrrows of envy at his King, and raile
Against his Consort, lab'ting to intaile
99
With heapes of errours, and rebellious mirth;
These things his heart abhorr'd, he could not hear
His King abused with a patient care:
He was the soul of Loyalty, his minde
Was alwayes active, for he still inclin'd
His thoughts to goodnesse, striving how to bring
Peace to his Country, honor to his King;
He was a man that alwayes us'd to fly
Upon the wings of true sollidity;
He was compleat, and rich in every part,
His tongue was never traytor to his heart;
But now, ah now (I shall make Death too proud
To speake it) he hath lately left this clowd,
This world of envy, and is gon t'inherit
Those joyes which wait upon a Noble Spirit:
Now, now hee's gone to heav'ns sublimer court,
Where Iustice lives, a place, where false report
Shall finde no care; a place, where none shall dye
For being rich, or wise; there Loyalty
Shall be respected; there, the weeping eyes
Of Orphans shall be pittied; there, the cryes
Of Ladyes pleading for their Lords, shall finde
A full respect; where Vertue is refinde,
100
It is, (kinde Reader) and brave Capells there:
There, there, he rests, who stoutly trode the stage
Of blood, whose life, whose death, no age
Will ever paralel, his courage gave
A life to death, and pleasure to a grave;
He had a pleasing countenance, his face
Did seem to blush, but 'twas for their disgrace,
And not his guilt, he never seem'd t'expresse
The least of feare, but hasted to addresse
Himself to heav'n, and like a stagge, he bay'd
At his unsatiated hounds, and lay'd
His life before them, and contemn'd their powre
Because he knew, they onely could devoure
His little world; but for his soul, that went
Before a more conscientious Parliament,
Where now he rests in peacefulnesse, & doubles
His pleasures, whilst his foes survive in troubles.
There rest heroick Capell, and enjoy
Those rich delights, which time cannot destroy;
Rest thou, whilst those are restlesse, which deny'd
To let thee rest on earth, whose hearts are ty'd
In bloody fetters, which conglutinates
Their souls, and leades them to the worst of fates,
But now my quill growes weake, I must forsake
These sable pathes, I dare not undertake
So great a journey, for my feeble pen
Begins to stagger, grief can teach me when
I shall begin, but will not prove my friend,
And lead my sorrows to a peacefull end;
My thoughts encrease, this subject would infuse
A youthfull life, into an ancient Muse.
My heart's compos'd of raptures, and my hand
Receives new strength; methinks I could cōmand
The spacious world, and teach it to expresse
His praise on earth, though not his happinesse
In heav'n, where now I'le leave him, and retire;
I'le cease to write, and practise to admire.
Those rich delights, which time cannot destroy;
Rest thou, whilst those are restlesse, which deny'd
To let thee rest on earth, whose hearts are ty'd
In bloody fetters, which conglutinates
Their souls, and leades them to the worst of fates,
101
These sable pathes, I dare not undertake
So great a journey, for my feeble pen
Begins to stagger, grief can teach me when
I shall begin, but will not prove my friend,
And lead my sorrows to a peacefull end;
My thoughts encrease, this subject would infuse
A youthfull life, into an ancient Muse.
My heart's compos'd of raptures, and my hand
Receives new strength; methinks I could cōmand
The spacious world, and teach it to expresse
His praise on earth, though not his happinesse
In heav'n, where now I'le leave him, and retire;
I'le cease to write, and practise to admire.
Ye have killed, and condemned the Just, and he doth not resist you. Jam. 5. 6.
| Regale Lectum Miseriae: or, a Kingly bed of Miserie | |