University of Virginia Library

OF THE DEATH OF THE MOST NOBLE THE LORD MARQUESSE HAMILTON.

Another noble gone! what art thou Death
That puts a stoppe to eache heroic breath?
Art thou an enemie to all that's great?
Doe godlike actions still provoke thy hate?
Must the best blood then of the sister Land
Still feel the uengeance of thy tyrant hand?
I bid thee stoppe in this thy bold careere,
We haue a soueraigne of that Land now here;
Who reigns so noble in his People's loue,
He still mvst waite before he goes aboue.
A loyal subiect bids you to forbear,
Go where you will or chuse, you come not there.
I'll say no more, it goes to eu'ry heart
When even kings are forc'd from friends to part.

VPON A FUNERALLE.

To their long home the greatest Princes goe
In hearses drest with faire escutcheons round.
The blazonnes of an antient race, renown'd
For deeds of valour; and in costly show
The traine moves forward in procession slowe
Towards some hallow'd Fane; no common ground,
But the archd uavlt and tombe with scvlpture crownd
Receive the corse, with honours laid belowe.
Alas! whate'er their wealthe, their witt, their worthe,
Such is the end of all the sonnes of Earthe.

TO THE AUTHOUR.

Eyther the goddesse drawes her troupe of loues
From Paphos, where she erst was held diuine,
And doth vnyoke her tender-neckèd doues,
Placing her seat in this small papry shrine;
Or the sweet Graces through the Idalian groue,
Led the blest Author in their dauncèd rings;
Or wanton Nymphs in watry bowres haue woue,
With fine Mylesian threds, the verse he sings;
Or curious Pallas once againe doth striue,
With proud Arachne for illustrious glory,
And once againe doth loues of gods reuiue,
Spinning in silken twists a lasting story:
If none of these, then Venus chose his sight,
To leade the steps of her blind sonne aright.

TO THE TRANSLATOUR.

What shal I first commend? your happy choice
Of this most vsefull poet? or your skill,
To make the eccho equall with the voice,
And trace the lines drawne by the Author's quill?
The Latine writers by vnlearnèd hands,
In forraine robes vnwillingly are drest,
But thus inuited into other Lands,
Are glad to change their tongue at such request.
The good, which in our minds their labours breed,
Layes open to their Fame a larger way.
These strangers England with rich plentie feed,
Which with our Countrey's freedome we repay:
When sitting in a pure language like a throne,
They proue as great with vs, as with their owne.