Certain Selected Odes Of Horace, Englished and their Arguments annexed. With Poems (Antient and Modern) of diuers Subjects, Translated. Whereunto are added, both in Latin and English, sundry new Epigrammes. Anagrammes. Epitaphes [by John Ashmore] |
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| Ad Potentissimū & Clementiss. Regem Iacobvm, Ecclesiæ Collegiatæ Ripponensis
Restauratorē benigniss. auspicatissimo Maiestatis suæ progressu Ripponam
advenientem, 15. Aprilis 1617. |
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 | Certain Selected Odes Of Horace, Englished |  |
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Ad Potentissimū & Clementiss. Regem Iacobvm, Ecclesiæ Collegiatæ Ripponensis Restauratorē benigniss. auspicatissimo Maiestatis suæ progressu Ripponam advenientem, 15. Aprilis 1617.
[_]
These verses following, were then delivered to his Maiesty, and by him most graciously accepted.
Ad Regem
If of the gods good Kings high Stewards be,To ease them of the care of things belowe;
Then live secure, O heavenly Powrs: for we
So good a Steward ne'r before did knowe.
Ecclesiæ Ripponen: Prosop.
King Adleston me built, Danes down did pull:But Odo'nd Thurston, made me beautifull:
And (mov'd with zeale) King Iames doth now restore
What sacrilegious hands had rob'd before.
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Altera eiusdem Prosop.
The Dane me sackt, poor wretch the Scot, o're-boldIn victory, unworthily me sold:
But, to both Realmes a Royall stem, by Fate,
His peoples faults (Beholde!) doth expiate.
Alia eiusdem Prosop.
Queen Elsabeth oft my complaints did heare:But she no help (by death prevented) gave me.
These ruines crav'd a great King them t'up-reare:
This praise thou hast alone, good King, to save me.
De Rumore falso, de Regis morte subitò sparso.
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And told how Thou too soon a death didst die;
All places paid to thee the wofull Rent
Of Tears, which from their grief-swoln eyes they sent.
The Father of our Countrey's dead, they cry,
And with him all our ioyes doe buried lie.
Who e'r the raines of kingdoms so did guide?
Whose Iustice ioynd with Mercy so is tride?
Who mildness so with Maiesty hath sorted?
Or with his kingly hand the wrongd supported?
None e'r (alas!) with such high praise did live.
No Age hath given one like him: none shall give.
So, false Report hath true Report brought forth,
Which still shall witness to the world thy worth.
De Eodem.
Wherefore did Fame this wofull Newes forth spread,That thou (our Soveraigne) by curst hands wast dead?
Sure to this end; that thou alive might see,
When thou art gone, what fame will follow thee.
| Certain Selected Odes Of Horace, Englished | |