LACRYMÆ LACRYMARVM. A Funeral Elegie.
The Argument, in an Epitaph.
Here
lyes (Drie Eies, read not This
Epitaph.)
Here lyes Great-Britans Stay, Great Iacob's Staff:
The stately Top-bough of Imperiall Stemme,
World's richest Iewell, Nature's rarest Gemme,
Mirror of Princes, Miracle of Youth,
All Vertues Pattern, Patron of all Truth;
Refuge of Armes, ample Reward of Arts,
Worth's Comforter, milde Conquerer of Hearts:
The Churche's Tower, the Terror of the Pope,
Heröik HENRY, Atlas of our Hope.
How-euer, short of Others Art and Wit,
I knowe my powers for such a Part vnfit;
And shall but light my Candle in the Sun,
To doe a work shall be so better Donne:
Could Teares and Feares giue my Distractions leaue,
Of sobbing words a sableWebbe to weaue;
Could Sorow's Fulnes giue my voice a vent;
How would, how should, my saddest Verse lament,
In deepest Sighes (in stead of sweetest Songs)
This loss (alas!) which vnto All belongs!
To All, alas! though chiefly to the Chief;
His royal Parents, Principalls in grief:
To All the Peers, to all Confederate,
To All the Chvrch, to all the Christian
State:
To all the Godly now, and future, far:
To all the World; except S.P.Q.R.
To all together and to Each a-part,
That liues, and loues Religion, Armes, or Art:
To all abroad; but, to Vs most of all
That neerest stood to my High Cedars fall:
But, more then most, to Mee, that had no Prop
But Henry's
Hand, and, but in Him, no Hope:
In Whom, with Nature, Grace and Fortune met,
To consummate a Prince, as Good as Great:
In Whom, the Heav'ns were pleas'd to shew the Earth
A richer Iewell then the World was worth,
Or worthy of: therefore, no more to make
So rare a Piece, His pretious Mould they brake.
O sudden Change! O sad Vicissitude!
O! how the Heav'ns our Earthly Hopes delude!
O! what is firm beneath the Firmament!
O! what is constant heer that gives Content!
What Trust in Princes! O! what Help in Man,
Whose dying life is but a length in span!
Melting, as Snowe, before the Mid-day Sun;
Past, as a Poste, that speedy by dooth run;
Swift, as the Current of the quickest Stream;
Vain, as a Thought; forgotten, as a Dream.
O Dearest Henry, Heav'n and Earth's Delight!
O clearest Beam of Vertues, Rising bright!
O purest Spark of Pious Princely Zeal!
O surest Ark of Iustice sacred Weal!
O gravest Presage of a Prudent Kinde!
O bravest Message of a Valiant Minde!
O All-admir'd, Benign and Bountious!
O All-desired (right) Panaretvs!
Panaretvs (All-vertuous) was thy Name;
Thy Nature such: such ever bee thy Fame.
O Dearest! Clearest! Purest! Surest Prop!
O Gravest! Bravest! Highest! Nighest Hope!
O! how vntimely is this Sun gon down!
This Spark put out! This Ark (as) overthrowne!
This Presage crost! This Message lost and left!
This Prop displac't! This Hope of All, bereft!
O! how, vnkinde! how, grace-less! how, ingrate!
Have Wee cut-off Thy likely longer Date!
For, were this Stroak from Heav'ns immediat hand;
Or (by Heav'ns leave) from Hell's suborned Band
Of Romvlides (What dare not They presume?
If this, That Sea a Sulphury Sea consume.)
How-e'r it were, Wee were the Mooving Cause
That sweet Prince
Henry breath no longer draws.
Wee all (alas!) have had our hands heerin:
And Each of vs hath, by som cord of Sin,
Hal'd down from Heav'n, from Iustice awfull Seat,
This Heavie Iudgement (which yet more doth threat).
VVee Clergy first, who too-too-oft have stood
More for the Church-goods, then the Churches good:
Wee Nobles next, whose Title, ever strong,
Can hardly offer Right, or suffer Wrong:
Wee Magistrates, who, mostly, weak of sight,
Are rather fain to feel then see the Right:
Wee Officers, whose Price of every Place
Keeps Vertue out, and bringeth Vice in grace:
Wee Gentry then, who rack, and sack, and sell,
To swim, like Sea-Crabs, in a foure-wheel'd Shell:
Wee Courtiers next, who French-Italianate,
Change (with the Moon) our Fashion, Faith, and Fate:
Wee Lawyers then, who, Dedalizing Law,
And deading Conscience, like the Horse-leach drawe:
Wee Citizens, who, seeming Pure and Plain,
Beguile our Brother, make our god our Gain:
Wee Countrimen, who slander Heav'n and Earth
As Authors of our Artificiall Dearth:
Wee Pourveyours, last, who, taking ten for two,
Rob both, at once, our Prince and People too:
All, briefly all, all Ages, Sexes, Sorts,
In Countries, Cities, Benches, Churches, Courts,
(All Epicures, Wit-wantons, Athëists,
Mach'-Aretines, Momes, Tap-To-Bacchonists,
Bats, Harpies, Sirens, Centaurs, Bib-all-nights,
Sice-sink-ap-Asses, Hags, Hermaphrodites)
And We, poor Nothings (fixed in no Sphear,
Right Wandring Tapers, Erring every where)
Scorn of the Vulgar, Scandall of the Gown,
Have puld this waight of Wrath, this Vengeance down.
All, All are guilty, in a high Degree,
Of This High-Treason and Conspiracy;
More brute then Brutus stabbing more then Cæsar,
With Two-hand-Sins of Profit and of Pleasure;
And (th'odious Engin, which doth all include)
Our many-pointed proud Ingratitude.
For, for the Peoples Sinnes, for Subiects crimes,
God takes-away good Princes oftentimes.
So, good Iosiah (Henry's
parallel)
Was soon bereft from Sin-full Israel:
So, our good Edvvard (Henry's
Precedent)
For England's
Sins was hence vntimely hent.
So, heer, good Henry is new taken hence,
For now Great-Britan's great Sins Confluence.
Wee see th'Effect: wee have the Cause confest:
O! Turn wee then, with speed, to save the Rest:
O! Turn vs, Lord, turn to vs, turn away
Thy Frowns, our Fears, with humblest Tears, we pray.
O save our Soverain; save his Royall seed;
That still his Owne may on his Throne succeed.
Let Each of vs make priuie Search within;
And hauing found, bring forth the Traitor
Sin
To Execution, with all Execration
Henceforth renouncing such In-Sin-newation.
Let Each of vs (as Each hath throw'n a Dart,
A Dart of Sinne, at Henry's princely heart)
Send-vp in Sighes our Soules deuoutest breath,
To Shield our Iames, Anne, Charles, Elizabeth,
And Hih whose Loue shall render Her her Brother,
And make Her soon a happy Princes Mother.
Let Each of vs cease to lament (in vain)
Prince Henry's Loss: Death is to Him a Gain.
For Sauoy's Dukelings, or the Florentine,
He Wedds his Sauiour of a Regal Line;
Glory, for Gold; for Hope, Possession (there)
Of Crownes so Rich as neuer entred Eare,
Eye neuer sawe, nor euer Heart conceav'd;
So strong Assur'd as cannot be bereau'd.
Waile not his death: His Vertues cannot Dye;
Immortall Issue of Eternity.
His Soule in Blisse behoulds her Makers Eyes:
His goodly Body shall more glorious Rise.
Weep not for Him: weep for our selues, alas!
(Not for our Priuate, or Peculiar case:
As, for our Sonn's, Brother's, or Master's lack,
Or Prince's loss (our Expectations wrack)
Our Places, Graces, Profits, Pensions lost,
Our present Fortunes cast, our future crost)
Weep for our Sinnes, our Wicked-Prouocations,
Our haynous, horrid, high Abominations;
Both seen and secret; both in High and Lowe:
VVeep, weep for These; and stript, from Top to Toe,
Of giddie-Gaudes, Top-gallant Tires and Towers,
Of Face-pride, Case-pride, Shin-pride, Shoo-pride, ours
(Like
Ninivites so neer Their threatned Fall)
In blackest Sack and Cinders shrouded All:
Not like a Bul-rush for a day or two,
To stoop, and droop, and seem as others doe
(As Achab yerst, and Pharao, in Distress)
And then return vnto our old Excess
(As Doggs vnto their Mewt, Hoggs to their Mire)
But, day by day; vntill our last expire,
With bended Knees, but more with broken hearts,
And th'inward rest of right Repentant Parts,
Prostrate our Soules in Fasting and in Praier,
Before the Foot-stool of th'Empyreall
Chaire:
That So, VVhat-euer bloody Delvge float
From th'old Red Dragon's wide-wide-yawning Throat,
We, Humbled
Movrners may be Heav'nly Markt,
In Mercie's
Vessell to be All imb Arkt.
FINIS.
