Poems With the Muses Looking-Glasse. Amyntas. Jealous Lovers. Arystippus. By Tho: Randolph ... The fourth Edition enlarged [by Thomas Randolph] |
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TO THE MEMORY OF HIS DEARE BROTHER, Mr. Tho: Randolph. |
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TO THE MEMORY OF HIS DEARE BROTHER, Mr. Tho: Randolph.
In such a solemn train of friends that sing
Thy Dirge in pious lines, and sadly bring
Religious Anthems to attend thy Hearse,
Striving t'embalme thy name in precious verse:
I, that should most, have no more power to raise
Trophies to thee, or bring one grain of praise
To crown thy Altar, then the Orbs dispense
Motion without their sole Intelligence
For I confesse that power which works in me
Is but a weak resultance took from thee;
And if some scatter'd seeds of heat divine
Flame in my breast, they are deriv'd from thine:
And these low sickly numbers must be such,
As when steel moves, the Loadstone gives the touch:
So like a spungy cloud that sucks up rain
From the fat soil to send it back again,
There may be now from me some language showne
To urge thy merit, but 'twas first thy own:
For though the Doners influence be past
For new effects, the old impressions last;
As in a bleeding trunk we oft discry
Leaps in the head, and rowling in the eye,
By vertue of some spirits, that alone
Do tune those Organs, though the soul be gone.
But siuce I adde unto this generall noise
Onely weak sounds, and Eccho's of thy voice,
Be this a taske for deeper mouthes, while I
That cannot bribe the Phansy, thaw the eye:
And on that Grave where they advance thy praise
Do plant a sprigge of Cypresse, not of Baies.
Thy Dirge in pious lines, and sadly bring
Religious Anthems to attend thy Hearse,
Striving t'embalme thy name in precious verse:
I, that should most, have no more power to raise
Trophies to thee, or bring one grain of praise
To crown thy Altar, then the Orbs dispense
Motion without their sole Intelligence
For I confesse that power which works in me
Is but a weak resultance took from thee;
And if some scatter'd seeds of heat divine
Flame in my breast, they are deriv'd from thine:
And these low sickly numbers must be such,
As when steel moves, the Loadstone gives the touch:
So like a spungy cloud that sucks up rain
From the fat soil to send it back again,
To urge thy merit, but 'twas first thy own:
For though the Doners influence be past
For new effects, the old impressions last;
As in a bleeding trunk we oft discry
Leaps in the head, and rowling in the eye,
By vertue of some spirits, that alone
Do tune those Organs, though the soul be gone.
But siuce I adde unto this generall noise
Onely weak sounds, and Eccho's of thy voice,
Be this a taske for deeper mouthes, while I
That cannot bribe the Phansy, thaw the eye:
And on that Grave where they advance thy praise
Do plant a sprigge of Cypresse, not of Baies.
Yet flow these tears not that thy Reliques sit
Fix't to their cell a constant Anchor it:
Nor am I stirr'd that thy pale ashes have
Ore the dark Climete of a private Grave
No fair inscription: such distempers flow
From poor lay-thoughts, whose blindnesse cannot know
That to discerning Spirits the Grave can be
But a large womb to immortallity:
And a fair vertuous name can stand alone
Brasse to the Tomb, and marble to the stone.
Fix't to their cell a constant Anchor it:
Nor am I stirr'd that thy pale ashes have
Ore the dark Climete of a private Grave
No fair inscription: such distempers flow
From poor lay-thoughts, whose blindnesse cannot know
That to discerning Spirits the Grave can be
But a large womb to immortallity:
And a fair vertuous name can stand alone
Brasse to the Tomb, and marble to the stone.
No, 'tis that Ghostly progeny we mourne,
Which carelesse you let fall into the Vrne:
We had not flow'd with such a lauish tide
Of tears and grief had not those Orphans dy'd.
For what had been my losse, who reading thine,
A Brother might have kiss'd in every line?
Which carelesse you let fall into the Vrne:
We had not flow'd with such a lauish tide
Of tears and grief had not those Orphans dy'd.
For what had been my losse, who reading thine,
A Brother might have kiss'd in every line?
These that are left, Posterity must have;
VVhom a strict care hath reseu'd from the Grave
To gather strength by Vnion; as the beams
Of the bright Sun shot forth in severall streams,
And thinly scatter'd, with lesse favour passe,
Which cause aflame, contracted in a Glasse.
These if they cannot much aduance thy fame,
May stand dumb statues to preserve thy name:
And like Sun-dialls to a day that's gone,
Though poore in use, can tell there was a Sun.
VVhom a strict care hath reseu'd from the Grave
To gather strength by Vnion; as the beams
And thinly scatter'd, with lesse favour passe,
Which cause aflame, contracted in a Glasse.
These if they cannot much aduance thy fame,
May stand dumb statues to preserve thy name:
And like Sun-dialls to a day that's gone,
Though poore in use, can tell there was a Sun.
Yet if a fair confession plant no Bayes,
Nor modest truth conceiv'd a lavish praise)
I could to thy great glory tell this age
Not one invenom'd line doth swell the page.
VVith guilty legends; but so clear from all
That shoot malicious noise, and vomit gall,
That 'tis observ'd in every leafe of thine,
Thou hast not scatter'd Snakes in any line.
Here are no remnants tortur'd into rime,
To gull the reeling judgements of the tuine.
Nor any stale revesions patch thy writ,
Glean'd from the reggs and frippery of wit.
Each silable doth here as truely runne,
Thine, as the light is proper to the Sunne.
Nay in those feebler lines which thy last breath
And labouring braines snatcht from the skirts of death,
Though not so strongly pure, we may discry,
The father in his last posterity,
As clearly showne, as Virgins looks do passe
Through a thinne Lawne, or shadows in the glasse:
And in thy setting, as the suns, confesse.
The fame large brightnesse, though the heat be lesse.
Such native sweetnesse flowes in every line,
The Reader cannot choose but sweare 'tis thine.
Nor modest truth conceiv'd a lavish praise)
I could to thy great glory tell this age
Not one invenom'd line doth swell the page.
VVith guilty legends; but so clear from all
That shoot malicious noise, and vomit gall,
That 'tis observ'd in every leafe of thine,
Thou hast not scatter'd Snakes in any line.
Here are no remnants tortur'd into rime,
To gull the reeling judgements of the tuine.
Nor any stale revesions patch thy writ,
Glean'd from the reggs and frippery of wit.
Each silable doth here as truely runne,
Thine, as the light is proper to the Sunne.
Nay in those feebler lines which thy last breath
And labouring braines snatcht from the skirts of death,
Though not so strongly pure, we may discry,
The father in his last posterity,
As clearly showne, as Virgins looks do passe
Through a thinne Lawne, or shadows in the glasse:
And in thy setting, as the suns, confesse.
The fame large brightnesse, though the heat be lesse.
Such native sweetnesse flowes in every line,
The Reader cannot choose but sweare 'tis thine.
Though I can tell, a rugged sect there is,
Of some fly-wits will judge a squint on this;
And from the easy flux of language guesse
The fancies weak, because the noise is lesse;
As if that Channel which doth smoothly glide
With even streams, flow'd with a shallow tide.
But let a quick discerning judgement look,
And with a piercing eye untwist thy book
In every loome, I know the second view
Shall find more lustre then the first could do.
For have you seen when gazing on the skies
VVith strict survey, a new succession rise
Of severall starrs, which do not so appear
To every formall glance that shoots up there:
So when the serious eye has firmly been
Fix'd on the page, such large increase is seen
Of various fancy, that each severall view,
Makes the same fruitfull book a Mart of new.
Of some fly-wits will judge a squint on this;
The fancies weak, because the noise is lesse;
As if that Channel which doth smoothly glide
With even streams, flow'd with a shallow tide.
But let a quick discerning judgement look,
And with a piercing eye untwist thy book
In every loome, I know the second view
Shall find more lustre then the first could do.
For have you seen when gazing on the skies
VVith strict survey, a new succession rise
Of severall starrs, which do not so appear
To every formall glance that shoots up there:
So when the serious eye has firmly been
Fix'd on the page, such large increase is seen
Of various fancy, that each severall view,
Makes the same fruitfull book a Mart of new.
But I forbear this mention; since I must
Ransack thy ashes, and revile thy dust
With such low Characters, I mean to raise
Thee to my contemplation, not my praise:
And they that wish thy picture clearly showne
In a true glasse, I wish would use thy own:
VVhere I presume how ere thy vertues come
Ill shap'd abroad, th'art fairly drest at home.
Ransack thy ashes, and revile thy dust
With such low Characters, I mean to raise
Thee to my contemplation, not my praise:
And they that wish thy picture clearly showne
In a true glasse, I wish would use thy own:
VVhere I presume how ere thy vertues come
Ill shap'd abroad, th'art fairly drest at home.
RO. RANDOLPH, M.A. student of C. Church.
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