The Whole Works of William Browne of Tavistock ... Now first collected and edited, with a memoir of the poet, and notes, by W. Carew Hazlitt, of the Inner Temple |
 | 1, 2. |
 | The Whole Works of William Browne |  |
AN ELEGIE ON THE COUNTESSE DOWAGER OF PEMBROOKE.
Time hath a long course run, since thou wert claye;
Yet had'st thou gone from vs but yesterdaie,
We in no neerer distance should haue stood,
Then if thy fate had call'd thee ere the flood;
And I that knewe thee, shall noe lesse cause haue
To sit me downe, & weepe beside thy Graue.
Many a yeare from hence then, in that howre,
When, all amazed, we had scarce the power
To say, that thou wert dead: my latest breath
Shall be a sigh for thee; & when cold death
Shall giue an end to my iust woes & mee,
I consecratt to thy deare memorie.
Soe many teares; if on thy Marble shed,
Each hand might write with them, who there lyes dead:
And so much griefe, that some from sicknes free
Would gladlye dye to be bewail'd like thee.
Yet had'st thou gone from vs but yesterdaie,
We in no neerer distance should haue stood,
Then if thy fate had call'd thee ere the flood;
And I that knewe thee, shall noe lesse cause haue
To sit me downe, & weepe beside thy Graue.
Many a yeare from hence then, in that howre,
When, all amazed, we had scarce the power
To say, that thou wert dead: my latest breath
Shall be a sigh for thee; & when cold death
Shall giue an end to my iust woes & mee,
I consecratt to thy deare memorie.
Soe many teares; if on thy Marble shed,
Each hand might write with them, who there lyes dead:
And so much griefe, that some from sicknes free
Would gladlye dye to be bewail'd like thee.
Yet (could I choose) I would not any knewe
That thou wert lost but as a pearle of dewe,
Which in a gentle Euening mildly cold
Fallne in the Bosome of a Marigold,
Is in her golden leaues shut vp all night,
And seen againe, when next wee see the light.
That thou wert lost but as a pearle of dewe,
Which in a gentle Euening mildly cold
Fallne in the Bosome of a Marigold,
308
And seen againe, when next wee see the light.
For should the world but know that thou wert gone,
Our Age too prone to Irreligion,
Knoweing soe much divinitie in thee,
Might thence conclude noe immortalitye.
And I belieue the Puritans themselues
Would be seduc'd to thinke, that Ghostes & Elves
Doe haunt vs yet, in hope that thou would'st deigne
To visitt vs, as when thou liv'd'st againe.
Our Age too prone to Irreligion,
Knoweing soe much divinitie in thee,
Might thence conclude noe immortalitye.
And I belieue the Puritans themselues
Would be seduc'd to thinke, that Ghostes & Elves
Doe haunt vs yet, in hope that thou would'st deigne
To visitt vs, as when thou liv'd'st againe.
But more, I feare, (since we are not of France,
Whose gentry would be knowne by Ignorance)
Such Witts & Noble as could merrit thee,
And should read this, spyght of all penaltye,
Might light vpon their studyes, would become
Magicians all, and raise the from thy Tombe.
Whose gentry would be knowne by Ignorance)
Such Witts & Noble as could merrit thee,
And should read this, spyght of all penaltye,
Might light vpon their studyes, would become
Magicians all, and raise the from thy Tombe.
Naye I believe, all are alreadye soe;
And now half madd or more with inward woe,
Doe thinke great Drake maliciously was hurl'd,
To cast a Circle round about the world,
Onley to hinder the Magicians lore,
And frustrate all our hopes to see thee more.
And now half madd or more with inward woe,
Doe thinke great Drake maliciously was hurl'd,
To cast a Circle round about the world,
Onley to hinder the Magicians lore,
And frustrate all our hopes to see thee more.
Pardon my sorrowe: is that man aliue,
Who for vs first found out a prospective
To search into the Moone, and hath not he
Yet found a further skill to looke on thee?
Who for vs first found out a prospective
To search into the Moone, and hath not he
Yet found a further skill to looke on thee?
Thou goodman, whoe thou be'st that ere hast found
The meanes to looke on one so good, so crown'd,
For pitty find me out! & we will trace
Along together to that holye place
Which hides so much perfection; there will wee
Stand fixt & gaze on her Felicitye.
And should thy Glasse a burning one become,
And turne vs both to ashes on her Tombe;
Yet to our glorye, till the latter daye,
Our dust shall dance like atomes in her raye.
The meanes to looke on one so good, so crown'd,
For pitty find me out! & we will trace
Along together to that holye place
Which hides so much perfection; there will wee
Stand fixt & gaze on her Felicitye.
And should thy Glasse a burning one become,
And turne vs both to ashes on her Tombe;
Yet to our glorye, till the latter daye,
Our dust shall dance like atomes in her raye.
309
And when the world shall in confusion burne,
And kings with peasants scramble at an vrne;
Like tapers new blowne out, wee, blessed then,
Will at her beames catch fire & live againe.
And kings with peasants scramble at an vrne;
Like tapers new blowne out, wee, blessed then,
Will at her beames catch fire & live againe.
But this is sure, and some men (may be) glad
That I soe true a cause of sorrowe had,
Will wish all those whom I affect might dye,
So I might please him with an Elegye.
That I soe true a cause of sorrowe had,
Will wish all those whom I affect might dye,
So I might please him with an Elegye.
O let there neuer line of witt be read
To please the living, that doth speake thee dead;
Some tender-hearted mother, good & milde,
Who on the dear Grave of her onelye Child
So many sad teares hath been knowne to rayne,
As out of dust could molde him vp againe;
And with her plaints inforce the wormes to place
Themselues like veynes so neatly on his face
And euery limme; as if that they were striving
To flatter her with hope of his reviving.
She should read this; and her true teares alone
Should coppy forth these sad lines on the stone,
Which hydes thee dead. And every gentle heart
That passeth by should of his teares impart
So great a portion, that (if after times
Ruyne more churches for the clergyes crimes,)
When any shall remove thy Marble hence,
Which is lesse stone then he that takes it thence,
Thou shalt appeare within thy teareful cell,
Much like a faire Nymph bathing in a well:
But when they find thee dead so lovelie faire,
Pitty and Sorrow then shall streight repaire,
And weep beside thy graue with cypresse crown'd,
To see the second world of beauty drown'd;
And add sufficient teares, as they condole,
Would make thy body swim vp to thy soule.
To please the living, that doth speake thee dead;
Some tender-hearted mother, good & milde,
Who on the dear Grave of her onelye Child
So many sad teares hath been knowne to rayne,
As out of dust could molde him vp againe;
And with her plaints inforce the wormes to place
Themselues like veynes so neatly on his face
And euery limme; as if that they were striving
To flatter her with hope of his reviving.
She should read this; and her true teares alone
Should coppy forth these sad lines on the stone,
Which hydes thee dead. And every gentle heart
That passeth by should of his teares impart
So great a portion, that (if after times
Ruyne more churches for the clergyes crimes,)
When any shall remove thy Marble hence,
Which is lesse stone then he that takes it thence,
Thou shalt appeare within thy teareful cell,
Much like a faire Nymph bathing in a well:
But when they find thee dead so lovelie faire,
Pitty and Sorrow then shall streight repaire,
And weep beside thy graue with cypresse crown'd,
To see the second world of beauty drown'd;
And add sufficient teares, as they condole,
Would make thy body swim vp to thy soule.
Such eyes shall read the lines are writ on thee;
But such a losse should haue no Elegye
To palliate the wound wee tooke in her.
Who rightly grieves, admits no comforter.
But such a losse should haue no Elegye
310
Who rightly grieves, admits no comforter.
He that had tane to heart thy parting hence,
Should haue bin chain'd in Bethlem two howres thence;
And not a friend of his ere shed a teare,
To see him for thy sake distracted there;
But hugg'd himselfe for loveing such as he,
That could run mad with griefe for loseing thee.
Should haue bin chain'd in Bethlem two howres thence;
And not a friend of his ere shed a teare,
To see him for thy sake distracted there;
But hugg'd himselfe for loveing such as he,
That could run mad with griefe for loseing thee.
I, haples soule, that never knew a friend
But to bewayle his too vntimelye end:
Whose hopes, cropt in the Bud, have neuer come,
But to sit weeping on a senseles tomb,
That hides not dust enough to count the teares,
Which I haue fruitles spent, in so fewe yeares.
But to bewayle his too vntimelye end:
Whose hopes, cropt in the Bud, have neuer come,
But to sit weeping on a senseles tomb,
That hides not dust enough to count the teares,
Which I haue fruitles spent, in so fewe yeares.
I, that haue trusted those, that would haue given
For our deare Sauyor & the son of heauen,
Ten times the value Judas had of yore,
Onely to sell him for three pieces more:
I that haue lou'd & trusted thus in vayne,
Yet weepe for thee: and till the Clowds shall deigne
To showre on Egipt more then Nile ere swell'd,
These teares of mine shall be vnparalleld.
For our deare Sauyor & the son of heauen,
Ten times the value Judas had of yore,
Onely to sell him for three pieces more:
I that haue lou'd & trusted thus in vayne,
Yet weepe for thee: and till the Clowds shall deigne
To showre on Egipt more then Nile ere swell'd,
These teares of mine shall be vnparalleld.
He that hath love enioy'd, & then been crost,
Hath teares at will to mourn for what he lost;
He that hath trusted, & his hope appeares
Wrong'd but by Death, may soon dissolue in teares;
But he, vnhappy man, whose love & trust
Nere met fruition, nor a promise iust:
For him, vnles (like thee) he deadly sleepe,
'Tis easyer to run mad then 'tis to weepe.
Hath teares at will to mourn for what he lost;
He that hath trusted, & his hope appeares
Wrong'd but by Death, may soon dissolue in teares;
But he, vnhappy man, whose love & trust
Nere met fruition, nor a promise iust:
For him, vnles (like thee) he deadly sleepe,
'Tis easyer to run mad then 'tis to weepe.
And yet I can! Fall then, ye mournfull showres;
And as old Time leads on the winged howres,
Be you their minutes: and let men forgett
To count their Ages from the playne of sweat:
From Eighty eight, the Powder Plot, or when
Men were afraid to talk of it agen;
And in their Numeration, be it said,
Thus old was I, when such a Teare was shed,
And when that other fell, a Comet rose,
And all the world tooke notice of my woes.
Yet, finding them past cure, as doctors fly
Their patients past all hope of remedy,
Noe charitable soule will now impart
One word of comfort to soe sick a heart;
But as a hurt deare beaten from the heard,
Men of my shaddow almost now afeard,
Fly from my woes, that whilome wont to greet me,
And well nye think it ominous to meet me.
And as old Time leads on the winged howres,
Be you their minutes: and let men forgett
To count their Ages from the playne of sweat:
From Eighty eight, the Powder Plot, or when
Men were afraid to talk of it agen;
311
Thus old was I, when such a Teare was shed,
And when that other fell, a Comet rose,
And all the world tooke notice of my woes.
Yet, finding them past cure, as doctors fly
Their patients past all hope of remedy,
Noe charitable soule will now impart
One word of comfort to soe sick a heart;
But as a hurt deare beaten from the heard,
Men of my shaddow almost now afeard,
Fly from my woes, that whilome wont to greet me,
And well nye think it ominous to meet me.
Sad lines, goe ye abroad: goe, saddest Muse:
And as some Nation formerly did vse
To lay their sick men in the streets, that those
Who of the same disease had scapt the throes,
Might minister reliefe as they went by,
To such as felt the selfe same Maladye;
So, haples lines, fly through the fairest Land;
And if ye light into some blessed hand,
That hath a heart as merry as the shyne
Of golden dayes, yet wrong'd as much as mine;
Pittye may lead that happy man to me,
And his experience worke a remedye
To those sad Fitts which (spight of Natures lawes)
Torture a poore heart that outlives the cause.
And as some Nation formerly did vse
To lay their sick men in the streets, that those
Who of the same disease had scapt the throes,
Might minister reliefe as they went by,
To such as felt the selfe same Maladye;
So, haples lines, fly through the fairest Land;
And if ye light into some blessed hand,
That hath a heart as merry as the shyne
Of golden dayes, yet wrong'd as much as mine;
Pittye may lead that happy man to me,
And his experience worke a remedye
To those sad Fitts which (spight of Natures lawes)
Torture a poore heart that outlives the cause.
But this must never be, nor is it fit
An Ague or some sicknes lesse then it,
Should glorye in the death of such as he,
That had a heart of Flesh, & valued thee.
An Ague or some sicknes lesse then it,
Should glorye in the death of such as he,
That had a heart of Flesh, & valued thee.
Brave Roman! I admire thee, that wouldst dye
At no lesse rate then for an emperie:
Some massye diamond from the center drawne,
For which all Europe were an equall pawne,
Should (beaten into dust) be drunke by him,
That wanted courage good enough to swym
Through seas of woe for thee; & much despise
To meet with death at any lower prise.
Whilst Griefe alone workes that effect in me;
And yet no griefe but for the losse of thee.
At no lesse rate then for an emperie:
Some massye diamond from the center drawne,
For which all Europe were an equall pawne,
312
That wanted courage good enough to swym
Through seas of woe for thee; & much despise
To meet with death at any lower prise.
Whilst Griefe alone workes that effect in me;
And yet no griefe but for the losse of thee.
Fortune, now doe thy worst, for I haue got
By this her death soe strong an antidote,
That all thy future crosses shall not have
More then an angry smile. Nor shall the grave
Glorye in my last daye. These lines shall give
To vs a second life, and we will live
To pull the distaffe from the hands of Fate;
And spin our owne thriedds for so long a date,
That Death shall never seize vpon our fame,
Till this shall perish in the whole worlds flame.
By this her death soe strong an antidote,
That all thy future crosses shall not have
More then an angry smile. Nor shall the grave
Glorye in my last daye. These lines shall give
To vs a second life, and we will live
To pull the distaffe from the hands of Fate;
And spin our owne thriedds for so long a date,
That Death shall never seize vpon our fame,
Till this shall perish in the whole worlds flame.
| The Whole Works of William Browne | |