A tropohion Delion, or, The death of Delia With the Teares of her Funerall. A Phoeticall Excusiue Discourse of our late Eliza: T. N. G. [i.e. Thomas Newton] |
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 | A tropohion Delion, or, The death of Delia |  |
To the right Honorable my Lady Anne Stanley, Lady Strange.
A Siluer shower from your rich orient eyes,N.Akte trickling downe those Alpes where Beautie keepeth,
Would more adorne the Tombe where Delia lies:
Since that a Virgin for a Virgin weepeth.
Good Lady from your Heart one thought I craue,
To thinke how poore your Delia lyes in Graue:
And if to weepe a teare, that will not mooue ye,
Infortunate was she, so deare to loue ye:
But I dare sweare your eyes haue wept so many,
That you are not a teare behinde with any.
T. N.
To the right Honorable my Lady Francis.
F.Ainting with sorrow this my youngling Muse,R.Equires as much of you for Delias death:
A. Teare is small: eyes, that are sorrowes fluce,
N.Euer drops one, for one so deare on earth,
C.Ould all your teares at once be dry distill'd,
I. Know you would not leaue one drop vnshead,
S.O deare you lou'd your Delia, wrapt in lead.
T. N.
To the right Honorable, my Lady Elizabeth.
Eyes that before her death, did then behold her,L.Amentes in flood of teares to loose their seeing,
I.N yours no lesse I know, your teares infoldes her:
S.O heauie beares your heart, her losse of beeing.
A.Dde one (good Lady) more, at my desire,
B.Vt for to giue my teares a worthier shade:
E.Lse shall my hopes and paynes with griefe retire,
T.Hat for your Sisters sake and yours, were made.
H.Eere with my paynes, my bounden heart I giue,
E.Ver to loue a Stanley, whiles I liue.
T. N.
A POETICALL EXCUSIUE Discourse of our late ELIZA.
CASTITAS.
Late I sad Angell in an Angels brest
Inthroned sate in glory, state, and blisse,
But now displac't to mourne my throne at rest,
I see how brittle state, and glory is:
My vertuous pride, so proude, was neuer seene,
Nor so preseru'd from blot, from breath, or staine:
Or euer was so rich in any Queene,
As in this Delia whom I thus complaine:
No strangers eye but weepes that neuer knew her,
What then can mine, that neuer lod'ge without her?
Or what can Delos soules that still did view her?
Or her chast beautious traine that kept about her?
Ye Nimphs to her link't all like burnish't amber
Why let ye death approch her priuy chamber?
Inthroned sate in glory, state, and blisse,
But now displac't to mourne my throne at rest,
I see how brittle state, and glory is:
My vertuous pride, so proude, was neuer seene,
Nor so preseru'd from blot, from breath, or staine:
Or euer was so rich in any Queene,
As in this Delia whom I thus complaine:
No strangers eye but weepes that neuer knew her,
What then can mine, that neuer lod'ge without her?
Or what can Delos soules that still did view her?
Or her chast beautious traine that kept about her?
Ye Nimphs to her link't all like burnish't amber
Why let ye death approch her priuy chamber?
NYMPHÆ.
Mad in dispaire (poore soules) we fainting stood,
Arm'd all with blades of hope & speares of praiers,
Pik't hanging down our haire to shed deaths blood
And drench his forces in a sea of teares.
With stormes of sighs we striu'd to weake his strength,
And fought with earnest courage on our Knee:
Yet pale-fac't Hag with creeping dart at length
Depriu'd vs (wretches) of our Deitie:
When we awak't, and watcht all sleepie houres,
That mid-night death eche heauie braine doth couer,
That end of all vsurping ending powers,
Rob'd her of life, and vs, who deare did loue her.
O Lords! why let yee such a one bereaue her,
That makes vs al disper'st mourn, weep, & leaue her.
Arm'd all with blades of hope & speares of praiers,
Pik't hanging down our haire to shed deaths blood
And drench his forces in a sea of teares.
With stormes of sighs we striu'd to weake his strength,
And fought with earnest courage on our Knee:
Yet pale-fac't Hag with creeping dart at length
Depriu'd vs (wretches) of our Deitie:
When we awak't, and watcht all sleepie houres,
That mid-night death eche heauie braine doth couer,
That end of all vsurping ending powers,
Rob'd her of life, and vs, who deare did loue her.
O Lords! why let yee such a one bereaue her,
That makes vs al disper'st mourn, weep, & leaue her.
Our Wits that euer were imploy'd to keepe,
Her sacred person safe and still secure:
Our Eyes, that now vpon her Hearce do weepe,
Scarce wink't at all, since first shee seem'd vnsure.
But wandered in our wisedomes arts, and skill,
To finde a meane, by all the meanes we could,
Which meane we found, but being mortall still,
No meane immortall could we finde for gold.
Wits witlesse thus, ceas'd to proceed in paine:
Eyes, eyelesse thus, ceas'd to be blinde in seeing:
Heart, heartlesse thus, ceas'd longer to maintaine
That wrong, which had no helpe on earth a beeing.
O World! why didst thou foster such a foe,
To be chast Delias traytour, Cynthias woe.
Her sacred person safe and still secure:
Our Eyes, that now vpon her Hearce do weepe,
Scarce wink't at all, since first shee seem'd vnsure.
But wandered in our wisedomes arts, and skill,
To finde a meane, by all the meanes we could,
Which meane we found, but being mortall still,
No meane immortall could we finde for gold.
Wits witlesse thus, ceas'd to proceed in paine:
Eyes, eyelesse thus, ceas'd to be blinde in seeing:
Heart, heartlesse thus, ceas'd longer to maintaine
That wrong, which had no helpe on earth a beeing.
O World! why didst thou foster such a foe,
To be chast Delias traytour, Cynthias woe.
MVNDVS.
I mourne for Delia, for I partly knew her,
And partly knew her not; yet wholly mourne,
The part that knew her well, makes tother rew her,
And both together, waile to be forlorne.
For in the spacious multitude of me,
I finde a great defect, though one be small,
The losse of Delias crown'd Virginitie:
But Delias grace and person most of all:
In this (poore world) I differ from the Skies,
For they inlarge and neuer breake their number,
And them they winne, to thrones eternall rise:
And those I loose, intomb'd in claye lye vnder:
O Earth, why did thy wombe beare such a brood:
That thus (remorcelesse) dranke my Delias blood.
And partly knew her not; yet wholly mourne,
The part that knew her well, makes tother rew her,
And both together, waile to be forlorne.
For in the spacious multitude of me,
I finde a great defect, though one be small,
The losse of Delias crown'd Virginitie:
But Delias grace and person most of all:
In this (poore world) I differ from the Skies,
For they inlarge and neuer breake their number,
And them they winne, to thrones eternall rise:
And those I loose, intomb'd in claye lye vnder:
O Earth, why did thy wombe beare such a brood:
That thus (remorcelesse) dranke my Delias blood.
TERRA.
Delia
, subiect of the worlds lamenting,
Was such a glorious issue of my wombe,
In her aboue the rest, grew my contenting,
But now the mother and her issues tombe:
Alas too timelesse did I bring her foorth,
Since shee too timelesse is returnde againe:
More ioy I tooke to see her liuing worth
Then thus in warpping of my Delia slaine:
Her life, how rich a life was it to many.
The sight of her, how rich a comfort blist it:
How then her death, is it not griefe to any?
Yes, griefe; with crosse of hopes to them that wisht it.
Delos I wayle, and with mine eyes beweepe her,
That neither thou nor I hadst tower to keepe her.
Was such a glorious issue of my wombe,
In her aboue the rest, grew my contenting,
Alas too timelesse did I bring her foorth,
Since shee too timelesse is returnde againe:
More ioy I tooke to see her liuing worth
Then thus in warpping of my Delia slaine:
Her life, how rich a life was it to many.
The sight of her, how rich a comfort blist it:
How then her death, is it not griefe to any?
Yes, griefe; with crosse of hopes to them that wisht it.
Delos I wayle, and with mine eyes beweepe her,
That neither thou nor I hadst tower to keepe her.
DELOS.
If any place of pleasure or delight,
As Garden, Mount, or Vale, by Riuers side,
Had fed her vitall spirits, with their sight:
Then would not I haue moorn'd, nor Delia di'de.
The whitest seat I had, my Delia had it,
The greenest Palace of my brests support,
The richest Mount (the richest hands had made it)
Was hers, where she did lastly keepe her Court:
That time of last, would it had neuer beene:
Then had my late-dead Delia lasted euer.
For one poore period of Time, my Queene
And me, doth both in corporate and seuer.
Then woe to thee, O Time, for thou dost wrong vs,
That wouldst not lend vs time for her among vs.
As Garden, Mount, or Vale, by Riuers side,
Had fed her vitall spirits, with their sight:
Then would not I haue moorn'd, nor Delia di'de.
The whitest seat I had, my Delia had it,
The greenest Palace of my brests support,
The richest Mount (the richest hands had made it)
Was hers, where she did lastly keepe her Court:
That time of last, would it had neuer beene:
Then had my late-dead Delia lasted euer.
For one poore period of Time, my Queene
And me, doth both in corporate and seuer.
Then woe to thee, O Time, for thou dost wrong vs,
That wouldst not lend vs time for her among vs.
TEMPVS.
I was the Aseclist that did attend her,
Weft to her vitall web, her breathing scope:
I was that Time, against my will, did ende her,
And he that set the passelesse point of hope,
Along my Snaylish-iourney as I went.
I led my Delia in a dextrous hand,
And hauing traueld farre (at last a Saint)
My chast companion, wisht me take a stand,
Till she afresh had gotten breath and winde:
Now I that had no ioynts to rest nor bend,
Constraind to trauell, left my Saint behind,
Els had we trauel'd to our iourneys end.
Thou fatall Clotho, to my Sacred sweet,
Wouldst not afford her Time, heart, breath, nor feet.
Weft to her vitall web, her breathing scope:
I was that Time, against my will, did ende her,
And he that set the passelesse point of hope,
Along my Snaylish-iourney as I went.
I led my Delia in a dextrous hand,
And hauing traueld farre (at last a Saint)
My chast companion, wisht me take a stand,
Now I that had no ioynts to rest nor bend,
Constraind to trauell, left my Saint behind,
Els had we trauel'd to our iourneys end.
Thou fatall Clotho, to my Sacred sweet,
Wouldst not afford her Time, heart, breath, nor feet.
CLOTHO.
I stucke the Distaffe in my bosome fast
Whereon my Delias life was wrapt in Flaxe,
And duely sate, till many yeeres were past
My Distaffe bare and threed ful length was waxt.
Which threed when first my Sisters gan to spin it
How fast they drew, so fast it rol'd and knotted,
That more their care and paine was to begin it,
Doubting too timelesse breach to it allotted.
But hauing spun a full third part and more,
The other two it turned all to gold,
And spun not halfe so harsh as't did before,
Till all at last vpon a knot it rold.
So Lachesis, thy spinning and my paine,
Was but to put on Time, and done in vaine.
Whereon my Delias life was wrapt in Flaxe,
And duely sate, till many yeeres were past
My Distaffe bare and threed ful length was waxt.
Which threed when first my Sisters gan to spin it
How fast they drew, so fast it rol'd and knotted,
That more their care and paine was to begin it,
Doubting too timelesse breach to it allotted.
But hauing spun a full third part and more,
The other two it turned all to gold,
And spun not halfe so harsh as't did before,
Till all at last vpon a knot it rold.
So Lachesis, thy spinning and my paine,
Was but to put on Time, and done in vaine.
LACHESIS.
Alas, had I had substance whereupon to pull,
Or where withall to adde vnto her threed,
My fingers should not wearie, nor mine eies be dull,
Nor night, nor day from worke lay downe my head:
For rich was he that might but kisse her hand,
And much esteem'd, that had her word of praise:
How proud was he, might at her doore but stand
And hold a Polax in her princely dayes?
Amongst these riches then, how rich was I?
That had both twisting, twining of the Clew,
Ne greater riches with my Delia die,
Then whom she lou'd, must seeke their loue anew.
Oh had I (Atropos) Flax for her life,
Thou shouldst not only spin, but breake thy knife.
Or where withall to adde vnto her threed,
My fingers should not wearie, nor mine eies be dull,
Nor night, nor day from worke lay downe my head:
For rich was he that might but kisse her hand,
And much esteem'd, that had her word of praise:
How proud was he, might at her doore but stand
And hold a Polax in her princely dayes?
Amongst these riches then, how rich was I?
That had both twisting, twining of the Clew,
Ne greater riches with my Delia die,
Then whom she lou'd, must seeke their loue anew.
Oh had I (Atropos) Flax for her life,
Thou shouldst not only spin, but breake thy knife.
So Angel-like, immortall-seeming Saint,
The tract of her most chast and prosperous life,
Did make the worldings thinke that scarce constraint
Could bring her Threed once vnder yoake of knife.
I cannot chuse but mourne, her death, their griefe,
Shee did so loue them: they no lesse deseru'd it.
And held her next to Joue; on Earth for chiefe:
Her as her loue, and loue as her preseru'd it.
If Clotho's Distaffe had been still supplide,
And Lachesis small Fingers spinning longer:
My Knife should still haue hung close by my side,
And neither edge nor poynt toucht threed, nor wrongd her,
But Nature, thou art she that would't not giue
Substaunce of life, to make my Delia liue.
The tract of her most chast and prosperous life,
Did make the worldings thinke that scarce constraint
Could bring her Threed once vnder yoake of knife.
I cannot chuse but mourne, her death, their griefe,
Shee did so loue them: they no lesse deseru'd it.
And held her next to Joue; on Earth for chiefe:
Her as her loue, and loue as her preseru'd it.
If Clotho's Distaffe had been still supplide,
And Lachesis small Fingers spinning longer:
My Knife should still haue hung close by my side,
And neither edge nor poynt toucht threed, nor wrongd her,
But Nature, thou art she that would't not giue
Substaunce of life, to make my Delia liue.
NATVRA.
When first my curious Pensill did purtraie
The pure composed limbes of Delia's forme;
Mee thought my fingers striued to assaie
A worke immortall, not terrestriall borne.
And hauing brought it to a full perfection,
The very Gods descended downe to see,
Their next celestiall shape, with such affection:
It pleas'd them so, they would haue robbed mee.
But I more glorying in my labour taken,
Grew iealous of the same, the whiles 'twas mine:
Since when, my worke it selfe had me forsaken,
The Gods haue seeted her in heauen to shine:
Death was the fatall messenger that crost her,
Shee hauing spent my strength, I hauing lost her.
The pure composed limbes of Delia's forme;
Mee thought my fingers striued to assaie
A worke immortall, not terrestriall borne.
And hauing brought it to a full perfection,
The very Gods descended downe to see,
Their next celestiall shape, with such affection:
It pleas'd them so, they would haue robbed mee.
But I more glorying in my labour taken,
Grew iealous of the same, the whiles 'twas mine:
Since when, my worke it selfe had me forsaken,
The Gods haue seeted her in heauen to shine:
Death was the fatall messenger that crost her,
Shee hauing spent my strength, I hauing lost her.
MORS.
I was that fatall executioner
That gaue that fatall stroke of Delia's death:
I also was that fatall Messenger
That brought this fatall newes into the Earth.
I was that theefe which stole into her chamber;
And first that made her faint, the Nymphes to wonder:
I was that traytour which did feare no danger
For acting treason to be rent asunder:
Yet what I did, was by the Gods agreed,
And not by me, but by the Powers aboue her;
They, nor my dart, had made your Delia bleed,
But for to make her know how they did loue her:
A Quier of Angels did discend beneathe,
To take her vp to heauen, too good for earthe,
That gaue that fatall stroke of Delia's death:
I also was that fatall Messenger
That brought this fatall newes into the Earth.
And first that made her faint, the Nymphes to wonder:
I was that traytour which did feare no danger
For acting treason to be rent asunder:
Yet what I did, was by the Gods agreed,
And not by me, but by the Powers aboue her;
They, nor my dart, had made your Delia bleed,
But for to make her know how they did loue her:
A Quier of Angels did discend beneathe,
To take her vp to heauen, too good for earthe,
ANGELI.
Cease
Nymphes with teares to ouercharge your eies,
For Delia, weepes not now, that she hath left ye,
Comfort your selues in earth for she in skies,
Is comforted by them, which late bereft ye,
So many yeeres the Gods did let ye keepe her,
In tender loue for to support your peace,
But being gone, it naught auailes to weepe her.
Shee now enioyes a crowne of longer lease:
Let this suffice how looth she was to part,
So long as she had tongue, hand, eye or breath,
Till when our Quire of Angels tooke her heart,
Shee then bid welcome ioyes, and farwell earth.
Where once ech soule his Delias soule shall see,
Crown'd in another kinde of Maiestie.
For Delia, weepes not now, that she hath left ye,
Comfort your selues in earth for she in skies,
Is comforted by them, which late bereft ye,
So many yeeres the Gods did let ye keepe her,
In tender loue for to support your peace,
But being gone, it naught auailes to weepe her.
Shee now enioyes a crowne of longer lease:
Let this suffice how looth she was to part,
So long as she had tongue, hand, eye or breath,
Till when our Quire of Angels tooke her heart,
Shee then bid welcome ioyes, and farwell earth.
Where once ech soule his Delias soule shall see,
Crown'd in another kinde of Maiestie.
FAMA.
Bright heauens, you that enioy our Delias soule,
And death with Death that causd our Ladies moorne
That did the wisedome of our lords controule,
And striu'd against all Cynthus power in scorne,
Know this that Fame immortall is on earth,
As you in heauen, and will not loose her so:
You haue her substance: I a God beneath,
Will keepe the substance of her life to show,
I haue her shape drawne in as liuely die,
As if my Delia were her selfe in being:
And that's her Delias selfe vnto my eye,
I need no other Delia for my seeing:
And yet me thinkes shee's not in heauen enshrin'de,
So plaine I keepe her Trophey in my minde.
And death with Death that causd our Ladies moorne
That did the wisedome of our lords controule,
And striu'd against all Cynthus power in scorne,
Know this that Fame immortall is on earth,
As you in heauen, and will not loose her so:
You haue her substance: I a God beneath,
Will keepe the substance of her life to show,
As if my Delia were her selfe in being:
And that's her Delias selfe vnto my eye,
I need no other Delia for my seeing:
And yet me thinkes shee's not in heauen enshrin'de,
So plaine I keepe her Trophey in my minde.
I haue in writing Golden Pens to prayse her,
In datelesse Volumes of the siluer ayre,
The very stile so loftie high shall raise her,
That Time shall be too short to teare her haire:
Wherein shall first her Chastitie be writ
As pure in Picture as it selfe was pure:
Next her Religion, Loue, her Arte and Wit
So faire, that Delias life may still endure,
Then Cynthus thinke thou hast thy Delia euer:
The Heauens do keep her soule, thou keep'st her life,
Which life (I vow) from thee shall neuer seuer,
Nor subiect bee to Fates Atropian knife
Take this to wipe thy bleared eyes againe,
Her life is thine, though Heauen her soule containe.
In datelesse Volumes of the siluer ayre,
The very stile so loftie high shall raise her,
That Time shall be too short to teare her haire:
Wherein shall first her Chastitie be writ
As pure in Picture as it selfe was pure:
Next her Religion, Loue, her Arte and Wit
So faire, that Delias life may still endure,
Then Cynthus thinke thou hast thy Delia euer:
The Heauens do keep her soule, thou keep'st her life,
Which life (I vow) from thee shall neuer seuer,
Nor subiect bee to Fates Atropian knife
Take this to wipe thy bleared eyes againe,
Her life is thine, though Heauen her soule containe.
CASTITAS.
At length to Church I brought my Delia's Hearse,
Blindfolded (for my eyes were blinde with crying)
And all a long the way in howling verse,
I sung a Dirge vnto her vtmost dying:
The Birdes aboue, while I did sing beneath,
With heartlesse yeelping fil'd the siluer ayre,
Ne with a shriller Quier then I on earth,
For all I sob'd, I howl'd, and rent my haire:
But then to helpe my Song my Delias Singers,
(I meane her boyes new turn'd to Blacke from Red,
Like Lambs by Uthers nurs'd, with Orpheus fingers)
Mixt teares with Notes to see her buried:
And to be chang'd to clay, her Robes from gould,
Her princely Guard to Woormes, her bed to mould.
Blindfolded (for my eyes were blinde with crying)
And all a long the way in howling verse,
I sung a Dirge vnto her vtmost dying:
The Birdes aboue, while I did sing beneath,
With heartlesse yeelping fil'd the siluer ayre,
Ne with a shriller Quier then I on earth,
For all I sob'd, I howl'd, and rent my haire:
But then to helpe my Song my Delias Singers,
(I meane her boyes new turn'd to Blacke from Red,
Like Lambs by Uthers nurs'd, with Orpheus fingers)
Mixt teares with Notes to see her buried:
Her princely Guard to Woormes, her bed to mould.
NYMPHÆ.
Now hath Attendance done the last commande,
That loue or duetie to our Delia ought:
It need not watch her call, or slender hand:
The one is mute, the other wastes to nought.
Now are our Reuels and our dauncing sport,
Turnde all to sighes, each one to priuate plaine:
Now Delia can no more remooue her Court,
The Graue's her Pallace, and the woormes her traine
Shee is arrayde in Robes, in Pearle, in Stone:
But not so rich as she was wont to bee:
For why; shee lackes vs Ladyes euery one,
The worst her selfe, shee lackes as well as wee:
Her Robes are sullen, such as Earth containe:
Her Stones vnpollish't, Pearle, Earthes sinking raine.
That loue or duetie to our Delia ought:
It need not watch her call, or slender hand:
The one is mute, the other wastes to nought.
Now are our Reuels and our dauncing sport,
Turnde all to sighes, each one to priuate plaine:
Now Delia can no more remooue her Court,
The Graue's her Pallace, and the woormes her traine
Shee is arrayde in Robes, in Pearle, in Stone:
But not so rich as she was wont to bee:
For why; shee lackes vs Ladyes euery one,
The worst her selfe, shee lackes as well as wee:
Her Robes are sullen, such as Earth containe:
Her Stones vnpollish't, Pearle, Earthes sinking raine.
HEROES.
Ovr eyes did now behold their last beholding
Of Delias shape, wrapt in obscuritie:
Till that the crummie Earth her corpes infoulding,
Had blinded vs with his condensitie:
Returning then our thoughtes, began to paint
Her lyuelie shape with new rememberaunce:
And comming to her face, a new Complaint
Grew, thinking on so sweete a countenaunce,
That then we thought we had a new to make
Both mourning vestmentes, teares, graue, hearse and all:
For Delia seem'd a new in life to wake,
When was but done a new her Funerall.
A griefe vnto vs all, to them most wretched,
To whom our Deliaes loue and bountie stretched.
Of Delias shape, wrapt in obscuritie:
Till that the crummie Earth her corpes infoulding,
Had blinded vs with his condensitie:
Returning then our thoughtes, began to paint
Her lyuelie shape with new rememberaunce:
And comming to her face, a new Complaint
Grew, thinking on so sweete a countenaunce,
That then we thought we had a new to make
Both mourning vestmentes, teares, graue, hearse and all:
For Delia seem'd a new in life to wake,
When was but done a new her Funerall.
A griefe vnto vs all, to them most wretched,
To whom our Deliaes loue and bountie stretched.
PHISICI.
With Chastitie the Nimphes and noble Peeres,
Our ouer-weeried Wittes and drowsie Eyes,
Restles retires with droughtlesse spring of teares,
To thinke how Delia in a colde bed lyes:
We thought our Arte would haue preseru'd her euer,
But now we see his purest power and strength
Was but for to prolong, (and not deliuer)
Her life, which death did ouercome at length:
No trust we put in Phisicks Arte at all
But this; when alwayes we began to make it,
For life no more to be effectuall,
Till when her stomacks strength did faile to take it:
Which weekenesse finding in her vitall vaines,
Then ended she her life, and we our paines.
Our ouer-weeried Wittes and drowsie Eyes,
To thinke how Delia in a colde bed lyes:
We thought our Arte would haue preseru'd her euer,
But now we see his purest power and strength
Was but for to prolong, (and not deliuer)
Her life, which death did ouercome at length:
No trust we put in Phisicks Arte at all
But this; when alwayes we began to make it,
For life no more to be effectuall,
Till when her stomacks strength did faile to take it:
Which weekenesse finding in her vitall vaines,
Then ended she her life, and we our paines.
Sepulchrum CASTITATI Loquens.
Hence from my mouth, and wast no more thy teares:
No teares preuaile to take my Delia from me:
No sighs can make my breast that thee vp-reares
Dissolue in two; with kneeling thus vpon me:
But to the greene-grasse sprouted hilles be winging,
Where pleasure doth release the time of sorrow,
And where in pleasure sorrow sits a singing,
When one sad soule anothers brest doth borrow:
There make a Chaplet of the sweetest flowers,
That prettie pinked Groue or Dale doth yeeld:
There shade thy temples in those templed bowers
That canopize the haunters of the field:
And round about thee in the Springing Meedes,
The Swaynes will finger Ditties to their reedes.
No teares preuaile to take my Delia from me:
No sighs can make my breast that thee vp-reares
Dissolue in two; with kneeling thus vpon me:
But to the greene-grasse sprouted hilles be winging,
Where pleasure doth release the time of sorrow,
And where in pleasure sorrow sits a singing,
When one sad soule anothers brest doth borrow:
There make a Chaplet of the sweetest flowers,
That prettie pinked Groue or Dale doth yeeld:
There shade thy temples in those templed bowers
That canopize the haunters of the field:
And round about thee in the Springing Meedes,
The Swaynes will finger Ditties to their reedes.
Or els, gird Bow and Quiuer to thy side,
And run with Cynthia in the Pheboone-parke,
To seeke the Hart where he his head doth hide,
With bended Bow whiles chopping Talbots barke
That after Midday-heat some Willow vnder
You may betake your selfe to bathe and wash
In some cleare spring kept coole with such an number
That none may see you nak'd to sport and dash,
Thou may'st be happie, that in Brumaes snow,
Thy flight was not decree'd nor Delias death,
On euery twigge a thousand pleasures grow,
That now a Heauen doth scarce resemble Earth:
Leaue kneeling teares, bid farewell Court & trayne,
For them thou knowst not when to see againe.
And run with Cynthia in the Pheboone-parke,
To seeke the Hart where he his head doth hide,
With bended Bow whiles chopping Talbots barke
That after Midday-heat some Willow vnder
You may betake your selfe to bathe and wash
In some cleare spring kept coole with such an number
Thou may'st be happie, that in Brumaes snow,
Thy flight was not decree'd nor Delias death,
On euery twigge a thousand pleasures grow,
That now a Heauen doth scarce resemble Earth:
Leaue kneeling teares, bid farewell Court & trayne,
For them thou knowst not when to see againe.
Sepulchrum NYMPHIS, Loquens.
As her I haue dismi'st, so must I you:
Nought can release your Queene my armes must keepe her,
No sad submission though you bend and bow,
Are ought of force to make ye more be-weepe her:
Binde vp your haire, wipe both your cheekes and eyes,
Leaue wringing, kneeling, thumping of my brest,
Enuie not me, though in me, Delia lyes,
For shee contented, giues her selfe to rest,
For I am night, and bed; her life was day,
Wherein cours'd and recours'd her cares of minde,
Which wearied her at last: but I for aye
Am that sweete rest, wherein shee rest doth finde:
O Nymphs! for Delia, why so much complaine yee?
Doubtlesse as good a Queene will entertaine yee.
Nought can release your Queene my armes must keepe her,
No sad submission though you bend and bow,
Are ought of force to make ye more be-weepe her:
Binde vp your haire, wipe both your cheekes and eyes,
Leaue wringing, kneeling, thumping of my brest,
Enuie not me, though in me, Delia lyes,
For shee contented, giues her selfe to rest,
For I am night, and bed; her life was day,
Wherein cours'd and recours'd her cares of minde,
Which wearied her at last: but I for aye
Am that sweete rest, wherein shee rest doth finde:
O Nymphs! for Delia, why so much complaine yee?
Doubtlesse as good a Queene will entertaine yee.
Sepulchrum HEROIBVS Loquens.
Assemble now no more for Consultation:
(I meane, for Delias safetie, life, and state)
I take vpon me now her preseruation,
All wits extending duetie comes too late:
You haue committed her vnto my keeping,
Shee is my prisoner, I am her Gaole,
The debt's so great, that neither gold nor weeping,
Nor all the world beside, can be her baile,
Bondage is iudg'd to be her punishment,
Death officer to execute her woe:
For Time perpertuall imprisonment,
Perpetuall to earth, to Heauen not soe,
For Ioues sweete Mercurie, will from her tombe,
Release your Delia at the day of Doome.
(I meane, for Delias safetie, life, and state)
I take vpon me now her preseruation,
All wits extending duetie comes too late:
You haue committed her vnto my keeping,
Shee is my prisoner, I am her Gaole,
The debt's so great, that neither gold nor weeping,
Nor all the world beside, can be her baile,
Bondage is iudg'd to be her punishment,
Death officer to execute her woe:
For Time perpertuall imprisonment,
Perpetuall to earth, to Heauen not soe,
Release your Delia at the day of Doome.
Vermes MEDICIS Loquens.
You that by Art procure the ease of man
With short abridgement of continuance,
T'is short you see for not beyond a spanne,
The greatest Prince of all you can aduance:
Your ease is wasting ease, and Nature spendeth,
Perchance you'le say it addes vnto the breath;
Not so in age, for then it but befriendeth
The heart, to bring it to a pleasant death:
For now your labours vaine, you see at last,
The leafes and Rules of Gallen lies at rest,
And now when all your hope is dead and past,
No more you search to finde Probatum est.
Now what's your art in power, ne all you haue,
Cannot preserue her bodie in the Graue.
With short abridgement of continuance,
T'is short you see for not beyond a spanne,
The greatest Prince of all you can aduance:
Your ease is wasting ease, and Nature spendeth,
Perchance you'le say it addes vnto the breath;
Not so in age, for then it but befriendeth
The heart, to bring it to a pleasant death:
For now your labours vaine, you see at last,
The leafes and Rules of Gallen lies at rest,
And now when all your hope is dead and past,
No more you search to finde Probatum est.
Now what's your art in power, ne all you haue,
Cannot preserue her bodie in the Graue.
For whats her body now, whereon such care
Was still bestow'd in all humilitie?
Where are her robes? is not her body bare,
Respectles in the earths obscuritie?
Now where's her glory and her Maiestie?
Her triple crowne, her honour, state, and traine?
Are not her riches all in pouertie,
And all her earthly Gloryes past and vaine,
Now where are all her cares, her glorious dishes,
That were by death of sundry creatures spread,
Her Fowles, her fat Quadrupidists and Fishes,
Are they not liuing, now your Delias dead?
And we in life too filthy for her tooth,
Are now in death the next vnto her mouth.
Was still bestow'd in all humilitie?
Where are her robes? is not her body bare,
Respectles in the earths obscuritie?
Now where's her glory and her Maiestie?
Her triple crowne, her honour, state, and traine?
Are not her riches all in pouertie,
And all her earthly Gloryes past and vaine,
Now where are all her cares, her glorious dishes,
That were by death of sundry creatures spread,
Her Fowles, her fat Quadrupidists and Fishes,
Are they not liuing, now your Delias dead?
And we in life too filthy for her tooth,
Are now in death the next vnto her mouth.
With that the greedy wormes their heads shrunk down
The graue shut close her heauie brooken ground,
And crawling crept vnto her liuelesse crowne
Much like to Flyes about a bleeding wound,
Then all her Mourners eyes were vailde and blinde,
They weepe not now with passion of the sight,
But with a true remembrance of the minde
They meane to mourne their Delia day and night:
Thence they returne, where Delia helplesse lyes,
Each one betakes him to a priuate place
To wipe the teares of ouer delug'd eyes,
In stead of her to welcome such a Grace;
As all the Boundes of Europe, ne the Earth,
Affords a wiser Prince of greater Birth,
The graue shut close her heauie brooken ground,
And crawling crept vnto her liuelesse crowne
Much like to Flyes about a bleeding wound,
Then all her Mourners eyes were vailde and blinde,
They weepe not now with passion of the sight,
But with a true remembrance of the minde
They meane to mourne their Delia day and night:
Thence they returne, where Delia helplesse lyes,
Each one betakes him to a priuate place
To wipe the teares of ouer delug'd eyes,
In stead of her to welcome such a Grace;
As all the Boundes of Europe, ne the Earth,
Affords a wiser Prince of greater Birth,
FINIS.
In laude Authoris.
Passe foorth, pure Iem, to Subiects censuring,And what thy vertue yeelds, let Subiects read,
Free is thy heart from false dissembling,
For which; thrice happie, in so blest a deed:
Small is thy port, yet with rich Trueth art grac't,
And zealous Trueth in highest Heauens is plac't:
VVhere she (great Empresse) euer singing liueth,
(Before his christal Thron, which al good giueth)
More white than Snow, free'd from infirmitie,
Crown'd with pure Lawrell of Eternitie;
Many haue writ sad Elegies of woe:
But these true Mourners with her Funerall goe.
I: O: St. G.
| A tropohion Delion, or, The death of Delia | |