Expicedium A Funeral Oration, upon the death of the late deceased Princesse of famous memorye, Elizabeth by the grace of God, Queen of England, France and Ireland. Written by Infelice Academico Ignoto. Whereunto is added, the true order of her Highnes Imperiall Funerall [by Richard Niccols] |
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THE True Order and formall proceeding at the Funerall of the most high, renovvned, famous and mightye Princesse, Elizabeth of England, France & Irealnd, late Queene: from White-hall to the Cathedral Church of Westminster. The 28. day of Aprill. 1603.
Before
thou reade, prepare thine eyes to weepe,
If that thine eyes containe one liquid teare:
Or if thou canst not mourne, fall dead in sleepe,
For naught but death such sorrow can out-weare.
Twi'll grieue heereafter soules as yet vnborne,
That one soules losse, did make so many morne.
Did make so many mourne? oh heauie time
That brought a Period to her happie life.
But cruell death, the fatall stroke was thine,
Her losse is ours, heauen thereby gaines a wife.
Yet had not sin bin hug'd in th' armes of Pride,
England had smil'd, and heauen had lost a Bride.
But now, oh now, our mourning weedes are on,
And many thousand blacks for her are worne:
Which do demonstrat that Eliza's gone,
For whose vntimely losse so many morne.
What these sad mourners are, good reader see:
And seeing reade, and reading, weepe with me.
If that thine eyes containe one liquid teare:
Or if thou canst not mourne, fall dead in sleepe,
For naught but death such sorrow can out-weare.
Twi'll grieue heereafter soules as yet vnborne,
That one soules losse, did make so many morne.
Did make so many mourne? oh heauie time
That brought a Period to her happie life.
But cruell death, the fatall stroke was thine,
Her losse is ours, heauen thereby gaines a wife.
Yet had not sin bin hug'd in th' armes of Pride,
England had smil'd, and heauen had lost a Bride.
But now, oh now, our mourning weedes are on,
And many thousand blacks for her are worne:
Which do demonstrat that Eliza's gone,
For whose vntimely losse so many morne.
What these sad mourners are, good reader see:
And seeing reade, and reading, weepe with me.
Heere Reader stay: & if thou aske me whie,
Tis to intreate thee beare them company.
But if th' high spirit cannot weepe so lowe,
Weepe with these flowers of honour that drooping goe.
Tis to intreate thee beare them company.
But if th' high spirit cannot weepe so lowe,
Weepe with these flowers of honour that drooping goe.
Art thou yet dry, as if thou hadst not wept?
Reade further then, and thou wilt force a teare.
But hadst thou seene her figure as she slept,
In memorie, thou would'st her semblance beare.
Whose deere remembrance would so touch thy minde,
That in thy passion thou no meane could'st finde.
Reade further then, and thou wilt force a teare.
But hadst thou seene her figure as she slept,
In memorie, thou would'st her semblance beare.
Whose deere remembrance would so touch thy minde,
That in thy passion thou no meane could'st finde.
Loe heere are all that in blacke weedes do mourne,
And now me thinkest soe thy count'nance turne:
What trill thy teares? nay (Reader) then a don
The firmament containes but one cleere Sun.
And now me thinkest soe thy count'nance turne:
What trill thy teares? nay (Reader) then a don
The firmament containes but one cleere Sun.
And since that Delia is from hence bereauen,
We haue another Sun ordein'd by heauen.
God graunt his virtues may so glorious shine,
That after death he may be crown'd diuine.
We haue another Sun ordein'd by heauen.
God graunt his virtues may so glorious shine,
That after death he may be crown'd diuine.
Amen.
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