University of Virginia Library

THE MVSES MOVRNING:

OR, FVNERALL SONNETS ON THE Death of Iohn Moray Esquire.

Sonnet. 1.

[VVhen King Corbredus wore the Scottish Crowne]

VVhen King Corbredus wore the Scottish Crowne,
The Romanes did the Britaine Land afflict:
But Corbred ioyn'd confederate with the Pict,
By whom Queen Woadaes foes were ouerthrowne.
The Morayes then, to haue their valour knowne,
Did first the Romane forces contradict:
And made them render vp their liues so strict,
That horse and foot, and all were beaten downe.
Loe thus began the Morayes honour'd Race,
Of memorable Ancient worthy fame:
And since the fiue and fiftieth yeere of Grace,
In Scotland hath suruiu'd that noble name.
To whom aliue, and to my dead friends hearse,
In duty heere I consecrate this verse.

Sonnet. 2.

[Weepe euerlastingly, you Nymphs diuine]

Weepe euerlastingly, you Nymphs diuine,
Your very Quintessence is waste and spent:
Sigh, grone and weepe, with wofull languishment,
Dead is the life that made your Glories shine.
The heau'nly numbers of your Sacred nine,
He tun'd as an Aetheriall Instrument,
So sweet, as if the Gods did all consent
In him their Consort holy to combine.
Weepe, Muses, euerlasting lament,
Eclipsed is your Sire Apollo's shrine:
Grim Death, the life hath from your Champion rent,
And therefore sigh, grone, weepe, lament and pine:
And let the Lawrell rot, consume and wither,
Dye, Muses, and be Tomb'd with him together.

Sonnets. 3.

[From two strong Iailes thy corps & soul's acquitted]

From two strong Iailes thy corps & soul's acquitted,
The one compact of flesh, and bloud and bone:
The other vnrelenting sencelesse stone,
By God to one, by man to one committed.
I euer did expect a happy time,
When thou shouldst shake thy bondage from thy backe:
I euer hop'd that thy vnwilling crime
Would be forgot, and thou secur'd from wracke.
For this I wish'd and prai'd both day and night:
I onely aym'd to haue thy body freed,
But heau'n, (beyond my reason) had decreed,
Soule, body, both at once to free thee quite.
Thou in thy life hast past a world of trouble,
But death from double Iailes hath freed thee double.

Sonnet. 4.

[Corruption, Incorruption hath put on]

Corruption, Incorruption hath put on,
Immortall, weake mortality is made:
Earths wo hath gain'd a happy heauenly throne,
By death, life dyes, by life deaths force doth fade
Though death kill life, yet life doth conquer death,
Death but puts off our Rags of shame and sinne:
When for a moment's an eternall breath,
Life (passing through the dore of death) doth win.
This thou well knowst (my much beloued friend)
And therefore thou didst dare death to his worst,
But he (much busied) could not thee attend,
Or durst not, till thy cares thy heart had burst.
And then the slaue came stealing like a thiefe,
And 'gainst his will, did giue thy woes reliefe.

Sonnet. 5.

[Thou fortunes foot-ball, whom she vs'd to tosse]

Thou fortunes foot-ball, whom she vs'd to tosse,
From wrong to wrong, from wo to wo againe:
From griefe rebounding backe to pinching paine,
As't please the blind-fold Dame to blesse or crosse:
But thou, vnmou'd with either gaine or losse,
Nor ioy, nor care, could vexe thy constant braine:
Thou smil'dst at all her buffets with disdaine,
And all her fauours thou esteem'dst as drosse:
Her and her Fauorites thou still didst deeme
Iust as they are, not as they seeme to be:
Her Minions all as fooles thou didst esteeme,
And that's the cause she would not fauour thee:
Then since such reck'ning she of fooles doth make:
Would thou hadst beene one, for her fauours sake.

Sonnet. 6.

[Tis written in the euerliuing Word]

Tis written in the euerliuing Word,
(The Rule and Square that men should liue thereby)
Afflictions are the tuch-stones of the Lord.
By which he onely doth his seruants try.
Then Noble Moray, thou hadst many a tuch,
And still thy patience good and currant prou'd,
Thy manly carriage in thy griefs were such,
Which made thee (more then much) admir'd and lou'd.
What yeer, what month, week, day or fading houre,
Wherein some mischiefe did thee not befall?
Yet had Affliction ouer thee no power
To conquer thee, but thou didst conquer all.
Vnnumbred times thou wast both toucht and tri'd,
And in thy Makers feare and fauour dy'd.

Sonnet. 7.

[VVeep heart, weepe eyes, weep my vnable pen]

VVeep heart, weepe eyes, weep my vnable pen,
In teares of blood, of water, and Inke:
With bread of sorrow, and afflictions drinke
I liue, for I haue lost a man of men.
Yet heart, eyes, pen, dry vp your teares agen,
He is not lost, he's rather new found:
Enfranchis'd from a dolefull theeuish den,
And with a rich Immortall Crowne is crownd,
Then hart, eies pen no more with teares be drownd
Weepe not for him that doth reioyce for euer:
Yet this againe my comfort doth confound,
Hee's lost to mee, and I shall find him neuer.
Then weep Muse, heart, eies, pen, lament and weep:
My ioyes are buried in eternall sleepe.

Sonnet. 8.

[Sleepe, gentle, spirit, in Eternall rest.]

Sleepe, gentle, spirit, in Eternall rest.
Free from all heart-tormenting sorrow sleepe:
Whilst I doe vent from my care-crazed brest,
Hart-wondring sighs that there their mansion keep:
And let my grones from out that Cauerne deepe,
With lamentations and cloud-cracking thunder,
And let mine eyes an Inundation weepe,
Let sighs, grones, teares, make all the world to wonder,
I meane my little Microcosmo world,
Sigh stormes, grone thunder, weep a floud of teares:
Through eu'ry part of me, let griefe be hurld,
That whosoeuer my lamenting heares,
May mone (with me) the cause of this my Ditty,
Or if not mone with me, vouchsafe to pitty.

Sonnet. 9.

[Since cursed fates haue fatally decreed]

Since cursed fates haue fatally decreed
To tosse and tumble harmelesse Innocence:
And all the crue of hels abortiue breed
Haue glutted Enuies maw, by lawes defence:
Yet God whose knowledge knows the least offence,
Who all things sees, with his all-searching eye.
Doth with his glorious great omnipotence,
Right wronged wrongs, & heares his seruants cry.
His mercie's not immur'd within the sky,
But freely he doth powre it downe on earth:
He with afflictions scourge his sonnes doth try,
And when he pleases, turnes their mone to mirth,
And though man liues in care, and dies in sorrow,
A heauy euening brings a ioyfull morrow.

Sonnet. 10.

[Well hast thou runne in this thy weary race]

Well hast thou runne in this thy weary race,
Well hast thou fought with Satan hand to hād:
Th'ast won the Goale, and gain'd the blessed Land,
That's neither limitted with time or place.
There thou attendest on the throne of Grace,
There Angels, and Archangels sweetly sing:
Eternall praises to th'eternall King,
And see the glorious brightnesse of his face.
All this I (doubt not) but thou well hast done,
Not of thy selfe (with shamefull sinne polluted)
But thy Redeemer hath the conquest wonne,
And vnto thee the victorie's imputed.
He paid the score, and cancell'd all thy bands,
And gaue thee to his blessed Fathers hands.

Sonnet. 11.

[Now may you theeuing Poets filch and steale]

Now may you theeuing Poets filch and steale,
Without controlement breaking Priscians pate:
For he that whilom could your theft reueale,
Your Criticke, and your Hypercriticke late,
Now may you cog and lye and sweare and prate,
And make your idle verses lame and halt:
For by the pow'r of euiternall Fate,
Hee's gone that could and would correct each fault.
But you haue greatest cause to moane his want.
You sacred heau'nly Sisters (three times thrice)
He from your Gardens, could all weeds supplant,
And replant fruites and flowres of peerelesse price;
He kept (vnbroke) your Numbers, Tipes & Tropes:
But now hee's dead, dead are your onely hopes.

Sonnet. 12.

[As Solon, to rich haplesse Crœsus said]

As Solon, to rich haplesse Crœsus said,
No man, is happy till his life doth end:
The proofe in thee so plainly is displaid,
As if he thy Natiuity had kend.
What mortall miseries could mischiefe send,
But thou therein hast had a treble share:
As if Calamities their powers should bend,
To make thy Corps a treasure-house of care?
Yet fell Aduersity thou didst out-dare,
And valiantly 'gainst stormes of woe resisted:
Loue of the world thy minde could not insnare,
Thou knewst wherein the best of best consisted.
And as old Solon said, so I agree,
Death makes men happy, as it hath done thee.

Sonnet. 13.

[No Monumentall Trophee Vertue needes]

No Monumentall Trophee Vertue needes,
And good report a marble Tombe out-weares:
Fame plaies the Herald, & proclaimes mens deeds,
Her Trumps shrill sound the spacious world heares.
And such an vniuersall Tombe hast thou,
Borne on the tops of thousand thousand tongs:
Thy liuing merit doth thy name allow
A Monument for euer, which belongs
To none but such as whilom was thy selfe,
Who vs'd the world as if they vs'd it not:
And did acknowledge misbegotten pelfe,
Must (like the getters of it) rust and rot.
And such a liuing Tombe thy Corps inherit,
A good report, according to thy merit.

Sonnet. 14.

[Had I the skill of Homer, Maro, Naso]

Had I the skill of Homer, Maro, Naso,
Or had I that Admir'd ornated stile
Of Petrark, or the braue Italian Tasso,
I could not ouermuch thy praise compile.
But as I am (alas and woe the while)
A poore vnlearned silly simple swaine:
At whose attempt the world with scorn will smile,
And flout th'vnshapen issue of my braine.
But duty bids me inch into this Maine,
Though my performance be but weake of store,
Yet worthy mindes this goodnesse doe retaine,
Not to despise the seruice of the poore.
I lou'd him liuing, and my loue to show,
My least and last poore loue I heere bestow.