University of Virginia Library

A FVNERALL ELEGY: DEPLORING THE DEATH OF THE TRVE Patterne, Patrone, and mirrour of Honour, the Right Honorable Lord, Iohn Ramsey, Lord Viscount Hadington, Earle of Holdernesse,

Who departed this life on Tuesday the 24 of Ianuary last, and was buried in the Abby-Church of Westminster on Tuesday the last of February following.

[An arme and hand (well Arm'd with Heav'nly might)]

TO THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE and vertuous Lady, the Lady Martha, Countesse of Holdernesse.

Right Honoured Madame, to your noble view,
These lines of greife, with griefe I dedicate:
Not that I would your cares a fresh renew,
Or any way your sorrowes aggraunte.
If you but please to reade what I relate,
My hope is, that your grieued heart shall finde
Some things that may your woe extenuate,
And adde some comfort to your care-craz'd minde,
And as you still haue nobly beene inclin'd,
To beare with Christian patience euery crosse:
So be that Vertue still to you combinde,
Supporting you, to vndergoe this losse.
Thus crauing pardon, I the heau'ns implore,
To make your sorrowers lesse, your comforts more.

A Sonnet of true and notable obseruations, vpon seuen seuerall Teuesdayes.

Vpon a Tuesday hee his Birth beganne.
Vpon a Tuesday he his baptisme had,
Vpon a Tuesday hee his Honour wanne,
Vpon the Gowries, (whose intents were bad.)
Vpon a Tuesday hee at first did wed
The Noble Sussex daughter, who deceast:
Vpon a Tuesday then hee married
Sir William Cockains, Childe, by heau'ns behest.
Vpon a Tuesday hee did taste Deaths Cup,
And to his blest Redeemer gaue his spirit.
Vpon a Tuesday hee was closed vp
Within his Tombe, which doth his Corps inherit.
Thus vpon Tuesdaies 'twas his lot to haue,
Birth, Baptisme, Honor, two Wiues, Death & Graue.

A FVNERALL ELEGY.

You Poets all, where is your Art become?
Are you all tong-ti'd? ar your Muses dum?
Or are your sorrows in your brests so shut
That you your pens to paper cannot put?
Can neither duty, or your loue expresse,
The lamentable losse of Holdernesse?
Alas! I know, that you doe know, his Worth
Was farre beyond your skils to blazon forth,
And that when you had done what could be done,
It had beene as a Taper to the Sunne.
He was an Ocean, for whose sake I know,
A dry inuention may with plenty flowe:
He was a well manured fertile field,
Which to a barren wit would haruest yeeld:
He was a Subiect of transcendent size,
Beyond each vulgar pen to Poetize:
And though I know my selfe vnworthy farre,
With my poore Glow-worme Muse, t'attend this Starre:
Yea, though I cannot as I would endite,
As tribute here I offer vp my mite,
Which in his Noble Treasury I throw,
My latest Duty that I can bestow.
And well I hope these lines of mine shall last,
When as his Tombe by Time shall be defac'd,
Yea, though I had no hope to liue so long,
To write his Epicedium, or Deaths song:
Yet since God so decrees, this Elegie
My duty, loue, and thankes, shall testifie.
How can the World but be in Honour poore,
Since it in losing him, hath lost such store?
Or how can Vertue hope to liue and thriue,
Hee's dead, whose life preserued her aliue,
Religion was his Tutresse, and his Matron,
And vnto her he was a zealous Patron;
True Charity belou'd with him did liue,
And (to the poore) his Glory was to giue.
Yet was his bounty from the world so hid;
His right hand knew not what his left hand did;
So that his carriage, and his Noble parts,
Iustly deseru'd, and firmely kept mens hearts,
That his true praise great Britaines Bounds did fill,
And no man e're had cause to wish him ill.
His merits (through Heau'ns fauour) did afford,
That Holdernesse had euery mans good word,
For though the world doth vndergoe this curse,
That euery day it waxeth worse and worse:
He had a Noble and a Christian way,
Whereby his life was better'd euery day.
For to his end, eu'n from his dayes of youth,
His time did fade, but goodnesse still had growth,
So as his life did weare, his Vertue grew,
And Grace did daily still more Grace renew.
Hee was no diuing Politician,
Or proiect-seeking Monopolitan.
Hee ne'r prouok'd the silly orphants cryes,
Nor fill'd with teares the woefull widdowes eyes,
But as his Princes fauour he did merit,
Hee vs'd it with such modesty of Spirit,
That though he might almost haue what he would,
Yet in such bounds he his demaunds did hold,
Which Honour and his Conscience did restraine,
That Prince or people neuer could complaine.
So as his life was all good mens content,
His death doth generally make all lament;
Much like a fruitfull piece of land well till'd,
Or as a Box with precious oyntment fill'd,
Eu'n so his Actions and his Conuersation
Pleasd, pleasur'd and much honour'd all our Nation.
And though that Honours doe change manners much,
Yet sure in him th'effects were neuer such:
Though merit, and the Kings benignity,
Did raise him vnto Noble dignity,
Though he in Titles was promoted high,
Yet still his minde retain'd Humility,
That though desert had made his honours more,
His minde was rais'd no higher then before.
Promotion with humility combind
A lofty Title, and a lowly minde.
These Vertues are exceeding great and rare,
And not by many men possessed are,
And yet in him these gifts were so apparent,
As if they had beene naturall inherent.
For had he beene with loue of Pride endowd,
He had the means that might haue made him proud.
Hee ne'r esteem'd Court complementing bubbles,
Nor car'd hee for the flattring Knee that doubles:
Hee knew it was Ambitions onely end,
To mount vp higher when it seemes to bend,
And therefore he these frothy toyes did shunne:
(Not fit for men, but Monkeyes to be done)
And in his actions shew'd himselfe to be
Full of plaine, honest, true integrity:
He euery way himselfe did so demeane,
That from his haruest good and bad might gleane
Instructions to direct, and good directions
How to instruct their follies fond affections
No doubt but God did him preordinate,
To be a speciall blessing to the State,
By constellation and Heau'ns Influence,
Mark'd for remarked seruice for his Prince:
For all his youth almost to manly age,
He was to Royall Iames a trusty Page,
When as his conuersation and behauiour,
Gain'd and retain'd his Soueraignes speciall fauour.
In our Redemptions sixteenth hundred yeare,
Then did his seruice happily appeare
Then did he proue himselfe Heau'ns instrument,
His Gracious Masters murther to preuent,
Vpon that day of famous memory,
Of Gowries wracke, and blacke Conspiracy.
That day of note (which ne'r shall be forgot)
That fift of August, 'twas his lucky lot
To kill a brace of Traytors, at the time
When as they were in action of the crime.
For when the younger brother of the twaine,
In murd'rous manner would the King haue slaine:
When nothing could his treachery diuert,
But that he vowd to stabbe his Soueraignes heart,
The whilst the King and hee with eager will
Were striuing, one to saue, and one to kill,
So long that bustling both 'twixt life and death,
They both were tyr'd and almost out of breath,
The King, (like Daniel in the Lyons Den)
As 'twere by miracle preserued then,
Then Noble Ramsey was by God appointed,
To saue his Soueraigne, and the Lords Anointed;
For he (by Gods direction) found a way,
Where they were scuffling, and without delay,
He strait made Alexander Rewthen feele
The force and fury of reuenging steele.
For with three stabs he did the Traytor wound,
And cast him downe the staires (an Act renown'd)
When strait Earle Gowry found his brother slaine,
With two drawn swords ran vp the staires amaine,
Well-knowing of his lifes approaching date,
Infus'd with rage and madnesse desperate,
Laying about him like a demy-Diuell,
With purpose to conclude his last act euill:
With many a furious stroke and ill-meant thrust,
He madly did his best to doe his worst,
Whilst this deceased Lord a Bulwarke stood,
And wounded Nobly spent his Noble blood,
And with a thrust most fortunate and fierce,
He with his sword the Earles heart through did pierce.
This happy seruice of most high esteeme,
Was but his duty, as himselfe did deeme,
Yea, though it was an action meritorious,
Yet selfe-opinion made him not vaine-glorious,
To arme or sword did he no praise impute,
Nor to his courage stoute and resolute.
But thanking God that had him so directed,
Whereby this worthy seruice was effected,
Attributing all praise and Maiestie
To God that made him meanes of victorie.
Thus he like one of Dauids Worthies then,
Gain'd at one time the loue of God and men:
Of God, for his humility of heart,
Of men, for his good seruice and desert.
Consider you these mournefull lines that read,
Thinke but how much true Noblenesse is dead,
Which hauing pondred well, who can forbeare,
But for his losse to spend a sigh or teare?
For all that lou'd King Iames, must likewise loue
Him, whose good seruice did so faithfull proue,
Who lou'd his Master so, that men might see
That from him long he could not sundred be;
And as he truely on him here attended,
So knowing him to higher state ascended,
To make his loyalty the more appeare,
He left this world, to wait vpon him there.
Each honest Britaine in his losse hath share,
The griefe is vniuersall, and the care
Hath tane possession of both high and low,
Eu'n from the Royall Throne vnto the Plough.
The King hath lost a seruant true and iust,
In whom he might repose especiall trust,
And his companions Peeres haue lost a friend,
Whose vertues very few men could transcend:
His honourable Countesse she hath lost
The comfort where her ioy consisted most:
His Nobles father' in lawes are full of griefe,
And are (in sorrowes) equall with the chiefe:
His worthy honour'd brethren are possest,
With each of them a sad and grieued brest:
And from his seruants, death a Lord hath tane,
Whose like they haue no hope to finde againe.
His kindred all are fill'd with sad laments,
His friends are fraught with woe and discontents,
His friends (say I) alas, he had no foes,
And therefore all are partners in these woes.
I, in particular am now depriu'd
Of him who formerly when he suruiu'd,
Did cause King Iames of his especiall grace,
On me (desertlesse) to bestow a place,
Which makes me in these poore sad lines expresse
My loue, my duty, and my thankefulnesse:
Thus as the waues each other hath in chase,
So is our life in this our mortall race:
Through many changes from natiuity,
We gaine our manhood or maturitie:
And this deare Lord before his Winters age,
At mid-time was abridg'd his Pilgrimage,
Yet to the world it very plaine appeares,
His age was more in goodnesse then in yeeres.
Thus euery one may for his losse complaine,
All losers, onely Heau'n and he did gaine.
His mortall race hee heere so well did runne,
That good report and loue his life hath wonne.
The glorious hoast of Heau'n hath gain'd a spirit,
(Through his firme faith in his Redeemers merit)
And he an earthly Earledome hath forgone,
For true content, and an immortall Throne.
He liu'd the life of Grace whilst he was heere,
And therefore hath the life of Glory there.
He through th'assistance of his Makers might,
Hath fought a good, a valiant, Christian fight,
And now inshrin'd in euerlasting blisse,
He from his house of Clay aduanced is,
His course he ranne so in this vale of strife,
That he hath wonne, and weares a Crowne of life;
Of true eternall happinesse possest,
Whilst we with cares and sorrowes are opprest.

IOHN RAMSEYE Anagramma. HONER'S I AYME, MY HONER'S AYE.

To Vertve, and to Honovr once in Rome,
Two stately Temples there erected was,
Where none might vnto Honours Temple come,
But first through Vertves Temple they must passe.
Which was an Emblem, and a Document,
That men by vertue must true honour winne,
And that, that Honovr shall be permanent,
Which onely did from Vertue first beginne.
Thus was this Noble Lords high Honour wonne,
Through Vertue, and by Vertue it increas'd:
And though his mortall Pilgrimage be done,
Yet shall his Honour neuer bee deceast.
And as for him, his Anagrams doe say.
Honer's I Ayme; Therefore My Honer's Aye.