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University of Virginia Library

Poems Divine, and Humane

By Thomas Beedome

Beedome, Thomas

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On the deceased Authour, Master Thomas Beedom, and his Poems.

On the death and Poems, of his most deare friend, Master Thomas Beedome.

On his deserving Friend, Master Thomas Beedom, and his Poems.

To his Friend the Author, Master Thomas Beedom before his death, on these his Poems.

To the Memory of his Ingenious friend, Master Thomas Beedom, and on these his Poems.

To the Memorie of his friend, Master Thomas Beedom. And upon his Poems.

On the Poems of his worthy friend, Master Thomas Beedom, the lately deceased Author.

On the Memory of his most Ingenious friend, Master Thomas Beedome, and his Poems.

Elegie, on his Ingenious friend, the deserving Author, Master Thomas Beedome.

Elegie on the death of his ingenious friend, the deserving Author, Master Thomas Beedome.

On the Poems of the Author, his deare Brother, Master Thomas Beedom deceased.

THE Author, To the READER.

THE JEALOVS LOUER, OR, THE CONSTANT MAID.

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To his Mistresse, when shee was going into the Country.

To his Mistresse on her scorne.

The Question and Answer.

The new Petition.

Fooles Paradise, or Reason Bewitcht.

Loves Apostacy to his friend Mr. E. D.

The broken heart song.

Women are mens shadowes.

Women are not mens shadowes.

To his worthy friend Mistresse.

On a Lillie now withered in her bosome.

An Elegie on the death of his loving friend. J: C

My sonne give mee thy heart.

[VVhen first of sinne I tooke survey]

The Inquisition.

The Resurrection.

The Mercy Seate.

Ad punctum mortis.

On the death of Mris. M. T.

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On the death of Mris. M. T.

Mistaken virgins, do not drop a teare,
She is not dead beleev't, I'le make 't appeare:
That which you call a hearse, is nought beside
A heavenly charet, in't a glorious bride.
And that which you more fondly terme a grave,
Mysterious heaven, for her bride-bed gave
Thus you mistaken, to a funerall haste,
When you're invited to a marriage feast:
Heaven was her lover, would not be deny'd,
The welcome promise of so faire a Bride.
Which long since having, hee now thought it best
T'espouse, and take her to his happy rest.

And as wee see great Princes, ere they take,
Their royall consorts, they by proxie make
The ceremonious marriage; so did hee,
By proxie death, wed her immortally:
And now inthron'd, she doth sit and sing,
Divinest Anthems to her Lord and King.
'Mongst quires of Angels, she doth fill the skies,
With sweete tun'd notes of heavenly rapsidies.
Thus gloriously happy doth shee still live,
Whose death you fondly, and unkindly grieve.

Em. D.