The Works of Thomas Campion Complete Songs, Masques, and Treatises with a Selection of the Latin Verse: Edited with an introduction and notes by Walter R. Davis |
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| Songs of Mourning: BEWAILING
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 | The Works of Thomas Campion |  |
113
Songs of Mourning: BEWAILING
the untimely death of Prince Henry. Worded by THO. CAMPION. 1613
117
AN ELEGIE
upon the untimely death of Prince Henry.
Reade, you that have some teares left yet unspent,
Now weepe your selves hart sicke, and nere repent:
For I will open to your free accesse
The sanctuary of all heavinesse,
Where men their fill may mourne, and never sinne:
And I their humble Priest thus first beginne.
Now weepe your selves hart sicke, and nere repent:
For I will open to your free accesse
The sanctuary of all heavinesse,
Where men their fill may mourne, and never sinne:
And I their humble Priest thus first beginne.
Fly from the Skies, yee blessed beames of light;
Rise up in horrid vapours, ugly night,
And fetter'd bring that ravenous monster Fate,
The fellon and the traytour to our state.
Law-Eloquence wee neede not to convince
His guilt; all know it, 'tis hee stole our Prince,
The Prince of men, the Prince of all that bore
Ever that princely name; O now no more
Shall his perfections, like the Sunne-beames, dare
The purblinde world: in heav'n those glories are.
What could the greatest artist, Nature, adde
T'encrease his graces? devine forme hee had,
Striving in all his parts which should surpasse;
And like a well tun'd chime his carriage was
Full of coelestiall witchcraft, winning all
To admiration and love personall.
His Launce appear'd to the beholders eyes,
When his faire hand advanc't it in the skyes,
Larger then truth, for well could hee it wield,
And make it promise honour in the field.
When Court and Musicke cal'd him, off fell armes,
And, as hee had beene shap't for loves alarmes,
In harmony hee spake, and trod the ground
In more proportion then the measur'd sound.
How fit for peace was hee, and rosie beds!
How fit to stand in troopes of iron heads,
When time had with his circles made complete
His charmed rounds! All things in time grow great.
Rise up in horrid vapours, ugly night,
And fetter'd bring that ravenous monster Fate,
The fellon and the traytour to our state.
Law-Eloquence wee neede not to convince
His guilt; all know it, 'tis hee stole our Prince,
The Prince of men, the Prince of all that bore
Ever that princely name; O now no more
Shall his perfections, like the Sunne-beames, dare
The purblinde world: in heav'n those glories are.
What could the greatest artist, Nature, adde
T'encrease his graces? devine forme hee had,
Striving in all his parts which should surpasse;
And like a well tun'd chime his carriage was
Full of coelestiall witchcraft, winning all
To admiration and love personall.
His Launce appear'd to the beholders eyes,
When his faire hand advanc't it in the skyes,
Larger then truth, for well could hee it wield,
And make it promise honour in the field.
When Court and Musicke cal'd him, off fell armes,
And, as hee had beene shap't for loves alarmes,
In harmony hee spake, and trod the ground
In more proportion then the measur'd sound.
How fit for peace was hee, and rosie beds!
How fit to stand in troopes of iron heads,
When time had with his circles made complete
His charmed rounds! All things in time grow great.
This feare, even like a commet that hangs high,
And shootes his threatning flashes through the skye,
Held all the eyes of Christendome intent
Upon his youthfull hopes, casting th'event
Of what was in his power, not in his will:
For that was close conceal'd, and must lye still,
As deepely hid as that designe which late
With the French Lyon dyed. O earthly state,
How doth thy greatnesse in a moment fall,
And feastes in highest pompe turne funerall!
118
Held all the eyes of Christendome intent
Upon his youthfull hopes, casting th'event
Of what was in his power, not in his will:
For that was close conceal'd, and must lye still,
As deepely hid as that designe which late
With the French Lyon dyed. O earthly state,
How doth thy greatnesse in a moment fall,
And feastes in highest pompe turne funerall!
But our young Henry, arm'd with all the arts
That sute with Empire, and the gaine of harts,
Bearing before him fortune, power, and love,
Appear'd first in perfection, fit to move
Fixt admiration; though his yeeres were greene,
Their fruit was yet mature: his care had beene
Survaying India, and implanting there
The knowledge of that God which hee did feare:
And ev'n now, though hee breathlesse lyes, his sayles
Are strugling with the windes, for our avayles
T'explore a passage hid from humane tract,
Will fame him in the enterprise or fact.
O Spirit full of hope, why art thou fled
From deedes of honour? why's that vertue dead
Which dwelt so well in thee? a bowre more sweet,
If Paradise were found, it could not meete.
That sute with Empire, and the gaine of harts,
Bearing before him fortune, power, and love,
Appear'd first in perfection, fit to move
Fixt admiration; though his yeeres were greene,
Their fruit was yet mature: his care had beene
Survaying India, and implanting there
The knowledge of that God which hee did feare:
And ev'n now, though hee breathlesse lyes, his sayles
Are strugling with the windes, for our avayles
T'explore a passage hid from humane tract,
Will fame him in the enterprise or fact.
O Spirit full of hope, why art thou fled
From deedes of honour? why's that vertue dead
Which dwelt so well in thee? a bowre more sweet,
If Paradise were found, it could not meete.
Curst then bee Fate that stole our blessing so,
And had for us now nothing left but woe,
Had not th'All-seeing providence yet kept
Another joy safe, that in silence slept:
And that same Royall workeman, who could frame
A Prince so worthy of immortall fame,
Lives; and long may hee live, to forme the other
His exprest image, and grace of his brother,
To whose eternall peace wee offer now
Guifts which hee lov'd, and fed: Musicks that flow
Out of a sowre and melancholike vayne,
Which best sort with the sorrowes wee sustaine.
And had for us now nothing left but woe,
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Another joy safe, that in silence slept:
And that same Royall workeman, who could frame
A Prince so worthy of immortall fame,
Lives; and long may hee live, to forme the other
His exprest image, and grace of his brother,
To whose eternall peace wee offer now
Guifts which hee lov'd, and fed: Musicks that flow
Out of a sowre and melancholike vayne,
Which best sort with the sorrowes wee sustaine.
120
1. TO THE MOST SACRED King James.
O Griefe, how divers are thy shapes wherein men languish!
The face sometime with teares thou fil'st,
Sometime the hart thou kill'st
With unseene anguish.
Sometime thou smil'st to view how Fate
Playes with our humane state:
So farre from surety here
Are all our earthly joyes,
That what our strong hope buildes, when least wee feare,
A stronger power destroyes.
The face sometime with teares thou fil'st,
Sometime the hart thou kill'st
With unseene anguish.
Sometime thou smil'st to view how Fate
Playes with our humane state:
So farre from surety here
Are all our earthly joyes,
That what our strong hope buildes, when least wee feare,
A stronger power destroyes.
O Fate, why shouldst thou take from KINGS their joy and treasure?
Their Image if men should deface,
'Twere death, which thou dost race
Even at thy pleasure.
Wisedome of holy Kings yet knowes
Both what it hath, and owes.
Heav'ns hostage, which you bredd
And nurst with such choyce care,
Is ravisht now, great KING, and from us ledd
When wee were least aware.
Their Image if men should deface,
'Twere death, which thou dost race
Even at thy pleasure.
Wisedome of holy Kings yet knowes
Both what it hath, and owes.
Heav'ns hostage, which you bredd
And nurst with such choyce care,
Is ravisht now, great KING, and from us ledd
When wee were least aware.
121
2. TO THE MOST SACRED Queene Anne.
Tis now dead night, and not a light on earth
Or starre in heaven doth shine:
Let now a mother mourne the noblest birth
That ever was both mortall and divine.
O sweetnesse peerelesse! more then humane grace!
O flowry beauty! O untimely death!
Now, Musicke, fill this place
With thy most dolefull breath:
O singing wayle a fate more truely funerall
Then when with all his sonnes the sire of Troy did fall.
Or starre in heaven doth shine:
Let now a mother mourne the noblest birth
That ever was both mortall and divine.
O sweetnesse peerelesse! more then humane grace!
O flowry beauty! O untimely death!
Now, Musicke, fill this place
With thy most dolefull breath:
O singing wayle a fate more truely funerall
Then when with all his sonnes the sire of Troy did fall.
Sleepe Joy, dye Mirth, and not a smile be seene,
Or shew of harts content:
For never sorrow neerer touch't a QUEENE,
Nor were there ever teares more duely spent.
O deare remembrance, full of ruefull woe!
O ceacelesse passion! O unhumane hower!
No pleasure now can grow,
For wither'd is her flower.
O anguish doe thy worst, and fury Tragicall,
Since fate in taking one hath thus disorder'd all.
Or shew of harts content:
For never sorrow neerer touch't a QUEENE,
Nor were there ever teares more duely spent.
O deare remembrance, full of ruefull woe!
O ceacelesse passion! O unhumane hower!
No pleasure now can grow,
For wither'd is her flower.
O anguish doe thy worst, and fury Tragicall,
Since fate in taking one hath thus disorder'd all.
122
3. TO THE MOST HIGH AND MIGHTY Prince Charles.
Fortune and Glory may be lost and woone,
But when the worke of Nature is undone
That losse flyes past returning;
No helpe is left but mourning.
What can to kinde youth more despightfull prove
Then to be rob'd of one sole Brother?
Father and Mother
Aske reverence, a Brother onely love.
Like age and birth, like thoughts and pleasures move:
What gayne can he heape up, though showers of Crownes descend,
Who for that good must change a brother and a friend?
But when the worke of Nature is undone
That losse flyes past returning;
No helpe is left but mourning.
What can to kinde youth more despightfull prove
Then to be rob'd of one sole Brother?
Father and Mother
Aske reverence, a Brother onely love.
Like age and birth, like thoughts and pleasures move:
What gayne can he heape up, though showers of Crownes descend,
Who for that good must change a brother and a friend?
Follow, O follow yet thy Brothers fame,
But not his fate: lets onely change the name,
And finde his worth presented
In thee, by him prevented.
Or, past example of the dead, be great,
Out of thy selfe begin thy storie:
Vertue and glorie
Are eminent, being plac't in princely seate.
Oh, heaven, his age prolong with sacred heate,
And on his honoured head let all the blessings light
Which to his brothers life men wish't, and wisht them right.
But not his fate: lets onely change the name,
And finde his worth presented
In thee, by him prevented.
Or, past example of the dead, be great,
Out of thy selfe begin thy storie:
Vertue and glorie
Are eminent, being plac't in princely seate.
Oh, heaven, his age prolong with sacred heate,
And on his honoured head let all the blessings light
Which to his brothers life men wish't, and wisht them right.
123
4. TO THE MOST PRINCELY AND VERTUOUS the Lady Elizabeth.
So parted you as if the world for ever
Had lost with him her light:
Now could your teares hard flint to ruth excite,
Yet may you never
Your loves againe partake in humane sight:
O why should love such two kinde harts dissever
As nature never knit more faire or firme together?
Had lost with him her light:
Now could your teares hard flint to ruth excite,
Yet may you never
Your loves againe partake in humane sight:
O why should love such two kinde harts dissever
As nature never knit more faire or firme together?
So loved you as sister should a brother,
Not in a common straine,
For Princely blood doeth vulgar fire disdaine:
But you each other
On earth embrac't in a celestiall chaine.
Alasse for love, that heav'nly borne affection
To change should subject be, and suffer earths infection.
Not in a common straine,
For Princely blood doeth vulgar fire disdaine:
But you each other
On earth embrac't in a celestiall chaine.
Alasse for love, that heav'nly borne affection
To change should subject be, and suffer earths infection.
124
5. TO THE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS AND MIGHTY Fredericke the fift, Count Palatine of the Rhein.
How like a golden dreame you met and parted,
That pleasing straight doth vanish:
O, who can ever banish
The thought of one so princely and free harted!
But hee was pul'd up in his prime by fate,
And love for him must mourne, though all too late.
Teares to the dead are due, let none forbid
Sad harts to sigh: true griefe cannot be hid.
That pleasing straight doth vanish:
O, who can ever banish
The thought of one so princely and free harted!
But hee was pul'd up in his prime by fate,
And love for him must mourne, though all too late.
Teares to the dead are due, let none forbid
Sad harts to sigh: true griefe cannot be hid.
Yet the most bitter storme to height encreased
By heav'n againe is ceased:
O time, that all things movest,
In griefe and joy thou equall measure lovest:
Such the condition is of humane life,
Care must with pleasure mixe, and peace with strife:
Thoughts with the dayes must change; as tapers waste,
So must our griefes; day breakes when night is past.
By heav'n againe is ceased:
O time, that all things movest,
In griefe and joy thou equall measure lovest:
Such the condition is of humane life,
Care must with pleasure mixe, and peace with strife:
Thoughts with the dayes must change; as tapers waste,
So must our griefes; day breakes when night is past.
125
6. To the Most Disconsolate Great Brittaine.
When pale famine fed on thee
With her insatiate jawes;
When civill broyles set murder free,
Contemning all thy lawes;
When heav'n, enrag'd, consum'd thee so
With plagues, that none thy face could know,
Yet in thy lookes affliction then shew'd lesse
Then now for ones fall all thy parts expresse.
With her insatiate jawes;
When civill broyles set murder free,
Contemning all thy lawes;
When heav'n, enrag'd, consum'd thee so
With plagues, that none thy face could know,
Yet in thy lookes affliction then shew'd lesse
Then now for ones fall all thy parts expresse.
Now thy highest States lament
A sonne, and Brothers losse;
Thy nobles mourne in discontent,
And rue this fatall crosse;
Thy Commons are with passion sad
To thinke how brave a Prince they had:
If all thy rockes from white to blacke should turne,
Yet couldst thou not in shew more amply mourne.
A sonne, and Brothers losse;
Thy nobles mourne in discontent,
And rue this fatall crosse;
Thy Commons are with passion sad
To thinke how brave a Prince they had:
If all thy rockes from white to blacke should turne,
Yet couldst thou not in shew more amply mourne.
126
7. To the World.
O poore distracted world, partly a slave
To Pagans sinnefull rage, partly obscur'd
With ignorance of all the meanes that save;
And ev'n those parts of thee that live assur'd
Of heav'nly grace, Oh how they are devided
With doubts late by a Kingly penne decided!
O happy world, if what the Sire begunne
Had beene clos'd up by his religious Sonne!
To Pagans sinnefull rage, partly obscur'd
With ignorance of all the meanes that save;
And ev'n those parts of thee that live assur'd
Of heav'nly grace, Oh how they are devided
With doubts late by a Kingly penne decided!
O happy world, if what the Sire begunne
Had beene clos'd up by his religious Sonne!
Mourne all you soules opprest under the yoake
Of Christian-hating Thrace: never appear'd
More likelyhood to have that blacke league broke,
For such a heavenly prince might well be fear'd
Of earthly fiends. Oh, how is Zeale inflamed
With power, when truth wanting defence is shamed!
O princely soule, rest thou in peace, while wee
In thine expect the hopes were ripe in thee.
Of Christian-hating Thrace: never appear'd
More likelyhood to have that blacke league broke,
For such a heavenly prince might well be fear'd
Of earthly fiends. Oh, how is Zeale inflamed
With power, when truth wanting defence is shamed!
O princely soule, rest thou in peace, while wee
In thine expect the hopes were ripe in thee.
FINIS.
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