University of Virginia Library

FUNERALL ELEGIES;

Consecrated to the immortal memory, of the Right Honorable the Lady Katherine Paston, late wife to the truely noble, and heroicke, William Paston of Oxned Esquire

Eleg. 1.

And must our brows with Cypresse sad be bound?
Because Calista is with glory crownd,
Immortall splendent bayes, that grow upon
Mount Sion high, not earthly Helicon.
In sable darke must we our bodies dight?
Because our Saint is clad in robes of white.
Shall we on earth sob forth our Elegyes?
While she sings Allelujah in the skyes:
Our sorrowes are prepost'rous, and we erre
In offering patheticke songs to her,
Whose vertues rare require a Lyrists quill,
Or rather Panegyrists learned skill.
Homer, and Virgill caroling her praise,
(Had they liv'd now) might well have wonne the bayes,
Although the Iliads, and the Æneids both,
Had nere been borne: these works were built on froth:
For 'tis a question, not resolved yet,
When Ilium was sack'd, or whether it,
Was ruin'd by the Greekes at all; and why
Should Virgill censur'd be for flattery?
'Cause he deriv'd the great Cesarian name,
From Varlets, that surviv'd their Cities flame,
From one that left his friends, and wife engag'd,
When bloody Mars, and fiery Vulcan ragd:
Doubtlesse a pious Knight, and debonaire,
Who brought his wronged Mistris to despaire,
Then fled from her, whom basely he deceiv'd,
Though nobly shee had him, and his reliev'd.
True Vertue is my subject, and that such,
As seldome did ere Woman owne so much.
Honours great example, beauties bright throne,
The Temple of sincere religion,
An altar of unfaigned piety.
The Golden branch of true nobility,
The Palace of the Graces, and the spheare,
Wherein no cloud, nor meteour did appeare,
The Pyramid of love, Truths pretious shrine,
The helpe, and hope of all the sacred nine,
The Treasury of thoughts pure, and sublime,
The Phoebe, and the Phoenix of her time;
All these was shee: yea more then these was shee:
But what shee was, cleare Angels onely see;
For tongue, or penne of Man, cannot expresse
Such bright unlimited existences.
Shee was: shee is declind: she being gone,
The World that had two Sunnes, hath now but one;
And we envelop'd in a night of sorrow,
In darkenesse mourne, despairing of a morrow;
For who can be so rich of hope, t'expect
That Nature can her Parallel erect,
Since shee on her expended hath such store
Of Gifts, that shees become a bankrupt poore?
As when some wealthy Tradesman doth demise,
The summe of all his richest merchandise,
In a faire vessell to the fickle seas,
Hoping to reape a plentifull encrease,
By this adventure; but the Winds conspire
With froward Neptune, to crosse his desire,
And ruine all his hopes, for in one houre
The greedy Ocean doth his goods devoure:
So our rich Argosie (which fraighted was,
Not with Tobacco, Indico, nor glasse,
But with pearles, gemmes, gold, amber, spiceries,
Arabian gummes, and what the treasuries
Of the two Indies could afford) is lost,
Her faire carine's wrack'd on the shelvy coast
Of fraile mortality: The Grave hath wonne
Natures chief jewell, and the World's undone:
The golden chaine of causes is dissolv'd,
And Chaos (that so long hath beene involv'd
In the unseene abysse) attempts to rise,
And make both Orbes, and Elements his prize.
The Worlds soule's fled; the exit of her breath,
Threatens (I feare) an universall death;
For in her fate all vertues did decline,
All beauties were eclipst, and ceast to shine:
But if true honour shall her end survive,
If reall worth shall in her absence thrive,
Posterity shall her example praise,
For such great benefits, numbring those dayes,
Which shee spent here on earth, with pebbles white:
Princes shall trophyes reare, and Poets write,
Striving to make her name last with her blisse,
And raise her fame as high as now shee is.
As the Pantarba, brightest of all gemmes,
Dost darkest nights enlighten with her beames,
And by a hidden sympathy, attract
Adjacent stones, in heapes together packt;
But Nature, least a jewell so renown'd,
Should lose esteeme, by being often found,
Hath in the bowels of the center, hid
This pretious secret, and decreede beside,
That being found it soone againe is lost,
If not preserv'd, with wondrous care, and cost:
So our bright Goddesse, (whose resplendent worth
That in this night of vice, did rayes send forth
Of sanctity divine, drawing all hearts,
To honour, and adore, so high deserts)
Was soone snatch'd hence, yet not through our neglect,
Or want of due obsequious respect;
But rather 'cause Heaven thought the world unfit,
For such a gemme to be a Cabinet.
The Corall growing in the Ocean blew,
Wants hardnesse, and retaines a pallid hue:
There churlish billowes oft the same doe daunt;
But when aire breathes upon this wat'ry plant,
It instantly becomes a crimson stone,
And many pretious properties puts on;
The Artist then it with pure mettall deckes,
For Infant Kings, to weare about their neckes.
So pious soules, that in the Ocean wide,
Of this tumult'ous universe abide,
No firme existence, nor faire lustre have,
Tost to and fro by every adverse wave,
Of sorrowfull disasters, but when Time
Hath them advanc'd above the starres sublime,
Then consorts they become of Angels bright,
Adorn'd with golden crownes, and vestures white.
Thus change of native soyle brings Soules to blisse
A Wiseman much by travell betterd is.
But ye faire eyes, like diamonds richly set,

Apostrophe to La. E. B.

On a white, rosie, circuled carkanet,
That late sweld up the streames of cristall

The name of the river running at the foote of Oxned.

Bure,
With your more cristall teares, and rills more pure,
Forbeare to droppe those pearles, lest your sad mone,
Transforme your selves to starres, and us to stone:
(Thrice honoured Lady) you that lately were
The sweet associate, of your Sister deare,
When ye like those auspicious lights did shine,
Which happy calmes to Mariners presigne.
Like Turtles chast, or silver-brested Swannes
Stroking the thinne ayre with their snowy fannes,
Ye late appear'd: but cruell Death (God wot)
With ruthlesse blade, hath cut the Gordian knot
Of your society, Death onely could divide,
Such blessed bonds, a league so strongly ty'd.
Nor can expence of sorrowes finde redresse,
For this sad accident, or make it lesse:
Griefes are no cures for ill's, and do arise
From humane weaknesse, not from reason wise.
When great Darius, of his consort deare
Deprived was, by Atropos severe,
To griefe he renderd up his royall brest,
No solace would he take, nor any rest.
Then grave Democritus inform'd the King,
That he from death, to life his Queene would bring.
If he would grant him, what he should entreat,
For the effecting of a worke so great:
Darius condescends, and bids him aske,
What meanes he thought convenient for this taske:
Names of three Persons onely he requested,
That never had with sorrow beene molested,
For losses of a kinsman, or a friend.
The King then did strict inquisition send,
Through all his Kingdomes, to search out such men:
But when they could be no where found nor seene
He found his errour, and the fatall law
Of unmov'd destinye, and nature saw;
Hence tooke he comfort, and with bounty high;
The Wiseman for his cure did gratifie.
Griefe is a passion, and all passions must
Confined be, unto a measure just,
Lest they like swelling spring-tides overthrow
The bankes of Reason, and the same oreflow:
Like Nilus they are not, who rising high
Presageth plenty and fertility;
Nor must they alway in their chanels runne
Like him, but suffer intermission:
For sorrow that is never spent or done,
Flowes like th' infernall River Acheron:
And they who with perpetuall grones expresse
Their passions, for a freind gone hence in peace,
Like croaking frogs in muddy styxe become,
While the bewail'd enjoyes Elysium.
Jove (on a time) the Goddesses did call
To an assembly, where among them all
He dignities and honours did impart,
Well corresponding with each ones desart:
Too late Dame-Sorrow to this meeting came,
Whom Jove (for tardinesse) did justly blame
For he bestow'd had all his gifts before,
And had for her no honour left in store;
But shee importun'd him, for to conferre
Some favour, or gratuity on her:
He (having nothing else) unto her lent
The teares, and plaints, which are at fun'rals spent:
Now as each Goddesse loves those persons well,
Whose sweete oblations shee is wont to smell,
So if to sorrw we shall often bring
Sad sighes, and mourning, for an offering,
Shee never will forsake us: But if we
Neglect her humble votaries to be,
Withdrawing those sad dueties shee requires,
Like one despised, shee soone from us retires,
If teares concern'd the good of soules deceast,
Or if they could adde ought unto their rest,
I should turne Heraclitus, and lament,
Untill my eyes had all that moisture spent,
Which from the braine they take (this being done)
They should dissolve themselves, and in teares runne,
Expending in an office so divine,
Both humours aqueous, and christalline:
But since that teares (on such occasions shed)
Nor benefit the living, nor the dead,
Let us them for a better end reserve;
They rightly us'd, for pretious balmes may serve:
Nor do I Stoicall paradoxes hold;
For they deliver, that no Wiseman should
Give way to griefes, I rather thinke it fitter,
That none should drinke too deepe of cups so bitter:
But never did excessive sorrowes merit
Such liberty, and freedome to inherit,
As lately, when shee left our horizon,
Whose presence made our age a golden one:
Honour, Griefe, Joy, shall never cease t'expresse
Her Vertue, Death, and present happinesse:
And if that Reason, shall prohibite all
Immod'rate teares, for such a funerall,
The Nights shall mourne in blackes, and Mornes, shall weepe,
Untill Calista wakes, from her last sleepe.

Eleg. 2.

Retreate (sad passions) to your chanels now,
Let sorrowes inundations cease to flow:
Griefes, (which distinguish Mortals from the Gods)
Ought to be limited with periods,
Lest action by such torrents overborne,
Should vertue leave abandon'd to the scorne
Of faithlesse Fortune, her undoubted slave
Then cease (ye weeping Hyades) to lave
That marble shrine, wherein those reliques lye,
Which (whilome) harbour'd such nobility,
That all our teares shed there (though we were sure
We could droppe richest pearles or amber pure)
Were to be valu'd, or esteemd no more,
Then if a cisterne small should spend his store,
To gratifie the swelling Ocean:
No more, then if fond Time should lend a spanne
Of his finite dimension, to supply
The wants of infinite Eternity.
Her worth was so sublime, so cleare, so full,
That humane intellects prove weake, and dull,
While they the same contemplate, wanting might,
(Like bastard Eaglets) to behold such light.
The Caspian-seas stand mur'd in hilly bounds,
Yea Neptunes Empire, airye Jove surrounds;
A lucide Orbe of fire doth these enfold,
The Heav'ns about the Elements are roul'd;
Heav'ns are involv'd with Heav'ns; the stars decline
Unto their periods: Time and Place confine
This great magnificence of Natures store,
But Shee (whose early absence we deplore)
Surmounts all these immensities, as farre,
As doth the largest sphere, the smallest starre.
I injure her (I feare) while I compare
Those things, which fraile, and transitory are,
With that immortall, unimagin'd blisse,
Which crownes her, in her Apotheosis;
Then stoope (my Muse) from that celestiall place,
Whose radiant lustre, and translucent grace,
Those crowned Candidates can onely gust,
Who have put off their mourning weedes of dust.
Like that faire Bird, in snowy plumage drest,
Which silver Po doth plow with his soft brest,
Singing his requiem, to the sighing streame;
So let my Muse assume the stately theme,
Of true nobility, and reall worth,
While shee in buskin'd straine, strives to set forth
True honour to the life; list to my song,
Yee that have soules; to you these Odes belong:
If Men will not give eare, then Rockes and Trees
Shall conge's give, and echo plaudit'es,
While I of her doe sing: for vertues fire
Doth animate more bodies, then the Lyre
Of Orpheus could: her pure celestiall heate
Invites the God's themselves, with Men to treat.
Vertue alone, is to be valu'd more,
Then many painted scutchions, or a score
Of swelling titles, for numerous descents,
And titles, be but her gay ornaments:
It argues but a spirit dull and cold,
To summon monuments and statues old,
For proofe of gentry, or a name to reare,
On what the wormes have left; as if we were
Devoide of arts and hearts, whereby to merit
That praise, and bayes, which vertue should inherit;
And must become beholding unto stones,
For all our stiles, and reputations:
But where illust'rous ancestry we finde,
Annexd unto an honourable minde,
Nobility there shines like Luna bright,
With orbed face, 'mongst starres of lesser light.
As ciphers (by themselves) no summes designe,
But if with figures ye the same combine,
Large numbers they compose; so ancestry
For nothing stands, if vertue be not by.
What neede I thus expatiate, or search through
The golden grove of ethickes, for to show
A definition, or a character
Of this heroicall habite, since in her
(Of whom I sing) nobility did shine,
With such pellucid rayes, and beames divine,
That it essentiall seem'd, and not acquir'd;
Not accidentall, but from heav'n inspir'd.
Heav'n lent her to the earth, and would not trust
With such a gemme (too long) a world of dust;
But like a prudent Creditour becomes,
That cals for quicke repayment of those summes,
Which to profuser Prodigalls he lent,
To free himselfe from further detriment,
Which through forbearance of so large a debt,
Must needs result; Had shee bin longer kept
On Earth, perhaps base Earth would then have vaunted
Of her fruition, whom the blest Heav'ns wanted.
The Lilly, Rose, and fragrant Violet,
Those choicest gemmes of Floras cabinet,
Shew lifes epitomes, and then retreate
To longer deaths, in Vestas bosome great:
Where they must sleepe, until Apollo shall
Come from his southerne progresse, and recall
(With his reviving heate) them to review
The world, and it adorne, with their bright hue:
For as Antheus, by his stronger foe,
Throwne to the earth, recover'd vigour so;
So do terrestriall seedes from earth derive
Their vitall strength, and humour nutritive.
The Sunne resignes to Vesper, and each starre
Retires at the returne of Phoebus carre;
Thus by a naturall vicissitude,
Alternally things alterd, are renewd
In their corruptions, ever rise, and fall,
'Till in a conflagration generall,
This World like the Arabian Bird shall burne,
That an immortall Phoenix, from her urne
May rise, arrayd with those illustr'ous plumes,
Which neither age decayes, nor time consumes.
But she (whom we lament) although she try'd
No more then one short life, and but once dy'd,
Yet her one funerall did on us light,
More like a publike ruine, then the weight
Of any private crosse, yea we may call
Her death, a greivance epidemicall,
A losse, which no reprisall can redresse,
Whose greatnesse, rather silent griefes expresse,
Then golden lines, for passions doe exceed
Those measures, which the modest Muses tread,
Nor can the sorrowes of a troubled mind,
By any penne, or pencill be confin'd.
But whether strayes my wandring Muse misled
Through Labyrinthes of cares, by sorrowes threed,
As if shee were intent, with dreary layes,
To ayme at Cypresse wreaths, not crownes of bayes:
Let sad Electra, hidden in her sphere,
Lament incinerated Ilium there:
Let Niobe in Sypileian stone,
Latonas hate, and her owne pride bemone:
Let Biblis melted to a cold cleere bourne,
For her incest'ous fires still waile and mourne.
Yea let ambiguous teares those fun'ralls steepe,
Where riper Heires, or yonger widdowes weepe:
Like personated Mourners at the graves,
Of some old crabbed, and decrepit knaves.
Such fain'd libations we abhorre, and feare
To make false immolations unto her,
Who was so true, so noble, so divine,
In name, and really a

Derivat a Graec ηαθαρσις purus.

Katherine.
Shee had no spots like Cynthia, nor was shee
Mercuriall, or like light Cythere:
But shee Astraea was: Astraea just,
Who fleeing hence, did leave old Time in trust,
To keepe in wardrobe cold her robes of clay;
But if these shall through his neglect decay,
Yet shall shee find at last this vesture fraile,
Transmuted to a fresh immortall veyle.

Eleg. 3.

Epicedium.