University of Virginia Library

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.