Clarastella Together with Poems occasional, Elegies, Epigrams, Satyrs. By Robert Heath |
 |
|
 |
Upon the Death of the truly valiant Sir Bevil Grenvil slain.
|
|
|
 | Clarastella |  |
6
Upon the Death of the truly valiant Sir Bevil Grenvil slain.
See where in Western clouds our Sun is set!Whilst those thick groves of Pikes of him beset
To guard his Valour, trembled all and shoke
With Aspen fear, soon as this stately Oke
Was cleft with fatal thunder! every head
Droops like pearl'd Violets now Grenvil's dead.
Wee need no Gods of Egypt to exhale
Salt rivers from our eies, and force us waile
His sorrowed absence; no sowre peele, or Rue
To damp our looks to Pharisaick hue.
From Grenvil's Herse each cheek is watered,
And scorns to wear a smile now he is dead.
Did I not view Heav'ns great unarmed bow,
I might suspect Deucælion would o'r-flow
The drenched world again, and in his name
Erect a new eternal Ark of Fame.
What sudden inundation else could thus
As in a second deluge bury us
Alive? and waft us by a quick return
To shades? what fire but that of his bright urne
Could melt each Muse to liquified verse,
And thus dissolve in Elegiack tears?
What Ocean but his Virtues could have drunk
So many flouds from weeping eies, or sunk,
So many drowning hearts? at whose sad fall
A deep groan'd Diapason drowneth all,
And blends at once our Harmonie—
Oh I could curse that Planet that did reign
At thy first birth, and e'r since smiling shine
Til this unluckie hour it frown'd on thee,
Prompting our Stars to bode us miserie.
For if our hopeful cause should gasping lie,
I'de swear it languisht, since she saw thee die.
| Clarastella | |