Poems By Thomas Carew |
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To the Countesse of Anglesie
upon the immorderatly-by-her-lamented death of her Husband.
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117
To the Countesse of Anglesie upon the immorderatly-by-her-lamented death of her Husband.
Madam, men say you keepe with dropping eyes
Your sorrowes fresh, wat'ring the Rose that lyes
Fall'n from your cheeks upon your deare Lords Hearse,
Alas! those odors now no more can pierce
His cold pale nosthrill, nor the crymson dye
Present a gracefull blush to his darke eye.
Thinke you that flood of pearly moysture hath
The vertue fabled of old Æsons bath.
You may your beauties, and your youth consume
Over his Vrne, and with your sighes perfume
The solitarie Vault, which as you grone
In hollow Ecchocs shall repeate your moane.
There you may wither, and an Autumne bring
Vpon your selfe, but not call back his spring.
Forbeare your fruitlesse griefe then, and let those
Whose love was doubted, gaine beliefe with showes
To their suspected faith; you, whose whole life
In every act crown'd you a constant Wife,
May spare the practise of that vulgar trade,
Which superstitious custome onely made;
Rather a Widow now of wisedome prove
The patterne, as a Wife you were of love:
Yet since you surfet on your griefe, 'tis fit
I tell the world, upon what cates you sit
Glutting your sorrowes; and at once include
His story, your excuse, my gratitude.
You, that behold how yond' sad Lady blends
Those ashes with her teares, lest, as she spends
Her tributarie sighes, the frequent gust
Might scatter up and downe the noble dust,
Know when that heape of Atomes, was with bloud
Kneaded to solid flesh, and firmely stood
On stately Pillars, the rare forme might move
The froward Juno's, or chast Cinthia's love.
In motion, active grace, in rest, a calme
Attractive sweetnesse, brought both wound and balme
To every heart. He was compos'd of all
The wishes of ripe Virgins, when they call
For Hymens rites, and in their fancies wed
A shape of studied beauties to their bed.
Within this curious Palace dwelt a soule
Gave lustre to each part, and to the whole.
This drest his face in curteous smiles; and so
From comely gestures, sweeter manners flow.
This courage joyn'd to strength, so the hand, bent,
Was valours, open'd, Bounties instrument
Which did the scale, and sword, of Justice hold,
Knew how to brandish steele, and scatter gold.
This taught him, not to engage his modest tongue
In suites of private gaine, though publike wrong;
Nor mis-employ (As is the Great-mans use.)
His credit with his Master, to traduce,
Deprave, maligne, and ruine Innocence
In proud prevenge of some mis-judg'd offence.
But all his actions had the noble end
T'advance desert, or grace some worthy friend.
He chose not in the active streame to swim,
Nor hunted Honour; which, yet hunted him.
But like a quiet Eddie, that hath found
Some hollow creeke, there turnes his waters round,
And in continuall circles, dances free
From the impetuous Torrent; so did hee
Give others leave to turne the wheele of State,
(Whose restlesse motions spins the subjects fate)
Whilst he retir'd from the tumultuous noyse
Of Court, and suitors presse; apart, enjoyes
Freedome, and mirth, himselfe, his time, and friends,
And with sweet rellish tastes each houre he spends.
I could remember how his noble heart
First kindled at your beauties, with what Art
He chas'd his game through all opposing feares,
When I his sighes to you, and back your teares
Convay'd to him, how loyall then, and how
Constant he prov'd since to his mariage vow.
So as his wandring eyes never drew in
One lustfull thought to tempt his soule to sinne,
But that I feare such mention rather may
Kindle new griefe, than blow the old away.
Your sorrowes fresh, wat'ring the Rose that lyes
Fall'n from your cheeks upon your deare Lords Hearse,
Alas! those odors now no more can pierce
His cold pale nosthrill, nor the crymson dye
Present a gracefull blush to his darke eye.
Thinke you that flood of pearly moysture hath
The vertue fabled of old Æsons bath.
You may your beauties, and your youth consume
Over his Vrne, and with your sighes perfume
The solitarie Vault, which as you grone
In hollow Ecchocs shall repeate your moane.
There you may wither, and an Autumne bring
Vpon your selfe, but not call back his spring.
Forbeare your fruitlesse griefe then, and let those
Whose love was doubted, gaine beliefe with showes
To their suspected faith; you, whose whole life
In every act crown'd you a constant Wife,
118
Which superstitious custome onely made;
Rather a Widow now of wisedome prove
The patterne, as a Wife you were of love:
Yet since you surfet on your griefe, 'tis fit
I tell the world, upon what cates you sit
Glutting your sorrowes; and at once include
His story, your excuse, my gratitude.
You, that behold how yond' sad Lady blends
Those ashes with her teares, lest, as she spends
Her tributarie sighes, the frequent gust
Might scatter up and downe the noble dust,
Know when that heape of Atomes, was with bloud
Kneaded to solid flesh, and firmely stood
On stately Pillars, the rare forme might move
The froward Juno's, or chast Cinthia's love.
In motion, active grace, in rest, a calme
Attractive sweetnesse, brought both wound and balme
To every heart. He was compos'd of all
The wishes of ripe Virgins, when they call
For Hymens rites, and in their fancies wed
A shape of studied beauties to their bed.
Within this curious Palace dwelt a soule
Gave lustre to each part, and to the whole.
119
From comely gestures, sweeter manners flow.
This courage joyn'd to strength, so the hand, bent,
Was valours, open'd, Bounties instrument
Which did the scale, and sword, of Justice hold,
Knew how to brandish steele, and scatter gold.
This taught him, not to engage his modest tongue
In suites of private gaine, though publike wrong;
Nor mis-employ (As is the Great-mans use.)
His credit with his Master, to traduce,
Deprave, maligne, and ruine Innocence
In proud prevenge of some mis-judg'd offence.
But all his actions had the noble end
T'advance desert, or grace some worthy friend.
He chose not in the active streame to swim,
Nor hunted Honour; which, yet hunted him.
But like a quiet Eddie, that hath found
Some hollow creeke, there turnes his waters round,
And in continuall circles, dances free
From the impetuous Torrent; so did hee
Give others leave to turne the wheele of State,
(Whose restlesse motions spins the subjects fate)
Whilst he retir'd from the tumultuous noyse
Of Court, and suitors presse; apart, enjoyes
120
And with sweet rellish tastes each houre he spends.
I could remember how his noble heart
First kindled at your beauties, with what Art
He chas'd his game through all opposing feares,
When I his sighes to you, and back your teares
Convay'd to him, how loyall then, and how
Constant he prov'd since to his mariage vow.
So as his wandring eyes never drew in
One lustfull thought to tempt his soule to sinne,
But that I feare such mention rather may
Kindle new griefe, than blow the old away.
Then let him rest joyn'd to great Buckingham,
And with his brothers, mingle his bright flame,
Looke up, and meet their beames, and you from thence
May chance derive a chearfull influence,
Seeke him no more in dust, but call agen
Your scatterd beauties home, and so the pen
Which now I take from this sad Elegie
Shall sing the Trophies of your conquering eye.
And with his brothers, mingle his bright flame,
Looke up, and meet their beames, and you from thence
May chance derive a chearfull influence,
Seeke him no more in dust, but call agen
Your scatterd beauties home, and so the pen
Which now I take from this sad Elegie
Shall sing the Trophies of your conquering eye.
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