 | Poems &c. By James Shirley |  |
63
An Elegie upon the truly Honourable Tho. Viscount Savage
Is
Savage dead? and can the Rock which bears
His Name, not strait dissolve it self in tears,
And weep into the Sea? where it may have
A Burial too, whilst every frighted wave
At this new guest may raise his curled head,
And in a storm tell all the world who's dead?
But here's no want of Flood, for every eye
Conspires in melting to an Elegie.
His Name, not strait dissolve it self in tears,
And weep into the Sea? where it may have
A Burial too, whilst every frighted wave
At this new guest may raise his curled head,
And in a storm tell all the world who's dead?
But here's no want of Flood, for every eye
Conspires in melting to an Elegie.
But first, see where the King and Queen are come
To pour their grief into their servants Tombe,
Let publike sorrow be first serv'd, 'tis cleer,
The Kingdom weeps in every Princes tear,
To pour their grief into their servants Tombe,
Let publike sorrow be first serv'd, 'tis cleer,
The Kingdom weeps in every Princes tear,
And now his children drop their pious rain,
(Though none can soften his stiffe clay again)
And sigh, they had a Father, from whose care
And wealth in vertue, every Child's an Heir.
Their Tribute paid, close not the shrine, see where
The Treasure of his bosome doth appear.
Now coming to her Saint with her drown'd eyes,
(For sorrow leads her where her dead Lord lies)
To whose pale Relique she devoutly payes
A kisse, as holy as his life, and prayes
With many tears, till quite dissolv'd in them,
She seems contriv'd into a walking stream,
As Destiny had meant her to descend
From Rivers, but to satisfie this end.
(Though none can soften his stiffe clay again)
And sigh, they had a Father, from whose care
And wealth in vertue, every Child's an Heir.
Their Tribute paid, close not the shrine, see where
The Treasure of his bosome doth appear.
64
(For sorrow leads her where her dead Lord lies)
To whose pale Relique she devoutly payes
A kisse, as holy as his life, and prayes
With many tears, till quite dissolv'd in them,
She seems contriv'd into a walking stream,
As Destiny had meant her to descend
From Rivers, but to satisfie this end.
More sorrow doth attend this herse, for here's
A train of Lords that follow, though no Peers,
For all the stock of honour is too low
for competition, yet upon this woe
Wait all that in Nobility are good,
And he that weeps not, hath no gentle blood.
Nor are these all the Mourners, see how fast
The Reer advances, I suspect their hast
And weight may overbear his Sepulcher:
Friends to the dead, contain your selves, nor fear
You that were servants, crowding to the urne
Of your dead lord, but you'l have time to mourn
This your immortal losse. But why among
Set shapes of mourning, suffer ye to throng,
Those that prophane his monument, the poor?
What make they at his tomb, and leave his door?
He was their bread, and miracles not gone,
They hope to find it in his Funeral stone:
He gave the blind men eyes too, and they can
Do no lesse now, then weep them out again.
Be sorrow free for all men, since he dies
Worth love of heaven, and the worlds sacrifice.
A train of Lords that follow, though no Peers,
For all the stock of honour is too low
for competition, yet upon this woe
Wait all that in Nobility are good,
And he that weeps not, hath no gentle blood.
Nor are these all the Mourners, see how fast
The Reer advances, I suspect their hast
And weight may overbear his Sepulcher:
Friends to the dead, contain your selves, nor fear
You that were servants, crowding to the urne
Of your dead lord, but you'l have time to mourn
This your immortal losse. But why among
Set shapes of mourning, suffer ye to throng,
Those that prophane his monument, the poor?
What make they at his tomb, and leave his door?
He was their bread, and miracles not gone,
They hope to find it in his Funeral stone:
He gave the blind men eyes too, and they can
Do no lesse now, then weep them out again.
Be sorrow free for all men, since he dies
Worth love of heaven, and the worlds sacrifice.
| Poems &c. By James Shirley | |