H. His Deuises for his owne exercise, and his Friends pleasure [by Thomas Howell] |
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An Epitaph vpon the death of the Lady Katherine, late Countesse of Pembrooke.
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 | H. His Deuises |  |
An Epitaph vpon the death of the Lady Katherine, late Countesse of Pembrooke.
If
suche doe mourne, whose solace is bereft,
And sighs seeme sharpe to those whom sorrowes sting:
If cares increase where comforte none is left,
And griefs do grow, where pensiue thoughts do spring
Then be we sure, our Lorde in sadde annoy,
Doth wayle her death, whose lyfe was all his ioy.
And sighs seeme sharpe to those whom sorrowes sting:
If cares increase where comforte none is left,
And griefs do grow, where pensiue thoughts do spring
Then be we sure, our Lorde in sadde annoy,
Doth wayle her death, whose lyfe was all his ioy.
If he (alas) with sobs her losse bemones,
May seruaunts spare their sighes abroade to sende?
Shall they in secret shrowde their gryping grones,
When maysters playnts may haue no power to ende?
No, no, deepe dole our pensiue sides would pearce,
If we in teares our sorrowes not rehearce.
May seruaunts spare their sighes abroade to sende?
When maysters playnts may haue no power to ende?
No, no, deepe dole our pensiue sides would pearce,
If we in teares our sorrowes not rehearce.
Then mourne with me my wofull fellows all,
And tryll your teares your drooping cheekes adowne:
Gushe forth a gulfe of griefes, let floodes downe fall,
To wayle her wante, that sprang of high renowne.
Who whyles she liude, did sundry seeke to ayde,
But Death, O Death, thou hast them all dismayde.
And tryll your teares your drooping cheekes adowne:
Gushe forth a gulfe of griefes, let floodes downe fall,
To wayle her wante, that sprang of high renowne.
Who whyles she liude, did sundry seeke to ayde,
But Death, O Death, thou hast them all dismayde.
The cheerefull spring that doth eche soyle adourne,
With pleasant showes, whereby delight is taken:
Doth moue our mindes, alas the more to mourne,
Our Ladie lost in source of sorrowes shaken.
Which loe in Uer to heauen hath tane the waye,
To her great gayne, but oh to our decaye.
With pleasant showes, whereby delight is taken:
Doth moue our mindes, alas the more to mourne,
Our Ladie lost in source of sorrowes shaken.
Which loe in Uer to heauen hath tane the waye,
To her great gayne, but oh to our decaye.
If Princes loue, if husbands care or Coyne,
If Noble friends, if proofe of Phisicks lore:
By long attempt could sicknesse vndermoyne,
Or search of forrein soyle might health restore.
We should not yet haue seene the sonne to vade,
Whose clipsed light, hath turnde our shyne to shade.
If Noble friends, if proofe of Phisicks lore:
By long attempt could sicknesse vndermoyne,
Or search of forrein soyle might health restore.
We should not yet haue seene the sonne to vade,
Whose clipsed light, hath turnde our shyne to shade.
But when the twyste of this our tyme is wownde,
No meanes by man may serue the same to stretch:
Our lottes are layde, our bodyes haue their bownde,
Tyme swiftly runnes with short and curelesse breatch.
Though world we weld in seate of Princely sway,
Yet swarues our state, as shade that slydes away.
No meanes by man may serue the same to stretch:
Our lottes are layde, our bodyes haue their bownde,
Tyme swiftly runnes with short and curelesse breatch.
Though world we weld in seate of Princely sway,
Yet swarues our state, as shade that slydes away.
The glittering shewes of highest glory heere,
Consumes to nought, like clowds disperst with winde:
And all that Nature from the earth doth reare,
Returnes againe, whence first it came by kinde:
But Uertues webbe, which loe this Lady sponne,
Shall last for aye, now these her dayes be done.
Consumes to nought, like clowds disperst with winde:
Returnes againe, whence first it came by kinde:
But Uertues webbe, which loe this Lady sponne,
Shall last for aye, now these her dayes be done.
Her praise on earth lyke Palme shal florishe still,
Her Noble deedes shall liue and neuer dye:
Her sacred steps that sought eche vice to kill,
Shall mounte aloft, though lowe in earth she lye.
Who euen when latter pangues opprest her most,
Did mercy craue in yeelding vp the Ghost.
Her Noble deedes shall liue and neuer dye:
Her sacred steps that sought eche vice to kill,
Shall mounte aloft, though lowe in earth she lye.
Who euen when latter pangues opprest her most,
Did mercy craue in yeelding vp the Ghost.
What would you more, her lyfe and death was such,
As deeper head could not commend to much.
As deeper head could not commend to much.
| H. His Deuises | |