Men-Miracles With other Poemes. By M. LL. St [i.e.Martin Lluelyn] |
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Elegie. On the death of Sir Horatio Vere.
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 | Men-Miracles |  |
Elegie. On the death of Sir Horatio Vere.
Our eyes submit, Teares like thy Captives bow,
Thy force orecame before, thy Ruine now.
Thus great Trees expiring crush, and create
Fame from their fall, and triumphs from their fate.
The Courage was not Choler here, the flame
Not from Complexion, but from Virtue came.
Valour's not borne of Nature, but the Will,
They onely conquer, that with Judgement kill.
The fire subdues the Aire, yet its proud rayes
Still without Trophyes winne, still without Bayes.
Thy force orecame before, thy Ruine now.
Thus great Trees expiring crush, and create
Fame from their fall, and triumphs from their fate.
The Courage was not Choler here, the flame
Not from Complexion, but from Virtue came.
Valour's not borne of Nature, but the Will,
They onely conquer, that with Judgement kill.
The fire subdues the Aire, yet its proud rayes
Still without Trophyes winne, still without Bayes.
The mind, not the tough flesh was his defence,
He lost the feare of Wounds, but not the Sence:
That were t'have been some Engine, and one stroake
Had prov'd him a burst Javelin, or sword broke.
His Scarres had then beene Crackes, and every blow
Had hurt a Weapon, Statues conquer so.
No such resistance here, the Veines were knowne,
Noble and cleare as Saphyrs, but not Stone.
He lost the feare of Wounds, but not the Sence:
That were t'have been some Engine, and one stroake
Had prov'd him a burst Javelin, or sword broke.
His Scarres had then beene Crackes, and every blow
Had hurt a Weapon, Statues conquer so.
No such resistance here, the Veines were knowne,
Noble and cleare as Saphyrs, but not Stone.
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Warres were not his Refuge; he did not eate
By th' Sword, and Wounds, and skirmish for his meate.
He could be stout in Peace, and the same Ray
Threw lightning in the Feild, in the Court Day,
Eagles are Eagles, though no Foe appeare,
And Perfumes though unchast sweet incense reare.
By th' Sword, and Wounds, and skirmish for his meate.
He could be stout in Peace, and the same Ray
Threw lightning in the Feild, in the Court Day,
Eagles are Eagles, though no Foe appeare,
And Perfumes though unchast sweet incense reare.
No Conquest made him swell, an equall brow
Sustain'd the Lawrell and the Cypresse bough.
The same calme view'd Retreats and Victories:
A compos'd sence heard Shouts and Elegies.
Weake spirits count their going backe a doome,
And if they but retire, are straight ore-come.
Those Diamonds cast a faint and drowzy light,
Which 'cause they are once sullied, are lesse bright.
The current stopt grew greater here, and he
Who did retire a Streame, return'd a sea.
Sustain'd the Lawrell and the Cypresse bough.
The same calme view'd Retreats and Victories:
A compos'd sence heard Shouts and Elegies.
Weake spirits count their going backe a doome,
And if they but retire, are straight ore-come.
Those Diamonds cast a faint and drowzy light,
Which 'cause they are once sullied, are lesse bright.
The current stopt grew greater here, and he
Who did retire a Streame, return'd a sea.
No Avarice made the publicke shares more thin.
Spoiles were his Purchase onely, ne're his Sin.
No Rich foe made him march, no needy Pauze,
He fought not 'gainst the booty, but the cause,
And having now subdu'd the German pride,
He saw no foe could kill him, and so di'd.
Spoiles were his Purchase onely, ne're his Sin.
No Rich foe made him march, no needy Pauze,
He fought not 'gainst the booty, but the cause,
And having now subdu'd the German pride,
He saw no foe could kill him, and so di'd.
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