Expicedium A Funeral Oration, upon the death of the late deceased Princesse of famous memorye, Elizabeth by the grace of God, Queen of England, France and Ireland. Written by Infelice Academico Ignoto. Whereunto is added, the true order of her Highnes Imperiall Funerall [by Richard Niccols] |
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A true Subiects sorowe, for the losse of his late Soueraigne.
I ioyne not handes with sorowe for a while,
To soothe the time, or please the hungrie eares:
Nor do inforce my mercinarie stile,
No feigned liuerye my Inuention weares.
To soothe the time, or please the hungrie eares:
Nor do inforce my mercinarie stile,
No feigned liuerye my Inuention weares.
Nor do I ground my fabulous discourse
On what before hath vsually bene seene:
My greife doth flowe from a more plentious source,
From her that dy'd a virgin and a Queene.
On what before hath vsually bene seene:
My greife doth flowe from a more plentious source,
From her that dy'd a virgin and a Queene.
You Cristall Nimphes that haunt the banks of Thames,
Tune your sad Timbrils in this wofull day:
And force the swift windes and the sliding streames
To stand a while and listen to your Lay.
Tune your sad Timbrils in this wofull day:
And force the swift windes and the sliding streames
To stand a while and listen to your Lay.
Your fading Temples bound about with vewe,
At euery step your hands deuoutly wring,
Let one notes fall anothers height renewe,
And with compassion your sad Nænia sing.
At euery step your hands deuoutly wring,
Let one notes fall anothers height renewe,
And with compassion your sad Nænia sing.
Graces and Muses waite vpon her Hearse:
Three are the first, the last the sacred Nine:
The sad'st of which, in a blacke tragique verse,
Shall sing the Requiem passing to her shrine.
Three are the first, the last the sacred Nine:
The sad'st of which, in a blacke tragique verse,
Shall sing the Requiem passing to her shrine.
An Ebon Charriot to support the Beere,
Drawne with the blacke steedes of the gloomy night:
Stooping their stiffe Crests, with a heauie cheere,
Stirring compassion in the peoples sight.
Drawne with the blacke steedes of the gloomy night:
Stooping their stiffe Crests, with a heauie cheere,
Stirring compassion in the peoples sight.
The Pyle prepard where on her body lyes,
In Cipresse shadowes sit you downe forlorne:
Whose bowes be dew'd with plenty of your eyes,
(For her with griefe) the Branches shall adorne.
In Cipresse shadowes sit you downe forlorne:
Whose bowes be dew'd with plenty of your eyes,
(For her with griefe) the Branches shall adorne.
Let fall your eye-lids like the Sunnes cleere set,
When your pale hands put to the vestall flame:
And from your brests, your sorowes freely let,
Crying one Beta and Elizas name.
When your pale hands put to the vestall flame:
And from your brests, your sorowes freely let,
Crying one Beta and Elizas name.
Vpon the Alter, place your Virgin spoyles,
And one by one with comelinesse bestowe:
Dianaes buskins and her hunting toyles,
Her empty quiuer and her stringles bowe.
And one by one with comelinesse bestowe:
Dianaes buskins and her hunting toyles,
Her empty quiuer and her stringles bowe.
Let euery Virgin offer vp a teare,
The richest Incence nature can alowe:
And at her tombe (for euer yeare by yeare)
Pay the oblation of a mayden vowe.
The richest Incence nature can alowe:
And at her tombe (for euer yeare by yeare)
Pay the oblation of a mayden vowe.
And the tru'st vestall the most sacred liuer,
That euer harbored an vnspotted spirit,
Retaine thy vertues, and thy name for euer,
To tell the world thy beautie and thy merrit.
That euer harbored an vnspotted spirit,
Retaine thy vertues, and thy name for euer,
To tell the world thy beautie and thy merrit.
Wher's Collin Clout, or Rowland now become,
That wont to leade our Shepheards in a ring?
(Ah me) the first, pale death hath strooken dombe,
The latter, none incourageth to sing.
That wont to leade our Shepheards in a ring?
(Ah me) the first, pale death hath strooken dombe,
The latter, none incourageth to sing.
But I vnskilfull, a poore Shepheards Lad,
That the hye knowledge onely doe adore:
Would offer more, if I more plenty had,
But comming short, of their aboundant store,
That the hye knowledge onely doe adore:
Would offer more, if I more plenty had,
But comming short, of their aboundant store,
A willing heart that on thy fame could dwell,
Thus bids Eliza happily farewell.
Thus bids Eliza happily farewell.
FINIS.
THE True Order and formall proceeding at the Funerall of the most high, renovvned, famous and mightye Princesse, Elizabeth of England, France & Irealnd, late Queene: from White-hall to the Cathedral Church of Westminster. The 28. day of Aprill. 1603.
Before
thou reade, prepare thine eyes to weepe,
If that thine eyes containe one liquid teare:
Or if thou canst not mourne, fall dead in sleepe,
For naught but death such sorrow can out-weare.
Twi'll grieue heereafter soules as yet vnborne,
That one soules losse, did make so many morne.
Did make so many mourne? oh heauie time
That brought a Period to her happie life.
But cruell death, the fatall stroke was thine,
Her losse is ours, heauen thereby gaines a wife.
Yet had not sin bin hug'd in th' armes of Pride,
England had smil'd, and heauen had lost a Bride.
But now, oh now, our mourning weedes are on,
And many thousand blacks for her are worne:
Which do demonstrat that Eliza's gone,
For whose vntimely losse so many morne.
What these sad mourners are, good reader see:
And seeing reade, and reading, weepe with me.
If that thine eyes containe one liquid teare:
Or if thou canst not mourne, fall dead in sleepe,
For naught but death such sorrow can out-weare.
Twi'll grieue heereafter soules as yet vnborne,
That one soules losse, did make so many morne.
Did make so many mourne? oh heauie time
That brought a Period to her happie life.
But cruell death, the fatall stroke was thine,
Her losse is ours, heauen thereby gaines a wife.
Yet had not sin bin hug'd in th' armes of Pride,
England had smil'd, and heauen had lost a Bride.
But now, oh now, our mourning weedes are on,
And many thousand blacks for her are worne:
Which do demonstrat that Eliza's gone,
For whose vntimely losse so many morne.
What these sad mourners are, good reader see:
And seeing reade, and reading, weepe with me.
Heere Reader stay: & if thou aske me whie,
Tis to intreate thee beare them company.
But if th' high spirit cannot weepe so lowe,
Weepe with these flowers of honour that drooping goe.
Tis to intreate thee beare them company.
But if th' high spirit cannot weepe so lowe,
Weepe with these flowers of honour that drooping goe.
Art thou yet dry, as if thou hadst not wept?
Reade further then, and thou wilt force a teare.
But hadst thou seene her figure as she slept,
In memorie, thou would'st her semblance beare.
Whose deere remembrance would so touch thy minde,
That in thy passion thou no meane could'st finde.
Reade further then, and thou wilt force a teare.
But hadst thou seene her figure as she slept,
In memorie, thou would'st her semblance beare.
Whose deere remembrance would so touch thy minde,
That in thy passion thou no meane could'st finde.
Loe heere are all that in blacke weedes do mourne,
And now me thinkest soe thy count'nance turne:
What trill thy teares? nay (Reader) then a don
The firmament containes but one cleere Sun.
And now me thinkest soe thy count'nance turne:
What trill thy teares? nay (Reader) then a don
The firmament containes but one cleere Sun.
And since that Delia is from hence bereauen,
We haue another Sun ordein'd by heauen.
God graunt his virtues may so glorious shine,
That after death he may be crown'd diuine.
We haue another Sun ordein'd by heauen.
God graunt his virtues may so glorious shine,
That after death he may be crown'd diuine.
Amen.
Viuat Iacobus: Angliæ, Scotiæ, Franciæ et Hiberniæ Rex.
FINIS.
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