An Aprill Shower Shed in abundance of Teares, For the Death and Incomparable Losse, of the Right Noble, Truly Religious, and Virtuous, Richard Sacvile, Baron of Buckhurst, and Earle of Dorset. Who Departed this Life upon Easter day last, being the 28th of March, at Dorset-House. By Henry Peacham |
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An Aprill Shower;
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 | An Aprill Shower |  |
An Aprill Shower;
Shed in abundance of Teares,
FOR THE DEATH AND INCOMPARABLE LOSSE, OF THE RIGHT NOBLE, TRVLY RELIGIOVS, AND Virtuous, Richard Sacvile, Baron of Bvckhvrst, and Earle of Dorset.
Who Departed this Life vpon Easter day last, being the 28th of March, at Dorset-House.
—Sublatam oculi quærimus inuidi.
TO THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE, RELIGIOVS, AND Nobly minded Lady, Anne Countesse Dowager of Dorset.
His Monument to the Reader.
VVho thinkes that Dorset lyes InterredHere-vnder, thinke that they haue erred
For 'tis not hee, 'tis but the Case
Wherein this precious Iewell was,
Who seekes for him must aske of Fame,
Who registers his Honour'd name;
Or search the Hearts of Friends, where hee
Is lodg'd, and liuing like to bee:
And if not heere, to Heauen ascend,
There sure hee liues world without end.
For though with mee his dust doth lie,
Beleeue it, Dorset cannot Die.
1
An Elegie.
Vpon the Death of the Right Honourable, Richard Sacvile, Baron of Buckhurst, and Earle of Dorset.
My Lord! (so must I call that Honour'd mindAnd happie Soule of yours, which heere behind,
Hath left her earthy Pawne; e're any knew
Or could imagine Death would seeke his due.)
Oh giue me leaue distractedly to rue;
The first of many, our deare misse of you;
Of you my Dearest Lord —
But Sorrow duls my Stile, and teares mine Inke
Discolour weeping. DORSET dead? Mee thinke
Though Fame in mourning tells it, 'tis not so
That such a Peere, but fewest dayes agoe,
So Healthy, Young, so vsefull to the State
In these weake Times, that doe importunate
The Heauens themselues, for helpe of Heart, of Hand,
Of Wisest and the ablest of our Land
To her Support. Ah! would it were vntrue,
And that mine Eyes not needed to bedew
With Siluer-dropping Aprill his blacke Herse,
Sad Subject now of euery Learned Verse.
2
Of each true Poët, (therefore none of mine)
I heere professe, it is no by-regard,
Or expectation of a slight reward
Enforces me to weepe. The common losse
Of King, and Covntrey, calls to beare their crosse
And so I will; know then whom wee haue lost,
Euen him, whom Artes and Armes may truely boast
To bee their owne. Wee tricke not his Discent
And Images, which in our Complement,
Who list may view at large; nor say his Blood
(Except the Royall) was as equall good
As any else of Norman Race, sith none
Can clayme their Grandsires Vertues for their owne.
No, like a Diamond hee allur'd the sight
T'admire his owne, and not a borrow'd light.
For whatsoeuer could bee wish'd, that one
Might make Complete and Absolute alone,
It wanted not in him; For, first his Mind
Was best compos'd, Religiously inclin'd,
Not with the World, to winne an Aerie fame
Of Singular, or vnderneath the same,
To worke (as many) some malicious end
While they the Trvth and Pietie pretend.
Oh no! in him this Zeale was reall good
And was the Ground, whereon the Modell stood
Of that braue structure of his Noblest mind:
For who more Zealous, Pitifull, and kind
To heauenly Trvth's Professors? yee Diuines
Of London, Svssex, Kent, witnesse, my Lines
Doe attribute vnto him, but his due.
How was his Loue extended vnto you,
By adding Stipends to your Liuings small,
Maintaining many who had none at all?
3
Your bounds, and grounds from his owne meanes enlarging,
Nor did this Bountie, stretch to you alone,
But to Desert, in euery meanestone,
That (as of Titvs) I may truely say;
From him Sad-hearted none return'd away.
And which his Bountie, yet did more endeare,
And each reward made double to appeare,
Was his Free-noble, Curteous entertayne,
Deuoid of Pride, and haughte-brow'd Disdayne,
Who did not (monstrous) with his Honour swell,
Hee knew that was but rin'd and outward shell
Of Man, and best did with their humours sute
Whose insides poore, could onely beg repute
From Plumes and Tissue: or whose Honours cost
The setting on, and must improoue them most.
No, this as but the vinet of Boule
That's emptie, whereupon the thirstie Soule
Commends, admires, the Grauers hand and wit,
His thirst not quenched all this while for it.
'Twas hence wee knew him affable and milde,
Denying not accesse euen to the Childe.
(Though Greatnesse alwayes cannot stand extent
But Bowe-like sometime it must lye vnbent.)
An enemie to garish Pride and Fashion,
The Epilepsie, of our English Nation,
For with the plainest plaine, yee saw him goe
In Ciuill blacke of Rash of Serge, or so,
The Liuerie of wise Stayednesse; Except when
His Prince did call vpon his Seruice, then
Stout Diomede in Armes, not brighter shone,
Or man more Glorious was to looke vpon:
That had Death seene him at a Courtly Tilt
Braue mounted, Plum'd, in Armes of Azure gilt
4
And prayers of people, eccho in the skie,
Hee would I know haue lent him longer date,
Hee yet, not lost, and wee beene fortunate.
What Cunning Artistes pencill may I borrow,
Thrice-hopefull Charles, to limne thy griefe and sorrow
For Dorsets losse, but there's no forme can fit,
Or bee imagin'd to deciphetit.
“Light Cares may speake, the great amaz'd with wonder,
“Themselues then vtter, soone burst a sunder.
And hence proceeds the dulnese of each Pen
Our hopes thus , stricken downe and downe agen,
Oh whither Heauens 'twere your immediate hand
For his owne good, (though to afflict our hand)
Or Hels deepe Hate wrought his vntimely end,
Occasion'd by those rootes (whch God defend)
I cannot say, but this I must professe
The Non-pareil, Pearle, Earle of Noblenesse
Is (fairest Britane) from thy bosome torne,
And pawn'd by Death, though by another worne;
Thou like one lately rob'd not knowest yet,
What thou hast lost, or how to value it.
Beleeue (all-dreaded Empresse) from thy Kent
To Orkney, vtmost of thy large extent,
Nobilitie not bred a finer wit
With better judgement to dispose of it.
What various reading heigthned his Discourse
At all occasions, putting to the worse
A vulgar judgement by dispute, or whan
H'encountred Papist, or the Puritas.
Who better vers'd in Scriptures and the Text,
The Ancient Fathers, and our Writers next,
Mine eyes I heere a-vow did neuer read
Lines sweeter, then did from his Pen proceed;
5
Was great Mœcenas of all Poesie,
What State, what Traine, what Order, House kept hee
At his faire Knowle , a Paradise to mee
That seem'd for site, a Court for greatest Prince,
The Home of Honour, and Magnificence;
Where euery day a Christmasse, seem'd, that fed
The neighbour Poore, that else had famished.
How did his Loue and Noblest Care extend
To all his followers, at his latter end
I need not tell, themselues will say for mee,
Men neuer seru'd a better Lord then hee.
Ah dearest Lady, flower of the Stemme
Of Cliffords race, and Honours goodly Gemme
His truest Spouse, with (whom hee lou'd so well)
That Pearle your Margarite, and young Isabell.
How doe I sorrow for your sake, whom Crosse
(By Father, Mother, Sonne, now Husbands losse)
On Crosse afflicts, of worldly helpe bereau'n,
Except the helpe (that neuer failes) of Heauen:
Oh let not griefe that many one hath slaine,
Wherein not any profit doth remaine,
(For Sinne except,) deject your soule a whit,
But Palme-like grow, the more opprest by it.
And since I now the Common losse haue showne,
Oh let mee drop one teare, and shew mine owne,
Who neuer found a minde more Nobly-free,
Respectiue, Louing, Bountifull to mee.
Yea Constant, (for no Pylades could bee
More faithfull, where he did affect, then hee;
That euen in Child-hood, whom hee chose a Friend
His Loue embraced to his latter end,
Such was his Honour'd minde; but hee is dead,
And with him Hopes of thousands buried.
6
Till thou receiu'st thy Portion with the Iust;
For while I liue, mine eyes shall neuer see
A Man, a Peere, a Patrone like to thee.
A double Vision vpon the Death of this Noble Lord.
Mee thought I saw by
Dvrovernvm, where
Along the Siluer-streaming Stovre doth slide
A louely Nymph, her wiery-golden haire
Sit rending, wayling that faire place beside,
More beauteous Creature the worlds Compasse wide
Ne had: her rayment white, her cheekes besprent,
With blubbred teares, and on a Crosse shee leant.
Along the Siluer-streaming Stovre doth slide
A louely Nymph, her wiery-golden haire
Sit rending, wayling that faire place beside,
More beauteous Creature the worlds Compasse wide
Ne had: her rayment white, her cheekes besprent,
With blubbred teares, and on a Crosse shee leant.
To whom, ah whom, shall now I make my mone?
Or who (shee said) will pitie my distresse?
Sith now my nearest dearest Friend is gone,
Who shall Religion (wel-nie Comfortlesse)
Commiserate? (yet many doe professe
A seeming friendship) and her labours cherish,
Or giue me Bread, that heere I may not perish?
Or who (shee said) will pitie my distresse?
Sith now my nearest dearest Friend is gone,
Who shall Religion (wel-nie Comfortlesse)
Commiserate? (yet many doe professe
A seeming friendship) and her labours cherish,
Or giue me Bread, that heere I may not perish?
I finde with many gratious entertaine
(In Kentish soyle) yet Dorvs was the man
Whose loue I had, and hee my heart againe,
Wonne by his Braue and Royall bountie, whan
I deeply languish'd, that Physitian
Of life dispaired, me hee then relieued,
And gaue most Comfort, when I most was grieued.
(In Kentish soyle) yet Dorvs was the man
Whose loue I had, and hee my heart againe,
Wonne by his Braue and Royall bountie, whan
I deeply languish'd, that Physitian
Of life dispaired, me hee then relieued,
And gaue most Comfort, when I most was grieued.
7
But hee is Dead; with that a sigh shee fetch'd,
As mought haue torne an heart of steele in twaine,
And said; blest Soule (with handes on high out-stretch'd)
Where-euer thou in Heauen dost remaine,
Enjoy thy Blisse, for hardly I againe
Thy like shall finde, therewith I wak'd in bed,
But Riuer, Nymph, and all were vanished.
As mought haue torne an heart of steele in twaine,
And said; blest Soule (with handes on high out-stretch'd)
Where-euer thou in Heauen dost remaine,
Enjoy thy Blisse, for hardly I againe
Thy like shall finde, therewith I wak'd in bed,
But Riuer, Nymph, and all were vanished.
The Second Vision.
I saw a goodly Lawrell, streight and Greene,
Vpon whose top sweet singing Birds did build,
Whose like Pernassvs Bay-bound head I weene,
Nor Tempe, pride of Thessalie, could yeeld,
Whereto repayr'd the Shepheard of the Field:
But Muses most heere-vnder did delight,
In Heate, their Hymnes and holy thinges endite.
Vpon whose top sweet singing Birds did build,
Whose like Pernassvs Bay-bound head I weene,
Nor Tempe, pride of Thessalie, could yeeld,
Whereto repayr'd the Shepheard of the Field:
But Muses most heere-vnder did delight,
In Heate, their Hymnes and holy thinges endite.
But sodainly the enuious owner came,
And at the roote did lay with all his might,
That downe it fell, together with the same,
The Nestes and tender Young, vnfit for flight;
That much my heart was grieued at the sight,
But more, because the Muse had lost her Freind
Whose armes from harmes her state did still defend.
And at the roote did lay with all his might,
That downe it fell, together with the same,
The Nestes and tender Young, vnfit for flight;
That much my heart was grieued at the sight,
But more, because the Muse had lost her Freind
Whose armes from harmes her state did still defend.
To the Deceased Lord.
So was the Plot deuised, that from the Center of euery window a direct line came to the K hart, lying in his Graue.
Seauenth Henrie lyes in Westminster,
From euery Windowes middle part;
A line direct runnes to his Heart.
So all our Loues by equall line
From farre, concenter in thy Shrine.
8
[Noblest Dorset, dead and gone]
Noblest Dorset, dead and gone,My Muse with Poësie haue done:
And in his Graue, now throwne thy Pen,
Sit downe and neuer rise agen.
FINIS.
| An Aprill Shower | |