 | Poems by Matthew Stevenson |  |
42
Phylis Funeral.
Come now my Lambs, your selves address,
Unto Your dying Shepheardess.
Your Appetites a while adjourn,
And pay Your duty to my Urn.
In Life my Flock I follow'd thee,
And thou in death must follow me.
Your orders twenty Lambs in black,
In white, twice twenty at their back.
Twelve sable Ewes, like Widows poor,
Shall, as my Mourners go before.
Six Weathers shall my Bearers be,
Array'd all in a Livery.
As dark as Night, and six again
As white as Wool bear up my Train.
With silver tips let every Horn,
Our sad and solemn state adorn.
With Phebes Crescent, let each front
Wear a fresh Cypress wreath upon't.
Let no rude Russet hither come,
Nor bloudy red, to soil my Tomb.
But pure Lamb Black, and purer White,
The Elegy of Phyllis, right.
The Black (my Lambs) doth signifie,
My loss of Life, Your loss of me.
The White does to the World, relate
My innocence, and Virgin State.
Now let me shew ye my intent,
In my last Will and Testament.
Unto Your dying Shepheardess.
Your Appetites a while adjourn,
And pay Your duty to my Urn.
In Life my Flock I follow'd thee,
And thou in death must follow me.
Your orders twenty Lambs in black,
In white, twice twenty at their back.
Twelve sable Ewes, like Widows poor,
Shall, as my Mourners go before.
43
Array'd all in a Livery.
As dark as Night, and six again
As white as Wool bear up my Train.
With silver tips let every Horn,
Our sad and solemn state adorn.
With Phebes Crescent, let each front
Wear a fresh Cypress wreath upon't.
Let no rude Russet hither come,
Nor bloudy red, to soil my Tomb.
But pure Lamb Black, and purer White,
The Elegy of Phyllis, right.
The Black (my Lambs) doth signifie,
My loss of Life, Your loss of me.
The White does to the World, relate
My innocence, and Virgin State.
Now let me shew ye my intent,
In my last Will and Testament.
First I, this better part of mine
To the Elysian shades resign.
And, whence I had it, I bequeath
To the next air my borrow'd breath.
Fire shall again have what it lent,
And, Water to her Element.
Shall have recourse, I shall return
My ashes also to my Urn.
In the next place I do dispence,
Unto my Lambs my innocence.
Moreover I assign to them,
The grass green Meadow last nights dream.
Presented me, my Rams are they,
Shall have my Cornucopea.
Item, I leave my Virgin zone,
Unto the Bud as yet unblown.
My Purple veins resign to You,
Sweet Violets their azure hue.
My blushes to the Rose I give,
My white shall in the Lilly live.
My Golden Tresses shall repair
The Ruines of lost Maiden hair.
My Orbs of light after this life,
Shall wait on Phœbus and his Wife.
My lofty, my majestick front,
I leave to Ida's sublime mont.
The Cherry, or the Ruby rather,
The tincture from my Lips shall gather.
This breast opposing th' other puts,
Me so in mind of Cupids Buts.
I cannot, but to him demise
The place so fit for exercise.
Lastly (such as they wont receive)
Mine arms I to embraces leave,
And now ye know what my last will is,
Farewel my Flock, and farewel Phyllis.
To the Elysian shades resign.
And, whence I had it, I bequeath
To the next air my borrow'd breath.
Fire shall again have what it lent,
And, Water to her Element.
Shall have recourse, I shall return
My ashes also to my Urn.
In the next place I do dispence,
Unto my Lambs my innocence.
Moreover I assign to them,
The grass green Meadow last nights dream.
Presented me, my Rams are they,
Shall have my Cornucopea.
Item, I leave my Virgin zone,
Unto the Bud as yet unblown.
44
Sweet Violets their azure hue.
My blushes to the Rose I give,
My white shall in the Lilly live.
My Golden Tresses shall repair
The Ruines of lost Maiden hair.
My Orbs of light after this life,
Shall wait on Phœbus and his Wife.
My lofty, my majestick front,
I leave to Ida's sublime mont.
The Cherry, or the Ruby rather,
The tincture from my Lips shall gather.
This breast opposing th' other puts,
Me so in mind of Cupids Buts.
I cannot, but to him demise
The place so fit for exercise.
Lastly (such as they wont receive)
Mine arms I to embraces leave,
And now ye know what my last will is,
Farewel my Flock, and farewel Phyllis.
| Poems by Matthew Stevenson | |