University of Virginia Library

Posthumous Poems. I.

i.

[What course of life should wretched Mortalles take?]

What course of life should wretched Mortalles take?
In courtes hard questiones large contention make;
Care dwelles in houses, labour in the feild,
Tumultuous seas affrighting dangeres yeild.
In foraine landes thou neuer canst be blest,
If rich thou art in feare, if poore distrest.
In wedlock frequent discontentmentes swell,
Vnmaried persones as in desertes dwell.
How many troubles are with children borne?
Yet hee that wants them countes himself forlorne.
Young men are wanton and of wisdome voyd,
Gray haires are cold, vnfit to be imployd.
Who would not one of those two offeres choose:
Not to be borne; or breath with speed to loose?

ii.

[All good hath left this age, all trackes of shame]

All good hath left this age, all trackes of shame,
Mercie is banished and pittye dead,
Justice from whence it came to heauen is fled,
Relligion maim'd is thought an idle Name.
Faith to distrust and malice hath giuen place,
Enuie with poysond teeth hath freindship torne,
Renowned knowledge lurkes, despisd, a scorne,
Now it is euill all euill not to embrace.
There is no life saue vnder seruile Bandes,
To make Desert a Vassall to their crimes
Ambition with Auarice ioyne Handes;
O euer-shamefull, O most shamelesse Tymes!
Saue that Sunnes light wee see, of good heare tell,
This Earth wee courte so much were verye Hell.

iii.

[Doth then the world goe thus, doth all thus moue?]

Doth then the world goe thus, doth all thus moue?
Is this the Justice which on Earth wee find?
Is this that firme decree which all doth bind?
Are these your influences Powers aboue?
Those soules which Vices moodye Mistes most blind,
Blind Fortune blindlie most their friend doth proue:
And they who Thee (poore Idole) Vertue loue
Plye like a feather toss'd by storme and wind.
Ah! (if a Prouidence doth swaye this all?)
Why should best Mindes groane vnder most distresse,
Or why should pryde Humilitie turne Thrall,
And injuryes the Innocent oppresse?
Heauens hinder, stope this fate, or grante a Tyme
When Good maye haue as well as Bad their prime.

iv. A Replye.

Who do in good delight
That souueraine Iustice euer doth rewarde,
And though sometyme it smyte,
Yet it doth them reguard;
For euen amidst their Griefe
They find a strong reliefe:
And Death it selfe can worke them no despight.
Againe in euill who ioye
And doe in it grow old,
In midst of Mirth are charg'd with sinnes annoye,
Which is in conscience scrolld;
And when their lifes fraile thread is cut by Tyme,
They punishment find equall to each cryme.

v. Beauties Frailtye.

Looke how the maying Rose
At sulphures azure fumes,
In a short space her crimsin blush doth lose,
And all amaz'd a pallid whit assumes:
So Tyme our best consumes,
Makes youth and Beautie passe,
And what was pryde turnes horrour in our Glasse.

vi. To a swallow, building neare the statue of Medea.

Fond Prognèe, chattering wretch,
That is Medea, there
Wilt thou thy yonglinges hatch?
Will shee keep thyne, her own who could not spare?
Learne from her franticke face
To seeke some fitter place.
What other mayst thou hope for, what desire,
Saue Stygian spelles, woundes, poison, iron, fire?

vii. Venus armed.

As to trye new alarmes,
In Ioues great Court aboue
The wanton Queene of Loue
Of sleeping Mars put on the horrid armes.
Her gazing in a glasse
To see what thing shee was,
To mocke and scoffe the blew-eyed maide did moue.
Who said, sweet Queene thus should yee haue been dight
When Vulcan tooke you napping with your knight.

viii. The Boares head.

Amidst a pleasant greene
Which sunne did seldome see,
Where play'd Anchises with the Cyprian Queene,
The Head of a wild boare hang on a Tree:
And driuen by zephyres breath
Did fall, and wound the louelye youth beneath,
On whom yet scarce appeares
So much of bloud as Venus eyes shed teares.
But euer as shee wept her Antheme was,
Change, cruell change, alas!
My Adon, whilst thou liud, was by thee slaine,
Now dead this louer must thou kill againe!

ix. To an Owle.

Ascalaphus tell mee,
So may nights courtaine long tyme couer Thee,
So yuie euer maye
From irksome light keep chamber thyne and bed,
And in moones liurey cled
So mayst thou scorne the Quiristeres of Daye:
When plaining thou dost staye
Neare to the sacred window of my deare,
Dost euer thou her heare
To wake, and steale swift houres from drowsye sleep?
And when shee wakes, doth ere a stollen sigh creep
Into thy listning Eare?
If that deafe God doth yet her carelesse keep,
In lowder notes My Grief with thyne expresse,
Till by thy shrickes shee thinke on my distresse.

x. Daphnè.

Now Daphnès armes did grow
In slender Branches, and her braided haire
Which like gold waues did flow
In leauie Twigs was stretched in the aire;
The grace of either foot
Transform'd was to a root,
A tender Barke enwrapes her Bodye faire.
Hee who did cause her ill
Sor-wailing stood, and from his blubb'red eyne
Did showres of teares vpon the rine distill
Which watred thus did bude and turne more greene.
O deep Dispaire! o Hart-appalling Griefe!
When that doth woe encrease should bring reliefe.

xi. The Beare of loue.

In woodes and desart Boundes
A beast abroad doth roame,
So louing sweetnesse and the honnyecombe
That it of Beas contemptes alarmes and woundes:
I by like pleasure led
To proue what heauens did place
Of sweet on your faire face,
Whilst therewith I am fed,
Rest carelesse (Bear of loue) of hellish smart
And how those eyes afflicte and wound my hart.

xii. Galateas Sonnets.

xiii. On the Death of a Margarite.

In shelles and gold pearles are not keept alone,
A Margarite here lies beneath a stone;
A Margarite that did excell in worth
All those rich Gemmes the Indies both bring forth;
Who had shee liu'd when good was lou'd of men
Had made the Graces foure the Muses ten,
And forc'd those happye tymes her dayes that claim'd
To be from her the age of pearle still nam'd.
Shee was the rarest jewell of her kynd,
Gract with more beautye than shee left behind,
All Goodnesse Vertue Wonder, and could cheare
The sadest Minds: Now Nature, knowing heere
How Things but showen, then hiden, ar loud best,
This Margaret shrin'd in this marble chest.

xiv.

[Nor Amaranthes nor Roses doe bequeath]

Nor Amaranthes nor Roses doe bequeath
Vnto this Herse, but Tamariskes and Vine,
For that same thirst though dead yet doth him pine,
Which made him so carowse whilst hee drew breath.

xv. Epitaph.

Heer S--- lyes, most bitter gall,
Who whilst hee liud spoke euill of all,
Onlye of God the Arrant Sot
Nought said, but that hee knew him not.

xvi. The oister.

With open shells in seas, on heauenly due
A shining oister lushiouslie doth feed,
And then the Birth of that ætheriall seed
Shows, when conceau'd, if skies lookt darke or blew:
So doe my thoughts (celestiall twins) of you,
At whose aspect they first beginne & breed,
When they are borne to light demonstrat true,
If yee then smyld, or lowr'd in murning weed.
Pearles then are framd orient, faire in forme,
In their conception if the heauens looke cleare;
But if it thunder, or menace a storme,
They sadlie darke and wannish doe appeare:
Right so my thoughts are, so my notes do change,
Sweet if yee smyle, & hoarse if yee looke strange.

xvii. All Changeth.

The angrye winds not ay
Doe cuffe the roring deep,
And though Heauens often weep
Yet doe they smyle for joy when com'd is May,
Frosts doe not euer kill the pleasant flowres,
And loue hath sweets when gone are all the sowres.
This said a shepheard closing in his armes
His Deare, who blusht to feele loues new alarmes.

xviii. Silenus to King Midas.

The greatest Gift that from their loftie Thrones
The all-gouerning powers to men can giue
Is that hee neuer breath, or breathing once
A suckling end his dayes, and leaue to liue:
For then hee neither knowes the woe nor joy
Of life, nor feares the stigian lakes annoy.

xix. To his amorous Thoughts.

Sweet wanton thought which art of Beautye borne,
And which on Beautye feedst & sweet Desire,
Who like the Butterflye dost endlesse turne
About that flame that all so much admire;
That heauenlye face which doth outblush the Morne,
Those yuoryd hands, those Threeds of golden wyre,
Thou still surroundest, yet darst not aspire
To vew Mynds beautyes which the rest adorne.
Sure thou dost well that place not to come neare,
Nor see the maiestye of that faire court;
For if thow sawst the vertues ther resort,
The pure intelligence that moues that spheare,
Like soules departed to the Ioyes aboue,
Backe neuer wouldst thou come, nor thence remoue.

xx. Verses of the late Earl of Pembroke

xxi. A Replye.

xxii. A Translation.

[Ah! silly Soule, what wilt thou say]

xxiii. To the Memory of [John, Earl of Lauderdale.]

xxiv. To the Memorie of the excellent ladye Isabell, Countesse of Lawderdale.

xxv.

[Far from these Bankes exiled be all Joyes]

xxvi.

[Like to the Gardens Eye, the Flower of Flow'rs]

Like to the Gardens Eye, the Flower of Flow'rs
With purple Pompe that dazle doth the Sight;
Or as among the lesser Gems of Night,
The Usher of the Planet of the Houres:
Sweet Maid, thou shinedst on this World of ours,
Of all Perfections having trac'd the hight,
Thine outward frame was faire, faire inward Powers,
A Saphire Lanthorne, and an incense light.
Hence, the enamour'd Heaven as too too good
On Earths all-thorny soyle long to abide,
Transplanted to their Fields so rare a Bud,
Where from thy Sun no cloud thee now can hide.
Earth moan'd her losse, and wish'd she had the grace
Not to have known, or known thee longer space.

xxvii. Madrigal.

[Hard Laws of mortall Life!]

Hard Laws of mortall Life!
To which made Thrales, we come without consent
Like Tapers lighted to be early spent,
Our Griefes are alwaies rife,
When joyes but halting march, and swiftly fly
Like shadows in the Eye:
The shadow doth not yeeld unto the Sun,
But Joyes and Life do waste even when begun.

xxviii. On the death of a nobleman in Scotland, buried at Aithen.

xxix. Epitaph.

Fame, Register of Tyme,
Write in thy scrowles, that I,
A wisdome louer, and sweet poesie,
Was croped in my Prime,
And ripe in worth, though scarce in yeares, did die.

xxx.

[Justice, Truth, Peace, and Hospitalitie]

Justice, Truth, Peace, and Hospitalitie,
Friendship, and Loue, being resolued to dye
In these lewd tymes, haue chosen heere to haue
With just, true, pious, kynd DALYELL their graue;
Hee them cherish'd so long, so much did grace,
That they than this would choose no dearer place.

xxxi.

[When Death to deck his Trophees stopt thy breath]

xxxii.

[Within the Closure of this Narrow Grave]

Within the Closure of this Narrow Grave
Lye all those Graces a Good-wife could have:
But on this Marble they shall not be read,
For then the Living envy would the Dead.

xxxiii.

[The daughter of a king, of princelye partes]

The daughter of a king, of princelye partes,
In Beautie eminent, in Vertues cheife,
Load-starre of loue and load-stone of all Hartes,
Her freindes and Husbandes onlie Joy, now Griefe,
Enclosed lyes within this narrow Graue,
Whose Paragone no Tymes, no Climates haue.

xxxiv.

[Verses fraile Records are to keep a Name]

Verses fraile Records are to keep a Name,
Or raise from Dust Men to a Life of Fame,
The sport and spoyle of Ignorance; but far
More fraile the Frames of Touch and Marble are,
Which envy, Avarice, Time e're long confound,
Or mis-devotion equalls with the Ground.
Vertue alone doth last, frees man from Death,
And, though despis'd and scorned here beneath,
Stands grav'n in Angels Diamantine Rolles,
And blazed in the Courts above the Poles.
Thou wast faire Vertues Temple, they did dwell,
And live ador'd in thee, nought did excell
But what thou either didst possesse or love,
The Graces Darling, and the maids of Jove,
Courted by Fame for Bounties which the Heaven
Gave thee in great, which if in Parcels given
To many, such we happy sure might call,
How happy then wast thou who enjoyedst them all?
A whiter Soule ne're body did invest,
And now (sequestred) cannot be but blest,
Inrob'd in Glory, 'midst those Hierarchies
Of that immortall People of the Skies,
Bright Saints and Angels, there from cares made free
Nought doth becloud thy soveraign Good from Thee.
Thou smil'st at Earths Confusions and Jars,
And how for Centaures Children we wage wars:
Like honey Flies, whose rage whole swarmes consumes
Till Dust thrown on them makes them vaile their plumes.
Thy friends to thee a Monument would raise,
And limne thy Vertues; but dull griefe thy Praise
Breakes in the Entrance, and our Taske proves vaine,
What duty writes that woe blots out againe:
Yet Love a Pyramid of Sighs thee reares,
And doth embaulme thee with Fare-wells and Teares.

xxxv. Rose.

Though Marble, Porphyry, and mourning Touch—
May praise these spoiles, yet can they not too much;
For Beauty last, and this Stone doth close,
Once Earths Delight, Heavens care, a purest Rose.
And (Reader) shouldst thou but let fall a Teare
Upon it, other flow'rs shall here appeare,
Sad Violets and Hyacinths which grow
With markes of griefe: a publike losse to show.

xxxvi.

[Relenting Eye, which daignest to this Stone]

Relenting Eye, which daignest to this Stone
To lend a look, behold, here be laid one,
The Living and the Dead interr'd, for Dead
The Turtle in its Mate is; and she fled
From Earth, her [OMITTED] choos'd this Place of Griefe
To bound [OMITTED] Thoughts, a small and sad Reliefe.
His is this Monument, for hers no Art
Could frame, a Pyramide rais'd of his Heart.

xxxvii.

[Instead of Epitaphs and airy praise]

Instead of Epitaphs and airy praise
This Monument a Lady chaste did raise
To her Lords living fame, and after Death
Her Body doth unto this Place bequeath,
To rest with his, till Gods shrill Trumpet sound,
Though time her Life, no time her love could bound.