University of Virginia Library

Prince HENRIES Obsequies;

OR Mournfull Elegies upon his Death.

[Eleg. 1.]

Now that beloved Henries glasse is run,
And others duties to his body shown;
Now that his sad-sad Obsequies be done,
And publike sorrows well-nigh over-blown:
Now give me leave to leave all joyes at one
For a dull melancholy lonelinesse;
To pine my selfe with a selfe-pining moan,
And fat my griefe with solitarinesse.
For if it be a comfort in distresse,
(As some think) to have sharers in our woes,
Then my desire is to be comfortlesse,
My soule in publike griefe no pleasure knows.)
Yea, I could wish, and for that wish would die,
That there were none had cause to grieve but I.

Eleg. 2.

[For were there none had cause to grieve but I]

For were there none had cause to grieve but I,
'Twould from my Sorrows many sorrows take;
And I should mourn but for one misery,
Where now for thousands my poore heart doth ake.
Bide from me Ioy then, that oft from me bid'st,
Be present Care, that often present art:
Hide from me Comfort, that at all times hid'st,
For I will grieve with a true-grieving heart.
Ile glut my selfe with sorrow for the nonce,
What though my Reason would the same gain-say!
Oh, beare with my unbridled Passion once,
I hope it shall not much from Vertue stray,
Sith griefe, for such a losse, at such a season,
Past measure may be, but not out of reason.

Eleg. 3.

[What need I for th' infernall Furies hallo?]

What need I for th' infernall Furies hallo?
Call upon darknesse, and the lonely night?
Or summon up Minerva or Apollo,
To help me dolefull Elegies endite?
Here wants no mention of the fears of Styx,
Of black Cocytus, or such fained stuffe;
Those may paint out their griefes with forced tricks,
That have not in them reall cause enough;
I need it not; yet for no private crosse
Droopes my sad soule, nor do I mourn for fashion,
For why? a generall, a publike losse
In me hath kindled a right wofull Passion.
Then oh (alas) what need hath he to borrow,
That's pinch'd already with a feeling sorrow?

Eleg. 4.

[First for thy losse, poore World-divided Ile]

First for thy losse, poore World-divided Ile,
My eyes pay griefs drink-offering of teares:
And I set-by all other thoughts awhile,
To feed my minde the better on my cares.
I saw how happy thou wert but of late
In thy sweet Henries hopes, yea, I saw too
How thou didst glory in thy blessed state:
Which thou indeed hadst cause enough to doe.
But when I saw thee place all thy delight
Vpon his worth; and then when thou didst place it,
(And thy joy almost mounted to her height)
His haplesse end so suddenly deface it;
Me thought I felt it go so neare my heart,
Mine ak'd too with a sympathizing smart.

Eleg. 5.

[For thee, Great Iames, my springs of sorrow run]

For thee, Great Iames, my springs of sorrow run,
For thee my Muse a heavy song doth sing,
That hast lost more in losing of thy Sonne,
Than they that lose the title of a King.
Needs must the pains that do disturbe the head
Disease the body throughout every part;
I therefore should have seem'd a member dead,
If I had had no feeling of this smart;
But oh, I grieve, and yet I grieve the lesse,
Thy Kingly gift so well prevail'd to make him
Fit for a Crown of endlesse happinesse,
And that it was th' Almighties hand did take him,
Who was himselfe a book for Kings to pore on,
And might have bin thy ΒΑΣΙΛΙΚΟΝ ΔΩΡΟΝ.

Eleg. 6.

[For our faire Queen my griefe is no lesse moving]

For our faire Queen my griefe is no lesse moving,
There's none could e'er more justly boast of childe;
For he was ev'ry way most nobly loving,
Most full of manly courage, and yet milde.
Me thinks I see what heavy discontent
Beclouds her brow, and over-shades her eyne:
Yea, I do feel her loving heart lament,
An earnest thought conveys the griefe to mine.
I see shee notes the sadnesse of the Court,
Thinks how that here or there she saw him last:
Remembers his sweet speech, his gracefull sport,
And such like things to make her Passion last.
But what mean I? let griefe my speeches smother,
No tongue can tell the sorrows of the Mother.

Eleg. 7.

[Nor thine sweet Charles, nor thine Elizabeth]

Nor thine sweet Charles, nor thine Elizabeth,
Though one of you have gaind a Princedome by't;
The griefe he hath to have it by the death
Of his sole Brother, makes his heart deny't,
Yet let not sorrows black obscuring clowd
Quite cover and eclipse all comforts light,
Though one fair Star above our height doth shrow'd
Let not the earth be left in darknesse quite.
Thou Charles art now our hope, God grant it be
More certain than our last; we trust it will:
Yet we shall have a loving feare of thee,
The burned childe the fire much dreadeth still.
But God loves his, and what e'er sorrows threat,
I one day hope to see him Charles the Great.

Eleg. 8.

[Then droop not Charles to make our griefes the more]

Then droop not Charles to make our griefes the more;
God that to scourge us took away thy brother;
To comfort us again kept thee in store:
And now I think on't, Fate could do no other.
Thy Father both a Sunne and Phœnix is,
Prince Henry was a Sunne and Phœnix too,
And if his Orbe had been as high as his,
His beams had shone as bright's his Fathers doe.
Nature saw this and took him quite away:
And now dost thou to be a Phœnix trie;
Well, so thou shalt (no doubt) another day,
But then thy Father (Charles) or thou must die.
For 'twas decreed when first the world begun,
Earth should have but one Phœnix, heaven one Sun.

Eleg. 9.

[But shall I not bemone the sad Elector?]

But shall I not bemone the sad Elector?
Yes, Frederick, I needs must grieve for thee,
Thou woest with woe now, but our best Protector
Gives joyfull ends where hard beginnings be.
Had we no shews to welcome thee to Court?
No solemne sight but a sad Funerall?
Is all our former masking and our sports
Transform'd to sighs? Are all things tragicall?
Had'st thou been here at Summer, or at Spring,
Thou should'st not then have seen us drooping thus;
But now 'tis Autumne that spoiles every thing,
Vulgarly tearm'd the Fall o'th Leafe with us.
And not amisse; for well may't be the Fall,
That brings down blossoms, fruit, leaves, tree & all

Eleg. 10.

[Then Stranger Prince, if thou neglected seem]

Then Stranger Prince, if thou neglected seem,
And hast not entertainment to thy state,
Our loves yet therefore do not mis-esteem;
But lay the fault upon unhappy Fate.
Thou foundst us glad of thy arrivall here;
And saw'st him whom we lov'd (poore wretched Elves;)
Say? did'st thou e'er of one more worthy heare?
No, no, and therefore now we hate our selves.
We being then of such a Gem bereft,
Beare with our Passions; and since one is gone;
And thou must have the halfe of what is left;
Oh think on us for good when you are gone:
And as thou now dost beare one halfe of's name,
Help beare out griefe, and share thou all his Fame.

Eleg. 11.

[See, see, fair Princesse, I but nam'd thee yet]

See, see, fair Princesse, I but nam'd thee yet,
Meaning thy woes within my breast to smother:
But on my thoughts they do so lively beat,
As if I heard thee sighing, Oh my Brother:
Me thinks I heard thee calling on his name,
With plaining on his too ungentle fate:
And sure the Sisters were well worthy blame,
To shew such spite to one that none did hate,
I know thou sometime musest on his face,
(Fair as a womans, but more manly-fair.)
Sometime upon his shape, his speech, and pase,
A thousand waies thy griefes themselves repaire.
And oh! no marvell since your sure-pure loves
Were nearer, dearer, than the Turtle Doves.

Eleg. 12.

[How often, oh how often did he vow]

How often, oh how often did he vow
To grace thy joyfull look'd-for Nuptialls:
But oh how wofull, oh how wofull now,
Will they be made through these sad Funeralls!
All pleasing parlies that betwixt you two,
Publike or private have exchanged been,
All thou hast heard him promise for to doe.
Or by him in his life performed seen,
Calls on remembrance; the sweet name of Sister,
So oft pronounc'd by him, seems to take place
Of Queen & Empresse, now my thoughts do whisper,
Those titles one day shall thy vertues grace.
If I speak true, for his sweet sake that's dead,
Seek how to raise dejected Britains head.

Eleg. 13.

[Seek how to raise dejected Britains head]

Seek how to raise dejected Britains head,
So she shall study how to raise up thine
And now leave off thy tears in vain to shed,
For why? to spare them I have powr'd out mine.
Pitty thy selfe, and us, and mournfull Rhine,
That hides his fair banks under flouds of griefe,
Thy Prince, thy Duke, thy brave Count Palatine,
'Tis time his sorrows should have some reliefe.
Hee's come to be another brother to thee,
And help thy father to another Sonne:
He vows thee all the service love can do thee;
And though acquaintance hath with griefe begun.
'Tis but to make you have the better taste
Of that true blisse you shall enjoy at last.

Eleg. 14.

[Thy brother's well, and would not change estates]

Thy brother's well, and would not change estates
With any Prince that reignes beneath the skie:
No, not with all the worlds great Potentates,
His plumes have born him to Eternity.
He reignes ore Saturn now that reign'd o're him,
He fears no Planets dangerous aspect:
But doth above their Constellations clime,
And earthly joyes and sorrows both neglect.
Wee saw he had his Spring amongst us here,
He saw his Sommer, but he skipt it over,
And Autumne now hath tane away our Deare,
The reason's this which we may plain discover,
He shall escape (for so th' Almighty wills)
The stormy Winter of ensuing ills.

Eleg. 15.

[I grieve to see the wofull face o'th' Court]

I grieve to see the wofull face o'th' Court,
And for each grieved member of the land;
I grieve for those that make these griefes their sport,
And cannot their own evill understand.
I also grieve to see how vices swarme,
And vertue as despis'd grow out of date:
How they receive most hurt that do least harme,
And how poore honest Truth incurreth hate.
But more, much more I grieve that we do misse
The joy we lately had; and that hee's gone
Whose living presence might have helpt all this:
His everlasting absence makes me mone.
Yea, most I grieve that Britains Hope is fled,
And that her Darling brave Prince Henrie's dead.

Eleg. 16.

[Prince Henrie dead! what voice is that we heare]

Prince Henrie dead! what voice is that we heare
Am I awake, or dreame I, tell me whether?
If this be true, if this be true, my Deare,
Why do I stay behinde thee to do either?
Alas, my fate compells me; I must bide
To share the mischiefs of this present age:
I am ordaind to live till I have tri'd
The very worst and utmost of their rage.
But then why mourn I not to open view?
In sable Robes according to the Rites?
Why is my hat without a branch of Yeugh?
Alas, my minde no complement delights;
Because my griefe that Ceremony lothes,
Had rather be in heart, than seem in clothes.

Eleg. 17.

[Thrice happy had I been, if I had kept]

Thrice happy had I been, if I had kept
Within the circuit of some little Village,
In ignorance of Courts and Princes slept,
Manuring of an honest halfe-plough tillage:
Or else I would I were as young agen
As when Eliza our last Phœnix di'd:
My childish yeares had not conceived then
What 'twas to lose a Prince so dignifi'd.
But now I know: And what now doth't avail?
Alas, whilst others merry feel no pain,
I melancholy sit alone and wail:
Thus sweetest profit yeelds the bitter'st gain.
By disobedience we did knowledge get,
And sorrow ever since hath followed it.

Eleg. 18.

[When as the first sad rumour fill'd mine eare]

When as the first sad rumour fill'd mine eare
Of Henries sicknesse; an amazing terrour
Struck through my body with a shuddring feare,
Which I expounded but my frailties errour.
For though a quick misdoubting of the worst,
Seem'd to foretell my soule what would ensue:
God will forbid, thought I, that such a curst
Or ill presaging thought should fall out true:
It cannot sink into imagination,
That He whose future glories we may see
To be at least all Europes expectation,
Should in the prime of age despoiled be;
For if a Hope so likely nought avail us,
It is no wonder if all other fail us.

Eleg. 19.

[Again, when one had forc'd unto mine eare]

Again, when one had forc'd unto mine eare
My Prince was dead; although he much protested,
I could not with beliefe his sad news heare,
But would have sworn and sworn again he jested.
At such a word, me thought, the town should sink,
The earth should down unto the Center cleave,
Devouring all in her hell-gaping chink,
And not so much as Sea or Iland leave.
Some Comet, or some monstrous blazing Starre
Should have appear'd, or some strange Prodigie,
Death might have shown't us, though't had bin afar
That he intended some such tyranny.
But God (it seemeth) did thereof dislike,
To shew that he will on a sudden strike.

Eleg. 20.

[Thus unbeleeving I did oft enquire]

Thus unbeleeving I did oft enquire
Of one, of two, of three, and so of many:
And still I heard what I did least desire,
Yet grounded hope would give no faith to any.
Then at the last my heart began to feare,
But as I credence to my fears was giving,
A voice of comfort I began to heare:
Which to my fruitlesse Ioy, said, Henrie's living;
At that same word my Hope, that was forsaking
My heart, and yeelding wholly to despaire;
Revived straight, and better courage taking,
Her crazed parts so strongly did repaire.
I thought she would have held it out, but vain,
For oh, e'er long she lost it quite again.

Eleg. 21.

[But now my tongue can never make relation]

But now my tongue can never make relation,
What I sustain'd in my last foughten field;
My minde assailed with a three-fold passion,
Hope, Feare, Despaire, could unto neither yeeld.
Feare willed me to view the skies black colour,
Hope said, Vpon his hopefull vertues look;
Despaire shew'd me an universall dolour,
Yet fruitlesse doubt my hearts possession took:
But when I saw the Hearse, then I beleev'd,
And then my sorrow was at full, alas:
Beside, to shew I had not causelesse griev'd,
I was inform'd that he embowel'd was.
And 'twas subscrib'd, they found he had no gall,
Which I beleev'd, for he was sweetnesse all.

Eleg. 22.

[Oh cruell and insatiable Death!]

Oh cruell and insatiable Death!
Would none suffice, would none suffice but hee?
What pleasure was it more to stop his breath,
Than to have choak'd, or kill'd, or poyson'd me?
My life for his, with thrice three millions more,
We would have given as a ransome to thee;
But since thou in his losse hast made us poore,
Foule Tyrant, it shall never honour do thee:
For thou hast shown thy selfe a spightfull fiend;
Yea, Death, thou didst envie his happy state,
And therefore thought'st to bring it to an end;
But see, see whereto God hath turn'd thy hate:
Thou meant'st to mar the blisse he had before,
And by thy spight hast made it ten times more.

Eleg. 23.

['Tis true, I know, Death with an equall spurn]

'Tis true, I know, Death with an equall spurn,
The lofty Turret, and low Cottage beats:
And takes imperially each one in his turn,
Yea, though he bribes, praies, promises, or threats.
Nor Man, Beast, Plant, nor Sex, Age nor Degree
Prevailes against his dead-sure striking hand:
For then, e'er we would thus despoiled be,
All these conjoyn'd his fury should withstand.
But oh! unseen he strikes at unaware,
Disguised like a murthering Iesuite:
Friends cannot stop him that in presence are;
And which is worse, when he hath done his spite,
He carries him so far away from hence,
None lives that hath the power to fetch him thence.

Eleg. 24.

[Nor would we now, because we do beleeve]

Nor would we now, because we do beleeve,
His God (to whom indeed he did belong)
To crown him where he hath no cause to grieve,
Took him from death that sought to do him wrong.
But were this deare-beloved Prince of ours
Living in any corner of this All,
Though kept by Romes & Mahomets chiefe powers;
They should not long detain him there in thrall:
We would rake Europe rather, plain the East;
Dispeople the whole Earth before the doome:
Stamp halfe to powder, and fire all the rest;
No craft nor force should him divide us from:
We would break down what e'er shold him confine
Though 'twere the Alps, or hills of Apenine.

Eleg. 25.

[But what? shall we go now dispute with God]

But what? shall we go now dispute with God,
And in our hearts upbraid him that's so just?
Let's pray him rather to withdraw his rod,
Lest in his wrath he bruise us unto dust.
Why should we lay his death to fate, or times?
I know there hath no second causes bin,
But our loud-crying and abhorred crimes,
Nay, I can name the chiefest murth'ring sin:
And this it was, how-e'er it hath been hid;
Trust not (saith David) trust not to a Prince;
Yet we hop'd lesse in God (I feare we did)
In jealousie he therefore took him hence.
Thus we abuse good things, & throgh our blindnes
Have hurt our selves, & kil'd our Prince with kindenesse.

Eleg. 26.

[Let all the world come and bewail our lot]

Let all the world come and bewail our lot,
Come Europe, Asia, Affrica, come all:
Mourn English, Irish, British, and mourn Scot,
For his, (no I mistake it) for our fall.
The prop of Vertue and mankindes delight
Hath fled the earth, and quite forsaken us:
We had but of his excellence a sight,
To make our longings like to Tantalus.
What seek you in a man that he enjoy'd not?
Wer't either gift of body or of spirit;
Nay, which is more, What had he, he imploy'd not,
To help his Countrey, and her love to merit?
But see what high preferment Vertues bring,
Hee's of a Servant now become a King.

Eleg. 27.

[But soft, I mean not here to blaze his praise]

But soft, I mean not here to blaze his praise,
It is a work too mighty, and requires
Many a pen, and many yeares of daies:
My humble quill to no such task aspires;
Onely I mourn with deep-deep-sighing grones,
Yet could I wish the other might be done,
Though al the Muses were imploy'd at once,
And write as long as Helicon would run;
But oh, I feare the Spring's already dry,
Or else why flags my lazy Muse so low?
Why vent I such dull-sprighted Poesie?
Surely 'tis sunk; I lye, it is not so:
For how is't likely that should want supplies,
When all wee feed it with our weeping eyes?

Eleg. 28.

[May not I liken London now to Troy]

May not I liken London now to Troy,
As she was that same day she lost her Hector?
When proud Achilles spoil'd her of her joy,
(And triumph'd on her losses) being Victor?
May not I liken Henry to that Greek,
That having a whole world unto his share,
Intended other worlds to go and seek?
Oh no I may not, they unworthy are.
Say, whereto England, whereto then shall I
Compare that sweet departed Prince, and thee?
That noble King, bewail'd by Ieremie,
Of thee (Great Prince) shall the example be.
And in our mourning we will equall them
Of wofull Iuda and Ierusalem.

Eleg. 29.

[You that beheld it when the mournfull Train]

You that beheld it when the mournfull Train
Past by the wall of his forsaken Park,
Did not the very Grove seem to complain
With a still murmure, and to look more dark?
Did not those pleasant walks (oh pleasing then
Whilest there hee (healthfull) used to resort)
Look like the shades of Death neare some foule den?
And that place there where once he kept his Court,
Did it not at his parting seem to sink?
And all forsake it like a cave of Sprights?
Did not the earth beneath his Chariot shrink,
As grieved for the losse of our delights?
Yea, his dumb steed, that erst for none would tarry,
Pac'd slow as if he scarce himselfe could carry.

Eleg. 30

[But oh! when it approach'd th' impaled Court]

But oh! when it approach'd th' impaled Court,
Where Mars himselfe envi'd his future glory
And whither he in arms did oft resort;
My heart conceived a right Tragick story.
Whither, Great Prince, oh, whither dost thou goe?
(Me thought the very place thus seem'd to say)
Why in black roabs art thou attended so?
Do not, oh do not make such hast away.
But art thou captive, and in triumph too?
Oh me! and worse too, livelesse, breathlesse, dead.
How could the Monster-Death this mischiefe doe?
Surely the Coward took thee in thy bed.
For whilst that thou art arm'd within my list,
He dar'd not meet thee like a Martialist.

Eleg. 31.

[Alas, who now shall grace my Turnaments.]

Alas, who now shall grace my Turnaments.
Or honour me with deeds of Chivalry?
What shall become of all my merriments,
My Ceremonies, showes of Heraldry
And other Rites? who? who shall now adorn
Thy Sisters Nuptialls with so sweet a presence?
Wilt thou forsake us, leave us quite forlorne,
And of all joy at once make a defeasance?
Was this the time pick'd out by destiny?
Farewell deare Prince then, sith thou wilt be gone,
In spight of death go live eternally,
Exempt from sorrow, whilst we mortalls mone:
But this ill hap instruct me shall to feare,
When we are joyfull'st, there's most sorrow neare.

Eleg. 32.

[Then as he past along you might espie]

Then as he past along you might espie,
How the griev'd vulgar that shed many a teare;
Cast after an unwilling-parting eye,
As loth to lose the sight they held so deare.
When they had lost the figure of his face,
Then they beheld his Roabs; his Chariot then,
Which being hid, their look aim'd at the place,
Still longing to behold him once agen:
But when he was quite past, and they could finde
No object to imploy their sight upon,
Sorrow became more busie with the minde,
And drew an Army of sad passions on;
Which made them so particularly mone,
Each amongst thousands seem'd as if alone.

Eleg. 33.

[And well might we of weakest substance melt]

And well might we of weakest substance melt
With tender passion for his timelesse end,
Sith (as it seem'd) the purer bodies felt
Some griefe for this their sweet departed friend;
The Sunne wrapt up in clowds of mournfull black,
Frown'd as displeas'd with such a hainous deed,
And would have staid, or turn'd his horses back,
If Nature had not forc'd him on with speed:
Yea, and the heavens wept a pearly dew,
Like very tears, not so as if it rain'd,
His Grandsires Tombes, as if the stones did rue
Our wofull losses, were with moisture stain'd:
Yea, either 'twas my easie mindes beliefe;
Or all things were disposed unto griefe.

Eleg. 34.

[Black was White-hall. The windows that did shine]

Black was White-hall. The windows that did shine,
And double-glazed were with beauties bright,
Which Sun-like erst did dim the gazers eyne,
As if that from within them came the light.
Those to my thinking seemed nothing fair,
And were obscur'd with wo, as they had been
Hung all with sack, or sable-cloth of haire,
Griefe was without, and so't appear'd within
Great was the multitude, yet quiet tho,
As if they were attentive unto sorrow:
The very windes did then forbeare to blow,
The Time of flight, her stilnesse seem'd to borrow.
Yea, all the troop pac'd slow, as loth to rend
The earth that should embrace their Lord & friend.

Eleg. 35.

[Me thought e'er-while I saw Prince Henri's Armes]

Me thought e'er-while I saw Prince Henri's Armes
Advanc'd above the Capitoll of Rome,
And his keen blade, in spight of steele or charmes,
Give many mighty enemies their doom;
Yea, I had many hopes, but now I see,
They are ordain'd to be anothers task,
Yet of the Stewards line a branch shall be,
T'advance beyond the Alpes his plumed Cask;
Then I perhaps that now tune dolefull laies,
Amongst their zealous triumphs may presume
To sing at least some petty Captains praise:
Mean-while I will some other work assume.
Or rather, sith my hopefulst Patron's dead,
Go to some desart and there hide my head.

Eleg. 36.

[Had he been but my Prince and wanted all]

Had he been but my Prince and wanted all
Those ornaments of Vertue that so grac'd him,
My love and life had both been at his call,
For that his Fortune had above us plac'd him:
But his rare hopefulnesse, his flying Fame,
His knowledge and his honest policie,
His courage much admir'd, his very name,
His publike love, and private curtesie:
Ioyn'd with religious firmnesse, might have mov'd
Pale Envy to have prais'd him, and sure he,
Had he been of mean birth had bin belov'd;
For trust me his sweet parts so ravish'd me,
That if I erre, yet pardon me therefore,
I lov'd him as my Prince, as Henry more.

Eleg. 37.

[Me thought his royall person did fore-tell]

Me thought his royall person did fore-tell
A Kingly statelinesse, from all pride cleare:
His look majestick seemed to compell
All men to love him, rather than to feare.
And yet though he were ev'ry good mans joy,
And the alonely comfort of his own,
His very name with terrour did annoy
His forraigne foes so farre as he was known.
Hell droop'd for feare, the Turkey-Moon look'd pale
Spain trembled; and the most tempestuous Sea,
(Where Behemoth the Babylonish Whale
Keeps all his bloudy and imperious plea)
Was swoln with rage for feare heed stop the tide
Of her o'er-daring and insulting pride.

Eleg. 38.

[For amongst divers Vertues rare to finde]

For amongst divers Vertues rare to finde,
Though many I observ'd, I mark'd none more
Than in Religion his firme constant minde,
Which I set deep upon Remembrance score.
And that made Romists for his fortunes sorry:
When therefore they shall heare of this ill hap,
Those mints of mischiefes will extreamly glory,
That he is caught by him whom none shall scape,
Yet boast not Babel, thou insult'st in vain,
Thou hast not yet obtain'd the victory,
We have a Prince still, and our King doth reigne,
So shall his seed and their posterity.
For know God that loves his & their good tenders,
Will never leave his faith without defenders.

Eleg. 39.

[Amidst our sacred sports that very season]

Amidst our sacred sports that very season,
Whilst for our Countrey and beloved Iames,
Preserved from that hell-bred Powder-Treason,
We rung and sung with shouts and joyfull flames:
Me thought upon the sudden I espi'd
Romes damned fiends an antick dance begin,
The Furies led it that our blisse envi'd,
And at our rites the hell-hounds seem'd to grin.
How now, thought I! more plots! and with that thought
Prince Henry dead, I plainly heard one cry.
O Lord (quoth I) now they have that they sought,
Yet let not our gladst-day, our sadst-day dye.
God seem'd to heare, for he to ease our sorrow,
Reviv'd that day, to die again the morrow.

Eleg. 40.

[But Britain, Britain, tell me, tell me this]

But Britain, Britain, tell me, tell me this,
What was the reason thy chiefe curse befell
So just upon the time of thy chiefe blisse?
Dost thou not know it? heare me then, Ile tell:
Thou wert not halfe-halfe thankfull for his care
And mercy that so well preserved thee;
His own he never did so often spare:
Yea, he thy Lord himselfe hath served thee:
Yet Laodicia thou, nor hot nor cold,
Secure and carelesse dost not yet repent,
Thou wilt be ever over-daring bold,
Till thou hast vengeance upon vengeance hent.
But (oh) see how Hypocrisie doth reigne,
I villain that am worst do first complain.

Eleg. 41.

[A foule consuming Pestilence did waste]

A foule consuming Pestilence did waste,
And lately spoil'd thee, England, to thy terrour;
But now, alas, a greater plague thou hast,
Because in time thou couldst not see thy error:
Hard Frosts thy fields and gardens have deflowred,
Hot Summers hath thy fruits consumption bin;
Fire, many places of thee hath devoured,
And all fore-warnings to repent thy sinne.
Yet still thou didst defer't, and carelesse sleep,
Which heavē perceiving with black clouds did frown
And into flouds for very anger weep,
Yea, the salt Sea, a part of thee did drown.
She drown'd a part, but oh, that part was small,
Now teares more salt have overwhelm'd us all.

Eleg. 42.

[Say, why was Henries Herse so glorious?]

Say, why was Henries Herse so glorious?
And his sad Funerall so full of state?
Why went he to his Tombe as one victorious,
Seeming as blithe as when he liv'd of late?
What needed all that Ceremonious show?
And that dead living Image which they bare?
Could not Remembrance make us smart enough,
Vnlesse we did afresh renew it there?
What was it but some antique curious Rite,
Onely to feed the vain beholders eyes,
To make men in their sorrows more delight,
Or may we rather on it morallize?
Yes, yes, it shew'd, that though he wanted breath,
Yet he should ride in triumph over death.

Eleg. 43.

[How welcome now would our deare Henry be]

How welcome now would our deare Henry be
After these griefes; were he no more than straid,
And thus deem'd dead? but fie! what Fantasie
Feeds my vain thought on? Fate hath that denay'd.
But since hee's gone, we now can call to minde,
His latest words, and whereto they did tend:
Yea, now our blunt capacities can finde,
They plainly did prognosticate his end.
Beside, we finde our Prophesies of old,
And would perswade our selves 'twas known of yore
By skilfull Wizards, and by them fore-told,
But then why found we not so much before?
Oh mark this ever, we n'er know our state,
Nor see our losse before it be too late.

Eleg. 44.

[From passion thus to passion could I run]

From passion thus to passion could I run,
Till I had over-run a world of words,
My Muse might she be heard would n'er have done,
The subject matter infinite affords,
But there's a mean in all; with too much grieving
We must not of Gods providence despaire,
Like cursed Pagans, or men unbeleeving.
'Tis true, the Hopes that we have lost were faire:
But we beheld him with an outward eye,
And though he in our sight most worthy seem'd,
Yet God saw more, whose secrets none can spie,
And finds another whom we lesse esteem'd:
So Iesses eldest sonnes had most renown,
But little David did obtain the Crown.

Eleg. 45.

[Let us our trust alone in God repose]

Let us our trust alone in God repose,
Since Princes fail; and maugre Turk or Pope,
He will provide one that shall quail our foes.
We saw he did it when we had lesse hope:
Let's place our joyes in him, and weep for sinne,
Yea, let's in time amend it, and foresee,
(If losse of earthly hope hath grievous been)
How great the losse of heavens true joyes may be:
This if we doe? God will stretch forth his hand,
To stop those plagues he did intend to bring,
And powre such blessings on this mournfull Land,
We shall for IO, Hallelujah sing:
And our deare Iames, if we herein persever,
Shall have a Sonne to grace his Throne for ever.