Bosworth-field With a Taste of the Variety of Other Poems, Left by Sir John Beaumont ... Set Forth by his Sonne, Sir Iohn Beaumont |
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To my Lord Vicount Purbeck: a Congratulation for his health.
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To my Lord Vicount Purbeck: a Congratulation for his health.
If we inlarge our hearts, extend our voyce,To shew with what affection we reioyce,
VVhen friends or kinsmen wealth and honour gaine,
Or are return'd to freedome from the chaine:
How shall your seruants and your friends (my Lord)
Declare their ioy? who find no sound, no word
Sufficient for their thoughts, since you haue got
That Iewell Health, which Kingdomes equall not,
From sicknesse freed, a Tyrant farre more fell
Then Turkish Pirates, who in Gallies dwell.
The Muses to the friend of Musicke bring
The signes of gladnesse: Orpheus strikes a string
VVhich can inspire the dull, can cheare the sad,
And to the dead can liuely motion adde:
Some play, some sing: while I, whose onely skill,
Is to direct the organ of my Quill,
That from my hand it may not runne in vaine,
But keepe true time with my commanding braine.
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To rayse these dumbe (yet speaking) Letters high,
Till they contend with sounds: till arm'd with wings
My featherd pen surmount Apollo's strings.
We much reioyce that lightsome calmes asswage
The fighting humours, blind with mutuall rage:
So sing the Mariners exempt from feare,
When stormes are past, and hopefull signes appeare.
So chaunts the mounting Larke her gladsome lay,
When night giues place to the delightfull day.
In this our mirth, the greatest ioy I finde,
Is to consider how your noble minde
Will make true vse of those afflictions past,
And on this ground will fix your vertue fast;
You hence haue learn'd th' vncertaine state of man,
And that no height of glitt'ring honour can
Secure his quiet: for almighty God,
Who rules the high, can with his pow'rfull rod
Represse the greatest, and in mercy daignes
With dang'rous ioyes to mingle wholsome paines:
Though men in sicknesse draw vnquiet breath,
And count it worst of euils, next to death:
Yet such his goodnesse is, who gouernes all,
That from this bitter spring sweete riuers fall:
Here we are truly taught our selues to know,
To pitty others who indure like woe:
To feele the waight of sinne, the onely cause
Whence eu'ry body this corruption drawes:
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Which at each moment can our liues command.
These are the blest effects, which sicknesse leaues,
VVhen these your serious brest aright conceaues
You will no more repent your former paine;
Then we our ioy, to see you well againe.
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