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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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Teares for the death of the truly Honourable, the Lord Chandos.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


166

Teares for the death of the truly Honourable, the Lord Chandos.

Let him whose lines a priuate losse deplore,
Call them to weepe, that neuer wept before;
My griefe is more audacious: giue me one
Who eu'ry day hath heard a dying grone.
The subiect of my verses may suffice
To draw new teares from dry and weary eyes.
We dare not loue a man, nor pleasure take
In others worth for noble Chandos sake:
And when we seeke the best with reasons light,
We feare to wish him longer in our sight.
Time had increast his vertue and our woe,
For sorrow gathers weight by comming slow:
Should him the God of life, to life restore
Againe, we lose him, and lament the more.
If Mortals could a thousand liues renew,
They were but shades of death which must insue.
Our gracious God hath fitter bounds assign'd,
And earthly paines to one short life confin'd;
Yet when his hand hath quench'd the vitall flame,
It leaues some cinders of immortall fame.

167

At these we blow, and (like Prometheus) striue
By such weake sparkes, to make dead clay aliue:
Breath flyes to ayre, the body falls to ground;
And nothing dwels with vs but mournfull sound.
O, might his honor'd Name liue in my Song,
Reflected as with Ecchoes shrill and strong!
But when my lines of glorious obiects treate,
They should rise high, because the worke is great.
No Quill can paint this Lord, vnlesse it haue
Some tincture from his actions free and braue:
Yet from this height I must descend againe,
And (like the calme Sea) lay my Verses plaine,
When I describe the smoothnesse of his mind,
Where reasons chaines rebellious passions bind:
My Poem must in harmony excell,
His sweet behauiour and discourse to tell;
It should be deepe, and full of many Arts,
To teach his wisdome, and his happy parts.
But since I want these graces, and despaire
To make my Picture (like the patterne) faire;
These hasty strokes vnperfect draughts shall stand,
Expecting life from some more skilfull hand.