University of Virginia Library

On the Death of the Most hopefull, the Lord Stafford. 1640.

Must then our Loves be short still? must we Choose
Not to enjoy, only admire and lose?
Must Axioms hence grow sadly understood,
And we thus see 'tis dangerous to be good?
So Books begun are broken off, and we
Receive a Fragment for an History:
And as 'twere present Wealth, which was but Debt,
Lose that of which we were not Owners yet.
But as in Books that want the closing Line,
We only can conjecture and repine:
So we must here too only grieve, and guess,
And by our Fancy make what's wanting less.
Thus when rich Webs are left unfinished,
The Spider doth supply them with his thread;
For tell me, what addition can be wrought
To him whose Youth was ev'n the bound of Thought?
Whose Buddings did deserve the Robe, whiles we
In smoothness did the Deeds of Wrinkles see?
When his State Nonage might have been thought fit
To break the Custome, and allow'd to sit;
His Actions veil'd his Age, and could not stay,
For that which we call Ripeness and just Day.
Others may wait the Staff and the Gray Hair,
And call that Wisdom which is only Fear;
Christen a Coldness, Temp'rance, and then boast
Full and ripe Vertues when all Action's lost:
This is not to be Noble, but be slack,
And to be good only by th' Almanack;
He who thus staies the Season and expects,
Doth not gain Habits, but disguise defects.
Here Nature outstrip'd Culture, he came try'd,
Streight of himself at first, not Rectifi'd;
Manners so pleasing and so handsome cast,
That still that overcame which was seen last;
All Minds were Captiv'd thence, as if't had been
The same to him to have been lov'd and seen;
Had he not been snatch'd thus, what drove Hearts now
Into his Nets would have driv'n Cities too:
For these his Essays which began to win,
Were but bright Sparks that shew the Mine within;
Rude draughts unto the Picture, things we may
Stile the first Beams of the Encreasing Day;
Which did but only great discoveries bring,
As outward Coolness shews the Inward Spring;
Had he then liv'd; Pow'r ne'r had been thought short
That could not Crush, taught only to support.
No Poor-mans Sighs had been the Lords Perfumes,
No Tenants Nakedness had hung his Rooms,
No Tears had sowr'd his wines, no tedious-Long-
Festivall-service been the Countri's wrong;
A Wretch's Famine had been no dish then,
Nor Greatness thought to eat no Beasts, but Men;
Nor had that been esteem'd a Politick Grace
When Sutors came to shew a serious Face;
Or when an humble Cosen did pass by,
Put saving Bus'ness in his frugall Eye;
Things of Injustice then and Potent Hate
Had not been done for th' profit of the State;
Nor had it been the Privilege of High Bloud
To back their Injuries with the Kingdoms good:
Servants and Engines had been two things then,
And difference made 'twixt Instruments and Men.
Nor were his Actions to Content the sight,
Like Artists peeces plac'd in a good Light
That they might take at distance, and obtrude
Something unto the Eye that might delude;
His Deeds did all most perfect then appear
When you observ'd, view'd Close, and did stand neer:
For could there ought else spring from him whose line
From whence he sprung was Rule and Discipline?
Whose Vertues were as Books before him set,
So that they did instruct who did beget;
Taught thence not to be powerfull but know,
Shewing he was their bloud by living so:
For whereas some are by their big Lip known,
Others b' imprinted burning Swords were Shewn,
So they by great deeds are, from which bright Fame
Engraves free Reputation on their Name.
These are their Native marks, and it hath been
The Stafford's lot to have their Signs within.
And though this firm Hæreditary Good
Might boasted be as flowing with the Bloud,
Yet he ne'r grasp'd this stay, but as those, who
Carry Perfumes about them still, scarce do
Themselves perceive 'em, though another's Sense
Suck in th' exhaling Odours: so he thence
Ne'r did perceive he carried this good Smell,
But made new still by doing himself well.
T' embalm him then were Vain, where spreading Fame
Supplies the want of Spices, where the Name,
It self preserving, may for oyntment pass,
And he still seen lie Coffin'd as in Glass.
VVhiles thus his Bud is full Flower, and his sole
Beginning doth reproach anothers whole;
Coming so perfect up, that there must needs
Have been found out new Titles for new Deeds;
Though Youth and Laws forbid, which will not let
Statues be rais'd, or he stand brazen yet,
Our minds retaine this Royalty of Kings,
Not to be bound to Time, but judge of things,
And VVorship as they Merit; there we do
Place him at height, and he stands golden too.
A Comfort, but not equall to the Cross;
A fair Remander, but not like the Loss:
For he the last Pledge being gone, we do
Not only lose the Heir, but th' Honour too.
Set we up then this Boast against our wrong,
He left no other Sign that he was young:
And spight of Fate his Living Vertues will,
Though He be dead, keep up the Barr'nny still.