Fvneral Teares For the death of the Right Honorable the Earle of Deuonshire. Figvred In seauen songes, whereof sixe are so set forth that the wordes may be exprest by a treble voice alone to the Lute and Base Viole, or else that the meane part may bee added, if any shall affect more finnesse of parts. The Seaventh Is made in forme of a Dialogue, and cannot be sung without two voyces, Inuented by Iohn Coprario [i.e. John Cooper] |
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To the Ayre
Ev'n to thy sweetnesse pure benigne, kind Ayre
That first embrac't these teares, these I present.
Know them, though now transform'd from Christall faire
Th'appeare to thee, in Musicall ornament:
Free passage to melodious pearcing sounds
Thine open bosome yeelds: greefe owes to thee
Her groanes, and sighes: through thy swift-healed wounds
Her shrikes are shot, and thine her clamours be.
Receiue then chearefull Ayre these sad laments,
Though thou art but one Element, and she
That owes them, of all foure the quintessence,
The Starre of honor, and the sphere of beautie.
Goe, heare her sing these farewels, thou wilt weepe,
And mouelesse euer in thy regions sleepe.
That first embrac't these teares, these I present.
Know them, though now transform'd from Christall faire
Th'appeare to thee, in Musicall ornament:
Free passage to melodious pearcing sounds
Thine open bosome yeelds: greefe owes to thee
Her groanes, and sighes: through thy swift-healed wounds
Her shrikes are shot, and thine her clamours be.
Receiue then chearefull Ayre these sad laments,
Though thou art but one Element, and she
That owes them, of all foure the quintessence,
The Starre of honor, and the sphere of beautie.
Goe, heare her sing these farewels, thou wilt weepe,
And mouelesse euer in thy regions sleepe.
Sing Lady, sing thy Deu'nshires funerals,
And charme the Ayre with thy delightfull voyce,
Let lighter spirits grace their Madrigals,
Sorrow doth in the saddest notes reioyce.
Fairest of Ladies since these Songs are thine,
Now make them as thou art thy selfe, deuine.
And charme the Ayre with thy delightfull voyce,
Let lighter spirits grace their Madrigals,
Sorrow doth in the saddest notes reioyce.
Fairest of Ladies since these Songs are thine,
Now make them as thou art thy selfe, deuine.
The deuoted seruant of true noblenesse. Iohn Coprario.
In honorable memory of the Right noble the Earle of Deuonshire late deceased.
Noe sooner had the Fates pale MinisterAt th'high commaund of sterne Necessitie
Seazd the terrestriall part of Deuonshire,
And rendred his free Soule t'Eternitie:
But loe th'imperfect broode of fruitfull Fame
(That swarming thicke as atom is buze in th'ayre)
Light winged Rumours in right of their Dame
Claimed great Mountioyes name, with swift repaire
Heauing it vp to Fames high Consistorie,
Where she with doome impartiall register
All names t'Eternall fame, or infamie,
And in her finall iudgement neuer errs.
You sacred seede of Mnemosine pardon me
If in this susdaine rapture I reueale
Mist'ries which only rauisht sprights can see,
And enuious time did till this houre conceale.
In Christal chaire when starre-like shining Fame
Her state had plac't, strait with confused noyse
The thronging miscreates brought in Deu'nshires name,
Some figuring lamentations, others ioyes:
Some wept, some sobd, some howld, some laught, some smild,
And as their passions strange, and different were,
So were their shapes, such heapes were neuer pil'd
Of Monstrous heades as now consorted here.
For some like Apes peere out, like foxes some,
Many like Asses, Wolfes, and Oxen seem'd,
Like hissing Serpents, and fell Hydras some,
Rhinoceroes some by their arm'd snowtes I deem'd,
Others like Crocodiles hang their slie heads downe:
But infinite of humane forme appeare
Whose simple lookes were voide of smile or frowne,
Yet somewhat sad they shewd like skies vncleare:
In this confusion the great Registresse
Commaunding silence seu'rallie gaue leaue
To all reportes, and with milde sobernesse
Both partiall, and impartiall did receiue.
First as accusers spake ths busie Ape,
The enuious bould Wolfe, and the spitefull snake,
And diuers in the braying Asses shape,
But all their malice did one period make.
Deu'nshire did loue, loue was his errour made,
That only gainst his vertues was oppos'd,
As if for that his honoured name should fade,
Whose brest both vertue, and true loue enclos'd.
What th'humane speakers in defence replyed:
To latter ages let this tale be told
Which is by fame for euer verified.
Did Mountioy loue? and did not Hercules
Feele beauties flame, and couch him vnderneath
The winges of Cupid? or did ere the lesse
His sacred browes deserue a victours wreath?
Did not he free the trembling world from feare,
And dire confusion? who else could subdue
Monsters that innocents did spoyle, and teare,
Or Saturnes auncient goulden peace renue?
Did Mountioy, loue? And did not Mountioyes sword
When he marcht arm'd with pallace dreadfull helme
The rough vnquiet Irish rebels curbe?
And the inuading Spaniard ouerwhelme?
Lou'd he? and did not he nathlesse assist
Great Brittaines counsils, and in secret cells
The Muse visite? and alone vntwist
The riddles of deepe Philosophick spels?
Did Deu'nshire loue? and lou'd not Deu'nshire so
As if all beautie had for him beene fram'd?
For beautie more adorn'd no age shall know
Then hers whom he his owne for euer nam'd.
Let then base enuie breake, fond rumour sleepe,
Blacke malice turne to doue-white charitie,
Let Deu'nshire triumph, and his honor keepe
Immune, and cleare from darke mortaliie.
This spoken, Fame charg'd Zepherus to sound
His goulden trumpet, after whose smooth blast
These words she made from earth to heau'n rebound,
Braue Mountioyes glory shall for euer last.
Then forth was brought aboss't booke destined
For Kings, and Heroes, where with liquid gould
Deceased Deu'nshires name she registred
In charmed letters that can nere grow old.
Omnia vincit Amor, & nos cedamus Amori,
Scripsit; cuius erant nescia scripta mori.
Annuit huic fortis Mountioius, victus Amori
Cessit; cuius erunt nescia facta mori.
Scripsit; cuius erant nescia scripta mori.
Annuit huic fortis Mountioius, victus Amori
Cessit; cuius erunt nescia facta mori.
Oft thou hast
1
Oft thou hast with greedy eare,Drunke my notes and wordes of pleasure,
In affections equall measure,
Now my songs of sorrow heare.
Since from thee my griefes doe grow
Whome aliue I pris'd so deare:
The more my ioy, the more my woe.
2
Musicke though it sweetens paineYet no whit empaires lamenting:
But in passions like consenting
Makes them constant that complaine:
And enchantes their fancies so,
That all comforts they disdaine,
And flie from ioy to dwell with woe.
O sweete flower
1
O sweete flower too quicklie fading,Like a Winter sunshine day:
Poore pilgrim tir'd in the midway,
Like the Earth it selfe halfe shading.
So thy picture shewes to mee,
But onely the one halfe of thee.
2
O deare Ioy too swiftly flyingFrom thy loues enchanted eyes:
Proud glorie spread through the vast skies,
Earth of more then earth enuying
O how wondrous hadst thou been,
Had but the world thy whole life seene.
O the vnsure hopes
1
O th'unsure hopes of men! the brittle state!The vaine contentions that vnluckilie,
Oft in midst of the race fall ruinate,
And in their course long ouerwhelmed be,
And swallow'd vp ere they the port could see.
2
O womens fruitlesse loue! vnquiet state!Too deare affections, that despightfully,
Ev'n in their height of blisse proue desolate!
And often fall farre from all hope of ioy.
Ere they haue time to dreame on their annoy.
In darkenesse let me dwell
In darknesse let me dwell, the ground shall sorrow be,
The roofe despaire to barre all chearefull light from me,
The walles of marble black that moistned stil shall weepe,
My musicke hellish iarring sounds to banish frendly sleepe.
Thus wedded to my woes, and bedded in my tombe,
O let me dying liue till death doth come.
The roofe despaire to barre all chearefull light from me,
The walles of marble black that moistned stil shall weepe,
My musicke hellish iarring sounds to banish frendly sleepe.
Thus wedded to my woes, and bedded in my tombe,
O let me dying liue till death doth come.
My dainties griefe shall be, and teares my poisned wine,
My sighes the aire, throgh which my panting hart shall pine
My robes my mind shall sute exceeding blackest night,
My study shall be tragicke thoughtes sad fancy to delight.
Pale Ghosts and frightful shades shal my acquaintance
O thus my haples ioy I haste to thēe.
My sighes the aire, throgh which my panting hart shall pine
My robes my mind shall sute exceeding blackest night,
My study shall be tragicke thoughtes sad fancy to delight.
Pale Ghosts and frightful shades shal my acquaintance
O thus my haples ioy I haste to thēe.
my ioy is dead
1
My ioy is dead, and cannot be reuiu'de,Fled is my ioy, and neuer may returne:
Both of my ioy, and of my selfe depriu'de
Far from all ioy I sing, and singing mourne.
O let no tender hart, or gentle care
Partake my passions, or my plainings heare.
2
Rude flintie breastes that neuer felt remorse,Hard craggy rocks that death and ruine loue,
Those onely those my passions shall enforce,
Beyond their kind, and to compassion moue.
My griefe shall wonders worke, for he did so
That causde my sorrowes, and these teare doth owe.
Deceitfull fancie
1
Deceitfull fancy why deludst thou me,The dead a liue presenting?
My ioyes faire image caru'd in shades I see,
O false! yet sweet contenting?
Why art not thou a substance like to the?
Or I a shade to vanish hence with thee?
2
Stay gentle obiect, my sence still deceiue,With this thy kind elusion:
I die throgh madnes if my thoughts you leaue
O strange? yet sweet confusion?
Poore blisselesse harte that feeles such deepe annoy,
Only to loose the shadowe of thy ioy.
Foe of mankind
Canto.Foe of mankind why murderest thou my loue?
Alto.
Forbeare he liues.
C.
Oh where?
A.
In heauen aboue.
C.
Poore wretched life that onely liues in name.
A.
Man is not flesh, but soule, all life is fame:
C.
That is true fame which liuing men enioy.
A.
That is true life, which death cannot destroy.
Chorus.
Liue euer through thy merited renowne.
Faire spirit shining in thy starry crowne.
[Tis true, that whom the Italian Spider stinges]
Tis true, that whom the Italian Spider stingesHe sings, or laughs, or daunces till he dies,
Or spends his short time in such idle things
As the seuerer sort call vanities:
Musicke alone this fury can release,
This venomous rancour that the flesh doth eate
Like enuie which in death doth seldome cease
To feede vpon the honours of the great.
Well haue we toyld in prosperous harmonie
If we the enuy poysned wounds doe cure
Of spitefull adder-toongd hypocrisie
That speakes washt wordes, but works darke deeds impure.
If such proue past recure, suffice it then
We song not to brute beasts, but humane men.
Quid mortuos mordes canis? nihil retro
Cernis, neque vides manticæ quod in tergo est.
The dead why bit'st thou dogge? th'art backward blinde,
And doest not see the bagge thou bear'st behind.
| Fvneral Teares | |