The complete works of John Lyly now for the first time collected and edited from the earliest quartos with life, bibliography, essays, notes and index by R. Warwick Bond |
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Epicedium. A FVNERAL Oration, vpon the death of the late
deceased Princesse of famous memorye, Elizabeth by the grace of
God, Queen of England, France and Ireland. |
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 | The complete works of John Lyly |  |
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Epicedium. A FVNERAL Oration, vpon the death of the late deceased Princesse of famous memorye, Elizabeth by the grace of God, Queen of England, France and Ireland.
514
A true Subiects sorowe, for the losse of his late Soueraigne.
I ioyne not handes with sorowe for a while,
To soothe the time, or please the hungrie eares:
Nor do inforce my mercinarie stile,
No feigned liuerye my Inuention weares.
To soothe the time, or please the hungrie eares:
515
No feigned liuerye my Inuention weares.
Nor do I ground my fabulous discourse
On what before hath vsually bene seene:
My greife doth flowe from a more plentious source,
From her that dy'd a virgin and a Queene.
On what before hath vsually bene seene:
My greife doth flowe from a more plentious source,
From her that dy'd a virgin and a Queene.
You Cristall Nimphes that haunt the banks of Thames,
Tune your sad Timbrils in this wofull day:
And force the swift windes and the sliding streames
To stand a while and listen to your Lay.
Tune your sad Timbrils in this wofull day:
And force the swift windes and the sliding streames
To stand a while and listen to your Lay.
Your fading Temples bound about with yewe,
At euery step your hands deuoutly wring,
Let one notes fall anothers height renewe,
And with compassion your sad Nænia sing.
At euery step your hands deuoutly wring,
Let one notes fall anothers height renewe,
And with compassion your sad Nænia sing.
Graces and Muses waite vpon her Hearse:
Three are the first, the last the sacred Nine:
The sad'st of which, in a blacke tragique verse,
Shall sing the Requiem passing to her shrine.
Three are the first, the last the sacred Nine:
The sad'st of which, in a blacke tragique verse,
Shall sing the Requiem passing to her shrine.
An Ebon Charriot to support the Beere,
Drawne with the blacke steedes of the gloomy night:
Stooping their stiffe Crests, with a heauie cheere,
Stirring compassion in the peoples sight.
Drawne with the blacke steedes of the gloomy night:
Stooping their stiffe Crests, with a heauie cheere,
Stirring compassion in the peoples sight.
The Pyle prepard where on her body lyes,
In Cipresse shadowes sit you downe forlorne:
Whose bowes be dew'd with plenty of your eyes,
(For her with griefe) the Branches shall adorne.
In Cipresse shadowes sit you downe forlorne:
Whose bowes be dew'd with plenty of your eyes,
(For her with griefe) the Branches shall adorne.
Let fall your eye-lids like the Sunnes cleere set,
When your pale hands put to the vestall flame:
And from your brests, your sorowes freely let,
Crying one Beta and Elizas name.
When your pale hands put to the vestall flame:
And from your brests, your sorowes freely let,
Crying one Beta and Elizas name.
Vpon the Alter, place your Virgin spoyles,
And one by one with comelinesse bestowe:
Dianaes buskins and her hunting toyles,
Her empty quiuer and her stringles bowe.
And one by one with comelinesse bestowe:
Dianaes buskins and her hunting toyles,
Her empty quiuer and her stringles bowe.
516
Let euery Virgin offer vp a teare,
The richest Incence nature can alowe:
And at her tombe (for euer yeare by yeare)
Pay the oblation of a mayden vowe.
The richest Incence nature can alowe:
And at her tombe (for euer yeare by yeare)
Pay the oblation of a mayden vowe.
And the tru'st vestall the most sacred liuer,
That euer harbored an vnspotted spirit,
Retaine thy vertues, and thy name for euer,
To tell the world thy beautie and thy merrit.
That euer harbored an vnspotted spirit,
Retaine thy vertues, and thy name for euer,
To tell the world thy beautie and thy merrit.
Wher's Collin Clout, or Rowland now become,
That wont to leade our Shepheards in a ring?
(Ah me) the first, pale death hath strooken dombe,
The latter, none incourageth to sing.
That wont to leade our Shepheards in a ring?
(Ah me) the first, pale death hath strooken dombe,
The latter, none incourageth to sing.
But I vnskilfull, a poore Shepheards Lad,
That the hye knowledge onely doe adore:
Would offer more, if I more plenty had,
But comming short, of their aboundant store,
A willing heart that on thy fame could dwell,
That the hye knowledge onely doe adore:
Would offer more, if I more plenty had,
But comming short, of their aboundant store,
Thus bids Eliza happily farewell.
FINIS.
| The complete works of John Lyly | |