Elizabetha quasi vivens Eliza's Funerall. A fewe Aprill drops, showred on the Hearse of dead Eliza. Or The Funerall Teares of a true hearted Subiect. By H. P. [i.e. Henry Petowe] |
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The Jnduction.
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 | Elizabetha quasi vivens |  |
The Jnduction.
I that obscure haue wept till eyes be drye,
Wil teach my pen another while to weep.
Obdurant hartes that they may mollifye,
For losse of her that now in peace doth sleep.
Peace rest with her, but sorowe vvith my pen,
Till dead Eliza doth reuiue agen.
Wil teach my pen another while to weep.
Obdurant hartes that they may mollifye,
For losse of her that now in peace doth sleep.
Peace rest with her, but sorowe vvith my pen,
Till dead Eliza doth reuiue agen.
Amongst high sp'rited Paragons of vvit,
That mount beyond our earthlie pitch to fame,
Creepes forth my Muse, ye great ones fauour it,
Take her not vp, alas she is too tame.
Sheel come to hand if you but lure her to you,
then vse her kindly, for shele kindly woe you.
That mount beyond our earthlie pitch to fame,
Creepes forth my Muse, ye great ones fauour it,
Take her not vp, alas she is too tame.
Sheel come to hand if you but lure her to you,
then vse her kindly, for shele kindly woe you.
And if this Infant of mine art-lesse braine,
passe with your sweet aplause as some haue done,
And, meane good fauour of the learned gaine
For showring teares vpō Eliza's tombe.
my Muse shall hatch such breed whē she's of yeres
shall bring you cōfort & dry vp your teares.
passe with your sweet aplause as some haue done,
And, meane good fauour of the learned gaine
my Muse shall hatch such breed whē she's of yeres
shall bring you cōfort & dry vp your teares.
The last of many, yet not the least of all,
Sing I a heauie dirdge for our late Queene:
And singing, mourne Eliza's Funerall,
The E per se of all that e're haue beene.
She was, she is, and euermore shall bee,
the blessed Queene of sweet eternitie.
Sing I a heauie dirdge for our late Queene:
And singing, mourne Eliza's Funerall,
The E per se of all that e're haue beene.
She was, she is, and euermore shall bee,
the blessed Queene of sweet eternitie.
With her in heauen remaines her fame: on earth
Each moderne Poet that can make a verse
Writes of Eliza, euen at their Muses birth.
Then why not I weeepe on Eliza's Herse?
Som-where in England shall my lines go sleep
till England read, and (England reading) weepe.
Each moderne Poet that can make a verse
Writes of Eliza, euen at their Muses birth.
Then why not I weeepe on Eliza's Herse?
Som-where in England shall my lines go sleep
till England read, and (England reading) weepe.
| Elizabetha quasi vivens | |