University of Virginia Library

FUNERALL ELEGIES

Eleg. 1.

All you whose eies would learn to weepe, draw neere,
And heare, what none, without full teares, can hear;
Come marble eyes, as marble as your hearts,
I'le teach you how to weepe a teare in parts;
And you false eyes, that never yet, let fall
A teare in earnest, come, and now ye shall
Send forth salt fountaines of the truest griefe,
That ever sought to Language, for reliefe:
But you, you tender eyes, that cannot beare
An Elegie, wept forth, without a teare.
I warne you hence; or, at the most, passe by,
Lest while you stay, you soone dissolve, and dye.

Eleg. 2.

Bvt stay: (sad Genius) How doe griefes transport
Thy exil'd senses? Is there no resort
To forkt Parnassus sacred Mount? No word,
No thought of Helicon? No Muse implor'd?
I did invoke, but there was none reply'd;
The nine were silent, since Mccænas dy'd:
They have forsaken their old Spring: 'tis said,
They haunt a new one, which their tears have made:
Should I molest them with my losse? 'Tis knowne;
They finde enough to re-lament their owne:
I crave no ayde, no Deity to infuse
New matter: Ah: True sorrow needs no Muse.

Eleg. 3.

Call back (bright Phœbus) your sky-wandring steeds
Your day is tedious, and our sorrow needs
No Sun: When our sad soules have lost their light,
Why should our eyes not finde perpetuall night?
Goe to the nether world, and let your rayes
Shine there: Bestow on them our share of dayes;
But say not, Why: lest when report shall show
Such cause of griefe, they fall a grieving too,
And pray the absence of your restlesse wayne,
Which then must be return'd on us againe,
Deare Phœbus graunt my suit; if thou denie 't,
My teares shall blinde me, and so make a night.

Eleg. 4.

Death, art thou growne so nice? can nothing please
Thy curious palate, but such Cates as these?
Or hath thy ravenous stomach beene o'represt
With common diet at thy last great feast?
Or hast thou fed so neere that there is none
Now left but delicates to feed upon?
Or was this dish so tempting, that no power
Was left in thee, to stay another hower?
Or didst thou feed by chance, and not observ'd
What food it was, but tooke as Fortune carv'd?
'Tis done. Be it or Fortunes act or thine,
It fed the one, whose want made Millions pine.

Eleg. 5.

Envie now burst with joy, and let thine eyes
Strut forth with fatnesse: let thy collops rise
Pampred and plump: Feed full for many yeares
Vpon our losse: Be drunken with our teares:
For he is dead, whose soule did never cease
To crosse and violate your malitious peace:
He's dead; but in his death hath overthrowne
More vices, than his happy life had done:
In life he taught to dye; and he did give
In death, a great example how to live:
Though he be gone, his fame is left behinde:
Now leave thy laughing Envie, and be pin'd.

Eleg. 6.

Farewell those eyes, whose gentle smiles forsooke
No misery, taught Charity how to looke:
Farewell those cheerefull eyes, that did e'rewhile,
Teach succour'd misery how to blesse a smile:
Farewell those eyes whose mixt aspect, of late,
Did reconcile humility and state:
Farewell those eyes, that to their joyfull guest,
Proclaim'd their ordinary fare, a feast;
Farewell those eyes, the load-stars, late, whereby
The graces sail'd secure, from eye to eye:
Farewell deare eyes, bright Lamps; ô who can tell
Your glorious welcome, or our sad farewell!

Eleg. 7.

Goe glorious Saint! I knew 'twas not a shrine
Of flesh, could lodge so pure a soule as thine;
I saw it labour (in a holy scorne
Of living dust and ashes) to be sworne
A heavenly Quirifter: It sigh'd and groan'd
To be dissolv'd from mortall, and enthron'd
Among his fellow Angells, there to sing
Perpetuall Anthems to his heavenly King:
He was a stranger to his house of Clay;
Scarce own'd it, but that necessary stay
Miscall'd it his: And onely zeale did make
Him love the building for the builders sake.

Eleg. 8.

Had vertue, learning, the Diviner Arts,
Wit, judgement, wisdome, (or what other parts
That make perfection, and returne the minde
As great as Earth can suffer) beene confin'd
To earth, had they the Patent to abide
Secure from change, our Ailmer ne're had dy'de:
Fond earth, forbeare and let thy childish eyes
Ne're weep for him, thou ne're knew'st how to prize
Shed not a teare, blinde earth; for it appeares
Thou never lov'dst our Ailmer by thy teares:
Or if thy flouds must needs oreflow their brim,
Lament, lament thy blindenesse, and not him.

Eleg. 9.

I wondred not to heare so brave an end,
Because I knew, who made it, could contend
With death, and conquer, and in open chace
Would spit defiance in his conquered face;
And did: Dauntlesse he trod him underneath,
To shew the weaknesse of unarmed death:
Nay, had report, or niggard Fame denyde
His name, it had beene knowne 'twas Ailmer dyde.
It was no wonder, to heare rumor tell,
That he which dyde so oft, once dyde so well:
Great Lord of life, how hath thy dying breath
Made man, whō death had conquerd, cōquer death!

Eleg. 10.

Knowledge (the depth of whose unbounded maine
Hath bin the wreck of many a curious braine,
And from her (yet unreconciled) schooles
Hath fill'd us with so many learned fooles)
Hath tutor'd thee with rules that cannot erre,
And taught thee how to know thy selfe, and her;
Furnisht thy nimble soule, in height of measure,
With humane riches and divinest treasure,
From whence, as from a sacred spring, did flow
Fresh Oracles, to let the hearer know
A way to glory; and to let him see,
The way to glory, is to studie thee.

Eleg. 11.

Looke how the body of heavens greater light
Inriches each beholder with his bright
And glorious rayes, untill the envious West
Too greedy to enjoy so faire a guest,
Calls him to bed, where ravisht from our sight,
He leaves us to the solemne frownes of night;
Even so our Sun in his harmonious spheare
Enlightned every eye, rapt every eare,
Till in the earely sunset of his yeares
He dyde, and left us that survive, in teares;
And (like the Sun) in spight of death and fate,
He seemed greatest in his lowest state.

Eleg. 12.

Molest me not, full sighes and flowing teares,
You stormes & showres of nature: stop your eares,
Fond flesh and bloud, against the strong temptation
Of sullen griefe, and sense-bereaving passion:
Cease to lament; Let not thy slow pac'd numbers
Disturbe his rest, that so, so sweetly slumbers;
The child of virtue is asleepe, not dead;
He dies, alone, whom death hath conquered:
Why should we shed a teare for him? or why
Lament we, whom we rather should envie?
He lives; he lives a life, shall never tast
A change, so long as Crownes of glory last.

Eleg. 13.

No, no, he is not dead; The mouth of fame,
Honors shrill Herald, would preserve his name,
And make it live in spight of death and dust,
Were there no other heaven, no other trust.
He is not dead: The sacred Nine deny,
The soule that merits fame, should ever dye:
He lives; and when the latest breath of fame
Shall want her Trumpe, to glorifie a name,
He shall survive and these selfe closed eyes,
That now lie slumbring in the dust, shall rise,
And fill'd with endlesse glory, shall enjoy
The perfect vision of eternall joy.

Eleg. 14.

O but the dregs of flesh and bloud! How close
They grapple with my soule, and interpose
Her higher thoughts; which, yet but young of wing,
They cause to stoope and strike at every thing;
Passion presents before their weakned eye,
Iudgement and better reason standing by:
I must lament, Nature commands it so:
The more I strive with teares, the more they flow;
These eyes have just, nay double cause of mone,
They weepe the cōmon losse; they weep their own:
He sleepes indeed; then give me leave to weepe
Teares fully answerable to his sleepe.

Eleg. 15.

Pardon my teares, if they be too too free,
And if thou canst not weepe, I'le pardon thee,
Dull Stoick; If thou laugh to heare his death,
I'le weep, that thou wert borne to spend that breath
Thou dry-brain'd Portick, whose Ahenian brest,
(Transcending passion) never was opprest
With griefe; O had your flinty Sect but lost
So rare a prize, as we lament and boast,
Your hearts had crost your Tenet, and disburst
As many drops as we have done, or burst;
No marvell, that your marble braines could crosse
Her lawes, that never gave you such a losse.

Eleg. 16.

Qvicke-sould Pythagoras, O thou that wert
So many men, and didst so oft revert
From shades of death, (if we may trust to Fame)
With losse of nothing but thy buried name;
Hadst thou but liv'd in this our Ailmers time,
Thou wouldst have dyde once more, to live in him;
Or had our Ailmer in those daies of thine,
But dyde, and left so glorious, so divine
A soule as his, how would thy hasty brest
Have gasp'd to entertaine so faire a guest!
Which if obtained, had (no doubt) supplyde thee
With that immortall state thy Sire denyde thee.

Eleg. 17.

Rare soule, that now sits crowned in that Quire
Of endlesse joy, fill'd with cœlestiall fire;
Pardon my teares that in their passion would
Recall thee from thy Kingdome, if they could;
Pardon, O pardon my distracted zeale;
Which, if condemn'd by reason, must appeale
To thee, whose now lamented death, whose end
Confirm'd the deare affection of a friend;
Permit me then to offer at thy herse
These fruitles teares, which if they prove too fierce
O pardon, you, that know the price of friends;
For teares are just, that nature recommends.

Eleg. 18.

So may the faire aspect of pleased heaven
Conforme my noone of daies, & crowne their even;
So may the gladder smiles of earth present
My fortunes with the height of jocs, content;
As I lament, with unaffected breath,
Our losse (deare Ailmer) in thy happy death:
May the false teare, that's forc'd, or slides by Art,
That hath no warrant from the soule, the heart,
Or that exceeds not natures faint commission,
Or dares (unvented) come to composition;
O, may that teare in stricter judgement rise
Against those false, those faint, those flattring eyes.

Eleg. 19.

Thus to the world, and to the spacious eares
Of fame, I blazon my unboasted teares;
Thus to thy sacred dust, thy Vrne, thy Herse
I consecrate my sighes, my teares, my verse;
Thus to thy soule, thy name, thy just desert
I offer up my joy, my love, my heart;
That earth may know, and every care that heares,
True worth and griefe were parents to my teares:
That earth may know thy dust, thy Vrne, thy herse
Brought forth & bred my sighes, my teares, my verse;
And that thy soule, thy name, thy just desert,
Invites, incites my joy, my love, my heart.

Eleg. 20.

Vnconstant earth! why doe not mortalls cease
To build their hopes upon so short a lease?
Vncertaine lease, whose terme, but once begun,
Tells never when it ends, till it be done:
We dote upon thy smiles, not knowing why:
And whiles we but prepare to live, we dye:
We spring like flowers, for a daies delight,
At noone, we flourish, and we fade at night:
We toile for kingdomes, conquer Crownes, & then
We that were Gods but now, now lesse than men:
If wisdome, learning, knowledge cannot dwell
Secure from change, vaine bubble earth, farewell.

Eleg. 21.

Wouldst thou, when death had done deserve a story
Should staine the memory of great Pompeyes glory?
Conquer thy selfe; example be thy guide;
Dye just as our selfe-conquering Ailmer dyde,
Woldst thou subdue more kingdōes, gain mo crowns
Than that brave Hero Cæsar conquer'd townes?
Then conquer death; Example be thy guide:
Die just as our death-conquering Ailmer dyde:
But woldst thou win more worlds, than he had done
Kingdomes, that all the earth hath over-runne?
Then conquer heaven; example be thy guide;
Die just as our heaven-conquering Ailmer dyde.

Eleg. 22.

Yeares, fully laden with their months, attend
Th'expired times acquitance, and so end:
Months gone their dates of numbred daies require
Bright Cynthia's full discharge, and so expire;
Dayes deepely ag'd with houres, lose their light,
And having runne their stage, conclude with night:
And howers chac'd with light-foot minutes, flye,
Tending their labour to a new supply;
Yet Ailmers glory never shall diminish,
Though yeares and months, though daies & howers finish:
Yet Ailmers joyes for ever shall extend,
Though yeares, & months, though daies and howers end.