University of Virginia Library

A CONCLVSIVE EPIGRAM, ENTITVLED The Great-mans Alphabet.

Come hither Great-man that triumphs to see,
So many men of lower ranke to thee;
That swells with honours, and erects thy state,
As high as if thou wer't Earths Potentate.
Thou whose aspiring buildings raise thy Name,
As if thou wer't Sole sonne and heyre of fame;
Thou whose ambition doth on dainties feast,
Ayming to be some pettie King at least;
Thou whom oppression hath by wrong made great,
Priding thy selfe of thy vsurped seate;
Thou that doest thinke it signe of Noble bloud,
Rather to ayme at great then to be good;
Thou whose demerits, though thou beare a port,
And canst looke big, are but of th'meanest sort.
Thou whose patcht honour, take away thy land
Will for an Ordinarie scarce currant stand;
Thou whose best qualities deriued be,
Onely from thy command, and not from thee:
Heare me (thou Worlds Atlas) and discerne
What's best of honour, Greatest men may learne.
I haue sought farre, and yet I cannot finde,
To what set place their glorie stands confin'de:
Who once were famous, and had tongues enow,
To ring their Noble acts the World throw.
Me thinkes that Agamemnon whose renowme,
Euen to the eares of sacred Powers did come,
To make his fame more lasting, should not be
So soone obscur'd in his posteritie;
Nor that same Mirrour of the Myrmidons,
Nor braue Thalestris of the Amazons;
Nor Cretan Minos, Ilus, Atreus,
The Persian Cyrus, Trojane Dardanus.
Yet see, where be these Heroes? Now they seeme
Through tymes disgrace as if they had not beene:
So short's our memorie, that if we haue
Nought to preserue our honour in the graue,
Saue th'tongs of men to blaze what we haue done,
Scarce will our Names be heard in time to come.
Yet you will say those Monuments we leaue,
Will to our dying Fame true honour giue:
As Marble shrines, statues of Iuory,
Porphyrite Columns grauen curiously,
Arches of lasting mettals, these will show
What we were once: and though men would not know
Our actious, yet our monuments infuse
Knowledge in them, they cannot will nor chuse.
Alas how weake's his fame, that do's repose
His confidence in any one of those:
Soone fading is his Name, and short's his time
That's shut within circumference of a shrine:
Yea, frayle's his glorie fitting with his nature,
Who hopes to reare his fame by such a matter.
For where should we find Tombs now ouergrowne
With grasse and rubbish, yea, where fields are sowne,
Vineyards are planted, as it may appeare,
It is not knowne where they interred were?
Some say the Caue of Minos, King of Crete,
Who afterward had his Iudiciall seate
In Hell, as Soueraigne vmpire, founded was
On Idas Mount, where though by store of grasse
And mouldred ashes, which are haled forth,
By the combustiue matter of the earth:
His ag'd memoriall was extinguisht clene,
Yet some appearance there is to be seene,
Which doth expresse that Minos Sepulcher,
Vnited was with th'Tombe of Iupiter:
And that faire Ida, which so fruitfull grew
With euery pleasant Plant (as Poets shew)
Would decke his flowry Monument with Thyme,
With Bayes his Tombe, with Iuniper his shrine;
So as no Virgin Votaresse there was,
Who had that way occasion for to passe,
But would (for so the Cretans did allow it)
“Tender her best of adoration to it.
Of such Relations we haue Subiects store,
As Aiax Tombe vpon the Rhetian shore,
In Oeta great Alcydes, Mytilene
A place where many worthies layd haue beene,
As Pythacus an auncient Sage of Grece,
Alcæus, valiant Antemenydes,
Theophanes the sound Peripatician,
Sapho, Arion the diuine Musician,
There were they borne (as of one Natiue wombe)
Which after gaue to most of them a Tombe.
Seuen Iles there be, Historians doe auerr,
All which contend for Homers Sepulcher:
'Mongst which renowned Gasbos in the Ile
Of chearefull Syo shows best proofe the while:
Yet 'las where's all this pompe, or whereto tend
These gorgeous monuments after our end;
They are not made for vs, for what haue we,
Vse (being sencelesse) of such vanitie?
So as it's true which the graue Morall sed,
Graues rather are for th'liuing then the dead:
They are indeed; For why, our Iudgement's gone,
Our Lamps are out, we're left to looke vpon,
For others (as frayle Mirrours) which expresse,
“Man after death is nought but rottonnesse;
Wormelins his brethren and his sisters are,
Seuen foote of Earth his portion and his share,
For all his sumptuous rayments, is allowd,
Nought after death to man but a poore shrowd.
Alas poore man, shall all thy pompe returne,
To such a scantling? Euen an earthie vrne!
Shall all those wish'd delights reduced be
To such a Mirrour of Mortalitie;
“As being gone, thou shalt be seene no more,
“Nor shall't auaile thee whether rich or poore?
Shall all that great obseruance which thou had,
Be now in clay, and in Corruption clad?
Shall those triumphant Monuments of fame,
Returne to that same earth from whence they came?
Shall thy Fame fade, thy actions be forgotten,
Thy worth weare out, thy pampred corps lie rotten?
Shall that same curious Fabricke, that faire forme,
Be now a prey for euery Earth-bred Worme?
Shall that same comely Mansion, turne to mire,
Which once was cloathed with the silkes of Tyre.
Perfum'd with sweetest odors, Musk, and Ciuet,
(And 'las how soone that sweetnes then must leaue it)
When to that house, that graue, that tombe, that vrne,
Thou (as thou hadst beginning) must returne?
Where's then thy Princely consorts? all are gone,
And thou saue Shrowd, Wormes, Coffin hast not one
For to discourse with: not a Reueller
Which here profest thee kindnesse will be there
To beare thee companie: thou'rt quite forgot,
As if thy Noble consorts knew thee not.
Besides (as thou wast gracious in the Court)
The lower ranke of men will make report,
How thou didst beare thy selfe, if proud, the breath
Of Spite will rayle vpon thee to thy teeth;
Calling thee Arrogant: if couetous
They will not spare to publish thy abuse:
If time-obseruer, as thou here didst err
In humoring, they'l call thee Flatterer:
If an Oppressor, they'l obserue thy end,
And say't was ill, thou wast no poore-mans friend.
If an Adulterate Factor, then they'l call
Thy end like such, as die in th'Hospitall;
And though thou be so great, as thou can'st finde
None (whilest thou liues) dare vtter forth their mind,
Yet being dead, there be as many more
Will brute thy shame, as humor'd thee before.
Yea though a Statist subtile as a Fox,
They will display thy errours with a pox;
If a vaine-humorous Lording, whose creation
Came vp the to-ther day along with fashion,
Whose onely gracefull neate accoutrement
Stands on a little broken complement;
Then some will say, while ore thy graue they passe,
“Here lies a Widgin-lord, a foot-cloth Asse.
If an imperious Beggar that canst sute
For such ones land, and put th'true owner out;
Thou shalt be taxt and censur'd in thy graue,
And term'd withall a base collouging slaue.
If a spruce Pension-Gallant, that hast nought,
(Saue a phantasticke cringe) that's worthie ought,
Receiue this Brand (nor care they if thou scowle)
Or a vaine-glorious, idle, formall foole.
If an ambicious Greene wit, thou doe clime,
Hoping to scale the seate of Ioue in time:
If thou repine that any one should checke
Thy soaring flight, till pride shall breake thy necke,
Rest well assur'd, they will be bold to tell
That Pride did Lackey thee post-hast to hell.
Thus then thou seest, how great so-ere thou be,
(If ill) thou subiect art to infamie;
Nor can the Greatnesse of thy worth or place,
Exempt thee from the censure of disgrace,
For those who whilest thou liu'd durst hardly mew,
(Now being dead) will giue thy crimes their due.
O then let Vertue be thy monument,
For it will keepe thee, when thy life is spent,
In a perpetuall Memorie! for 'las
What's Marble, Iron, Iuory, or Brasse
To make thee glorious in the eyes of men,
Since of all those, there's scantly one 'mongst ten,
Who plac't their Names in shrines, but were forgot
Before the sheete they lay in was halfe rott.
Yea such as these, who like the sonnes of Earth,
Triumphed liuing, in their noble Birth,
Boasting of their discent, yet could make knowne,
Not any one good action of their owne
To glory in, might well resembled be,
In each respect and natiue propertie,
Vnto a Lampe, which when the oyle is spent,
Sends from her steeming snuffe, a noisome sent;
“Liuing they shone-like Lamps, at least they seem'd,
(But all things are not so as they are deem'd)
But dying they doe show what filthie stuffe
They were made of, by sending forth their snuffe.
But when true Vertue is commixt with bloud,
Then Noblenesse must needes be rightly good:
For bloud and vertue being ioyn'd together,
Makes what agrees with one, accord with eyther.
There is no Balme so precious vpon Earth,
As Vertue is; for it preserues our worth
From times mutation; no corruption can
Enter the Coffin of a Vertuous man;
For though the Syth of Fate haue cut him downe,
Yet in his death he is farre better knowne
Then in his life, because when men doe misse him,
Seeing his workes they 'gin afresh to blisse him.
O may thy Great-nesse (then,) who ere thou art,
Be grounded first vpon a sincere heart,
For that will last, when that same guilded honour
Will fayle her selfe, and all that trust vpon her.
Short is our time, our sorrowes they are long,
Fickle our State, our Soule-assailants strong;
Weake's our defence, rude is our Discipline,
Rustie our Armes, our Courage feminine:
What Recluse then? Whereto may we repaire,
To be secure from imminent despaire?
It's not our Greatnesse, nor descent of bloud,
How high so ere can doe vs any good:
No; It's our goodnesse, not our greatnesse shall
In that same day giue priuiledge to all,
Which heauens I wish, that it might once be set
On Great-mens brests, and made their Alphabet.