University of Virginia Library

His fourth Dream of Cressas Funeral, the Love of Difloris.

Is any Pastors care so deaf to Fame,
That has not heard of fairest Cressas name?
[So us'd to bleatings] whom that Funeral-knel.
Which groand this Nimph to earth, did hearts congeal.
Hath not arriv'd to? happy sure's that He
In this, since knows not th'common Misery;
Distres'd Arcadias loss [with whom does share
Nature, Grand Mourner] her beloved fair
Cloyster'd in dust: nor [without company]
Dy'd she alone, a hundred seemd to dye
In Sorrow with her: The Suns self was gone
Fast from her Funerals, and Night came on
To bring her Sables. O what new-rais'd Train
Of Goblins strook my sight? which rov'd the Plain
With such dire ceremony, ruful guize,
As each did his own Funeral solemnize.
Lo, Deaths March twas; First went young swains by pairs
Each crownd with mournful Cipress, Usherers
To th solemn Herse: Those four next to '[illeg.] that le[illeg.]
Bare Shieldes, where pictur'd on a cole-black bed
A pale dead Virgin lay, prepar'd as twere
To Bridals and which beauteous did appear
Even in death; by deaths black arms imbract;
And over, in white Characters was plac't,
This, this my Lover, this my Bridal: So
All pass'd along. But following th'Herse did go
A single Swain; how dismal-lookt slow-pac't.
Trust bulk of wretchedness, ore whose face cast
A meer Life-damp; seem'd Ghost to th'Corps before;
Sighs storm'd about him, whilst he drench'd their shore
His torrent eys; and thus would needs excel,
Surpass in grief: About his Hat mix'd wel
Forsaken Willow, Cipress; where above
This written, Deaths my Rival. Next does move
The Virgin-train in white, which Censers bear
Dark-vail'd like Dooms-day Planets: Torchlight there
[illeg.]orc't frightful Noon. And thus they softly trace
Dire measure! how unwilling!) to th sad place
Where they must leave their slumbring Nimph behind
T'enrich the Covetous Earth; which (half struck blind)
The Youth beheld, never spake Sorrow more
Then now in silence: different Passions store;
Here sighs, there tears, pale looks there, yet all one
Consort in Grief: This, general alone,
All look'd their utmost, til now lost the sight,
With whom their eyes seem'd as 'twere bury'd quite;
And (blind to upper things in earth beneath
Are following her, as if in spite of death
Would stil enjoy: with many a pitying muse,
The rude ore churlish mold should so abuse
That daintiest Body, which (though one more nice)
Las, now complain'd not; but death-tranced lyes.
What Maiden adiews; what tears! Swain kiss'd the Place;
All saying, Richer-gem'd Earth never was.