The History of Polindor and Flostella With Other Poems. By I. H. [i.e. John Harington] The third Edition, Revised and much Enlarged |
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CRESSAS Funerall, the Love of DIFLORIS.
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 | The History of Polindor and Flostella |  |
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CRESSAS Funerall, the Love of DIFLORIS.
Is any Pastors Eare so deaf to fame,That has not heard of fairest CRESSAS name?
So us'd to bleatings, whom that Funerall knell,
Which Groan'd this Nymph to earth; did hearts congeal,
Hath not arriv'd to? happy sure's that He
In this, since knowes not th' common Misery;
Distress'd Argadias loss, with whom does share
Nature, Grand Mourner; her Beloved fair
Cloyster'd in dust, nor (without company)
Dy'd she alone, for Hundreds! seem'd to dye
In sorrow with her; The Suns self was gone
Fast from her Funeralls, and Night came on
To bring her Sables. O what new-rays'd Train,
Of Goblins strook my sight! which rov'd the Plain
With such dire ceremony, rufull guise,
As each did his own Funerall solemnize:
Lo, Deaths March 'twas. First went young Swains by pairs
(Each crown'd with mournfull Cipress) Usherers
To th' solemn Herse; those Four next to't (that led)
Bare Shields, were pictur'd, on dark Cole-black Bed
Most pale-cheek'd Virgin lay, prepar'd as 'twere
For Bridalls, and which beauteous did appear
Even in Death, by Deaths black armes embrac't:
And over, in white Characters, was plac't,
This, this my Lover, this my Bridall: So
All pass'd along: But following th' Herse did go
A single Swain; how dismall look'd, slow-pac't!
Tra'st Bulk of wretchedness, o'r whose face cast
A meer Life-damp; seem'd Ghost, to th' Corps before:
Sighs bestorm'd about him, whilst be drench'd their shore
His Torrent-eyes; and thus, would needs excell,
Surpasse in grief. About his Hat (mix'd well)
Forsaken Willow, Cipresse wreath'd; above,
This written, Deaths my Rivall. Next did move
The Virgin-train in white, which Censers beare;
Dark vail'd like Dooms-day Planets: Torch-light there
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(Dire measure! how unwilling) to th' sad place,
Where they must leave their slumbring Nymph behind,
T'enrich the covetous Earth; which (half struck blind)
Their Youth beheld: never spake Sorrow more
Then now in silence: different Passion store;
Here Sighes, there Tears, pale Looks there, yet all one
Consort in Grief; This generall alone;
All look'd their utmost, till 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 though in spight of Death
Would still Injoy: with many a pittying muse,
Th' hard ground's ore-churlish mold should so abuse
That daintiest Body, which though once more nice)
Las, now complain'd not; but Death-tranced lyes,
What Mayden Adieus, what Tears! Swaines kiss'd the Place;
All saying, Richer Gem'd Earth never was.
| The History of Polindor and Flostella | |