The First Anniversary, Elegy – Poem 3
A FVNERALL ELEGIE.
TIs lost, to trust a Tombe with such a ghest,
Or to confine her in a Marble chest.
Alas, what's Marble, Ieat, or Porphiry,
Priz'd with the Chrysolite of either eye,
Or with those Pearles, and Rubies which shee was?
Ioyne the two Indies in one Tombe, 'tis glas;
And so is all to her materials,
Though eueryevery inche were ten escurials.
Yet shee's demolished: Can we keepe herthen
In workes of hands, or of the wits of m…n?
Can th…se memorials, ragges of paper, giuegive
Life to that name, by which name they must liue?
Sickly, alas, short-liu'd, aborted bee
Those Carkas verses, whose soule is not sh…e.
And can shee, who no longer would be sh…e,
Being such a Tabernacle, stoope to bee
In paper wrap't; Or, when she would not lie
In such a house, dwell in an Elegie?
But 'tis no matter; we may well allow
Verse to liue so long as the world will now
For her death wounded it. The world containes
Princes for armes, and Counsailors for braines,
Lawyers for tongues, Diuines for hearts, and more,
The Rich for stomachs and for backes the Pore;
The officers for hands, Merchants for feet
By which remote and distant Countries meet.
But those fine spirits which doe tune and set
This Organ, are those peeces which beget
Wonder and louelove; And these were shee; and shee
Being spent, the world must needs decrepit bee.
For since death will proceed to triumph still,
He can finde nothing, after her, to kill,
Except the world it selfe, so great as shee.
Thus braue and confident may Nature bee,
Death cannot giuegive her such another blow,
Because shee cannot such another show.
But must we say shee's dead? May't not be said
That as a sundred Clocke is peecemeale laid,
Not to be lost, but by the makers hand
Repolish'd, without error then to stand,
Or as the Affrique Niger streame enwombs
It selfe into the earth, and after comes,
(Hauing first made a naturall bridge, to passe
For many leagues,) farre greater then it was,
May't not be said, that her graue shall restore
Her, greater, purer, firmer, then before?
Heauen may say this, and ioy in't; but can wee
Who liue, and lacke her, here this vantage see?
What is't to vsus, alas, if there hauehave beene
An Angell made a Throne, or Cherubin?
We lose by't: And as aged men are glad
Being tastlesse growne, to ioy in ioyes they had,
So now the sicke staru'd world must feed vpone
This ioy, that we had her, who now is gone.
Reioyce then nature, and this world, that you
Fearing the last fires hastning to subdue
Your force and vigor, ere it were neere gone,
Wisely bestow'd, and laid it all on one.
One, whose cleare body was so pure, and thin,
Because it need disguise no thought within.
T'was but a through-light scarfe, her minde t'enroule,
Or exhalation breath'd out from her soule.
On…, whom all men who durst no more, admir'd,
And w…om, who ere had worth enough, desir'd;
As when a Temple's built, Saints emulate
To which of them, it shall be consecrate.
But as when Heauen lookes on vsus with new eyes,
Those new starres eueryevery Artist exercise,
What place they should assigne to them they doubt.
Argue, and agree not, till those starres goe out:
So the world studied whose this peece sh…uld be,
Till she can be no bodies else, nor sh…e:
But like a Lampe of Balsamum, desir'd
Rather t'adorne, then last, shee soone expir'd;
Cloath'd in her Virgin white integrity;
For mariage, though it doe not staine, doth dye.
To scape th'infirmities which waite vpone
Woman, shee went away, before sh'was one.
And the worlds busie noyse to ouercome,
Tooke so much death, as seru'd for opium.
For though she could not, nor could chuse to die,
Shee'ath yeelded to too long an Extasie.
He which not knowing her said Historie,
Should come to read the booke of destinie,
How faire and chast, humble and high shee'ad beene,
Much promis'd, much perform'd, at not fifteene,
And measuring future things, by things before,
Should turne the leafe to read, and read no more,
Would thinke that either destinie mistooke,
Or that some leaues were torne out of the booke.
But 'tis not so: Fate did but Vsher her
To yeares of Reasons vse, and then infer
Her destinie to her selfe; which libertie
Shee tooke but for thus much, thus much to die.
Her modesty not suffering her to bee
Fellow-Commissioner with destinee,
Shee did no more but die; if after her
Any shall liue, which dare true good prefer,
EueryEvery such person is her delegate,
T' accomplish that which should hauehave beene her fate.
They shall make vp that booke, and shall hauehave thankes
Offate and her, for filling vp th…ir blanks.
For future vertuous deeds are Legacies.
Which from the gift of her example rise.
And 'tis in heau'n part of spirituall mirth,
To see how well, the good play her, on earth.
FINIS.
The Second Anniuersarie. OF THE PROGRES of the Soule. Wherein: BY OCCASION OF THE Religious Death of Mistris ELIZABETH DRVRY, the incommodities of the Soule in this life and her exaltation in the next, are Contemplated.
LONDON, Printed by M. Bradwood for S. Macham, and are to be sould at his shop in Pauls Church-yard at the signe of the Bull-head. 1612.
THE HARBINGER to the Progres.
TWo soules moue here, and mine (a third) must moue
Paces of admiration, and of louelove;
Thy soule (Deare Virgin) whose this tribute is,
Mou'd from this mortall sphere to liuely blisse;
And yet moues still, and still aspires to see
The worlds last day, thy glories full degree:
Like as those starres which thou ore-lookest farre,
Are in their place, and yet still moued are
No soule (whiles with the lugage of this clay
It clogged is) can follow thee halfe way;
Or see thy flight; which doth our thoughts outgoe
So fast, that now the lightning moues but slow:
But now thou art as high in heauen flowne
As heau'ns from vsus; what soule besides thine owne
Can tell thy ioyes, or say he can rerelate
Thy glorious Iournals in that blessed state?
I enuie thee (Rich soule) I enuy thee,
Although I cannot yet thy glory see:
And thou (Great spirit) which her's follow'd hast
So fast, as none can follow thine so fast;
So farre as none can follow thine so farre,
(And if this flesh did not the passage barre
Had'st raught her) let me wonder at thy flight
Which long agone had'st lost the vnlgar sight
And now mak'st proud the better eyes, that thay
Can see thee less'ned in thine aery way;
So while thou mak'st her soules by progresse knowne
Thou mak'st a noble progresse of thine owne.
From this worlds carcasse hauing mounted hie
To that pure life of Immortalitie;
Since thine aspiring thoughts themselues so raise
That more may not beseeme a creatures praise,
Yet still thou vow'st her more; and eueryevery yeare
Mak'st a new progresse, while thou wandrest here;
Still vpwards mount; and let thy makers praise
Honor thy Laura, and adorne thy laies.
And since thy Muse her head in heauen shrouds
Oh let her neuer stoope below the clouds:
And if those glorious sainted soules may know
Or what we doe, or what we sing below,
Those acts, those songs shall still content them best
Which praise those awfull powers that make them blest.