Heart-Salve for a Wounded Soul, Elegy – Epitaph
AN ELEGIE OR The flowing Tears of a mourning friend, poured upon the Grave of the Holy living, and Happy dying Chriſtian, the Lady Mary Gryffith, firſt wife to Sir Henery Gryffith, Barronet of Burton Agnes, who aſcended to Chriſt the day named from his Aſcention, An. Dom. 1632.
THus run Heavens VVheel! Then Peace my plaining Heart;
Such Heaven-born purpoſes 'tis not thy part
To croſs with Murmers. May not Providence
His Colonies of Hopefull'ſt ſouls from hence
Tranſlate, to ſeat them in a happier Clime,
Far above theſe Regions under the Line
Of frailtie and ſin? Are there not Eaſtern Fruits,
Whoſe Seeds diſdain with us to ſpread their Roots,
Bread in more generous ſoil and purer air?
Each flower has its own Orb, where it moſt fair
Doth grow & ſhow; and in ſtrange Earth doth pine,
As being from home. Thus thou, O Soul divine,
In this great Garden of the world didſt ſpring
'Mongſt lewd Mortals, and ſuch fruit didſt bring,
As ſham'd our barren plants, ſin-blaſted Trees:
Yet, for all this by manifold degrees,
Our ground it was baſe, yea too much unfit
For thee a Graffe of Grace coeleſtial Slip.
Therefore that hand, which firſt thee planted here
(Heavens holy hand) becauſe thou couldſt not bear
Such flowers and fruit in this corrupted ſoil
As thou deſired'ſt, (O now incorrupt Soul)
Has thee tranſplanted: Happie thou ſo dies,
To Re-grow a Prime-roſe in Gods paradiſe.
Our eyes are needleſs Garden-pots with Tears
To water thee, there are no doubts or fears
Of parching heat, which ſiccity doth bring
So near to living water, bleſſed ſpring.
But O my thaughtful Heart, thy Sighs ſupplie
The Rainy moiſture of my Aprild Eye.
Oh that the puling Poet, whoſe pureſt skill
Was threneful Elegies, writ with Ravens quill,
Would now lend Verſes to my grief-drown'd Muſe,
Or into me their poetick Souls infuſe:
Sure then this Name poſterity and all times
Should find Immortalized in my lines,
Yet ſhall our Pen drop ſome black Tears for thee,
And write long Virtue's ſhort Epitomie,
Dumb grief ſhall lend us Mutes, Liquits wet eyes,
Which joyn'd with Vowels of Sighs, thence will ariſe
Words, to ſet forth that which Mankind may vex,
All virtues, ſtrong in one of weaker Sex,
Two things there are denominate, one compleat,
Concurring in her, ſhe was Good and Great.
Twice born, firſt great next Birth did ſtile her Good,
Noble by man, far Nobler by Chriſts Blood.
O, how ſwells Wormſeed Man, lifts Creſt on high,
If Or, Gules, Argent deck his Blazoncie?
This honour here counted ſuch Glory loſs,
Chuſe Faith her Herald, for Arms, a bloudy croſs
Thus Born, choice education brings her up,
Seaſoning with ſweeteſt liquors this freſh cup.
Her Infants age gives Childhood full of hope,
Childhood brings youth, where Piety is the ſcope
Of all her actions Single, Married, both
To virtue, Husband, Chriſt ſhe keeps firm troth.
And now my Boat being entering on the Main,
For life full-ſtream'd with good gifts fulleſt ſtrain
Of Art is needful, Since I cannot skill
To handle curious Pencil, yet I will
Uſe ſhadowing Charcoal, Vertue needs no lace,
No Jaggs, or Faſhes, her plain Coat to Grace,
When Sea, Earth, Air, Woods Gardens at on time
Do, deck, and diſh a Table with the prime
Of all Tooth-witching Cates, ſtomach doth ſtand,
A doubtful Queſtion is't how to move the hand.
This's good, that dainty palate likes th' other beſt,
This ſawce, that Junket's rarity, 'bove the reſt.
Such is the Tooths tempation, like's my caſe
A Squadron of air qualities are in Chaſe
Before my Pen, which firſt to ſingle out
In midſt of ſuch rich choice I ſtand in doubt.
Yet none ſo fit I find to have firſt place,
As that Great-little Virtue, High-low Grace
Humility, which ne'r could Trumpet blow,
Plaies leaſt in ſight, and hides it ſelf from ſhow.
Who ever ſaw Prides Chair ſet in thine eyes,
Or like the ſwellig Bubble ſaw thee riſe
Above the level of Waters? Glories ſeat
Follows the lowly-little, flies the great.
Thou ſought'ſt not earths applauſe or fumy ſame,
Whoſe heart was modeld to a better frame.
It is in th' Sphere of Saints as in the Skie,
The higheſt Stars ſeem ſmalleſt to the Eye.
What needs it name thy Faith, thy love! we gueſs
Poor long ſince ſtyl'd the Pities patroneſs,
Touching thy Zeal, whiles here we thee did hold,
Winter was warm, now midſummer is cold,
Some Queriſts ask, what this cold weather meant?
Why? Have we not loſt Zeals fervid Element:
Chaſt, modeſt, ſober, patient, diſcreet,
A very Center, where Virtues did meet?
Thrifty in words, ſhunning her Sexes blot,
A Tongue that hangs too looſe without a knot.
Yea you corrupted Times, worlds worſt, curſt dreggs,
The Dam that daily hatches ſome bla…k Eggs
Of Luſt, Soul-ruſting pride, and faſhions ſtrange,
Whoſe brood's Court Lunaticks in monthly change:
(How many traps, alluring baits do lie
And reſt in naked breaſts for an adulterous Eye?)
Tinctur'd by you not ſhe, knew not your toys,
Nor dieted her Soul with Dunghils joys,
Smells as foul earth: your Sophiſtrie ſhe fled,
Which makes a two-fac'd Monſter with one Head:
An Act calls God Bungler, Bluſh ſtars and Sun:
Art perfects that face Heaven had not well done.
Three things were deemed precious … Eye,
Time, Faith, Chriſts Blood for which her prayers did vie.
In firſt the ſecond, by ſecond third ſhe got,
'Bove both Indie's treaſures a ſurpaſſing lot.
Put to the Trial Temptations hoteſt flame
She du'd, endured, ſtood, withſtood, quencht, orecame:
And from Whales belly, out of ſorrows Hell
Of Gods ſupporting Grace could wonders tell.
O Heavenlieſt Art, (that ſweet Experience)
She could decline Afflictions in each Tenſe,
What Preſent, Paſt, and future fruits they bring,
How Saints do ſometimes ſink, then float and ſwim.
Yet here's not all, more Virtues could I pick,
To puzzle and gravel all Arithmetick:
Which makes me pity that poor S…agyrite,
When he did his Ethnick Ethick Volumes write,
VVhere all the moral Virtues he could count,
The number of eleven did not ſurmount.
Our living Volum fair printed had far more,
Our little VVorld ſaith his great world was poor:
For whoſe dear ſake Grammarians may define
Virtue always of Gender femenine.
Thy death ſham'd not thy life, thy deareſt friend
On his day choſe thee to him to aſcend.
Thy green years promis'd life, Virtue full grown.
Pronounc'd thy field was ripe, fit to cut down
Living, each one had part of Joys in thee,
Dying, like griefs as having from our Tree
Beſt branch rent off, O loved Spouſeſs c…ys one!
Dear Daughter another, Siſter, Companion.
Kind Lady theſe, all Friend bo… tyed and true
With love engrain'd that never, chang'd the hew.
Thy Battel's ended, Lawrel decks thy brows
Deaths livery ours, the fadeſt Cypreſs boughs
Had death ſpar'd thee a while, and given leave
'Mongſt us thy friends ſome legacies to leave,
Our griefs had lower ebb'd, Lo, I deſire
For Legacy ſome coals of thy hot fire
Of Zeal, to heat my freezing frigid heart:
Or elſe of thy Humility a part.
'Gainſt innate Pride. O thou mightſt well have given
Thy Love divided amongſt ſix or ſeven.
Thy worlds contempt had been an excellent gift,
That eight or nine amongſt us might it ſhift.
And knowing our haſty ſpirits, when thou ſlipt hence
Why didſt thou not bequeath thy Patience?
Thou knewſt how many walk'd with that bad note
Of buſie ſcullers in anothers boat:
Couldſt not thou ſay, Friend, take thee this bequeſt.
Handle thine own Oars, that becomes the beſt,
I leave thee it 'cauſe I lov'd it? Thus, good heart,
Thou mighſt have given us every one a part.
I ſee Death will engroſs, ſay what we liſt,
He ſcorns our Laws, will be a Monopoliſt
I'le not Chide fate, nor curſe dire deſtiny,
Nor challenge Death to field, nor rage and cry,
O hateful Heavens! when Providence will & muſt
Have the perledſt Mortals once to kiſs the duſt.
Here Heart from ſighs, our Eyes from brackiſh tears,
Body from weakneſs, Mind from horrid fears
Can't be priviledged. Earths Cuſhions, pillows beſt
Be ſtufft with thorns: or life is ſtuck and dreſt
VVith netles, briars. Bleſt be thy Pylat Death,
VVho hence from Pirats on theſe Seas beneath,
Sin, Miſery, Vanity, doth our Souls tranſport
Into Heavens bleſſed Harbour, Reſts true Port.
VVhere neither boiſtrous North, Weſt, South or Eaſt
Raiſes ambitious VVaves, nor yet that Beaſt
Leviathan below can Cables break,
Or with Temptations make our Pinnace leak:
VVhere we forget thoſe Threnodies of grief,
VVeep watery Eyes; and, VVho can ſend relief?
For me, (Impar…diſ'd Soul) to thee once dear,
Aſſiſtant, witneſs in thy aſſaults of fear.
And ſore Soul-combates, were Saints power to mind,
As mind here was I ſhould not ſtay behind:
For reaſon and religion both this prove,
Heaven doubles Gr ce, and ſo it doubles Love.
Some curious Eyes did look I ſhould rehearſe
Some light-heel'd lines in a wit-woven verſe.
VViſemen will think the match is very baſe,
To lay on cloth of Gold a Buck-rams lace,
Or motleys purls and edge. The ſobred Grave
Hate feathred leightneſs, and ſubſtantials crave.
Her aims o'rclimb'd the Stars, who gravity
Sleight neither know themſelves nor her nor me.
Nor eare I what capriccious Judges think,
Who ſay, here it flatteries mart, and Oile for Ink:
I'le glew theſe lines on envious ſlaunders barr;
And Twelve of Malice's Clients, that would marr
A VVorld of honeſty ſhall empaneld be,
To vent galls verdict 'gainſt this verity.
Truth fears no blaſting breath; come, ſlander ſpeak,
Or bite thy lips in anger till th' Heart break.
Had ſhe no faults? yes ſome, thou more, none's free;
Adam fell once, we often, ſometimes ſhe.
VVhen Marbles moulder, and pounded are to duſt,
Yet freſh ſhall be the Memorial of the Juſt.
When in my Memory enrolled I find thee not.
Well may I doubt all virtue I hove forgot
Sanctities pen writes ſuch an Epicede,
Quaint'ſt brains mere Pernaſian doth exceed.
Ermins are vermin baſe in Arms and Coat,
Where Grace powders not life with holy note.
Good Day thou haſt gotten, & bidſt us Good night,
Leaving thy virtuous pattern to guide us right:
An holy courſe chalks th' way to Heavenly light.
Let vain World dreſs its Carps, ſpit, ſpite, fume, laugh,
A Gracious life leaves faireſt Epitaph.
The Epitaph on the Lady Mary Gryffith.
FRom mothers womb unto earths womb the grave,
Through th' Worlds deſert ſome years I wandered have.
Nature gave being, Grace well-being, Death th' beſt,
Heavens happy Being to Soul, to Body reſt
I lie here waiting till the laſt ſhrill-voic'd Trump
Shall breath new life into this dead Clays lump:
Then ſhall be at once two Nuptials ſolemniz'd
Of Body to Glorious Soul, and both to Chriſt.
O Mortals learn of me, make Chriſt your ſcope,
By Prayers and Tears I came to reſt in Hope.
FINIS.
End of the text · Thomas Calvert, Heart-Salve for a Wounded Soul (1675)