Chus’d an inscription, that did highly please
Seeing in fine gould grauen, the Russ elides:
Fame prais’d her choice, and said, the name was giuen
By sacred purpose and presage of heauen,
Expressing in the birth, th’Antiquitie
Of that most virtue season’d Famelie,
The word importing an effect of age,
And long liu’d Labor; prouing the presage,
That foresaw actions, which should Labors be,
Wrinckl’d with time, and aged industrie.
She here repos’d, and from the base world gone,
To cheere her earthly desolation,
The Heraulds, and the Registers of fame,
Of life and death, and all things worth the name,
(Th’ingenuous Muses) follow’d, and with them
The cheerefull Graces: and of each extreame,
The parting vertues: of all which, not one
Would stay, when she, that grac’t them all was gone.
Religion flew before, for she being ground
And roote to all acts, noble and renown’d,
Their vaines bleede neuer, but hers, first haue vent,
Shee’s their plaine forme, and they her ornament.
All these together now in Fames old house,
Which (though of brasse) is yet most ruinouse,
They saw the sun looke pale, and cast through aire,
Discoullor’d beames; nor could he paint so faire,
Heauens bow in dewie vapors, but he left
The greater part vnform’d; the circle cleft,
And like a buls necke shortned; no hews seene,
But onely one, and that was watrish greene:
His heate was chok’t vp, as in ouens comprest
Halfe stifeling men; heauens drooping face was drest
In gloomy thunderstrocks: earth, seas, arrai’d
In all presage of storme: The Bittours plaid
And met in flocks; the Herons set clamours gone,
That ratteled vp aires triple Region.
The Cormorants to drie land did addresse,
And cried away, all foules that vs’d the seas.
The wanton Swallows Iirckt the standing springs
Met in dull lakes; and flew so close, their wings
Shau’d the top waters: Frogs crokt; the Swart crow
Measur’d the sea-sands, with pace passing slow,
And often souc’t her ominous heat of blood
Quite ouer head and shoulders in the flood,
Still scoulding at the Raines so slow accesse:
The trumpet throated, the Naupliades,
Their clangers threw about, and summond vp
All cloudes to crowne imperious tempests cup:
The erring Dolphin puft the fomie maine
Hither and thither, and did vpwards faine:
The Rauen sat belching out his funerall din,
Venting his voice, with sucking of it in.
The patient of all labours, the poore Ant
Her egges to caues brought: Molehils proofe did want
To keepe such teares out, as heau’n now would weepe.
The hundred-footed Canker-wormes did creepe
Thicke on the wet wals. The slow Crab did take
Pibbles into her mouth, and ballas make
Of grauell, for her stay, against the Gales,
Close clinging to the shore. Sea-Giant whales
The watrie mountaines darted at the skie.
And (no lesse ominous) the petulant Flie
Bit bitterly for blood, as then most sweete.
The louing Dog dig’d earth vp with his feete,
The Asse (as weather wise) confirm’d these feares,
And neuer left shaking his flaggie eares.
Th’ingenious Bee wrought euer neere her hiue.
The Cloddie Ashes, kept coales long aliue,
And Dead Coales quickn’d; both transparent cleere:
s The Riuers crownd with Swimming feathers were.
The Trees greene fleeces flew about the aire
And Aged thistles lost their downie haire,
Cattaile would run from out their sheds vndriuen,
To th’ample pastures: Lambes were sprightly giuen,
And all in iumpes about the short leas borne:
Rammes fiercely butted, locking home in home.
The storme now neere: those cattell that abroade
Vndriuen ranne from their shelter; vndriuen, trod
Homewards as fast: the large bond Oxen lookt
Oft on the broad Heauen, and the soft aire suckt,
Smelling it in; their reeking nostrils still
Sucking the cleere dew from the Daffadill:
Bow’d to their sides their broad heads, and their haire
Lickt smooth at all parts; lou’d their night tide laire:
And late in night, did bellow from the stall,
As thence the tempest would his blasts exhale.
The Swine, her neuer made bed now did plie
And with her Snowt strow’d euery way her stie,
The wolfe hould in her den; Th’insatiate beast,
Now fearing no man, met him brest to brest,
And like a murtherous begger, him allur’d;
Haunting the home-groues husbandmen manur’d.
Then night her circle closd; and shut in day,
Her siluer spangles shedding euery way
And earths poore starres (the Glowormes) lay abroad
As thicke as Heau’ns; that now no twinckle showd,
Sodainstly plucking in their guilty heads.
And forth the Windes brake, from their brasen beds
That strooke the mountaines so, they cried quite out.
The Thunder chid; the lightning leapt about;
And cloudes so gusht, as Iris nere were showne
But in fresh deluge, Heau’n it selfe came downe:
Yet all this was not, halfe due ominous state
To lead so great and consequent a fate,
As tooke from vs, this rare religious Lord;
Since his example, euen th’Almighty word
Strength’end with men; now Faith so faint is growne,
Cold, and feeles feuers of confusion:
And if we note that true Religion
Crownes all our worth; without which we haue none;
And that her truth is in so few exprest
By life that answers, her true loue profest,
That verball pleadings onely, make her thought
A word, no Thing; example that is wrought
Out of her being beleeu’d, and proues to be
Both her, and her diuine sincerity.
Who can enough grace? or see magnified
His fame in whom it liu’d, who in it di’d?
Forth then: this tempest past: Eugenia bled
As it had raign’d blood, and so seconded,
The watry Cataracts, that feare on feare
Shooke the poor Guests of Fame: and then newes were
Of this Lords death: At which all gaue a shricke
That would haue drownd the tempest: it did strike
Eugenia so: She fell into a traunce
Whose deepe deiection, none could readuance:
Fame in her eare, did such a blast inspire,
Of her loues liuing vertues, as got fire
In frosen Death, and he came stalking in,
Proclaiming lowd, the victorie of sinne.
The virtues spake, the cheerefull muses sung,
The graces held her eies ope, yet her tongue
Denied her function: till at last, their crie
Cal’d downe, Religion, to her extasie,
Who halfe intraunc’t her selfe was; all the part
She had of humaines pinde euen to her heart:
And made her forme, as if transformd she were,
Into a leane, and lisping Grashopper:
As small and faintly spa
ke she; her strength’s losse,
Made her goe lame, and leaning on the crosse,
Stooping, and crooked, and her ioints did cracke,
As all the weight of earth were on her backe:
Her lookes were like the pictures that are made,
To th’optike reason; one way like a shade,
Another monster like, and euery way
To passers by, and such as made no stay,
To view her in a right line, face to face,
She seem’d a serious trifle; all her grace,
Show’d in her fixt inspection; and then
She was the onely grace of dames and men:
All hid in cobwebbs came she forth, like these
Poore country churches, chappels cald of ease
For so of worldly ends, men zealous were.
None (hundred handed) would lend one to her:
Nor had they one, to doe so good a deede:
None will doe good, but where there is no neede.
All full of spiders was her homespun weede,
Where soules like flies hung, of which, some would striue
To breake the net, their bodies yet aliue,
Some (all their bodies eate) the spiders thighes
Left hanging like the onely wings of flies.
She cheerd Eugenia, and would haue her speake,
But she with her late blood lost, was so weake,
She could not moue a sound, beleeuing then,
That she no more should liue in Noblemen.
Religion said she err’d, where none would come,
And that griefe made her misse her way at home,
He had a Sonne, so fitting for his place
As left not through it all, the slendrest space:
One that in pietie, and all parts of kinde
His fathers person imag’d, and his minde,
Op’t his death’s wound, powr’d fresh iuice through ech vaine,
Refin’d his age, and made him liue againe.
This since Religion whisper’d in her eare,
(Though with her faint voice) yet it did more cheere
Her daunted powers, then that shrill blast of Fame,
With which Death wak’t, & quicke amongst them came.
Then her soules motion, her soft phantasie,
(That sence in act put, doth create) did plie
Her spirits so, she felt her speeches powre
A little retriu’d; euen that night and houre
She lost her loue: that night, that doth forerun
The labouring weeke in rest, and of the Moone
Retaines her Surname; when (though still halfe dead)
Her Noblesse forc’t her griefe to let her head
Rise from her Pillow, and for that night giue
Way to her speech, in which she much did striue
To iustifie the greatnes of her griefe
Euen to her traunce, that from her tooke her life.
VIGILIA PRIMA.
And worthely; for who can liue and see
A death so worth life? t’is impiety
Not to pay griefe, as much to vertue gone
As comfort to her deare fruition:
Those Pores and Passes, that our pleasures lend,
Let in our miseries, euen in natures end;
Nay where she takes in ioie, at entries few
Griefe enters all parts; euen the places due
By health to pleasure: euery slendrest griefe
From all our greatest ioies; takes th’edge and life.
Must we to pleasures vow deuotions euer?
Those indigent repletions, that will neuer,
Fill though they burst? and then least satiate are
When Surfet serues in their idolatrous Fare?
Grief es, Sighes, and Teares, and Eiulations to,
Consumptions, Traunces; all the bane of woe
We should susteine; since loue of euery good
In one all goodnesse; buies it with his blood,
And you, Religion, whom the world hath pin’d
To whose deiections, Spiders are more kinde
Then Wolfe like Humanes; Those fain’d peruerse Bees
That poisons suck from your sincerities;
And clothe you only but to make them nests
And nets to catch them liuings; what now rests?
For your recomfort, no man liuing now
Will any true care take of me or you.
How then will this poore remnant of your powres
This cut vp quick Anatomie of yours,
This Ghost and shadow of you be preseru’d?
Good life, that only feedes you, is so steru’d,
That you must perish; T’is not Noble now
To be religious; T’is for men of vow
Giuen, and (indeede) cast out from this worlds ship
To Whales and Monsters of earth’s couetous deepe.
They that get liuings by Religion,
Must be religious; And who liues vpon
Any demeanes, that eates not out their heart?
If liuing be the end of lifes desert;
Life future is a dreame; but of a thought;
A Spiders web, that’s out of nothing wrought:
A paire of Tarriers to set Fooles aworke,
And lighter then the shadow of a corke:
And then are all things nothing to a man
Of any reason; Life is not a spanne;
All’s fiction; all haue writ, beleeu’d, susteyn’d;
Earth and great Heau’ne made, for a Good mere fayn’d.
Ambitious Bubbles, holding nought within
But only Gawdes, and properties for sin;
And doe by no necessitie contayne
Iudgement, and obiect; lifes ioy, ills payne;
Proportionable to our good or ill;
All is an Animall, that hath no will
To order all his parts, nor no respects;
But hath peculiar actions, and effects,
That from the whole doe no excitements take,
Nor his impulsion their prime motion make:
This ‘gainst the common Notions Nature giues
Our rarest Artists vtter in their liues:
Of them, Great men hold, that must ignorant be;
Skils superficiall, fit Nobilitie.
By those graue Magnets, at the fountaines head
Our Countrie states (the crooked streames) are led
By them, the Rabble; and from hence doth rise
Their errours maze: Each sees with others eyes:
Euen Artists (borne with the traditionall streame,)
Others of their coate trust, as others them:
Not knowledge, but opinion, being their Guide;
Not truth, nor loue of Truth; but lust and pride;
Truth lothes to prostitute her selfe to men
That doe but court, and studie Name and gaine,
And if they doe not only, and past all,
Entirely loue her; Shee will neuer fall,
Within a kenning of the deepliest learn’d;
Nay, least of all, shee is by them discern’d;
For, they presuming on meere termes, tongues, fame,
Much reading (which are noblest breathes t’inflame
Her quenchles fire;) But shee being still in calme
And her lampe nourisht, with so rich a Balme,
As at the heartie will, loue; Thought takes fire,
That seeke her first, and last; all base desire
Of name, gold, honor, counted clay to her;
Yet nought the slower come; if men prefer
Her to the first place; and with such delight
And such a sacred rage of Appetite;
That sweetest sins to her, more bitter be,
Then Rubarb, or the drugs of Thessalie:
Without which Tests, to trie her perfect gold,
All tongues flie vp in fume. All such as hold
Their skils of those Lordes, haue to Truth no right;<
br />
But are with Tempests rauisht from her sight.
A rout of things they know, but know them ill;
Which Truthes loue, and Good-lifes want, argue still.
Wise men, and lust they are, that only know
All duties that to Men and God we owe:
Such was at all parts our most Noble friend,
Both place, and practise from his Birth t’his end,
Renowming him, with all things fit to be
The Presidents of all Nobilitie.
His Birth and Noble breeding, who needes show?
Me thinks euen the Antipodes should know,
Noble, and Pietie passe, where nought hath past,
And as they pierst past all things, stick as fast.
How farre his worth they carried (when the arts
Had laid their ground-worke) into forreigne parts,
France, and infectious Italie, can tell;
Through which he yet made way; and neuer fell
(In Antick affectation of their guises,
Nor (for their owne ends) impious deuices,)
From the Religious Integritie
His Birth, and admiration did implie
In his vnchang’d powrs; But did arme the more
His solid vertues; and their sleights abhore.
Cold Rhenus, and Danubius streames he past
Through Hungarie, and Germanie the vast;
In quest of action; and the discipline
Of brightly armes; In which, with grace diuine
His goodly Person shone; And valour strooke
Sparkles from steele, that fire at wonder tooke.
In Belgia, The Nurce and Schoole of Warre,
Through Sieges, Battailes, he made circulare
His militarie skill; where, our great Queene
(That with her little Kingdome, curb’d the spleene
Of Spaine, and France; And with her mightie hand
Made euen that most diuided Kingdome stand,)
Gaue him her Empires pledge for his Command;
And, in her owne Dominions, a Crowne
Set on his Temples; in the high Renowne
Of that full Gouernement, his vertues swaide;
Which, wood-housde, wilde Rebellion obaide.
Thus, as a Riuer, that the more his force
Runs from his fount, takes vertue of his course,
And growes more great and strong still; Nor doth stay,
Till it mixe streames with his Great Sire, the Sea;
So, till he matcht his greatest Ancetor,
He neuer ceast to amplifie his store.
His Fathers parts, all Fathers dues indu’d,
As he did, all Sonnes offices include
Of the good Earle of Bedford, the Sire gainde
The surname; and the Good, the Sonne maintaynde.
Heauen, in them Both, the Graces gifts emploide;
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 30
