CEO. CHALMERS ESQ. F. R. S. S. A.
A tropoïon Delion, OR, The death of Delia: With the Teares of her Funerall.
A Poeticall Excusiue Discourse of our late Eliza.
T. N. G.
Quis eius oblitus.
Imprinted at London for W. Iohnes at the signe of the Gunne, neare Holborne Conduit, 1603.
To the right Honorable my Lady Anne, Countesse of Darbie, now wife to the right Honorable Sir Thomas Fgerton Knight, Lord Keeper of the great Seale of England, and one of his Maiesties most honorable priuie Counsell.
RIght Honorable, hauing no meanes at all to make knowne the humble affection I beare vnto your good Ladyship, but in putting the patronizing of this my poore paines vpon your Honour: hoping first, for the tender loue you boare to the Delia of my sorrowing, you will deigne both to looke ouer it, & fauour it: next, for the hartie loue (in no little hono. kindnesse) your La. boare to your humble Seruant my late Vncle Marm. Newton; who in the bitter paines of his death, discours'd the bountifull affection your La. boare vnto him, and what losse he had sustaind in loosing so good a La. and Mistris: which corsite inwardly so greeued him, that he grew weerie of the World, lamenting to his last gaspe, that he had not time to preferre me to your Ladiships fauour, that his former loue towards you, and your three honourable Daughters, dying in him, might liue in mee. And thus hoping that with the remembrance of both, your Ladiship will deigne to accept my paines to your fauour, in the amplest hope of my desire.
Your Ladiships deuoted in all humilitie, Tho. Newton.
To the right Honerable my Lady Anne Stanley, Lady St [...]g [...].
A. Siluer flower from your rich orient eyes,
N. A [...]e tricking downe tho [...]e Alpe [...] where Beautie keepeth,
Would more adorne the Tombe where Delia lies;
Since that a Virgin for a Virg [...]n weepeth.
Good Lady from your Heart one thought I craue,
To th [...]ke how poore your Delia lyes in Graue:
And to weepe a teare, that will not mooue ye
Infortunate was she, so deare to loue ye:
But I dare sweare your eyes haue wept [...]ö many,
That you are not a teare behande with any.
T. N.
To the right Honorable my Lady Francis.
F. Ainting with sorrow this my youngling Muse,
R. Equires as much of you for Delias death:
A. Teare [...]: eyes, that are sorrowes [...],
N. Euer drops one, for one so deare on earth,
C. Ould all your teares at once be dry distill'd,
I. Know you would not leaue one drop vnshead,
S. O deare you lou'd your Delia, wrapt in lead.
T. N.
To the right Honorable, my Lady Elizabeth.
E. Yes that before her death, did then behold her,
L. Amentes in flood of teares to loose their seeing,
I. N yours no lesse I know, your teares infoldes her:
S. O heauie beares your heart, her losse of beeing.
A. Dde one (good Lady) more, at my desire,
B. Vt for to giue my teares a worthier shade:
E. Lse shall my hopes and paynes with griefe retire,
T. Hat for your Sisters sake and yours, were made
H. Eere with my paynes, my bounden heart I giue,
E. [...] [...]o loue a S [...]y, whiles I liue.
T. N.
A POETICALL EXcusiue Discourse of our late ELIZA.
CASTITAS.
LAte I sad Angell in an Angels brest
Inthroned late in glory, state, and blisse,
But now displac't to mourne my throne at rest,
I see how hrittle state, and glory is:
My vertuous pride, so proude, was neuer seene,
Not so preseru'd from blot, from breath, or staines
Or euer was so rich in any Queene,
As in this Delia whom I thus complaine:
No strangers eye but weepes that neuer knew her,
What then can mine, that neuer lod'ge without her?
Or what can D [...] soules that still did view her?
Or her chast beautious traine that kept about her?
Ye Nimphs to her link't all like burnish't amber
Why let ye death approch her priuy chamber?
NYMPHAE.
MAd in dispaise (poore soules) we sainting stood,
Arm'd all with blades of hope & speares of praiers,
Pik't hanging down our haire to shed deaths blood
And drench his forces in a sea of teares.
With stormes of sighs we striu'd to weake his strength,
And fought with earnest courage on our Knee:
Yet pale-fac't Hag with creeping dart at length
Depriu'd v [...] (wretches) of our Deitie:
When we awak't, and w [...]tcht all sleepie houres,
That mid-night death eche heauie braine doth couer,
That end of all vsurping ending powers,
Rob'd her of life, and vs, who deare did loue her.
O Lord! why let yee such a one bereaue her,
That makes vs al disperst mourn, weep, & leaue her.
HEROES.
[Page]Our Wits that euer were imploy'd to keepe,
Her sacred person safe and still secure:
Our Eyes, that now vpon her Hearce do weepe,
Scarce wink't at all, since first shee seem'd vnsure.
But wandered in our wisedomes arts, and skill,
To finde a meane, by all the meanes we could,
Which meane we found, but being mortall still,
No meane immortall could we finde for gold.
Wits witlesse thus, ceas'd to proceed in paine:
Medium fuit Phisica.
Eyes, eyelesse thus, ceas'd to be blinde in seeing:
Heart, heartlesse thus, ceas'd longer to maintaine
That wrong, which had no helpe on earth a beeing.
O World! why didst thou foster such a foe,
To be chast Delias traytour, Cynthias woe.
MVNDVS.
I Mourne for Delia, for I partly knew her,
Regna propria, & Regna aliena.
And partly knew her not; yet wholly mourne,
The part that knew her well, makes tother rew her,
And both together, waile to be forlorne.
For in the spacious multitude of me,
I finde a great defect, though one be small,
The losse of Delias crown'd Virginitie:
But Delias grace and person most of all:
Terra mortaliti subiecta num erum dim inuit c [...]lum. [...] contra.
In this (poore world) I differ from the Skies,
For they inlarge and neuer breake their number,
And these they w [...], to thrones eternall rise:
And th [...]s [...] I loose, [...]'d in claye lye vnder:
O Earth, why did thy wombe beare such a brood
That thus (remorcelesse) [...] my Delias blood.
TERRA.
DELIA, subiect of the worlde lamenting,
Was such a glorious issue of my wombe,
In her aboue the rest, grew my c [...]ing,
[Page] But now the mother and her issues tombe:
Ad [...] terra. Humus hum [...]. Ci [...].
Alas too timelesse did I bring her foorth,
Since shee too timelesse is returnde againe:
More ioy I tooke to see her liuing worth
Then thus in warpping of my Delia slaine:
Her life, how rich a life was it to many.
The sight of her, how rich a comfort blistit:
How then her death, is it not griefe to any?
Yes, griefe; with crosse of hopes to them that wisht it.
Delos I wayle, and with mine eyes beweepe her,
That neither thou nor I hadst tower to keepe her.
DELOS.
IF any place of pleasure or delight,
As Garden, Mount, or Vale, by Riuers side,
Had fed her vitall spirits, with their sight:
Then would not I haue moorn'd, not Delia di'de.
The whitest seat
Whitehal.
I had, my Delia had it,The greenest
Greenwich.
Palace of my brests support,The richest Mount
Richmond.
(the richest hands had made it)Washers, where she did lastly keepe her Court:
That time of last, would it had neuer beene:
Then had my late-dead Delia lasted euer.
For one poore period of Time, my Queene
And me, doth both in corporate and seuer.
In corporata mortte. Separata vita
Then woe to thee, O Time for thou dost wrong vs,
That wouldst not lend vs time for her among vs,
TEMPVS.
I Was the As [...]list that did attend her,
West to her vitall web, her breathing scope:
I was that Time, against my will, did ende her,
And he that set the passelesse point of hope,
Along my Snaylish-iourney as I went.
I led my Delia in a dextrous hand,
And hauing traueld farre ( [...] last a Saint)
My chast companion, wish, me take a stand,
[Page] Till she afresh had gotten breath and winde:
Now I that had no ioynts to rest nor bend,
Tempus tibiatum ferro in [...]umile. [...]pedatum Elephantis pedibus.
Constraind to trauell, left my Saint behind,
Els had we trauel'd to our iourneys end.
Thou fatall Clotho, to my Sacred sweet,
Wouldst not afford her Time, heart, breath, nor feet:
CLOTHO.
I Smoke the Distaffe in my bosome fast
Whereon my Delias life was wrapt in Flaxe,
And duely sate, till many yeeres were past
My Distaffe bare and threed ful length was waxt:
Which threed when first my Sisters gan to spin it
How fast they drew, so fast it rol'd and knotted,
Nodi representant mise [...]tas tempora so [...]oris. Illum aureum, auream gubernationem. Nodus accumilatus. Vita sincin.
That more their care and paine was to begin it,
Doubting too timelesse breach to it allotted.
But hauing spun a full third part and more,
The other two it turned all to gold,
And spun not halfe so harsh as't did before,
Till all at last vpon a knot it rold.
So Lachesis, thy spinning and my paine,
Was but to put on Time, and done in vaine.
LACHESIS.
ALas, had I had substance whereupon to pull,
Or where withall to adde vnto her threed,
My fingers should not wearie, nor mine eies be dull,
Nor night, nor day from worke lay downe my head:
For rich was he that might but kisse her hand,
And much esteem'd, that had her word of praise:
How proud was he, might at her doore but stand
And hold a Polax in her princely dayes?
Amongst these riches then, how rich was I?
That had both twisting, twining of the Clew,
No greater riches with my Delia die,
Then whom she lou'd, must seeke their loue anew.
Oh had I (Atropos) Flax for her life,
Morte moritur amor.
Thou shouldst not only spin, but breake thy knife.
ATROPOS.
[Page]SO Angel-like, immortall-seeming Saint,
The tract of her most chast and prosperous life,
Did make the worldings thinke that scarce constraint
Could bring her Threed once vnder yoake of knife.
I cannot chuse but mourne, her death, their griefe,
Shee did so loue them: they no lesse deseru'd it.
And held her next to Joue; on Earth for chiefe:
Her as her loue, and loue as her preseru'd it.
If Clotho's Distaffe had been still supplide,
And Lachesis small Fingers spinning longer:
My Knife should still haue hung close by my side,
And neither edge nor poynt toucht threed, nor wrongd her,
But Nature, thou art she that would't not giue
Substaunce of life, to make my Delia liue.
NATVRA.
WHen first my curious Pensill did purtraie
The pure composed limbes of Delia's forme;
Mee thought my fingers striued to assaie
A worke immortall, not terrestriall borne,
And hauing brought it to a full perfection,
The very Gods descended downe to see,
Their next celestiall shape, with such affection:
It pleas'd them so, they would haue robbed mee.
But I more glorying in my labour taken,
Grew iealous of the same, the whiles 'twas mine:
Since when, my worke it selfe had me forsaken,
Aditus eius in mundum
The Gods haue seeted her in heauen to shine:
Death was the fatall messenger that crost her,
Shee hauing spent my strength, I hauing lost her.
MORS.
I Was that fatall executioner
That gaue that fatall stroke of Delia's death:
I also was that fatall Messenger
That brought this fatall newes into the Earth.
[Page] I was that theefe which stole into her chamber;
Mors est vltimus morsus.
And first that made her saint, the Nymphes to wonder:
I was that traytour which did feare no danger
For acting treason to be rent asunder:
Yet what I did, was by the Gods agreed,
And not by me, but by the Powers aboue her;
Mors non habet essentiam & nihil aliud est nisi actio deo [...]um
They, not my dart, had made your Delia bleed;
But for to make her know how they did loue her:
A Quier of Angels did discend beneathe,
To take her vp to heauen, too good for earthe,
ANGELI.
CEase Nymphes with teares to ouercharge your eies,
For Delia, weepes not now, that she hath left ye,
Comfort your selues in earth for she in skies,
Comforted by them, which late bereft ye,
So many yeeres the Gods did let ye keepe her,
In tender loue for to support your peace,
But being gone, it naught auailes to weepe her.
Shee now enioyes a crowne of longer lease:
Let this suffice how looth she was to part,
So long as she had tongue, hand, eye or breath,
Till when our Quire of Angels tooke her heart,
Shee then bid welcome ioyes, and farwell earth.
Where once ech soule his Delias soule shall see,
Crow'd in another kinde of Maiestie.
FAMA.
BRight heauens, you that enioy our Delias soule,
And death with Death that causd our Ladies moorne
[...] est [...].
That did the wisedome of our lords controule,
And striu'd against all Synthus power in scorne,
Know this that Fame immortall is on earth,
As you in heauen, and will not loose her so:
You haue her substance: I a God beneath,
Will keepe the substance of her life to shew,
[Page] I haue her shape drawne in as liuely die,
As if my Delia were her selfe in being:
And that's her Delias selfe vnto my eye,
I need no other Delia for my seeing:
And yet me thinkes shee not in heauen essign'de,
So plaine I keepe her Trophey in my minde.
I Haue in writing Golden Pens to prayse her,
In datelesse Volumes of the siluer ayre,
The very stile so loftie high shall raise her,
That Time shall be too short to teare her haire:
Wherein shall first her Chastitie be writ
As pure in Picture as it selfe was pure:
Next her Religion, Loue, her Arte and Wit
Fuit casta. Religiosa vera. Sit viuens Fama mortua corpore viuans anima.
So faire, that Delias life may still endure,
Then Synthus thinke thou hast thy Delia euer:
The Heauens do keep her soule, thou keep'st her life,
Which life (I vow) from thee shall neuer seuer,
Nor subiect bee to Fates Atropian knife
Take this to wipe thy bleared eyes againe,
Her life is thine, though Heauen her soule containe.
CASTIT AS.
AT length to Church I brought my Delia's Hearse,
Blindfolded (for my eyes were blinde with crying)
And all a long the way in howling verse,
I sung a Dirge vnto her vtmost dying:
The Birdes aboue, while I did sing beneath,
With heartlesse yeelping fil'd the siluer ayre,
Ne with a shriller Quier then Ion earth,
For all I sob'd, I howl'd, and rent my haire:
But then to helpe my Song my Delias Singers,
(I meane her boyes new turn'd to Blacke from Red,
Like Lambs by Uthers nurs'd, with Orpheus fingers)
Mixt teares with Notes to see her buried:
[Page] And to be chang'd to clay, her Robes from gould,
Her princely Guard to Woormes, her bed to mould.
NYMPHAE.
NOw hath Attendance done the last commande,
That loue or duetie to our Delia ought:
It need not watch her call, or slender hand:
The one is mute, the other wastes to nought.
Now are our Reuels and our dauncing sport,
Turnde all to sighes, each one to priuate plaine:
Now Delia can no more remooue her Court,
The Graue's her Pallace, and the woormes her traine
Shee is arrayde in Robes, in Pearle, in Stone:
But not so rich as she was wont to bee:
For why; shee lackes vs Ladyes euery one,
The worst her selfe, shee lackes as well as wee:
Her Robes are sullen, such as Earth containe:
Her Stones vnpollish't, Pearle, Earthes sinking raine.
HEROES.
OVr eyes did now behold their last beholding
Of Delias shape, wrapt in obscuritie:
Till that the crummie Earth her corpes infoulding,
Had blinded vs with his condensitie:
Returning then our thoughtes, began to paint
Her lyuelie shape with new rememberaunce:
And comming to her face, a new Complaint
Grew, thinking on so sweete a countenaunce,
That then we thought we had a new to make
Both mourning vestmentes, teares, graue, hearse and all:
For Delia seem'd a new in life to wake,
When was but done a new her Funerall.
A griefe vnto vs all, to them most wretched,
To whom our Deliaes loue and bountie stretched.
PHISICI.
With Chastitie the Nimphes and noble Peeres,
Out ouer-weeried Wittes and drowsie Eyes,
[Page] Restles retires with droughtlesse spring of teares,
To thinke how Delia in a colde bed lyes:
We thought our Arte would haue preseru'd her euer,
But now we see his purest power and strength
Was but for to prolong, (and not deliuer)
Her life, which death did ouercome at length:
No trust we put in Phisicks Arte at all
But this; when alwayes we began to make it,
For life no more to be effectuall,
Till when her stomacks strength did faile to take it:
Which weekenesse finding in her vitall vaines,
Then ended she her life, and we our paines.
Sepulchrum CASTITATI Loquens.
HEnce from my mouth, and wast no more thy teares:
No teares preuaile to take my Delia from me:
No sighs can make my breast that thee vp-reares
Dissolue in two; with kneeling thus vpon me:
But to the greene-grasse sprouted hilles be winging,
Where pleasure doth release the time of sorrow,
And where in pleasure sorrow sits a singing,
When one sad soule anothers brest doth borrow:
There make a Chaplet of the sweetest flowers,
That prettie pinked Groue or Dale doth yeeld:
There shade thy temples in those templed bower:
That canopize the haunters of the field:
And round about thee in the Springing Meedes,
The Swaynes will finger Ditties to their reedes.
OR els, gird Bow and Quiuer to thy side,
And run with Cynthia in the Pheboone-parke,
To seeke the Hart where he his head doth hide,
With bended Bow whiles chopping Talbots barke
That after Midday-heat some Willow vnder
You may betake your selfe to bathe and wash
In some cleare spring kept coole with such an number
[Page] That none may see you nak'd to sport and dash,
Thou may'st be happie, that in Bruiuses snow,
Thy slight was not decree'd nor Delias death,
On euery twigge a thousand pleasures graue,
That now a Heauen doth scarce resemble Earth:
Leaue kneeling teares, bid farewell Court & trayne,
For them thou knowst not when to see againe.
Sepulchrum NYMPHIS, Loquens.
AS her I haue dismi'st, so must I you:
Nought can release your Queene my armes must keepe her,
No sad submission though you bend and bow,
Are ought of force to make ye more be-weepe her:
Binde vp your haire,, wipe both your cheekes and eyes,
Leaue wringing, kneeling, thumping of my brest,
Enuie not me, though in me, Delia lyes.
For shee contented, giues her selfe to rest,
For I am night, and bed, her life was day,
Wherein cours'd and recours'd her cares of minde,
Which wearied her at last: but I for aye
Am that sweete rest, wherein shee rest doth finde:
O Nymphs! for Delia, why so much complaine yee?
Doubtlesse as good a Queene will entertaine yee.
Sepulchrum HEROIBVS Loquens.
ASsemble now no more for Consultation:
(I meane, for Delias safetie, life, and state)
I take vpon me now her preseruation,
All wits extending duetie comes too late:
You haue committed her vnto my keeping,
Shee is my prisoner, I am her Gaole,
The debt's so great, that neither gold nor weeping,
Nor all the world beside, can be her baile,
Bondage is iudg'd to be her punishment,
Death officer to execute her woe:
For Time perpertuall imprisonment,
Perpetuall to earth, to Heauen not soe,
Release your Delia at the day of Doome.
Vermes MEDICIS Loquens.
YOu that by Art procure the ease of man
With short abridgement of continuance,
T'is short you see for not beyond a spanne,
The greatest Prince of all you can aduance:
Your ease is wasting ease, and Nature spendeth,
Perchance you'le say it addes vnto the breath;
Not so in age, for then it but besriendeth
The heart, to bring it to a pleasant death:
For now your labours vaine, you see at last,
The leafes and Rules of Gallen lies at rest,
And now when all your hope is dead and past,
No more you search to finde Probatum est.
Now what's your art in power, ne all you haue,
Cannot preserue her bodie in the Graue.
FOr whats her body now, whereon such care
Was still bestow'd in all humilitie?
Where are her robes? is not her body bare,
Respectles in the earths obscuritie?
Now where's her glory and her Maiestie?
Her triple crowne, her honour, state, and traine?
Are not her riches all in pouertie,
And all her earthly Gloryes past and vaine,
Aequalitas morta [...]itatis inter Reges & pauperes est in morte & post mortem.
Now where are all her cates, her glorious dishes,
That were by death of sundry creatures spread,
Her Fowles, her fat Quadrupidists and Fishes,
Are they not liuing, now your Delias dead?
And we in life too filthy for her tooth,
Are now in death the next vnto her mouth.
[Page]With that the greedy wormes their heads shrunk down
The graue shut close her heauie brooken ground,
And crawling crept vnto hee liuelesse crowne
Much like to Flyes about a bleeding wound,
Then all her Mourners eyes were vailde and blinde,
They weepe not now with passion of the sight,
But with a true remembrance of the minde
They meane to mourne their Delia day and night:
Thence they returne, where Delis helplesse lyes,
Each one betakes him to a priuate place
To wipe the teares of ouer delug'd eyes,
Instead of her to welcome such a Grace;
As all the Boundes of Europe, ne the Earth,
Affords a wiser Prince of greater Birth,
FINIS.
In laude Authoris.
PASSE foorth, pure [...]em, to Subiects censuring,
And what thy vertue yeelds, let Subiects read,
Free is thy heart from false dissembling,
For which; thrice happie, in so blest a deed:
Small is thy port, yet with rich Trueth art grac't,
And zealous Trueth in highest Heauens is plac't:
VVhere she (great Empresse) euer singing liueth,
(Before his christal Thron, which al good giueth)
More white than Snow, free'd from infirmitie,
Crown'd with pure Lawrell of Eternitie;
Many haue writ sad Elegies of woe:
But these true Mourners with her Funerall goe.
I: O: St. G.