Atropoïon Delion, or, The death of Delia with the teares of her funerall. A poeticall excusiue discourse of our late Eliza. T.N. G.

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. 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, 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, 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. 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. 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, 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: 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, 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 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, For Ioues ſweete Mercurie, will from her tombe, 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. 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.