Aue Caesar. God saue the King. The ioyfull Ecchoes of loyall English hartes, entertayning his Maiesties late ariuall in England.

With an Epitaph vpon the death of her Maiestie our late Queene.

Our weeping eyes do bath Elizaes Tombe,
Our louing hartes yeelde Iames her Princely roome.

LONDON, Printed for W F. and G L. and are to be sold in Popes-hed▪ Ally neare the Exchange. 1603.

Aue Caesar.

EVen as the Sunne from foorth a watry dowd,
That late wel ny had drownd the world with r [...]ine:
Breakes with his brightnes through that lable s [...]wd
Drying the moysture from earth's face againe,
Reuiuing that by his kind Influence,
Which had decay'd by Waters violence,
So Vertues Sunne, great Monarch of these [...]sles,
Thy splendant rayes haue wrought the like effect;
Our teares thou hast conuerted into smiles,
To greater loves then ere we could expect:
The wit o'man, mans weake vnable wit,
Admires the power of Heauen in working it.
That hand which came vnto vs with a rod,
And tooke away our peace-preseruing Queene:
That Scepter-giuer, Crowne-disposing God:
In doubt, and dread, his mercie plac'd betweene:
And where our sinnes for vengaunce, vengaunce cri'd
Compassion lay'd the sword of Wrath aside.
As Esaw wish'd for Isaacks dying day,
And sayd, the dayes of sorrowing are at hand,
My Father dead, I will my Brother slay:
So did the bloody Esawes of this land,
Whose plots to more then wishes did extende,
For many wayes they did attempt her ende.
But neuer could the Deui'll by his perswasion,
Effect his purpose to her ouerthrow:
Not Poyson, Dagger, Pistoll, nor inuasion,
Could make dayes short, where heauen would yeeres bestow.
He that of life doth number euery hower,
Will put lifes lymits in no humane power.
Death came vnto her hauing Gods Commission,
That she to heauen her progresse must commence:
For to this world she came vpon condition,
To leaue the same when God did call from hence▪
Her Kingdome heere, was varying by succession,
But that's a Kingdome endlesse in possession.
It were ingratefull to forget the peace,
The plentie, and the great prosperitie:
The manifold great blessings and encrease,
In foure and fourtie yeeres felicitie,
Vnder the Scepter of our gratious Princesse,
Our peace-preseruing, world admired Empresse.
If Dauid mourned for the death of Saul,
And did the people therevnto prepare?
Haue not we cause to become mourners all
For her, with whom King Saul was no compare;
Although some vertues in him might be found,
They were small Starres; her Sun-shine did abound.
In Scarlet he did Israels Daughters cloth,
And ornaments of Gold vnto them gaue:
But shee adorned soule and body both,
With richest clothing that a Realme can haue.
There is a Garment hath a Wedding name,
Most happy guest that can put on the same.
That glorious habit hath her soule put on,
And in the Court of Heu'n is resident:
Where all sing prayse to him sits on the throne,
The King of Kings, and God omnipotent
There rest faire Soule; thy Body heere abide,
Thy fame flie through the world both farre and wide.

An Epitaph on the death of her most Royall Maiestie, our late Queene.

SAcred Celestiall Deities Diuine,
Mortall's that do proceed of humane line,
All you that know what griefes and sorrowes bee,
Come and teare-wash an E [...]p [...]e [...]e I ombe with mee.
Melpomene thou tragike dolefull Muse,
Put on some blacke, which thou did'st neuer vse,
And in the saddest Sable can be had;
Let all thy Sisters in the like be clad:
Ther liquid Pearles in plentie we must borrow,
Because it is no common vsuall sorrow.
[Page]The Phenix of the World to Heauen is flowne,
And of her Ashes there remeyneth none:
The Pellican that did her young-ones good,
Hath yeelded all her vitall streames of blood.
Cynthia that gaue the World a glorious shine,
Shall neuer more be seene with mortall eyen:
The fayrest Rose, the sweetest Princely Flower,
Lyes with'red now by Death's coold nipping power.
You spirits of the highest Element,
You heauenly sparkes of wit, with one consent
Conioyne, and from the treasurie of Artes,
Giue honour to the Queene of good-desartes:
The reuerent Lady, Nurse of all our Land,
That sway'd a Sword like Iudeth's, in her hand.
The Debora that iudged Israell▪
Whose blessed actions God did prosper well:
She that did neuer purpose wrong to any,
Though iniuries to her, were done by many.
She that no longer rule on earth did craue,
Then best, and most desired, she might haue▪
She that with Mercyes winges adorn'd her Throne,
And yet with Iustice ballance sate thereon.
Report her Prayse to all haue eares to heare it,
[Page]Sound out her Fame as farre as Fame can beare it.
Let from the Earth, her fame to Heauen sounde,
Let from the Heauen, her fame to Earth rebounde:
Let through the Ocean waues pronounce the same,
And whiriing windes be agentes of her Fame:
Let Heauen, Aire, the Ocean, and the Earth,
With Ecchoes sound blessed Elizabeth.
Yea let the very Stones where shee shall lie,
Tell ages following, this of ours gone by:
Within our marble armes we do enclose
The virgin Queene, the White and Red-crown'd Rose,
That rul'd this Realme so happy, fourtie fowre,
As neuer Prince did raigne the like before.
From Men, with Sainctes shee liues in high esteeme,
Seated in blisse, which best doth her esteeme.
S. R.
STay Sorrowes there about Elizaes Tombe,
From whence, with hopefull hartes we now retire:
Let Griefe yeeld place▪ and giue our Ioyes some rome
To entertaine the King of our desire,
IAMES first of England, and of Scotland sixt,
He hath our mourninges with all comforts mixt.
Our honorable true Nobilitie,
Most high renowmed Worthies of the Land,
Haue shew'd their loyall true fidelitie,
Conioyn'd by God, aswell in hart as hand:
These are carefull proppes and pillers of our Nation.
Haue giuen Caesar right, by Proclamation.
And who is he that doth not giue consent,
With hart-pronounced sound, God saue the King:
Vnlesse it be some Villian malecontent,
That mischiefe to his Country seekes to bring:
He that repineth at the Lordes Annoynted,
Like to a Traytor let him be disioynted.
Neuer did King set foote on English ground,
With more applaw'd then our renowmed Iames:
For as great ioyes within our hartes abound,
As euer were contay'd in all his Realmes:
Our loues to him the eyes of heau'n doth see,
Sound, as the subiectes should to Soueraigne bee.
Not great King Henrie, second of that name,
When with his royall Nauie he did sayle,
The rude and barb'rous Irishmen to tame,
Where most victoriously he did preuayle,
Subduing them vnder his Scepters length,
By honourable valour, Martiall strength.
Nor his sonne Richard, Lyon-harted King,
That deedes of Armes in other landes pursew'd
Could cause more ioy from peoples hartes to spring,
When they return'd from Countries they subdew'd:
In entertayning them to Englands shore,
Where tonges did shew what harts the subiects bore.
Nor yet fift Henry's comming out of Fraunce,
From those high deedes that there he vndertooke:
Nor's Father, whom desartes did so aduaunce,
The peoples deare beloued Bullenbrooke,
Could haue more loue ready prepard to meete them,
Or more affection, pressing foorth to greete them.
Their welcomes were from warres they had in hand,
Which losse of blood, and valour caus'd to cease:
Thy welcomes are from out a quiet Land,
Inlarging vs a wondrous league of peace.
O welcome Prince of Peace and quietnesse:
The God of Peace thee and thine issue blesse.
Most sacred Tyme, that with the World began,
And art ordayn'd Gods speciall Instrument,
To deale in all affayres concerning Man,
Numb▪ring each minute that on earth is spent:
Thou that mak'st expedition with the winde,
To fly, and run; with Eagle, and with Hinde.
Lay downe thy Sickle thou hast in thy hand,
Because thou must performe a nimble place:
Turne quicke about thine Hower-glasse of sand,
Run for thy life to entertaine his Grace:
Make speed good Time in this, to do vs pleasure,
For all the Realme doth waite vpon thy leasure.
Linger not by the way, to harken newes,
But let thy charge be rightly vnderstood:
Flying reportes, let fooles and Ideots vse,
Tale-carriers thou doest know were neuer good:
If any such thou chaunce to ouer-take,
A base account of them thou art to make.
I know thou know'st how to salute our Prince,
That hast bin guide of Kinges into their Thrones:
That office thou hast well performd long since,
Vnto all Gods elected holy-ones:
The chifest thing we haue in expectation,
Is, that thou hie him to his Coronation.
Our Nobles all, to their immortall fame,
(Deseruing Peeres, of Honours best desartes)
Are duetifull prepared for the same,
With firme consent of all true English hartes,
Who from their soules vnfaignedly do pray,
That euen this present, were crownation day.
The Cittie with the loyall Magistrate,
The Maior, the Shriefes, the Aldermen, the rest,
Haue faythfull welcomes to him consecrate,
And all endeuour: loue may be expre'st,
Yet can no triumph nor externall show,
Describe aright the inward loue they owe.
For often loue abounding in the minde,
From center of the hart, which doth containe it,
Cannot so absolute a passage finde,
As in an outward fulnesse may explane it:
Loues treasurie hath very seldome bin
As soone layde out, as it is gath'red in.
Descend you Muses from Parnassus hill;
Bring Art in librall handes, and now bestow-it:
Let euery one present a flowing Quill,
In honour of our famous Kingly Poet:
And as the chearefull Larke doth mounting sing,
So eleuate the honour of the King.
Ioue adde a length of yeeres vnto his dayes,
That long in peace, by vs he be enioy'd.
Apollo tune thy Musicke to his prayse,
To better vse it cannot be imployd.
Sound Triton through the Seas vast kingdame, sound
That Englands King is comming to be Croun'd.
Ver, strow the Ground with thy delightfull greene,
For in thy season doth our Monarch come:
Be all the Fieldes in Sommers liuerie seene:
Attire the Trees, and let the Plants haue some:
Be bount full and forward gentle Spring,
Thou canst not welcome a more worthy King.
Aboue all Trees, be kindest to the Rose,
For tis a Flower of a princely price:
There is a White and Red togither growes,
I thinke the Plant came (first) from Paradice:
Let it be watred with some heau'nly shower,
For (on my life) it beares a blessed flower.
Blest chiefly in the graft Earle Richmond made,
For till his time, those Roses were at strife,
Hee in a happie hower all quarrels stay'd,
Takeing fourth Edwards daughter to his wife:
So did the Houses both in one vnite,
Mixing the kingly Red, with princely White.
A glorious Arbour from this roote hath sprong,
Of sweetest Roses, crown'd with Diadames:
From Prince to Prince, the branch hath run along,
And now the noble Flower is cald King Iames.
Lord we intreat thee for our Countries good,
Graunt that his stocke may neuer want a bud.
Let Angels pitch their Tentes about his Throne:
Be thou his strength, his trust, his God, his guide:
Graunt that his dayes may be like Salomon,
A mirrour vnto all the world beside,
That these which heare his fame farre of to ring,
Like Sa [...]aes Queene, may all admire our King.

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