A PANEGYRICKE To the most honourable and renovvned Lord, THE LORD HAYS Vicount of Doncaster, HIS MAIESTIES OF GREAT-BRITTAINE Ambassadour in Germanie.
Sung by THE RHINE, Interpreted by George Rodolfe Weckherlin Secr. to his High. of Wirtemberg.
SONNET TO THE MOST NOBLE AND WORTHILY HONOURED LORD, THE LORD HAYS, ƲICOVNT OF DONCASTER &c.
Braue Lord in vvhom Naturs hand doth display
Such daintinesse, as ever shee can frame;
VVhose vertuous deeds by still bright-shining Fame
Engraven stand in heauens booke foray:
Doe not dislike, that my Muse dare array
Her povertie vvith your honoured name.
A humble hart vvith courage to inflame
Belongs to men of vvorth and noble svvay.
The shining Sunne casting on a small hill
Of fertile earth her svveet nourishing rays,
In time vvith seed, flovvrs and fruits doth it fill.
One beame allone of your meeke grace can rayse
My lovvlie style, vvhich as yet vvanteth skill,
(Though forraine) to acquire both skill and prayse.
G. RODOLFE WECKHERLIN.
A PANEGYRICKE.
MOst noble Lord te see you I did long,
And novv I long to sing your vvorthie praise;
For neuer vvorse can bee my simple song,
Then my silence of your renovvned bays,
Whose luster shall receiue (I trust) no vvrong
By those small flours, my humble hand doth raise.
Nought doe I craue, nor hope I any thing,
And nought but truth vvills mee your laud to sing.
My greedie eares did often gladly heare
The vvorthines of your beloued Name,
When Thamesis, to vvhom you are still deare,
When the Sea-gods and Syrens sung the same,
Rounding the vvorld vvith accents svveet and cleare,
Of your perfect yet still encreasing Fame:
Thus right to knovv did vvish my gotten hart
If greater vvere their grace or your desart.
Novv doe I see, in you novv doe I find
That your desarts doe any praise excell;
I find that Fame (els commonly too kind)
Is but to you to scant, to hard and fell:
Which though too great it seemed in my mind,
Yet did my thoughts of you suppose full vvell:
But novv I read, that Fame could not record,
Nor I inuent, vvhat you your selfe afford.
Let Phaebus tell if euer hee did see
In this vast vvorld an other liuing vvight,
VVho justly can vvith you compared bee,
VVhom Naturs hand to frame tooke such delight,
Graunting to him such an ascendent Fee,
VVhere els vvithall a thousand could bee dight:
In vvhom allone vvith loue so faire as svveet
All gifts of mind, bodie and fortune meet.
A vvorthie tvvig of a most auncient brood,
(Of Scotlands crovvne a noble ornament)
Haue you beene borne, vvhere some of that high blood
VVere to their foes their last astonishment;
Some others did vvith counsel vvise and good
The Kingdoms ease and their ovvne fame augment.
But you to laud, 'tis needles to declare
VVhat they haue beene, but onely vvhat you are.
The splendor of the stocke giu's but small pleasure,
That often Chaunce mak's to base minds best knovvne;
And such a fame is but a borrovved treasure,
A lightning shevv of a vvorthlesse renovvne:
But Vertues hand, vvith her excessiue measure
Spreading your laud, adorn's you vvith a crovvne,
VVhich, like the Sunne, still excellently bright,
Doeth take of none but giu's to many light.
Not Fortunes blind franke and abusiue hand,
The vvhich to deale her vvealth confusedly
Doeth no desarts see, vveigh, nor vnderstand,
But heauens Loue did courteously applie
Such goods to you (your vvorth not to vvithstand)
VVhereby doe still your merits multiplie.
For your great hart, that no gold can recouer,
Is of all gold a master nev'r a Louer.
The chiefest care, richesse in you can breed,
Is vvell to doe the chiefest instrument.
Gold doth some men, vvhile they on gold doe feed,
VVith staruing paine and greedinesse torment:
But in your hart, the ground of Vertues seed,
Yeeld's it tribut to your encouragement;
And that, vvhereby some commonly grovve vaine,
Most vaine to you, mak's you true glorie gaine.
The godlie shape, vvhich heauen did enchace
VVith supreme skill vvithin your bodies frame,
Doeth vvell appeare in your most vvorthie face,
Like through a cloud the heauens purest flame:
And as th'outside of a vvell-builded place.
Mak's vs beleeue, th' inside bee vvithout blame;
Thus seeing you my thoughts doe by mine eyes,
I knovv not vvhat, more then your self aduise.
That monster fierce, that all good doeth enuie,
VVhose spightfull tong of no good can speake vvell,
May your vvhole life vvith sharpest look's vvell spie,
Yet must it but against his liking tell,
The noblest hart of valour, courtesie,
And gallantnesse vvithin your breast doe dvvell;
And that your soule enjoyeth (most content)
All goods that Art and Nature can present.
VVhen courtlie sport to any enterprise
Bids you a foot or on horsebacke to fight,
Or vvhen you please vvith other exercise
That vvisest Kings (your Dreads) most vvorthiest sight,
You may still get (if so you vvill) the prize:
But vvhen your tong vvith her svveet-flovving might
Assaileth harts, then doe you plainly proue,
You can subdue all by force or by love.
Once I vvas told (vvhen you vvent into France)
Hovv vvanton Loue did faire Thetis deceiue,
Hovv, vvhile your ship the Tritons made to daunce,
Hee meaned her of her hart to bereaue;
Hovv her greene eyes your grace and vertues glaunce
Did greedily into her breast receiue:
Your presence braue brought her her Sonne to mind,
VVhose image shee could no vvhere truer find.
Thus novv my Nymfs, nay all the peoples stout
Of Germanie, vvhich your presence doeth grace,
Ioyfully runne and sing you round about
(Glad vvith their armes and harts you to embrace)
VVith minds and mouths all vvith mee crying out:
Ay-during bee the happie health and grace!
Still florishing may bee the praise and bays
(As the desarts bee great) of My lord HAYS!
More vvould I say, but that your glories light,
Dimming mine eyes, doth quite my mind oppresse:
And though I say much, yet is it but slight,
Since that much more my silence doth suppresse.
It may bee too, that to your harts braue hight
This lovvlie song doth cause but loathsomnesse:
Or (as I thinke) you are to heare more sorie,
Then prompt and glad to deserue praise and glorie.
Printet at Stutgart by John-Wyrich Rosslin. ANNO M.DC.XIX.