Elegies, Offer'd up to the memory of William Glover Esquire, late of Shal­ston, in Buckinghamshire.

By Thomas Philipot, Mr. of Arts of Clare Hall in Cambridge.


LONDON, Printed by Tho. and Rich. Cotes. 1641.

To the Right worthy as well by Vertue as Birth, the Lady Anne Glover.


THough it bee unlawfull to offer up sacrifices to the dead, yet license me to sacrifice these Elegies to the me­mory of your Sonne, and permit me to make his name an Altar, though not his Tombe. Those reciprocall endearments which at first fed and fomented our friendship, have made such an impression on all those faculties that officiate to my Soule, on all those functions that hold Correspondence with Invention and Phansie, that I should not onely seeme ungratefull, appeare unfruitfull, but also su­pinely forgetfull, if I should not endeavour by consecrating some Trophie (though nere so rude and inconsiderable) to his remembrance, to re­deeme and rescue it from the Vault, and so pre­serve it, that it might never be rak'd up amongst his ashes. And though peradventure those bene­fits that hee shed on others, fell but upon barren and unthankfull ground, yet those he powr'd upon [Page] me, have not languish'd into oblivion, but teem'd with a gratefull acknowledgement: Death onely by usurping his life too soone excluded me from inlarging my Gratitude to himselfe, that I might professe it to you, who shall bee the Dele­gate to receive the payment of a Debt I ow'd to your Sonne, which shall be done with a Devotion as emphaticall as that which excites mee to send up my Orizons to Heaven for your happinesse in this world, and before inspir'd mee to powre forth my prayers for your Sons glory in the other. Ma­dam, if you thinke that these low expressions of my zeale and Monuments of my Affection can improve your Sonnes memory to any perpetuity, suffer them I beseech you to give themselves up to your view, since you may ascertaine your selfe that they issue from one whose entire study is, whose whole practise shall be, how hee may de­clare himselfe,

The humblest of your Servants Tho. Philipot.

An Advertisement to the Reader.

REader thou needst exhaust no Time to looke
Within the Pages of the Heralds Booke,
And sift that Index to Times past, to see
Whence Glover did deduce his Pedigree
Or search t'instruct thy selfe to what extent
His noble and Illustrious Descent
Spins out it selfe, since thou mayst finde him here
Decipher'd in a fairer Character
Then any there, and his Descent made good,
By being deriv'd from vertue not from blood.
Thy eye needs not take notice of his Crest,
Nor scan those Metals that his Armes invest;
Nor see if cloth'd in purple they appeare,
Or the pale furre of speckled Ermins weare,
Since these sad lines that onely can display
Their Heraldry in Sables, will array
His name with as much eminence and note,
As those rich colours that improve his Coate:
Nor care to be inform'd what Issue He
Left to convey and waft his Memory
To after Times, and make himselfe survive
His Ruine; and be still preservd alive
In them, since thou mayst be advertisd, he
Lives in no Issue but in Elegie,
The Off-spring of my Braine; Where thou mayst view
His face appeare more genuine and more true
[Page]Than if exactly 'twere limn'd out and set
By Nature in a living Counterfeit.
And if thou passest by where Glovers Dust
Lyes in the Casquet of his grave in trust,
And seest no Pile or Monument adorne
The bleack and naked surface of his Urne,
Argue not any guilty of neglect
To his Remaines, nor Art of a Defect
'Cause she forgot her Trophies to impart,
He needs no Tombe that has one in my Heart.

Elegies offered up to the me­mory of William Glover Esquire.

Elegie 1.

IS Glover dead? and could stern Death employ
No Sicknesse but a Surfet to destroy
The structure of his Earth & make even meat
That should foment, stisle & choak that heat?
Which kindled in the Chambers of the Heart,
Is thence diffus'd to aire and warme each part.
We need not now I see the fatall knife
Of Atropos to cut the twist of life,
Nor shivering Agues to congeale the blood,
Nor Feavers to licke up that purple flood,
Or Rheums in brinie showers to distill
And drowne the lungs, when meat it selfe can kill.
Who then would in his earthly Fabrick trust,
Whose brittle Wals are moulded out of dust,
Which let good diet plaister nere so well,
Sicknesse may yet make them dissoluble:
For we're compact of miseries and feares,
Kneaded into a lumpe with our owne teares.
With our first milke our nurses do bequeath,
Diseases to us, and we bed with Death
[Page 2]Even in our Cradles making them become,
Types and Ideas of our future Tombe.
Those eyes whose glances all did seeme t'implore,
And superstitiously did e'en adore
Th'effusion of their radiant beames may bee
Inforc'd to weepe vext with an Opthalmy.
A palsy dares disturbe and shake that hand,
That with its Scepter can the world command:
Those seete which proudly walkt on Kings may be,
Brought by the Gout into Captivity.
And Glover in whose lineaments appeard
Such Harmonie, that Nature seem'd t'have rear'd
An Altar to perfection which she meant
It selfe should farme his polish'd Tenement,
We see was but an Edifice of Earth,
Within whose Heart as on some oylie Hearth
A fire was fed, whose flame was blowne about
Each veine and nerve, which Death has now put out.
How much exposd toth Injuries of fate
Is all the glory then a humane state
Can but lye claime to, in accessable
To rest is swelling greatnesse, a briefe Cell
Can shelter and include more solid Peace,
Than the extended Roofes of Pallaces.
For those that pillage Nature to invite
And egge on a luxurious Appetite,
Doe so encumber all their faculties,
They onely hatch a tribe of Maladies,
Which like a progeny of Vipers will
Turne Parricides and their owne Parents kill.

Elegie 2.

VVE can for every cheape and triviall losse
Condole so much we even se me t'ingrosse
[Page]The publike stocke of greife and at our eyes,
Imbezell our exhausted faculties,
Whilst our dull passions pant with eager throes,
As if they teem'd with mountaines of vast woes.
Each maime by fire, each shipwrack can induce
Our soules to such intemp'rate and profuse
Resentment, that those Cataracts of Raine
Our eyes diffuse might quench the flame againe,
Or in their briny Hurrican's once more,
Ingulph the ruin'd Barke upon the shore.
But when a friend shakes off Mortalitie
And his fraile Earth drops into ashes, we
Should from th'officious limbecks of our eyes
Distill, as rites due to his obsequies,
Such floods of pious teares that if dull Art,
Should by some lame neglect forget t'impart
Her nard and unctious Balsames to exempt,
His pretious Reliques from Times rude contempt,
They might embalme his fading masse of clay,
And fortifie it so from all decay
It may remaine till time shall die, and have
Himselfe a Habitation in his grave.
Should I then now my melting eyes repreive
From teares, or be too thrifty in my griefe,
When he (to whom my soule was so endeard,
So twisted into his, that we e'en steerd
Two bodies with one Heart, and did improve
By mingling of each others thoughts that love)
Is disinvested of that drosse and Earth,
Which did empeach and intercept his birth
To immortality, I then should be
Tainted with scandalous Apostasie
To Friendships sacred vow, and should enter
My short-breath'd love within his Sepulcher.
No! such a permanency I'le enstate
On my Affection that neither Fate
[Page 4]Nor Time, shall blast or wither it to Death.
Yet I'le not to his memory bequeath
Some brazen Obeliske whereon shall bee
Engrafted some patheticke Elegie,
Which may to a succeeding Age declare
What a strong emphasis my griefes did beare,
Because the Cottage of his clay so soone
Languish'd into a Dissolution;
For't would be triviall since his name alone,
Will prove more firme than either brasse or stone.
Yet I'le not depraedate the Phoenixnest,
Or pillage the Exchequer of the East
To gather Balmes or odorous spices thence,
By whose benigne indulgent influence
The ruines of the Earth may be so charm'd,
They may 'gainst all th'Assaults of time be arm'd:
For the kind Earth shall from her wombe distill,
Drops of rich gumme mixt with a fragrant drill
Of balmy dew, which shall descend upon
His dust, and baile it from Corruption,
So that no bold intruding worme shall dare
To be an Inmate to his Sepulcher.
Nor will I to embellish and adorne
The gloomy Climate of his private Urne,
Rifle the Parian Quarries, and erect
Some gaudy Pile his ashes to protect:
Since that like these will weare away and rust
And mingle both in undistinguish't dust.
No, from the Inlets of mine eyes I'le lave
Streames of unsummond teares out on his grave
Which shall agen concentrate and collect
Themselves into a swelling Cataract,
Which shall by th'coldnesse that my sighs shall vent,
Congeale into a Christiall Monument;
And stand a trophee there to propagate,
His memory 'gainst all th'attempts of Fate.
[Page 3]But when the world and her gay pompe expire,
And both lye gasping in the generall fire,
When God will cancell Times Commission
And call in Fates strict Patent, when the Sun
And all the throng and petty stars like teares
Shall drop in flaming Gelly from their Sphers,
When th'impenitent Earth so long shall burne,
Till it into repentant ashes turne;
And each conspicuous Ornament it wearēs
Fals into dust; this shall resolve to teares.

Elegie 3.

PAle ruines of my friend is there no charme
No Magicke that can bridle or disarme
Deaths eager malice and exauthorize
That power by which he seis'd those faculties
That were thy life's Retinue 'las no spell,
No charme can make us inexpugnable
'Gainst his assailements; for when h'eel employ
Some feirce malignant sicknesse to destroy,
And raze our Tenements of Earth we must
Moulder away into rude heapes of dust▪
No! since those sparkes of life which first did burne
Within thy brest are dropt into thy Urne,
Where rak'd up in thy ashes they shall lie
Till Times calcin'd into Eternity,
And then agen a purer light acquire,
Reviv'd and kindled by the generall fire.
I'le not invade or prie into that chest
Which shrouds thy ashes to dissolve thy rest;
But may a soft eternall slumber flow
In gentle silence through the Vault below,
Whilst thy immortall part purg'd and redeem'd
From its dull weight of clay which onely teem'd
[Page 6]With humours and diseases, shall descry
That frame and well compos'd Oeconomy
That Heavens digested in, and fully be
Acquainted with that moderne Colony,
Phansie has planted in the Moone, and know
Whether each starre be peopled yet or no,
And shall unvaile those misteries which we
(Eclips'd by mists of ignorance) can see
(Knowledge being in her Solstice) with an eye,
But blear'd and hoodwink'd though we should apply
Nature's faint glimpse to't, which imparts a light
Like that that's shed by glowormes in the night,
And when it has with strict survey ore-run,
Each Province of the starry Region,
Twill with its charming Musicke, both inspire,
And mingle notes with the Seraphicke Quire;
And its soft aires in sacred Anthems reare,
Set toth' harmonious chiming, some spheare,
And as they there in tunefull accents flow,
My sighes shall be their Eccho's here below.

Elegie 4.

LEt some loose Widdow seeke to personate
And forge laments, and more to palliate
The scene of her imposture, bribe her eyes
To weepe her dead Husbands Obsequies,
And from those Magazins of moisture, dreyne
Such numerous streames of teares, they may againe
Swell to a Torrent, that may equall Nile,
Wherein her selfe shall be the Crocodile.
Let the wild unthrift, who can scarse allow
From his large acres, earth enough t' endow
His Fathers ashes with a grave, put on
The crabbed discompos'd complexion
[Page 7]Of wrinkled sorrow, when he does transferre
His Sires pale Reliques to his Sepulcher,
And ore his Tombe-stone so profusely mourne,
He would e'ne seeme to drowne him in his Vrne,
And ore his hearse raise a transparent shrine,
Made up out of his humour Christalline.
So have I seene your Marble to distill
Through the close limbeckes of its pores, a Rill
Of unctious moisture, and yet still withstand,
All the impressions of the Carvers hand.
No, Ile not now my friend, by Deaths rude touch
Is scatter'd into dust, to shew how much
His ruinous dispersion I bemoane,
Make my eyes fountaines, when my heart is stone,
For those sad teares my sorrow shall dispence,
Shall with that part maintaine intelligence,
Which I with such immoderate waste will strēw
Upon his Monument, that to renew
That bankrupt and impoverisht stocke, my heart
Shall from her private Treasury, impart
New moisture, to foment and feed my griefe,
But when I have imbereld that reliefe,
And my too lavish and unthrifty eyes,
Have melted into teares all their supplies,
I feare, I shall turne Marble and become,
My selfe at once, his Mourner and his Tombe.

Elegie 5.

I Can (deare Friend) no swelling Trophees raise,
To cloathe thy Urne, yet Ile erect thy praise.
Nor can no smooth Egyptian stone impart,
To frame a Tombe for thee, yet in my heart
Thou hast one built, I can collect no Jet,
Nor Porphyrie to forme thy counterfeit.
[Page 8]For I'me confirm'd tis vaine, since each may finde
Thy figures lodg'd already in my mind;
Nor will I gather up that balmy sweat,
Which gums lave out when they're assaild by heat,
With its rich odors to perfume thy Herse,
Since Ile embalme thy memory in Verse:
Which being thus preserv'd, Fames tainted breath
Shall not with poyson blast thee after death.
And though I cannot from mine eyes disburse,
For thy untimely losse, so large a sourse
And stocke of teares, as griefe exacts, yet they
Which shall their homage to thy Reliques pay,
Shall have no double▪fac'd Hypocrisie,
Lye bathing there to mocke credulity,
But shall be so unfeigned, that Truth shall hide
Her selfe in them, as o're each cheeke they glide,
And they'le prove so transparent that I feare,
Each vulgar eye will see her naked there:
Whilst Heaven it selfe in constant dewes shall weepe,
And with my griefe true correspondence keepe:
And my teares be by the enamor'd Sun,
Courted into an exhalation.
Which being glard on by his searching beames,
Shall be againe thaw'd, and dissolve in streames:
To shew, the worlds bright eye it selfe, let fall
Those showers, as teares shed for thy Funerall.

Elegie 6.

ALl other mourners can some method keepe,
(Wherin their griefe's digested) when they weepe
They can seduc'd credulity assaile,
By masquing sorrow with the Christall veile
Of their adult'rate teares, their soules can weare
A griefe array'd with blacke, like that they beare
[Page 9]Ith' outward habit, which are both put on,
Onely untill the Obsequies be done:
But for my Glovers sad departure, I
Will plucke the sluces up in either eye,
And from those storehouses of griefe, discharge
Such floods of teares, they shall themselves inlarge
Into an Inundation, and make
With their collected streames, a briny lake,
Which being diffus'd into a Rill, shall keepe
A constant correspondence with the Deepe,
So that some Syren, stragling from the Maine,
Shall to the Confines of this Lake attaine,
And hearing how with my laments the Day,
Forgot and undistinguish'd melts away.
Shee shall some sad and solemne Dirge devise,
To warble forth at Glovers Obsequies:
And raise her Elegiacke notes so high,
She shall her selfe with reall sorrow dye.
But least she should remaine forgotten there,
Wholly devested of a Sepulcher,
And want some stable Trophy to dilate,
And amplifie the memory of her fate
To after Times, the North-wind shall dispence,
Such keene and gelid blasts, they shall condence
This Lake into a Christall heape, whereon
Shall be divulg'd this sad Inscription.
Heere lyes a Syren who exhal'd her breath,
In too profusely mourning Glovers Death,
And whilst in tunefull ayres, she straind her tongue,
To chaunt his Dirge she her owne Requiem sung.

Elegie 7.

NO gaudy shroud (Friend) shall be fram'd for thee,
Out of the drudging silk-wormes Huswifry,
[Page 10]For from my eyes two Christall streams shall run,
Which swelling to an Inundation,
Shall circumscribe thy witherd Earth, and there
Settle, till the inclement North shall dare
T'invade thy Tombe, and with some impious gust
Make a rude Onset on thy hallow'd dust,
And seeking to dissolve that pretious masse
By his chill breath transforme my teares to glasse,
So shall thy Clay be wrapt up and inclos'd
Within a Christiall shroude, and be expos'd
Through that cleere Vaile, to every glance minē eye
Shall to thy Tomhe employ in Embassie
To waft thy species to't, from whēnce it may
Find by that thorough fare a compendious way
To journey to my Heart, where when tis come,
I'le vent so many sighs to make it roome,
They shall benum my Heart it selfe to stone,
Which I'le beset with this Inscription.
Here lyes the figure of a Friend which Fate
Nor Time, nor Death shall ever extirpate,

An Epitaph on Mr. William Glover, being buried in one grave with his daughter before deceased.

REader, those lye beneath this Stone
Whom life made two first out of one,
But having now resign'd their breath,
They will grow one againe by Death.
For as before this pretty faire
(Her fathers lesser Character)
From him resulted, so if we
After some mutabilitie
Of Time, should on his grave intrude
To view how much Vicissitude
[Page 11]Attends on Nature, and how she
Masques her selfe in variety
Of numerous shapes and after dare,
To paddle in his Sepulcher,
Amongst his dust we might infer,
He was shuffled into her,
For Time determines that both must
Resolve into one heape of dust:
But when the world it selfe expires,
Panting with heate, and God requires
Each gloomy Vault, and hollow Tombe
To open its corrupted wombe,
And give their ashes which were pent
And cas'd up there, enfranchisement,
That being reedified, they may
No more be obvious to delay,
Or Natures Tumults, this last birth
Will dis-unite their mingled Earth.
And as their first life did divide them, so
This second life again shall make make them two.

A Collation betweene Death and Sleepe.

DEath and his drowsie kinsman, Sleepe, agree
In all the Symptomes of conformity.
Sleepes caus'd by eating, for the naturall heate,
Entices exhalations from the meate.
Transfus'd to Chylus, which the braine possesse,
With an intoxicating drousinesse.
Death too by fatall eating, first came in,
When our first parents wilfully did sin,
And violated Gods renounc'd decree,
Tasting the fruite of the forbidden tree,
When from that Apple such a Dampe did creepe
It fild their soules with an eternall sleepe.
[Page 12]And as when sooty Night her darknesse sheds
Through all the Confines of the Aire, and spreads
A vaile ore bright Hyperion, we devest
Our bodies, to compose our selves to rest.
So our enfranzis'd soules shall likewise be
Disrob'd o'th weeds of their mortalitie,
When Death shall an Eternall night disperse
Through all those functions that with life commercē.
And as when the great eye o'th Day displayes,
In the illuminated ayre his rayes
The light dispers'd in glimpses, does inspire
Our hands againe our bodies to attire;
So when the Trumpe at the last Day shall all
By its shrill summons to Gods Audit call,
And Christ the Sun of righteousnesse shall come,
To distribute to th'world a publike Doome,
Our mouldred and disbanded bodies must
Quit the close confines of their Beds of Dust,
To cloath againe our widdow'd Soules, and be
Made both joynt Tenants of Eternitie.
You then that Glovers dissolution mourne,
And sigh 'cause he's contracted in his Urne,
Appease that Tempest of your brests, and weepe
In gentle Showers, least you disturbe his sleepe.

On the thought of our Resurrection.

VVHo can be of so cow'd a Soule heel'd feare
To be regenerated ith Sepulcher,
Since who exactly lookes into the Tombe
Shall finde tis but the Embleme of the wombe
To which wee're not Coufind but trusted, so
As if we lay there in Deposito;
For when our Dust is gather'd into th'Urne,
It lyes but Hostage till the Soules returne.
And as the Phoenix when she gasping lyes
[Page 13]Upon her tragick Pile of spicēries
And glowes with heate, her fleshy Cinders must
By the suns rayes be martyr'd first to Dust,
Before her pregnant ashes can redeeme
Themselves from Ruine, or againe can teeme
With a new Phoenix; so before this Earth
We beare about us, can improve its Birth
To immortality, its whole compact
Must first be so disioynted and so slack'd
It fall to dust, and then 'twill moulded be
To such a body that eternitie
It selfe shall farme that Tenament, which shall
No more be obvious to a Funerall.
And as before men can compile or frame
Their glasses, they their ashes first i'th flame
Transfuse to Christall; so before our dust
Can be assoil'd from Excrements and rust
Ravel'd amongst it by our Tombs, and be
Jmprov'd to such a cleare transparency
It shall no more encumber or controule
The eye, from taking a survey o'th Soule
It must be by the generall fire refin'd,
And be to a translucent masse calcin'd.
So Shall each Tombe become Gods Mint, where he
(Our Earth being purg'd from all impuritie)
Will on it coyne the Image of his face
Which Time no more, nor sit ne shall nere deface.

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