An Elegie and Epitapth, upon the Right Honourable the Lord FRANCIS VILLARS: Written by an affectionate Servant to his Family, Kinsman to his person, and Prisoner for the same Cause this Noble Lord so bravely dyed in.
WHat are the crying sins of this our State,
Which such great losses cannot expiate?
No sacrifice for sin (wee know) is good,
No propitiation can be without blood.
But if wee mix not teares with blood, wee may
Spend all our stock of Loyall blood; not pay
The debts wee owe, but still increase the score:
Let's adde teares to our blood, and sin no more.
Our thanklesse Kingdom's Antichristian growne,
Wee cannot broak the Miter, nor the Crowne.
Christ was anointed King, and Priest to show
What duties wee to God's Anointed owe.
The people have set up two Idolls now,
And made a Proclamation, all must bow
Unto their Idolls which they did create,
(Not God) the first a Hydra, call'd a State:
Another Idoll, call'd a Presbyt'rie,
As great a Monster in Divinitie.
In heaven there is a Monarchie (wee know)
Which is the Type of all these here below:
So is the Church Christs Monarchie, and wee
Know all the world was Adams Monarchie.
Let us then to offended Christ fall downe.
And begge of him the Miter and the Crowne
May prosper still, for if these doe not stand
Wee loose the strength and glory of our Land,
How dearely hath this Quarrell England cost?
How many Loyall Subjects have wee lost?
This brave Lord who enrich't great Rutland's blood,
And made that better, was before so good.
Nay, did the name of Buckingham sublime,
Was cut off by our sins, scarce neere his prime.
Why should such Noble blood by such a hand
Be shed, and guiltlesse blood polute the Land?
But pardon me, there were more hands then one,
A Squadron joyn'd; though he was left alone,
This Noble Lord so like Great Caesar stood.
The Earth was scarleted with Loyall blood.
So have I seene a peale of Axes fell
A starely Oake, ringing it's fatall knell,
With direfull blowes, giving it many a wound.
Such mercie at their hands this brave Lord found.
They pleas'd themselves as much with every b [...]ow▪
And wish't that all great Lords might fall just so.
Looke too't my Lords in time! I am afraid
The axe unto your root's alreadie layd.
They have deserv'd it, have abjur'd their King,
Like those proud Rivers which deny their Spring.
Besides the head abjur'd, doe wee not see
They have cut off the Sacred Hierarchie?
Pray heaven (my Lords !) this Antichristian sin
Bring not the Sacrilegious Levellers in.
I love the King, such Levellers I hate
Would not have Lords stand next the Chaire of State.
Ad viatorem.
STay passer by, and pay thy teare
To him who lyes entombed here;
'Tis Villars, Buckinghams brave Sonne,
Who hath this Gole of Honour wonne.
No Champion at the Olympick Game,
E're gain'd a greater Stock of Fame.
No Loyall Subject to his King
E're did to grave more Honour bring.
If thou be'st Loyall, thus much know
Thou teares to this sad shrine doest owe.
This Noble Lord dy'd in thy Cause,
For God, his Church, his King, his Lawes.
If thou a Covenanter be,
Then farre more teares are due from thee.
For those who Covenanters are
Ingag'd us in this bloodie Warre.
And sure no Contract can be good,
Which must be seal'd with Loyall blood▪
Then (like those Meteors travellers call
The Indian Spouts) let your teares fall
No more by drops, but raise a Flood
Of teares, to wash away the blood.
⟨Aug: 4⟩ Printed at LONDON, 1648.