An Elligie upon the death of the Right HonourĀ­able Robert Devereux, late Earle of Essex, Lord Generall of the ParĀ­liaments Forces, who deceased the thirteene day of Sept. 1646.

OH! Autnmne how hast thou began the fall,
Our happy Summer being newly spent,
Thou over turnes the Tree with Roote and all,
And shakes to us the Fruite of discontent:
Both Death and thee, conspired in one thing,
To throw down that which flourisht many a spring.
The much Renowned Champion of our dayes,
And most lamented (in our hemisphere,)
For's Death, who in his life time gain'd such praise,
As (till the World doth end) may perciviere,
Though we have lost thy presence, yet thy fame,
Shall ever be attending on thy Name:
Which at the first of all did undertake
To breake the Ice, and lay the storme of Warre,
Where he a passage did for others make,
Who by their Fortunes now victorioas are:
Alwayes a Doer of his Kingdomes good,
A Friend to Peace, and slow in sheding Blood.
Vnto the State he prov'd a faithfull Friend,
Free from the blemish of unconstancy,
Holding his Resolution to the end,
Whilst others fell unto a posticy,
Yet noble ESSEX still did iustly deale,
Both with the King, the State, and Common-weale.
His Love extended both to great and small,
The greater then his losse (to rich and poore,)
The Souldiers sighing for their Generall,
Whose presents here they're like to see no more,
Devereux adieu, they shake their Heads and cry,
Yet we're thy followers still, for all must die:
As loving, so religious he was found,
No Vice appear'd to harbour in his Brest,
But honour, valour, mixt with iudgement found,
Which sends his Soule unto eternall rest:
This is our comfort, thou art happy there,
Yet must we needs lament thy absence here.

An Acrosticke on his Name.

Righ Honourable, we thy Tennants here,
Over the Toumb (of such a Noble Peere,)
Brings teares enough, whereby to raine a Shower,
E xcelling those which from the Clouds doe poure,
Rich in thy life time, still our selues we thought,
Till Death, thy fat all end, our woes hath wrought.
Death wherefore hast thou stolne our Joyes away,
Earth why didst thou so gape, was he thy Prey,
Are both of you Confederates in our griefe,
V nkind, to mankind, thus to take the chiefe
Excepting Majesty, none went before
Renovned ESSEX, nor hath beene one more
Victorious, yet did this Champion die,
Xternall Death, to gaine Eternity.
Thus from an earthly seate, unto a throwne,
Now his trancescendant Soule from us is flowne,
Here leaving of our English Parliament,
Vnto a higher Court, in Heaven it went.

LONDON, Printed by Iohn Hammond.

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