AN ELEGIE Vpon the Death of the Right Honorable, most Noble, Worthily-Renowned, and truly Valiant Lord, ROBERT, Earle of ESSEX & EVVE, &c. His Excellency, late Lord Generall of all the Forces raised by the Parliament of England in defence of the Protestant Religion. Who departed the 14th. day of September, 1646.
The first Elegie.
CEase great Surveyer of this glorious Ball,
To shine; you twinkling Constellations all,
Stand in your Spheares, as if you all were fixt,
And fram'd to make all human Mortals vext;
Restrain your light; doe not one glimpse bestow
Fot our delight, sad mourners here below:
You were created in celestiall kinds
To glad the mirthfull and solatious minds
Who, rapt as 'twere, and ravisht with your glories,
Might therein walk, and shun disastrous stories:
But lo! your comforts uselesse now, we mourn,
You need not more, your heavenly Tapers burn
But be as we are; all beclouded over
With Sable Mantles; and doe not discover
Your Orbs a while, but let us live alone
Dark as the Night-Owles, sadly to bemoane
Our so much losse; and having wept a time,
Give light again; to let us know our crime
Of gu [...]lt, whereby we greatly did provoke
Your high Creator, thus to strike this stroke
Against the State; whose standing did consist
As much in him, as could in one be wisht:
Our admir'd ESSEX, who still aimed at
The height of Honour; yet Immaculat.
But ah! He's chang'd, then let us cast our eyes
To doe their duties at his Obsequies:
Alasse! what duties can our eyes perform?
Nothing but weep, as 'twere, a Winter storm
Of such continuance, as with watry Flouds
The Earth may swell, and swallow up the Clouds.
Could those sad teares, in sorrow we would weep,
And shed, till such an inundation deep
Did flow so far, as till a new deluge
Should threat our ruine, yet we would not grudge
Once to regain so great a good as this,
(Pardon the passion of my partiall wish)
Whose worth the vertuous, and the very bad,
Bemoan (now loft) because, they living, had
A Patrone to their vertue; and the worst
Were wonne by his example; thus both lost;
But now O! march you multitude of Mourners,
Seale up this Jewell, wast all your waxen burners
About his Tomb; and take no Trophies hence,
This is the last, and least, due recompence
Can be perform'd; O! happy then, that Ark
Where lies inshrin'd, such goodnesse in the dark.
Farewell, brave Lord, in vain our suits we sue,
Soul rest in peace; To thee once more adieu.
The second Elegie by the same AUTHOUR.
REeader, the reverend dutie which I owe
To this great Haeros, I would have thee know,
Moves me to write, though some more learned hand
Will try this task, and in my room will stand
To state the Case; lest I Eclipse the light
Of his great glory, and impair that right
Due to his worth; yet let me adde one Verse
Upon his Dolefull, though adorned Hearse;
Whose Boundlesse vertues, ornaments of Fame,
Befits the Gods to glosse on such a Theame.
Religious Patron, Peerlesse, Pious Peere,
Affections Load-stone lies inshryned here;
Highest in honor, bounty, zeale, and love,
Whose rare Perfections (in a Spheare above
My rurall pen) were plac't; who did transcend
Nature its limits in Courage; had no end
In all those parts and attributes of grace
Could be confer'd from Heaven on Human Race,
Whose losse all Nations ought lament and mourn,
And powre out Seas of teares about his Ʋrn;
By nature Noble, unblemisht, and renownd,
Unparaleld for prudence; most profound;
Religion, Valour, Fortune, Faith and Wit,
All were combin'd; Here was a patern fit;
A matchlesse mind, magnanimous and just,
True, Constant, upright in his highest Trust;
Belov'd of all, whole goodnesse did reflect
Upon the best; and had so strong effect
(By influence infused from above)
Upon the bad, they could not chuse but love.
The gods convey'd by their supernall power
All worth to him; yet vanquisht in an houre
He was by Fate; though all the force which Mars
Did make, could not subdue him in the Wars.
His acts did adde, unto his Nations honor,
His rare exploits did prosper so, he won-her
More stedfast faith, more upright truth and peace,
As never can be canceld in no race.
Time shall expire, and all in it shall rot,
But his brave Name shall never be forgot,
Whose so rais'd fame and excellencies shall
Survive the world, yea and its Worthies all.
In brief, what Age might speak so proud a word,
So good a Man, and yet so great a Lord?
William Mercer.
London Printed by I. C. 1646.