[Page] [Page] Capellus Virbius, SIVE REDIVIVUS: OR, A MONUMENT Erected in Severall ELEGIES To the Memory of the Right Honourable and Noble Arthur Lord Capell, Baron of Hadham.
And His Excellent Lady, the Lady Elizabeth Capell Dowager.
LONDON Printed by Roger Vaughan, dwelling in St. Martins le Grand, 1662.
To the Right Honourable Arthur Earle of Essex, Baron of Hadham; AND Sir Henry Capell Knight of the Bath, Sons to the ever-honoured Arthur Lord Capell.
Most Excellent Brothers,
THough it be Unlawfull to offer up Sacrifices to the Dead, yet license mee to sacrifice these Elegies to the Remembrance of your ever-Honoured, and never-to-be forgotten Parents, and permit mee to make the Name of CAPELL an Altar, though not the Tomb. I must confesse, had not the Importunity of Friends, concenter'd in a numerous Addresse, and the particular Obligations by which my Service is entituled to your Family, engag'd me to devote these narrow Testimonies of my Zeal to the Scrutiny and Inspection of the Publique, they had been for ever folded up in their own Oblivion.
Least therefore I might seem Ungratefull, or at least Unfruitfull, I have adventur'd to drop this Earnest of my Affection on these Noble Reliques, not hoping by this to add any perpetuity to those, which will in future Ages, stand both Brasse to the Tomb, and Marble to the Stone, but only as a Symboll of that Acknowledgement I owe to two Names of such an Eternal Duration.
[Page] Indeed I never did believe that these Poems could contract an estimate from any intrinsique Value resident in themselves, but only as they were offer'd up at the Tombes of those Worthy Persons, to whose Memory they were Originally Consecrated.
Suffer then these Monuments of a Zealous Gratitude to give themselves up to your view, since you may be ascertained, that they issue from one whose Study it is, that his Practise may be how he may declare himself
The Humblest of your Servants, Thomas Philipot.
Capellus Virbius, SIVE REDIVIVUS: OR, A Monument erected in several ELEGIES To the Memory of the Right Honourable and Noble Arthur Lord Capell, Baron of Hadham.
AN ELEGY.
AS when the [...] [...]gilt with its borrowed Fires,
And tinsell'd o're with the Suns light expires,
Dialls then only when the Day is done
Declare their use, and shew there was a Sun:
So now that Flame which did in Capell burne
Is, like some Meteor, shrunk into his Urne.
This cheap and narrow Tribute of my Verse,
Which I have dar'd to fasten on his Hearse,
May like some Dyal, now his Light is set,
Stand to his Name a fixed Alphabet.
And since his Thread which was so firmly spun;
Is by rude Hands unravell'd, and undone;
In me if any Vigor seem to dawn,
'Tis but by him a Faint Resemblance drawn;
[Page 2] And if in Me the Pulse of Phansy beat,
With any Masculine or active Heat,
'Tis but a Beam shot from that nobler Fire,
Which did his Breast at once warm and inspire.
Unrip the Quarries then, and reconcile
Marble, Jet, Brass, and Jasper in one Pile,
And fix the Gaudy and Magnifique Stone,
Upon the Dust and Rottennesse of one,
Whose Name perchance will moulder and consume
Amidst his Nard, Balm, Spicery and Perfume.
Brave Capells Tombe's beyond the Reach of Art,
His Monument's Establish'd in each Heart,
When he shall stand from Times Impression safe
Unto himself Both Urne and Epitaph.
Let Scholars here and Souldiers both combine,
And mix in a full Quire about his Shrine,
Since both in him did vigorously unite,
The Scholar, did advise, the Souldier fight:
So that of Him it might be truly said,
He had an Heart, yet did not want an Head,
For both in Him appear'd so close Compact,
His Head consulted, ere his Heart did act;
His Epitaph first by his Sword was made,
Enroll'd in Characters that hardly fade;
Insculp'd in every Hospital it stands,
Writ in disbanded Legs, or banish'd Hands,
Then 'twas rescrib'd and copied out agen,
And written something fairer by [...] Pen;
For in his Monuments of
His printed Meditations.
Brain we seeH'as rear'd to himself both Tombe and Elegy,
Which to such comely shape and frame are brought,
And yet with such a Marble Phansy wrought,
That in these Trophies he shall live as long,
As Time shall weild a Sithe, or Fame a Tongue.
Obsequies offered up to the Memory of the ever Renowned, and never to be Forgotten, ARTHUR Lord CAPELL. Written 1649.
DO; paddle still in Blood, for 'tis not strange
Now if your thirsty dropsi'd Blades do range
O're the whole stock of Man; or that they spread
To Trunck and Boughs, since they've lop't off the Head:
For since the KING, who like one general Soul,
Did through each nerv and agile muscle rowl;
And like some publick Conduit did dispence
To every Vein, both Sap and Influence;
Shine's in His Crown of Martyrdome above,
Gilt and enamel'd with the Beams of Love;
The Cement thus unfix't and slack't, we must
Needs languish into shuffled heaps of Dust:
And as in Bodies, where the Head is lop't
From off the weeping Stem, som Spirits drop't
From that great Magazine, into each part,
And left as Legacies unto the Heart;
Contract the Joynts and Hands, then make them spread
As if they catch't at the dislodging Head;
So after this vast Ruin, though the Frame
Of Nature were both discompos'd and lame;
Yet in this crippled Structure, there might bee
Som starts and leaps, which flow'd (brave Lord!) from Thee;
On whom, as som not yet discovered Sours,
Which doth to th'suppled Earth fresh Sap disburs,
And through her veins melt's in a purling rill,
Th' expiring KING His Vigor did distill.
And as som sullen Vapor which was spun
From th' Earth's course Wardrobe, by the glaring Sun,
To som wilde Meteor, hover's in the Air,
And on each Cloud shed's its unravel'd hair;
But wanting Active Heat to waft it higher,
Doth in dull Slime and sluggish Mists exspire:
So before CAPELL was (like th' early Flower
Which Ruder Hands tore from the Mangled Bower)
Rent from His Bleeding stalk, we might perchance,
Like vapors wing'd with His brave heat, advance
Above the Common-level, yet but now
His Flames shot-up no new supply t▪allow.
[Page 4] We crumble shall to Ruin streight, and run
Into a wilde Precipitation.
And as when Morning from the Azure Towers,
Powr's out the day, and pluck's out th' unfledg'd hours;
The Earth unlock's its womb, each flower unweav's
Its Odorous tresses, and untie's its leavs,
That so they may be spangled by that blaze
That from the blooming Sun's gilt lustre stray's;
So now that He like a new-budded Star
That stud's the Orb's above, doth from a far
Point out his Beams to us, let their clear Light
Steer us through the perplexed maze of Night;
And our benum'd and frozen Souls so thaw,
He may both our Example be and Law;
For though that Man's a world within himself;
In Him no Passion swell'd into a Shelf
To split His even thoughts, no Rock of Pride
Did intercept or justle the free Tide
Of well-poiz'd Actions, and no Mountain there
Was by Ambition made, or Gulf by Fear.
His beauteous Actions too without did meet,
Still in such comly and well-ballanc't feet,
And were so fairly knit, you'd think they'd been
Each one the Transcript of His Soul within;
No Byas His Religion warp't awry
Into a crooked Excentricity,
'Twas sullied with no Ends; He could not tell
How to vamp Calvin with dark Machiavel.
No Widdows cooler sighs did fan His Cup,
He drank in's Wine no Tears of Orphans up;
His Pregnant Fields were moist'ned by the Skyes,
Not wet with show'rs rain'd from His Tenants eyes;
And having thus with Virtue pav'd the Track
Which to His Urn did guide His Foot-steps back;
He, when His full-fledg'd Soul cast off her Clay,
To bathe in Tides of never-ebbing day,
Did in so soft a Calm dismiss His Breath,
As if't were His Espousals, not His Death;
And that in His cold shroud He were to meet
The Pourtraict only of His Genial sheet,
AN ELEGIE ON The Great Exemplar of all Vertue, the Lady Elizabeth Capell.
WE can for every cheap and trivial Losse
Condole so much, we even seem t' Ingross
The Publique Stock of Grief, and at our Eyes
Embezel our exhausted Faculties,
Whilst our dull Passions pant with eager Throes,
As if they teem'd with Mountains of vast Woes,
Each Maime by Fire, each Shripwrack can induce
Our Eyes to such Intemp'rate and profuse
Resentment, that those Cataracts of Rain
Our Eyes un-sluce, might quench the Flame again;
Or in the [...] brin [...] Deluges once more,
Ingulph the Ruin'd Bark upon the Shore;
But when such precious Earth as this, we see
To crumble into early Ashes, we
Should from th' officious Limbecks of our Eyes
Distill, as Rights paid to her Obsequies,
Such Floods of Pious Tears, that if dull Art
Should by some Lame Neglect forget t' impart
Her Nard, and unctuous Balsome, to exempt
These Noble Reliques from Time's rude contempt,
They might embalm her fading Masse of Clay,
And fortifie it so from all Decay,
No sawcy or intruding worm should dare
To be an Inmate to her Sepulcher.
[Page 4] Then let the Sluces of our Eyes un-lave
Streams of un-summon'd Tears out on her Grave,
Which by that Cold our chiller Sighs shall vent
Shall stiffen to a Christal Monument,
And stand a fixed Index to her Dust,
To tell the VVorld this Tombe is put in Trust,
Virtue it self in its cold Cell to hide,
VVhich in this Lady liv'd, and with her died;
But when the VVorld, and its gay Pomp expire,
And both lye gasping in the general Fire,
VVhen all the Throng of petty Stars like Tears,
Shall drop in flaming Gelly from their Sphears,
And Sol it self, Light's great Exchequer, shall
From its dark Orb like a blind Cindar fall,
VVhen th' Impenitent Earth so long shall burn
Till it into Repentant Ashes turn,
And each conspicuous Ornament it wears
Shrinks into Dust, this shall resolve to Tears.
Her EPITAPH.
HAve you beheld the Sun un-shroud,
Th' enamel'd Fringes of a Cloud,
Then wrap up in the Folds of Night
All that embroyderie of Light,
As if by that Recesse he meant
The antient Chaos to prevent?
So from this Ladies twins of Sight
Such Beams did dawn, that with their Light
They did each sullen Mist dispell,
Which did in our Horizon dwell,
But now those radiant Suns are set,
And in the gloomy Cabinet
Of her dark Urne lock'd up, the World,
Into one Common Cloud is hurl'd.
The Phoenix in her Pile of Spice,
Perhaps may vie with Paradice,
And Roses tortur'd in a Still,
In that warm Agonie a Rill
[Page 7] So sweet disburse, it does o'recome
Nard in its bruised Martyrdom;
This Ladies virtues do disperse
Such choyce Perfumes about her Hearse,
That should we those by these esteem,
They'ld cheap, and sickly Odours seem;
They that all cunning Pomp do scan
By th' Louvre, or the Vatican,
Let them unlock her Marble shrine,
And they'le trace out a various Mine,
There lodge the Diamonds of her Eyes,
VVhich Rayes so pointed did comprize:
Gulcundah and Socodania in the East-Indies are the places whence the choycest Diamonds are extracted.
Gulcundah's Quarries can displayNo beams that scatter such a Day,
There lye wrapt up in an Eclipse
Of Dust, the Rubies of her Lips,
Nay this Exchequer too contains
The melting Saphirs of her veins,
So that we now may justly call
Her urne the best Escuriall;
Since then she's dead whose fragrant breath,
Did to the Fields new Flowers bequeath,
Let's cull them all that they may meet
On her, that she may make them sweet;
However on her Dust wee'll strow
Those Flowers which seem'd on her to grow,
As on their Stem; First, there shall be
The Rose of Blushing Modestie,
Which did so long her Check adorne,
Offered up unto her urne:
The Marigold shall then become
The Second tribute to her Tombe,
VVithin which flower we may descry
The Image of her Piety;
For this locks up its leaves when Night,
In its black Mantle, folds up Light,
And still unclasps them when the Sun
Bespangles all our Horizon:
So she, when first th'Infant Day,
The Eastern Portalls did Array
[Page 8] With the Attire of Light, did run
To open her Devotion;
And when Darknesse cloath'd the Air,
Clasp'd it up in Holy Prayer:
Then the Violet we'le shed
Upon her Hearse, which bows its Head,
And, like her, appears to be
Th' Embleme of Humility;
Next, we will to her Dust dispence
The Lilly white with Innocence,
Where we, as in a Glass, may see
The transcript of her Puritie,
Whose Odours will perfume her Name,
And so embalme her quickned Fame,
Her Marble, like the hallow'd Shrine
That does dead Vertues self confine
Within its hollow Wombe, shall be
Ador'd by all Posterity.
FINIS.