Though thofe thy thoughts, which the now queafie Age
Doth count but clods, and refufe of the Stage,
Will come up porcelane wit fome hundreds hence,
When there will be more manners and more fence;
'Twas judgement yet to yeeld, and we afford
Thy filence as much fame as once thy word:
Who like an aged oak, the leaves being gone,
Waft food before, and now religion;
Thought still more rich, though not fo richly stor'd,
View'd and enjoy'd before, but now ador'd.
Great foul of numbers, whom we want and boast,
Like curing gold, most valu'd now thou 'rt loft;
When we fhall feed on refufe offals, when
We fhall from corn to akorns turn agen;
Then fhall we fee that these two names are one
Jonson and Poetry, which now are gone.
Comed. Trag. Com. with other
Poems by W. Cartwright.
Upon the Earle of Coventryes departure from us to the Angels.
WEET Babe, whose birth infpir'd me with a fong,
And call'd my Mufe to trace thy dayes along;
Attending riper yeeres, with hope to finde
Such brave endeavours of thy noble minde,
As might deferve triumphant lines, and make
My fore-head bold a lawrell crowne to take :
How haft thou left us, and this earthly Stage,
(Not acting many months) in tender age?
Thou cam'ft into this world a little Spie,
Where all things that could please the eare and eye,
Were fet before thee, but thou found'st them toyes,
And flew'ft with fcornefull fmiles t' eternall joyes:
No vifage of Grim Death is fent t' affright
Thy spotleffe foule, nor darkneffe blinds thy fight;
But lightsome Angels with their golden wings
Ore-spread thy cradle, and each spirit brings
Some precious balme, for heav'nly phyficke meet,
To make the feparation foft and sweet.
The fparke infus'd by God departs away,
And bids the earthly weake companion stay
With patience in that nurs'ry of the ground,
Where first the feeds of Adam's limbes were found:
For time fhall come when thefe divided friends
Shall joyne againe, and know no feverall ends,
But change this fhort and momentary kisse
To strict embraces of celeftiall bliffe.
Bofworth-field and other Poems by Sir J. Beaumont-Ed. 1629.
On Lady Katherine Pafton, who died March 10,
AN Man be filent and not praifes find,
For her who lived the praife of woman-kind, Whofe outward frame was lent the world to gefs, What shapes our fouls fhall wear in happiness, Whofe virtue did all ill fo overswaye,
That her whole life was a communion daye.
From the Church of Pafton,
On Eleanor Freeman, who died A. D. 1650, aged 21.
A Virgin bloffom in her May,
Of youth and virtues turn'd to clay;
Rich earth accomplish'd with thofe graces
That adorn Saints in heavenly places.
Let not Death boaft his conquering power
She'll rife a Star, that fell a Flower.
From the Church of Tewksbury,
Gloucefterfhire.
EAR to this Eglantine
Enclosed lies the milke-white Armeline }
Once Chloris onlie joye,
Now only her annoy;
Who envied was of the most happy fwaines,
That keepe their flockes on Mountaines, Dales, or Plaines:
For oft fhe bore the wanton in her arme,
And oft her bed and bofom did him warme;
Now when unkindly fates did him destroy,
Bleft dog he had the grace,
With tears for him that Chloris wet her face.
Drummond, p. 203. Ed. 8vo.
To the Queen, entertain'd at Night by the Countess of Anglesey.
FAIRE as unfhaded light; or as the day
In its first birth, when all the year was May;
Sweet, as the Altars fmoak, or as the new
Unfolded bud, fwel'd by the early dew;
Smooth, as the face of waters first appear'd,
Ere tides began to strive, or winds were heard:
Kind as the willing Saints, and calmer farre,
Than in their fleeps forgiven hermits are;
You that are more, then our discreter feare
Dares praise, with such full art, what make you here?
Here, where the Summer is fo little feen,
That leaves, (her cheapest wealth) scarce reach at green.
You come, as if the filver Planet were
Mifled a while from her much-injur'd Sphere,
And t'ease the travailes of her beames to-night,
In this fmall Lanthorn would contract her light.
The Works of Sir W. Davenant,
Lond. 1673. Fol. p. 218.
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