Country still laments him and doth weepe Since he that was her eie is falne asleepe Staley retaines but his impurer part Heaven hath his soule his best part we in hart On the right Honorable HENRY Lord STANHOT of the North Knight of the Bath Son to the right Honorable PHILIP Earle of Chesterfield and KATHERIN his noble Countesse Anno. 1634. LIves there an eye of Honour did not weepe 'Cause thou so suddenly did'st fall a sleepe Oh yes even Vertues selfe did sadly mone 'Cause thou so suddenly to heaven was gone And yet this Crowne shee sets upon thy head Thy Vertues are alive though thou be dead Who ever knew thee did not waile thy fall Or wept not at thy solemne funerall Such hopes thy Country had such joyes the state And yet to see they both unfortunate Hopes had thy Country of a Patriot The state a Counsellour though new begot Borne Man even from his Cradle yet oh see How sudden vanishes maturitie Just like the Lilly fairest of the field Which does her bravery to th'sickle yield Or like the flower that opens with the Sunne And falls and dies before his course is runne Thus did this noble sprigge of honour fall Even from perfection to a Buriall And yet to say so were detraction Since he is gone hence to perfection For so much goodnes wisedome knowledge arts Such rare endowments and such sacred parts Such gravity as if experience had Invested him and in her robes him clad Such Activenes of body acute wit As if the Muses in his brest did sit And there kept court instructing him all rules And abstruse secrets of their holy schooles Nay what unto him did not they impart Urania had enshrind him in her hart And all these rarities to be complide In one not twenty one before he dide Great pity that a fabricke of this state Should crazy fall and subject be to fate But vaine are teares there 's litle to be sed For each of him is disinherited He had a brother who in 's prime of youth Allmost arriv'de unto his perfect grouth Pale death and time cut off whose most deere losse He did embrace with such a heavinesse That from his day of death unto his owne His Brothers dying day was ever knowne Entombd that day o th' weake in s chamber he Solemnely kept his brothers Obsequie There did his owne true worth his worth confine In meditations siting a Divine Rare presidents of Honor chiesly young What would his age have brought had he liv'd long But he is gâ—ne and with him went our teares For certainly he now needs not our prayers Yet such rare presidents ought not for to lye Entombd and buried in obscurity His joyes are full and now we may expresse More joy in him then cause of heavinesse He dies not that so dies but lives againe Immortally from anguish griefe or paine On CHARLES STANHOP first brother to the Lord HENERY and third Son to PHILIP Earle of Chesterfield KATHERIN his noble Countesse NO sooner are my Summer blessings come But streight comes Autumne and rough Hyems on Whose rugged browe proclaim 's sadde disasters Nights stormes tempests day-consuming wasters No sooner did our Sunne of comfort shine Nor bright Aurora with her silver shrine After tempestuous daies and dim-eide nights By their fresh beames and rarified lights But newly perfected in comes a storme Allmost as great as that but newly borne Eclipsing our fresh glories and in cares Makes us a fresh for to begin ould teares No sooner was our honourd HENRY gone And our late mourning weeds past putting on Our memory or backs I streightway does come The death of CHARLES that strikes all joyes dumbe Oh thou most sacred Jewell golden Time Thou pretious Jem of Jems thou all divine Thou fleeting shade unsubstantiall thing Thou that art nothing yet of all the King whoo 'd be lavish of thee this president Should make us chary how our Time is spent We may in thee behold how vaine is man In all his actions doe the best he can This goodly slower but yesterday new blowne By Times untimely sythe to day cut downe This goodly Garden in whom searse grew weedes This lovely full-eard corne that ne're lent seedes Fitting a seedenesse is tane from th' earth Before it had maturity or birth This lovely Pine-tree when his Aples shone With rosy cheekes like Phoebus in the Zone Is hewd and falne just in his Prime and growth Even in the early spring time of his youth But Death and Time are Twinns if one cryes on Thought is not swifter then the act is done Death thou art mercilesse and thy rigor such As makes us raile though it availe not much Me thinkes those paire of noblest brothers gone Those that of Vertue had Dominon Might have suffizd thy wrath or if not those Their Vertues might which did all worth enclose All worthes I say that might be thought or found In two so young there could not more abound Of if not those their Mothers showers of tears Which fell like raine sent from the weeping Sphears Who wept in pity too or if not these The new chang'd Virgins prayers might appease No sooner were they ty'd in wed-lockes bandes But thy inveteracies untwines their handes No sooner were those lovely Turtles pairde Scarse of those rites and ordinations sharde Which God for man decreed I streight way thy Ire Sweepes all before thee like Promethean fire Virgins will curse thee ever and forbeare The sacred Jugall wedding Ring to weare And so empoverish nature of her wealth Because thou rak'st up all her joyes by stealth But these cou'd not suffize thee he alone Was the Idea 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 thou doatedst on His brothers like the two great Lampes of light That guilde the heavenly Orbes by day and night So grac'd thy Trophes wonne thee such renowne Without this third thou couldst not winne the Crowne But thou dealtst poorely to insinuate Enseebleing him I nay with the selfe-same fate And cause of sicknes which our Barons killd Killd him high providence must be fullfilld No strugling 'gainst the streame no stopping tide Birthes of this nature mortalls cannot hide The end of our creation was to die Death being the fine of all mortalitie Then cease to waile his losse his soule 's a Jeâ— Fixde in the Sun-raiâ—s like a Diadem Thrice honoured Lady count not that a losse Which even the Angels cover to engrosse With Davids sorrow mourne him while alive But dead doe not against your knowledge strive The losse of friends more sorrowes doe not get If rightly understood then benefit We sorrow for them when we thinke of Earth But when of Heaven and that most sacred birth We doe rejoyce and their joyes emulate Till we in happinesse possesse like state You have more sonnes and many more may have Leave mourning these then Earth is mankinds Grave On ROBERT POVVTRELL of Westhallam Esquire IF love to knowledge or good partes The Muses friend and true deserts A man enshrind in
all eloquence and we Neede no invention thy Historie Will finde us worke enough and that we read Of thee at Risley though that thou be dead The neighbour Villages that round are there Receive thy bounteous almes three times a yeere Paid from thy Husbands open treasurie Whose soule sweet Saint hath long lamented thee That wert the true Idea of his soule Whose pious actions doe all ills controule He o're thy Funerall Herse a Fabricke fram'd A Chappell at Wilne what needes that be nam'd All buildings come too short of that great worth Which thy most honourd birth-right did bring forth And therefore dead thou canst not lodged be More in thy Grave then in our memorie On the Right Honorable the Lady CLIFTON second Wife to Sir GERVASE CTIFTON Baronet daughter to the Earle of Cumber-land VVOnder and Beauty did contest Which of them too should grace her best Wonder then said that shee alone Was fit to write on her owne stone Pride and she at difference were Vanity must not dare come neere Divinity and she were one And best were pleasd when most alone Contemplation was the ty Which bound her thoughts in vnity For poverty she had a band Which like a harvest eare did stand Full and open her marble stone Still invites a parting groane Beauty said she would not vie For out ward parts to please the eye The in-ward beauties of the minde Soule Magazines she there did finde There were honours riches plenty Grace and goodnes glories dainty Charity in a robe of Gould Sat their enthron'd all might behould They mentall vertues did not weepe Her Leet or Court did justice keepe There were all that might be saide Of goodnesse in a wife or maide Beauty said there was her store And wonder cry'd enough no more These are enough to build a tombe That shall out-last the day of doombe Natures Darling Vertues Glory Thy best selfe is thy best story On the never dying memory of ould Sir JOHN HARPER of Swarkeston Grand-father to the noble Gentleman Sir JOHN HARPER dedicated to him and his most nobâ—c Lady To number out thy Birth thy yeeres and age Each leafe would be a Chronicle and each Page A volume where our Patriots might read Thy living actions though thou long since dead I shall want Trophees to adorne thy Herse Rather some pen of silver for thy verse Silver said I nay sparkling diamond Or some more rare if rarer can be found For to engrave thy worth a goulden pen Well poynâ—ed with some glittering diadem VVill best become thy anthentique story If that it faile not thy great history Our Antiqua 〈…〉 es to thy seat may come And offer volumes up unto thy tombe And yet fall short of thee nay sadly mourne O're those few ashes strewde about thy urne Their mystick Caracters thou couldst make sense And never wrest Case Gender Moode nor Tense All forreigne broyles and eke domestique jarrs Thou couldst by policy appease from warrs Such were thy sacred treasures in the law That ev'n dissension thou couldst keepe in awe Setting at peace the uncontrouled splcene Of those thy neighbours which in suites have beene As lawiers did their Tully imitate Yet could not reach unto his sugred fate So now those imitators follow thee Yet cannot reach thy sweet serenitie Justice in even scales thou long didst beare At which Astrea joyd set in her Chayre For she rejoyceth when her scale is ev'n And registers her up-right Judge in Heav'n Our ancient Heralds to discourse with thee Thought it as much as to Historifie The Muses lost a father for thy hand Did their necessities and wants withstand Yet thy benevolence as freely came As dew from Heaven upon this Earthly frame Each brow was lawrell'd and each sprigge of Baies Was tipd with gould fore-telling Halcyon daies The gods of musicke since that thou went hence Have quite unstring'd their sacred instruments And tooke them to the Melancholy vales And there to one another tell sad Tales Yet there 's faire hopes their states they will resume And with their straines strike Melancholy dumbe Filling the groves with their harmonious sound Striking a double echo from the ground A house as free and open as a Court Manag'd by industry not by report Seeking to gaine a populare applause But cheifely aiming at Charities Lawes The poore and needy every day are fedde Though thou be gone they still eat of thy breade This president was un-matchable Ages to-fore Nay and to come cannot the like tell o're A family so guided man'd and gouern'd As that dissension scarsely was discern'd For twice sixe yeeres a house kept and maintain'd As if the master still on earth had raign'd If after-ages doe not record this Our Chronicles are faulty and remisse No servant from his Master went away Nay there are still maintain'd unto this day By thy successors whose faire hopes doe give Large testimonies that thou still dost live And may they ever in thy goodnes shine For thou on Earth wert heavenly divine Send them great God a many happy sonnes And all like thee the y will be holy ones Where Vbrious Trent her swelling veines does spred Within a narrow roome lyes entoombed This noble president and while Trent their flowes All ages honour to thy memory owes I will not longer trouble thy dead earth Sleepe on bless'd IOHN sleepe till a second birth If good mens prayers to Angells have accesse Thou hast in heaven perfect happinesse On the renowned gentleman ould Sir JOHN BYRON of Newsteed-Abbey LIke to the silly freckled Butterfly Oblivious winter long hath let thee ly But now the Sunne his beames hath darted forth And most illustriously guildes thy worth 'T is not a marble Tombe nor some few lines Writ with a golden pensill that confines Our good or bad actes t is memory That record's them unto posterity And that we have from thee for thou wert all That can be said of goodnes naturall Lives he that will not justifie how fame Rais'd early Trophees to the BYRONS name How by desert thy noble vertues shone In their owne orbe rectifi'd by none He truely serv'd his Country nobly the state And was for both like Basills magistrate Free from Corruption Avarice or Pride His vertues not his vices he did hide When Roiall Anne was pleased for to trie Diana-like her strong Artillery In spatious Sherwood famous'd for the fame Of Robin-hood whose bowre still beares the name Then had you seene our BYRON with what port He entertaind her Majesty to th' Court. With musicke sweet as if in harmonie The Earth and Heavens in confort did agree To speake a bounteous welcome 〈…〉 uch a one As well might vivifie a hart of stone How every office in its owne spheare mov'd Admir'd by all and of the whole Court lov'd Freedome and plenty strove which should exceede Bounty p oclaim'd full wellcomes to Newsteede Yet with a free and sparing hand for shee Saucde every juncket with sweet temp'rancie But what of
VIRTVS POST FVNERA VIVIT Or Honour Tryumphing over Death Being true EPITOMES of Honorable Noble Learned And Hospitable Personages VVILLIAM SAMPSON Printed by JOHN NORTON 1636. A Proeme To the right Honorable and most nobly deserving Lord WILLIAM Earle of New-Castle Barron Ogle c. Right Honorable CAESAR did adventure to write his owne acts heroicke deedes by commentary and very well he might I that with Virgils gnat have nothing to write of my selfe save misery have assaied to write the lives Pious and vertuous deedes of others not that by this they are immortalizde for their owne Worthes Vertues Hospitable and Pious deedes united have eternized themselves My full scope modest aime is to perpetuate them on Earth that posterities unborne may not let such Honorable Religious vertuous acts as your nobleprogenitoâ—s have done daily do performe slip into oblivion but as in a christall mirror we may here behold them as from the beginning we had our sa cred lawes in the first table writte your Honour is the Sanctuary to whose high Altar of goodnes I alwaies flie too for redresse in all extreames â—one whom I know with Anaxeritis had rather receive a cruse of cold water from your Poore Sinetis then a goblet of rich aromaticke or cretan wine from a flattering Gnatho the God of Heaven earth blesse you my honorable Lady my Honorable Mecenas and all your noble and Honorable families and posterities sending you your harts wish Temporall Eternall Your Honours humblest Creature WILLIAM SAMPSON To the right Honorable most Religious and truly noble Lady CARISTIAN DOVVAGER Countesse of Devon Mother to the right honorable WILLIAM Earle of Devon and to the right Honorable the Lady Aâ—n Riâ—h her honours sole Daughter Right Honorable Fame and Envy that usd to be sworne enemies of the dead either in detracting or saying too much in this place subject themselves Envy submits and fame continues her resolution which is to divâ—lge unto the world deedes of Honor Piety and Truth worthy of Fames Trumpet To your families your Honour and your issue these properly belong you are the needle by whom these Sun-dialls of Charity hourely and daily goe 't is you that lengthen and not lessen these Charitable and most Religious deedes begun by your progenitors of blessed memory I neede not say with Horace Tn recte vivis si curas esse quod audis For the lives and actions of this family all tend to divine honour Heaven continue it and with it long daies and happy ones and send that noble stem your Honourable Son that lovely branch of Honour a Hâ—lcyon gale that he may safely arrive at your feete for a blessing and continue an arme of comfort to your Hnnor and all this most Honorable family To whom and to your Honor I rest an humble servant WILLIAM SAMPSON To the right Honorable CHARLES Lord Vis-count Mansfeild Son and heire to the right Honorable my singular good Lord WILLIAM Earle of Now-castle Barron Ogle c. Lord Leiftennant of his Majestics too famous Counties Nottingham and Derby SOle heire of thy great fathers vertues I Present these Funerall odes unto thine eie Wherein though young like to Tully's Son You may perceive what great deedes have ben don By your progenitors deigne then to read These living Trophees of true honour dead Though wise Cratippus reach you yet behold How vertue robes nobility in gold We know there is a Sun because his light Apâ—'y distinguishes twixt day and night Your Ancestors like to th glorious Sun Have led the way you Honours race mâ—â—st râ—n Your infant Honours like to a welcome Spring Are by the Graces mark'd for vertues King Live there and grow there never may I see A fall'oth Leafe in your progenitrie Shine in thy Princes favours and appeare Like the bless'd Sunne when as hetrotes the spheare Let no cloud blemish thee still may your eâ—e Aime at the graces of high Majesty Out-grow thy honord fathers goodnes then Th art honours Map the non-pâ—reill of men Your Mother weares the wreath of goodnes you From such faire Trees must neede a Trophy grow Blessâ—d be you ever may I still deserve Next my devotions them and theirs to sâ—rve Your honours servant till Death VVilliam Sampson In laudem Authoris LAudabunt alii vel Classica vatis Achaei Phaliscus Vel Dircaei Candida Cigni Carmina sive Lyrâ Flaccum Sophoclemve Cothurno Insigneis aut pectine Bassum Sunt quibus unum opus est numeros celebrate Maro nis Plurimus in Nasonis honorem Aptum dicit amoribus alter singula singlî Me nec tam lasciva Propertî Cynthia Teia fides nec tam percussit avena Quam nostratis moesta poetae Quicquid habet Laurus Jovis arbor Populus Ilex Hac Cupressi fronde plicatur Hic gravis et brevis est operosus castus acutus Tales lectores facit Autor Ph. K. Mr in ar tâ— An Elegie ON THE RIGHT HONORAble Elizabeth Countesse of Shrewsbury wife to the right Honorable GEORGE Earle Shrewsbury Mother to the right Honorable William Earle oâ— Devon Sir Charles Cavendish who married Katherine Barronnesse Ogle Henry Cavendish who married the Lady Grace Talbot and Mary Countesse of Shrewsbury wife to the Lord Gilbert which Mary was Sole builder of the second Court of St. Iohns in the famous Vniversity of Cambridge Frances Lady Peirpoint This Countesse Elizabeth was Erectoresse of the two famous fabricks of Chatts-worth and Hard-wicke and sole foundresse of the famous Almes-house in Derby Grand-Mother To the right Honorable William last Earle of Devon VVilliam Earle of Newcastle Robert Earle of Kingstone Sir Charles Cavendish Countesse of Pembrooke The Countesse of Arundell Countesse of Kent Great Grand-mother to the right Honorable VVilliam Earle of Devon-shire The Lord Matreveâ—s Charles Lord viscount Mansfield Henry Viscount New warke Charles Cavendish Henry Cavendish Esquires WHile Scottish Angus up to heaven doth raise Her River Tay with inexpressable praise While Bamfe Louthan Fife and Devern sing And ould Legea braggs of her Dane King While Northern Tweede disjoyning them us Saith of her selfe slâ—ees most conspicuous Shall I our silver Thames Severn and d ee Trent Owze and Avon of one qualitie Forget nay to your praise I 'le bring My Alpine peakish Dove whose fertile wing Yeeldes Milke and Honey till her selfe shee trill Into swift running Darwent on the hill And lastly though a litle rivolet Tâ—out yeelding Crawley shall in measure jet You boast of stately Turrets births of high rate There in an equippage I 'le meete your state You bragge of stately fabricks guilded Towres Whose splendor both the eye and sense devoures My Muse shall meete you there too but her wing Must some sad Funerall notes and dirges sing This blest Eliza this bright Diamond Which long-time grew upon our peakish stronde Graceing the sertiâ—e quarries wa st not strange That Hills and Rocks their sterilnesse should change Yeelding a fruitfull eedenes as if shee