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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A49368 Loyal tears poured on the herse of that Most Excellent Prince, Henry Duke of Gloucester 1660 (1660) Wing L3375; ESTC R35006 842 1

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LOYAL TEARS Poured on the Herse Of that Most EXCELLENT PRINCE HENRY Duke of GLOUCESTER OH Times Unequal and Injurious Days Oh Fates whose Cypress hath outgrown the Bays Oh Moneth Unfortunate to all that 's Good Oh Place the Poyson of this Royal Blood Whom shal we blame where shal we lay the weight Of such a Heaviness Forgive the State The Publick Weal whose open'd empty Veins Scarce can endure to hear his Bloody Pains And have we just but seen him is he come Onely to Die t' ennoble but the Tombe Are all the Honors all the Glories done Most Arbitrary Death Must such a Son Die violently too Stay and give place to Fame Whose great'st Attempt is but to reach his Name What Autumn's this why do we boast Increase Deaths Harvest 's valued in this Single Peice And what the Plague in numbers would infect A judgement witched for by every Sect The Small-pox in this great and glorious Youth Did in effect fulfill and curse with truth Their Divinations Now what dress of Grief Shall give our Sorrow and our Loss belief Which then of the three Kingdomes shall expire And shine together in the Funeral Fire O you bright Citizens of Heaven know There 's nothing worth Him but the KING below We had an Earthly TRINITY before The Stamp of that which you above adore And you agreed to have our Saint away Urg'd by the rival Worship of last May Now they are Gemini and the Royal Line Grows less with Fortune and advanc'd Decline What Rebels Pride and Staring Insolence Brav'd not to Kill see the unwarded Fence Of a just Triumph laid it in the Grave And Vertue Honor Goodnes could not save Well then to Grieve is to comply with Fate And make the Tyrant proud and keep his state We quarrel not at this most partial Lot Onely we ask our SOVERAIGN Why Not 'T is a true Parentation to the Dead When Son and * Kinsman follow'd Him that bled No other Life to Expiate that Crime KINGS may but Destinies allow no Time Our Loss is greater than we dare to own Let it not be among late Rebels known Great Soul whose Limits scarce can be defin'd Better by Heaven than thy Moderate Mind Thou ow'st not any thing to Life or Glory Our Grief shall be thy chiefest onely Story London Printed by W. G. 1660. * Duke of Richmond