Classic Poem

I did not know thee, Lord, nor do I striue
To winne accesse, or grace, with Lords aliue:
The dead I serue, from whence nor faction can
Moue me, nor fauour: nor a greater man.
To whom no vice commends mee, nor bribe sent,
From whom no Penance warns, nor portion spent.
To these I dedicate as much of me
As I can spare from mine owne husbandrie;
And till Ghostes walke, as they were wont to do,
I trade for some, and doe these errants too.
But first I doe enquire, and am assur'd
What Trials in their Iournies they indur'd,
What Certainties of Honor and of worth,
Their most vncertaine Life-times haue brought forth;
And who so did least hurt of this small store
He is my Patron, died he rich, or poore.
First I will know of Fame (after his peace,
When Flatterie and Enuie both doe cease),
Who rul'd his actions: Reason or my Lord?
Did the whole man relie vpon a word,
A Badge, a Title, or aboue all, chance?
Seem'd he as Antient as his Cognisance?
What did he? acts of mercie? and refraine
Oppression, in himselfe, and in his Traine?
Was his essentiall Table full as free
As Boasts and Inuitations vse to be?
Where if his Russet-friend did chance to dine,
Whether his Satten-man would fill him wine?
Did he thinke periurie as lou'd a Sinne,
Himselfe foresworne, as if his slaue had been?
Did he seeke Regular pleasures, was he knowne
Iust Husband to one Wife, and she his owne?
Did he giue freely without pause or doubt,
And read petitions, ere they were worne out?
Or, should his well deseruing Clyent aske,
Would he bestow a Tilting, or a Maske,
To keepe need vertuous? And that done, not feare
What Lady dam'd him for his absence there?
Did he attend the Court for no mans fall?
Wore he the ruine of no Hospitall?
And when he did his rich apparell don,
Put he no Widdow nor an Orphan on?
Did he loue simply vertue for the thing,
The King for no respect but for the King?
But aboue all, did his Religion waite
Vpon Gods throne, or on the chaire of state?
He that is guilty of no Quaere heere,
Out-lasts his Epitaph, out liues his Heyre.
But there is none such, none so little bad,
Who but this negatiue goodnesse ever had.
Of such a Lord we may expect the birth;
Hee's rather in the wombe, then in the earth.
And t'were a Crime in such a publique fate
For one to liue well, and degenerate:
And therefore I am angry when a name
Comes to vpbraid the World like Effingham .
Nor was it modest in thee to depart
To thy eternall home, where now thou art,
Ere thy reproach was ready: or to die
Ere custome had prepard thy calumny.
Eight daies haue past since thou hast paid thy debt
To sinne, and not a libell stirring yet:
Courtiers that scoffe by Patent, silent sit,
And haue no vse of Slander or of wit:
But (which is monstrous) though against the tyde,
The Water-men haue neither rayld nor lide.
Of good and bad there's no distinction knowne,
For in thy praise the good and bad are one.
It seemes we all are couetous of Fame,
And hearing what a purchase of good-name
Thou lately mad'st, are carefull to increase
Our little by the holding of some lease
From thee our Landlord, and for that th'whole crew
Speake now like Tenants readie to renew.
It were too sad to tell thy pedigree,
Death hath disordered all, misplacing thee,
Whilst now thy Herrald in his line of heyres
Blots out thy name, and fills the space with teares.
And thus hath conquering Death, or Nature rather,
Made thee prepostrous ancient to thy Father,
Who grieues th'art so, and like a glorious light
Shines ore thy Hearse. He therfore that would write
And blaze thee throughly, may at once say all:
Here lies the Anchor of our Admirall.
Let others write for glory or reward,
Truth is well paid when she is sung and heard.