Sighes
1.
If our
Sad eyes could rayne
For every drop, a Shower,
Our needlesse Quill might then refrains
This heavy taske; But since our teares are pent
Within our straltned eyes, our Pen must give them vent.
2.
Blunt Quill ,
And do'st thou think
To glorifie thy Skill
In Sooty Characters of Inke?
Or that thy casie Language can proclaime
An Accent halfe so shrill, as the loud Trumpe of Fame?
3.
But tell ,
O tell me why
Should our sad lines compell
A teare, or force a trlckling eye?
We begge if not: What gentle eye embalmes
The precious dust of Saints, brings Offrings and not Almes.
4.
You whom
Victorious Passlon
Hath foyl'd and over-come
With sighes and teares, not wept for fashion;
Come bearo a part: These Obsequies doe suo
To entertaine such Guests, such Guests alone as you.
5.
Rash Fates!
Were you adviz'd
At how extreame great Rates
True Honor and Perfection's prlz'd;
When you in twice two dayes, surprized more,
Then Ages can prescribe; then Ages can restore.
6.
Repose ,
O gentle earth,
This sacred Dust, kept close,
As Reliques of our burled Mirth:
Let Time preserve your holy Turfes unstirr'd:
This Age will scarce unlocke your gates for such a third.
7.
In this
Cold bed of Clay,
Vnstain'd perfection is
Laid downe to sleepe, till breake a day;
Which, when the early morning Trumpe shall sound,
With Ioy with Robes, with Crownes shall wake, be cloath'd be crown'd
8.
Sad Tombe!
Hadst thou the might
To understand for whom
Thy marble Curtains make this night,
Thou'ldst vie with Mahomet's (if such there be);
Two stones support but his; two Saints are propps to thee
9.
We should
Invoke to ayde
And challenge (if we would)
Assistance from the heavenly May de:
But we forbeare: The Spirit of griefe infuses
More salt into our Quill, than all the sacred Muses
10.
Provoke ,
Loud stormes to blow;
Or smothring Flaxo to smoake;
Full seas to swell; Spring-tides to flow
For us; we need no ay'd, nor will suborne
The helpe of forreigne Art. True griefe knowes how to mourne.
11.
Hard stones
If hearts should not;
Would cleave and split with grones
Ere so much worth should lie forgot;
At such a losse, should stones forbeare to breake
Their flinty Silence; stones, the very stones would speake
12.
To speake
Bare truth, would try
A Faith that were not weake;
I would seeme a ranke Hyperboly,
To make but halfe their excellence appeare
For whom wee mourne, for whom we justifie this teare.
13.
If not
The height of Blood,
Vertue without a spot,
And all those gifts that earth calls good,
May lend some Priviledge to life, nor adde
Some sand to Nature's Glasse, what matter good or bad!
14.
Perswads
Perswade not me,
False earth, to trust thy aide,
Or build my hopes on it or Thee;
Give all thou hast, alas, thou canst not make
Estates for more than life: Thou dost but give, and take.
15.
Stone hearts
Let me bespeake
You all to play your parts:
If you be too too hard to breake.
Too stout for drops to pierce, yet come;
You'l serve for stuffe to build their honourable Tombe.
16.
To breake
The Peace of Saints,
In taking leave to speake
Our reall griefes in vaine complaints
Is but a tricke of earth: Why should we thus
Afflict our soules for them that finde no griefe, but us?
17.
Attend ,
You gentle eares
A while, and wee will end
Our sighes, and wipe away your teares:
We'l change our Scene, & we'l unsad our Stile;
We'l teach your sighes to sing; we'l teach your teares to smile.
18.
Report
You blessed Peeres
Of the eternail Court,
Your Hallalujahs mixt with theirs:
Welcome these Saints to that Celestfall Quire,
Where griefes doenot explore; where joyes doenot expire.
19.
And you ,
O blessed Payre,
That now have enterview
With Thrones and Syraphims ; that share
With Powers and Angels : O what Oratory
Can colour out your joyes? What Pen can chant your glory?
20.
Shall then
The puddle teares
Of earth-begotten Men
Wash your white Names , or clog your eares?
No, no, 'tis pitty teares should intercept
The peace of your sweet Rest where teares are never wept
21.
Shed teares!
Had they been tied
To serve their wearle yeares
At earth's hard trade, and then desired
A common Rest, this had beene apt to breede,
A thousand thousand teares: This had beene griefe indeed!
22.
Enough:
Let this suffice
To shew how poore a Puffe
Is earth, and all that earth can prize:
Wealth, honor beauty, in whose flames we burne,
Give warning in the bed, and leave us at the Vrn.
23.
Without
The least surmise
Of unbeliefe, or doubt,
Our mountaine faith doth canonize
These Saints; whose dying Ahses did conferr
To their Redeemer's Birth, gifts passing gold and myrrh
24.
My Pen .
Thou hast transgrest;
Archangels , and not Men
Should sing the story of their Rest:
But we have done, we leave them to the trust
Of heaven's eternall Towre and kisse their sacred Dust
EPIIAPH
If our blunt Quill but tell you whom,
Rash Fates repose in this sad Tombe;
We should provoke hard stones to speake
If not perswade stone hearts to breake:
Attend report, and you shall then,
Shed teares enough without my Pen.
If our
Sad eyes could rayne
For every drop, a Shower,
Our needlesse Quill might then refrains
This heavy taske; But since our teares are pent
Within our straltned eyes, our Pen must give them vent.
2.
Blunt Quill ,
And do'st thou think
To glorifie thy Skill
In Sooty Characters of Inke?
Or that thy casie Language can proclaime
An Accent halfe so shrill, as the loud Trumpe of Fame?
3.
But tell ,
O tell me why
Should our sad lines compell
A teare, or force a trlckling eye?
We begge if not: What gentle eye embalmes
The precious dust of Saints, brings Offrings and not Almes.
4.
You whom
Victorious Passlon
Hath foyl'd and over-come
With sighes and teares, not wept for fashion;
Come bearo a part: These Obsequies doe suo
To entertaine such Guests, such Guests alone as you.
5.
Rash Fates!
Were you adviz'd
At how extreame great Rates
True Honor and Perfection's prlz'd;
When you in twice two dayes, surprized more,
Then Ages can prescribe; then Ages can restore.
6.
Repose ,
O gentle earth,
This sacred Dust, kept close,
As Reliques of our burled Mirth:
Let Time preserve your holy Turfes unstirr'd:
This Age will scarce unlocke your gates for such a third.
7.
In this
Cold bed of Clay,
Vnstain'd perfection is
Laid downe to sleepe, till breake a day;
Which, when the early morning Trumpe shall sound,
With Ioy with Robes, with Crownes shall wake, be cloath'd be crown'd
8.
Sad Tombe!
Hadst thou the might
To understand for whom
Thy marble Curtains make this night,
Thou'ldst vie with Mahomet's (if such there be);
Two stones support but his; two Saints are propps to thee
9.
We should
Invoke to ayde
And challenge (if we would)
Assistance from the heavenly May de:
But we forbeare: The Spirit of griefe infuses
More salt into our Quill, than all the sacred Muses
10.
Provoke ,
Loud stormes to blow;
Or smothring Flaxo to smoake;
Full seas to swell; Spring-tides to flow
For us; we need no ay'd, nor will suborne
The helpe of forreigne Art. True griefe knowes how to mourne.
11.
Hard stones
If hearts should not;
Would cleave and split with grones
Ere so much worth should lie forgot;
At such a losse, should stones forbeare to breake
Their flinty Silence; stones, the very stones would speake
12.
To speake
Bare truth, would try
A Faith that were not weake;
I would seeme a ranke Hyperboly,
To make but halfe their excellence appeare
For whom wee mourne, for whom we justifie this teare.
13.
If not
The height of Blood,
Vertue without a spot,
And all those gifts that earth calls good,
May lend some Priviledge to life, nor adde
Some sand to Nature's Glasse, what matter good or bad!
14.
Perswads
Perswade not me,
False earth, to trust thy aide,
Or build my hopes on it or Thee;
Give all thou hast, alas, thou canst not make
Estates for more than life: Thou dost but give, and take.
15.
Stone hearts
Let me bespeake
You all to play your parts:
If you be too too hard to breake.
Too stout for drops to pierce, yet come;
You'l serve for stuffe to build their honourable Tombe.
16.
To breake
The Peace of Saints,
In taking leave to speake
Our reall griefes in vaine complaints
Is but a tricke of earth: Why should we thus
Afflict our soules for them that finde no griefe, but us?
17.
Attend ,
You gentle eares
A while, and wee will end
Our sighes, and wipe away your teares:
We'l change our Scene, & we'l unsad our Stile;
We'l teach your sighes to sing; we'l teach your teares to smile.
18.
Report
You blessed Peeres
Of the eternail Court,
Your Hallalujahs mixt with theirs:
Welcome these Saints to that Celestfall Quire,
Where griefes doenot explore; where joyes doenot expire.
19.
And you ,
O blessed Payre,
That now have enterview
With Thrones and Syraphims ; that share
With Powers and Angels : O what Oratory
Can colour out your joyes? What Pen can chant your glory?
20.
Shall then
The puddle teares
Of earth-begotten Men
Wash your white Names , or clog your eares?
No, no, 'tis pitty teares should intercept
The peace of your sweet Rest where teares are never wept
21.
Shed teares!
Had they been tied
To serve their wearle yeares
At earth's hard trade, and then desired
A common Rest, this had beene apt to breede,
A thousand thousand teares: This had beene griefe indeed!
22.
Enough:
Let this suffice
To shew how poore a Puffe
Is earth, and all that earth can prize:
Wealth, honor beauty, in whose flames we burne,
Give warning in the bed, and leave us at the Vrn.
23.
Without
The least surmise
Of unbeliefe, or doubt,
Our mountaine faith doth canonize
These Saints; whose dying Ahses did conferr
To their Redeemer's Birth, gifts passing gold and myrrh
24.
My Pen .
Thou hast transgrest;
Archangels , and not Men
Should sing the story of their Rest:
But we have done, we leave them to the trust
Of heaven's eternall Towre and kisse their sacred Dust
EPIIAPH
If our blunt Quill but tell you whom,
Rash Fates repose in this sad Tombe;
We should provoke hard stones to speake
If not perswade stone hearts to breake:
Attend report, and you shall then,
Shed teares enough without my Pen.
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