MUST Noble @3Hastings@1 Immaturely die, (The Honour of his ancient Family?) Beauty and Learning thus together meet, To bring a @3Winding@1 for a @3Wedding-sheet@1? Must @3Vertue@1 prove @3Death's@1 Harbinger? Must She, With him expiring, feel Mortality? Is @3Death@1 (Sin's wages) Grace's now? shall Art Make us more Learned, only to depart? If merit be Disease, if Vertue Death; To be Good, Not to be, who'd then bequeath Himself to Discipline? Who'd not esteem Labour a Crime, Study self-murther deem? Our @3Noble Youth@1 now have pretence to be Dunces securely, Ign'rant healthfully. Rare Linguist! whose Worth speaks it self; whose Praise, Though not his Own, all @3Tongues@1 Besides do raise: Then Whom Great @3Alexander@1 may seem less, Who conquer'd Men, but not their Languages. In his Mouth Nations speak; his Tongue might be Interpreter to @3Greece, France, Italy@1. His native Soyl was the four parts o' th' Earth; All @3Europe@1 was too narrow for his Birth. A young Apostle; and (with rev'rence may I speak 'it) inspir'd with gift of Tongues, as They. Nature gave him, a Childe, what Men in vain Oft strive, by Art though further'd, to obtain. His body was an Orb, his sublime Soul Did move on Vertue's and on Learning's pole: Whose Reg'lar Motions better to our view, Then @3Archimedes@1 Sphere, the Heavens did shew. Graces and Vertues, Languages and Arts, Beauty and Learning, fill'd up all the parts. Heav'ns Gifts, which do, like falling Stars, appear Scatter'd in Others; all, as in their Sphear, Were fix'd and conglobate in's Soul, and thence Shone th'row his Body with sweet Influence; Letting their Glories so on each Limb fall, The whole Frame render'd was Celestial. Come, learned @3Ptolomy@1, and tryal make, If thou this Hero's Altitude canst take; But that transcends thy skill; thrice happie all, Could we but prove thus Astronomical. Liv'd @3Tycho@1 now, struck with this Ray, (which shone More bright i' th' Morn then others Beam at Noon) He'd take his @3Astrolabe@1, and seek out here What new Star 't was did gild our Hemisphere. Replenish'd then with such rare Gifts as these, Where was room left for such a Foul Disease? The Nations sin hath drawn that Veil which shrouds Our Day-spring in so sad benighting Clouds. Heaven would no longer trust its Pledge; but thus Recall'd it; rapt its @3Ganymede@1 from us. Was there no milder way but the Small Pox, The very filth'ness of @3Pandora's@1 Box? So many Spots, like @3noeves@1, our @3Venus@1 soil? One Jewel set off with so many a Foil? Blisters with pride swell'd, which th'row 's flesh did sprout Like Rose-buds, stuck i' th' Lilly-skin about. Each little Pimple had a Tear in it, To wail the fault its rising did commit: Who, Rebel-like, with their own Lord at strife, Thus made an Insurrection 'gainst his Life. Or were these Gems sent to adorn his Skin, The Cab'net of a richer Soul within? No Comet need foretel his Change drew on, Whose Corps might seem a @3Constellation@1. O had he di'd of old, how great a strife Had been, who from his Death should draw their Life? Who should by one rich draught become whate'er @3Seneca, Cato, Numa, Coesar,@1 were: Learn'd, Vertuous, Pious, Great, and have by this An Universal @3Metempsuchosis@1. Must all these ag'd Sires in one Funeral Expire? All die in one so young, so small? Who, had he liv'd his life out, his great Fame Had swoln 'bove any @3Greek@1 or @3Romane@1 name? But hasty Winter, with one blast, hath brought The hopes of Autumn, Summer, Spring, to nought. Thus fades the Oak i' th' spring, i' th' blade the Corn; Thus, without Young, this @3Phoenix@1 dies, new born. Must then old three-legg'd gray-beards, with their Gout, Catarrhs, Rheums, Aches, live three Ages out? Times Offal, onely fit for th' Hospital, Or t' hang an Antiquaries room withal; Must Drunkards, Lechers, spent with Sinning, live With such helps as Broths, Possits, Physick give? None live but such as should die? Shall we meet With none but Ghostly Fathers in the Street? Grief makes me rail; Sorrow will force its way; And Show'rs of Tears, Tempestuous Sighs best lay. The Tongue may fail; but over-flowing Eyes Will weep out lasting streams of @3Elegies@1. But thou, O @3Virgin-widow,@1 left alone, Now thy Beloved, Heaven-ravisht @3Spouse@1 is gone, (Whose skilful Sire in vain strove to apply Med'cines, when thy Balm was no remedy) With greater than @3Platonick@1 love, O wed His Soul, tho' not his Body, to thy Bed: Let that make thee a Mother; bring thou forth Th' @3Ideas@1 of his Vertue, Knowledge, Worth; Transcribe th' Original in new Copies: give @3Hastings@1 o' th' better part: so shall he live In's Nobler Half; and the great Grandsire be Of an Heroick Divine Progenie: An Issue which t' Eternity shall last, Yet but th' Irradiations which he cast. Erect no @3Mausoloeums@1: for his best Monument is his Spouses Marble brest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LONDON SNOW by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 25 by THOMAS CAMPION WRITTEN [OR LINES] IN A YOUNG LADY'S ALBUM by THOMAS HOOD SUPER FLUMINA BABYLONIS by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE PROVERBS 25, SELECTION by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |