ON THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, ANOTHER by THOMAS CAREW

READER, when these dumb stones have told
In borrow'd speech what guest they hold,
Thou shalt confess the vain pursuit
Of human glory yields no fruit
But an untimely grave. If Fate
Could constant happiness create,
Her ministers, Fortune and Worth,
Had here that miracle brought forth:
They fix'd this child of Honour where
No room was left for hope or fear,
Of more or less; so high, so great
His growth was, yet so safe his seat:
Safe in the circle of his friends,
Safe in his loyal heart, and ends;
Safe in his native valiant spirit,
By favour safe, and safe by merit;
Safe by the stamp of Nature, which
Did strength with shape and grace enrich;
Safe in the cheerful courtesies
Of flowing gestures, speech, and eyes;
Safe in his bounties, which were more
Proportion'd to his mind than store:
Yet, though for virtue he becomes
Involv'd himself in borrow'd sums,
Safe in his care, he leaves betray'd
No friend engag'd, no debt unpaid.
But though the stars conspire to shower
Upon one head th' united power
Of all their graces, if their dire
Aspects must other breasts inspire
With vicious thoughts, a murderer's knife
May cut, as here, their darling's life.
Who can be happy then, if Nature must,
To make one happy man, make all men just?

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