URANIA, ON THE SCAFFOLD

Pray, Sirs, be near me,

When I do fall. cannot tell what postures
Death may allow of.

[Act v.]

FROM R. WILMOT'S DEDICATION OF "TANCRED & GISMUND" [See p. 422] TO THE LADIES MARIE PETRE & ANNE GREY

-and now for that weary winter is come upon us, which bringeth with him drooping days & tedious nights, if it be true that the motions of our minds follow the temperature of the air wherein we live, then I think the perusing of some mournful matter, tending to the view of a notable example, will refresh your wits in a gloomy day, & ease your weariness of the lowring night. Which, if it please you, may serve for a solemn revel against the festival time: for Gismund's bloody shadow, with a little cost, may be entreated in her self-like person to speak to ye,

[Dodsley. Old English Plays. Vol. vii.]

THYRSIS, A PASTORAL ELEGY, IN THE PERSON OF SIR
KENELM DIGBY, ON THE DEATH OF HIS NOBLE
LADY, THE LADY VENETIA DIGBY, WRITTEN BY J.
RUTTER, 1635

The gentlest Swain that Arcady e'er bred,
Who Thyrsis hight, the saddest of that name,
Close by a river's side his heavy head
Laid down, as he with tears would fill the same;
Regarding nought that might him pleasance give,
Since what was his delight had left to live.

And whilst that other Shepherds of his rank
(If any Shepherd of his rank might be)
Plaid on their merry pipes upon some bank,
Making the hills resound their jollity,
He in sad plight his woeful days did spend,
Their joyous sports caring not to attend.

There as he by that silent water lay,
Regardless of his youth and lustyhed,
His swelling grief in vain he did assay

To vent in grievous plaints, which more it fed;

Whilst to the ruthless waves he did relate

The story of his loss, and heavy fate.

I

You Nymphs, if any do inhabit here,

(And I have heard that Nymphs in waters dwell),
Lend to my careful verse a gentle ear

Whilst I, the saddest wight that e'er did tell

His own mishaps, unfold to you my case,
In this your baleful place.

If to the Sea, of which you branches are,
I ever honour did, when list me change
My shepherd's staff, to seek adventures far
In the wide ocean, where I long did range,
And brought renown home to my native soil
The glory of my toil :

Do not mistake, nor offer to compare

Those days with these, wherein my grief exceeds
The joy, which once I had, to see my fair
Welcome me home, and gratulate my deeds,
Which to achieve, her grace as well did move,
As did my country's love.

But now with her those graces all are gone.—
Weep with me, Waters, to make up my moan.

II

Gone is my love: and why then do I see
Nature the same as e'er she was before,

Since to her making all her forces She

Wisely employ'd, and She could give no more?

Though she should frame the most celestial mold,
That e'er the earth did hold;

To draw from all the heads of noble blood

The best, and to infuse it into one,

To make a mixture of all fair and good,

Rare symmetry and sweet proportion.

Was it to show that such a thing might be
Without eternity?

It was; and we are taught how frail the trust

Is, that we give unto mortality;

How soon she is resolved into dust,

Whom erst the world so beautiful did see;

But you were just that took her, but unkind

In leaving me behind.

Alas! why was I left thus all alone?

Weep with me Waters to make up my moan.

III

She's gone, and I am here; yet do I find
With some small joy the languishing decay
Of th' other half which she has left behind:
For half of me with her she bore away
Unto those fields where she immortal is,
Heaped with heavenly bliss.

I see her fair soul in that blessed place,
Where joy for ever dwells: and now I know,
How in a dream she saw an Angel's face,
And it admiring, wish'd she might be so:
Which the celestial powers would not deny,
So did she sleeping die.

So did she break the bonds of heavy night,
And when she waked, waked to eternal day:
Where she in forms Angelic now is dight,
And sees her Maker, and shall see for aye.
Oh happy Soul, I will not thee envy :
Oh let me rather fly

VOL. IV.-38

Unto that blessed place, where thou art gone.
Then, Waters, weep no more, but end your moan.

IV

I come: yet something doth retard me here,
The pledges of our love thou leftst with me;
Those whom thou living didst account so dear,
Who still with me preserve thy memory:
For their loved sakes yet must I longer stay;
Then will I post away:

When to thy lasting name I have uprear'd
A Monument, which Time shall ne'er deface;
And made the world, which as yet have not heard
Of thy rare virtues, & thy honour'd race,

Know who thou wert, & that thou went from hence
At Nature's great expence.

Then, world, farewell; you have I seen enough,

And know how to despise your vanity:

Your painted glories are of baser stuff,

Made to delude those that with half eyes see;

He, that's abstracted from you stands much higher,

And greater things admire."

'Tis you I leave, to go where she is gone:

Then, Waters, weep no more, here end your moan.

This to the empty winds & waters he

Alas! in vain (they cared not for his tears)

Did thus unfold, to ease his misery:

When lo! the Messenger of Night appears;

For the fall'n Sun, which warn'd him to begone,
Changed to the light uncertain of the Moon.

De Tumulo, per illustrissimum Dominum Kenelmum Digby lectissimæ conjugi suæ structo, ejusque memoriæ dicato, Epigramma.

Hac tua chara jacet, Digbeie, Venetia terrâ,
Quæ pietate tuâ nobile marmor habet :
En Parios lapides, atque hac in mole repertum
Quod Phidiæ potuit, Praxitilisve manus.
Aspicis ut vivunt, statuæ, cœlataque docta.
Era manu, quin ut vertice et ipsa micat.
Gloria defunctos si tangit, posse videtur
Credibile hoc illam velle cubare modo.
Quærenti cineres respondent, "Corde jacebo
Conjugis, et tumulo nobiliore tegar."

[See Rutter's Shepheards Holiday, ed. 1635.]

"SAPHO AND PHAO." [See p. 514]

Vulcan's apology for his Crest.

fools, they are things like Horns, but no Horns.

For once in

the Senate of Gods being holden a solemn session, in the midst of their talk, I put in my sentence; which was so indifferent, that they all concluded it might as well have been left out, as put in: and

so placed on each side of my head things like Horns, & called me a Parenthesis.

[Act iii., Sc. 2.]

MERCHANTS IN A PICTURE

-their countenances so lively, that bargains seemed to come

from their lips.

Decker. [The Magnificent Entertainment given to King
James, 1604. Works, Pearson's ed., I., 292.]