A lovely count'nance of his being well, And so would ever make his tongue to tell. Although the fervour of extremity, Which often doth throw those defences down, Which in our health wall in infirmity,
Might open lay more than we would have known; Yet did no idle word in him bewray Any one piece of Nature ill set in; Those lightnesses that any thing will say, Could say no ill of what they knew within. Such a sure lock of silent modesty Was set in life upon that noble heart, As if no anguish nor extremity Could open it, t' impair that worthy part. For having dedicated still the same Unto devotion, and to sacred skill; That furnish perfect held; that blessed flame Continu'd to the last in fervour still.
And when his spir't and tongue no longer could Do any certain services beside,
Ev'n at the point of parting they unfold, With fervent zeal, how only he rely'd Upon the merits of the precious death Of his Redeemer; and with rapt desires Th' appeals to grace, his soul delivereth Unto the hand of mercy, and expires. Thus did that worthy, who most virtuously And mildly liv'd, most sweet and mildly die.
And thus, great patron of my Muse, have I Paid thee my vows, and fairly clear'd th' accounts, Which in my love I owe thy memory. And let me say, that herein there amounts Something unto thy fortune, that thou hast This monument of thee perhaps may last. Which doth not t' ev'ry mighty man befall: For lo! how many when they die, die all. And this doth argue too thy great deserts: For honour never brought unworthiness Further than to the grave: and there it parts, And leaves men's greatness to forgetfulness. And we do see that nettles, thistles, brakes, (The poorest works of Nature) tread upon The proudest frames that man's invention makes, To hold his memory when he is gone. But Devonshire, thou hast another tomb, Made by thy virtues in a safer room.
PANEGYRIC CONGRATULATORY,
DELIVERED TO THE KING'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY, AT BURLEIGH-HARRINGTON, IN RUTLANDSHIRE.
Lo here the glory of a greater day, Than England ever heretofore could see In all her days! when she did most display The ensigns of her pow'r; or when as she Did spread herself the most, and most did sway Her state abroad; yet could she never be Thus bless'd at home, nor ever come to grow To be entire in her full orb till now.
And now she is, and now in peace; therefore Shake hands with union, O thou mighty state! Now thou art all Great Britain, and no more; No Scot, no English now, nor no debate: No borders, but the ocean and the shore; No wail of Adrian serves to separate Our mutual love, nor our obedience; B'ing subjects all to one imperial prince.
What heretofore could never yet be wrought By all the swords of pow'r, by blood, by fire, By ruin and destruction: here's brought to pass With peace, with love, with joy, desire: Our former blessed union hath begot
A greater union that is more entire,
And makes us more ourselves; sets us at one With Nature, that ordain'd us to be one.
Glory of men! this hast thou brought to us, And yet hast brought us more than this by far: Religion comes with thee, peace, righteousness, Judgment, and justice; which more glorious are Than all thy kingdoms: and art more by this Than lord and sov'reign; more than emperor Over the hearts of men, that let thee in
To more than all the pow'rs on Earth can win. God makes thee king of our estates; but we Do make thee king of our affection,
King of our love: a passion born more free, And most unsubject to dominion.
And know, that England, which in that degree
Can love with such a true devotion
Those that are less than kings; to thee must bring More love, who art so much more than a king.
And king of this great nation, populous, Stout, valiant, pow'rful both by sea and land; Attemptive, able, worthy, generous, Which joyfully embraces thy command: A people tractable, obsequious, Apt to be fashion'd by thy glorious hand To any form of honour, t' any way Of high attempts, thy virtues shall assay.
A people so inur'd to peace; so wrought To a successive course of quietness, As they 've forgot (and O b' it still forgot!) The nature of their ancient stubbornness : Time alter'd hath the form, the means, and brought The state to that proportion'd evenness, As 't is not like again 't will ever come (Being us❜d abroad) to draw the sword at home.
This people, this great state, these hearts adore Thy sceptre now; and now turn all to thee, Touch'd with a pow'rful zeal, and if not more: (And yet O more how could there ever be, Than unto her, whom yet we do deplore Amidst our joy!) and give us'leave, if we Rejoice and mourn; that cannot, without wrong, So soon forget her we enjoy'd so long.
Which likewise makes for thee, that yet we hold True after death; and bring not this respect To a new prince, for hating of the old; Or from desire of change, or from neglect: Whereby, O mighty sov'reign, thou art told, What thou and thine are likely to expect From such a faith, that doth not haste to run Before their time to an arising sun.
And let my humble Muse, whom she did grace, Beg this one grace for her that now lies dead; That no vile tongue may spot her with disgrace, Nor that her fame become disfigured: O let her rest in peace, that rul'd in peace! Let not her honour be disquieted
Now after death; but let the grave enclose All but her good, and that it cannot close.
It adds much to thy glory and our grace, That this continued current of our love Runs thus to thee all with so swift a pace; And that from peace to peace we do remove, Not as in motion but from out our place, But in one course; and do not seem to move, But in more joy than ever heretofore; And well we may, since thou wilt make us more.
Our love, we see, concurs with God's great love, Who only made thy way, thy passage plain; Levell'd the world for thee; did all remove That might the show but of a let retain : Unbarr'd the North; humbl'd the South; did move The hearts of all, the right to entertain; Held other states embroil'd, whose envy might Have foster'd factions to impugn thy right:
And all for thee, that we the more might praise The glory of his pow'r, and rev'rence thine; Whom he hath rais'd to glorify our days, And make this empire of the north to shine, Against all th' impious workings, all th' assays Or vile dis-natur'd vipers; whose design Was to embroil the state, t' obscure the light, And that clear brightness of thy sacred right.
To whose reproach, since th' issue and success Doth a sufficient mark of shame return, Let no pen else blazon their ugliness: Be it enough, that God and men do scorn Their projects, censures, vain pretendences. Let not our children, that are yet unborn, Find there were any offer'd to contest, Or make a doubt to have our kingdom bless'd.
Bury that question in th' eternal grave Of darkness, never to be seen again. Suffice we have thee whom we ought to have, And t' whom all good men knew did appertain Th' inheritance thy sacred birth-right gave; That needed n' other suffrages t' ordain What only was thy due, nor no decree
Could'st thou but see from Dover to the Mount, From Totnes to the Orcades; what joy, What cheer, what triumphs, and what dear account Is held of thy renown this blessed day!
A day, which we and ours must ever count Our solemn festival, as well we may.
And though men thus court kings still which are new; Yet do they more, when they find more is due.
They fear the humours of a future prince, Who either lost a good, or felt a bad: But thou hast cheer'd us of this fear long since ; We know thee more than by report we had. We have an everlasting evidence Under thy hand; that now we need not dread Thou wilt be otherwise in thy designs, Than there thou art in those judicial lines.
It is the greatest glory upon Earth To be a king; but yet much more to give The institution with the happy birth Unto a king, and teach him how to live.
We have by thee far more than thine own worth, That doth encourage, strengthen, and relieve Our hopes in the succession of thy blood, That like to thee, they likewise will be good.
We have an earnest, that doth even tie Thy sceptre to thy word, and binds thy crown (That else no band can bind) to ratify What thy religious hand hath there set down; Wherein thy all-commanding sov'reignty Stands subject to thy pen and thy renown. There we behold thee king of thine own heart; And see what we must be, and what thou art.
There, great exemplar! prototype of kings! We find the good shall dwell within thy court: Plain Zeal and Truth, free from base flatterings, Shall there be entertain'd, and have resort: Honest Discretion, that no cunning brings; But counsels that lie right, and that import, Is there receiv'd with those whose care attends
To be made known, since none was known but thee. Thee and the state more than their private ends.
Witness the joy, the universal cheer,
The speed, the ease, the will, the forwardness, Of all this great and spacious state; how dear It held thy title and thy worthiness. Haste could not post so speedy any where, But Fame seem'd there before in readiness, To tell our hopes, and to proclaim thy name; O greater than our hopes! more than thy fame!
What a return of comfort dost thou bring, Now at this fresh returning of our blood; Thus meeting with the op'ning of the spring, To make our spirits likewise to imbud! What a new season of encouraging Begins t' enlength the days dispos'd to good! What apprehension of recovery Of greater strength, of more ability!
The pulse of England never more did beat So strong as now-Nor ever were our hearts Let out to hopes so spacious and so great, As now they are-Nor ever in all parts Did we thus feel so comfortable heat, As now the glory of thy worth imparts: The whole complexion of the commonwealth, So weak before, hop'd never more for health.
There grace and favour shall not be dispos'd, But by proportion, even and upright. There are no mighty mountains interpos'd Between thy beams and us, t' imbar thy light. There majesty lives not as if enclos'd, Or made a prey t' a private benefit. The hand of pow'r deals there her own reward, And thereby reaps the whole of men's regard.
There is no way to get up to respect, But only by the way of worthiness; All passages that may seem indirect, Are stopt up now; and there is no access By gross corruption: bribes cannot effect For th' undeserving any offices.
Th' ascent is clean; and he that doth ascend, Must have his means as clean as is his end.
The deeds of worth, and laudable deserts, Shall not now pass thorough the straight report Of an embasing tongue, that but imparts What with his ends and humours shall comport. The prince himself now hears, sees, knows what parts Honour and virtue acts, and in what sort; And thereto gives his grace accordingly, And cheers up other to the like thereby.
Nor shall we now have use for flattery; For he knows falsehood far more subtle is Than truth, baseness than liberty, Fear than love, t' invent these flourishes: And adulation now is spent so nigh, As that it hath no colours to express
That which it would, that now we must be fain T'unlearn that art, and labour to be plain.
For where there is no ear to be abus'd, None will be found that dare t' inform a wrong: The insolent depraver stands confus'd; The impious atheist seems to want a tongue. Transform'd into the fashion that is us'd, All strive t' appear like those they live among: And all will seen compos'd by that same square, By which they see the best and greatest are.
Such pow'r hath thy example and respect, As that without a sword, without debate, Without a noise, (or feeling, in effect) Thou wilt dispose, change, form, accommodate, Thy kingdom, people, rule, and all effect, Without the least convulsion of the state; That this great passage and mutation will Not seem a change, but only of our ill.
We shall continue and remain all one, In law, in justice, and in magistrate : Thou wilt not alter the foundation Thy ancesters have laid of this estate, Nor grieve thy land with innovation,
Nor take from us more than thou wilt collate; Knowing that course is best to be observ'd, Whereby a state hath longest been preserv'd.
A king of England now most graciously Remits the injuries that have been done T'a king of Scots, and makes his clemency To check them more than his correction: Th' anointed blood that stain'd most shamefully This ill-seduced state, he looks thereon
With eye of grief, not wrath, t' avenge the same, Since th' authors are extinct that caus'd that shame.
Thus mighty rivers quietly do glide, And do not by their rage their pow'rs profess, But by their mighty workings; when in pride Small torrents roar more loud, and work much less. Peace greatness best becomes. Calm pow'r doth With a far more imperious stateliness, Than all the swords of violence can do, And easier gains those ends she tends unto.
Then, England, thou hast reason thus to cheer; Reason to joy and triumph in this wise; When thou shalt gain so much, and have no fear, To lose ought else but thy deformities; When thus thou shalt have health, and be set clear From all thy great infectious maladies, By such a hand that best knows how to cure, And where most lie those griefs thou dost endure.
When thou shalt see there is another grace, Than to be rich; another dignity, Than money; other means for place, Than gold-wealth shall not now make honesty. When thou shalt see the estimation base, Of that which most afflicts our misery; Without the which else could'st thou never see Our ways laid right, nor men themselves to be.
By which improvement we shall gain much more Than by Peru; or all discoveries:
For this way to embase, is to enstore
The treasure of the land, and make it rise. This is the only key t' unlock the door, To let out plenty, that it may suffice: For more than all this isle, for more increase Of subjects than by thee, there can increase.
This shall make room and place enough for all, Which otherwise would not suffice a few: And by proportion geometrical,
Shall so dispose to all what shall be due,
As that without corruption, wrangling, brawl, Intrusion, wrestling, and by means undue ; Desert shall have her charge, and but one charge, As having but one body to discharge.
Whereby the all-incheering majesty Shall come to shine at full in all her parts, And spread her beams of comfort equally,
As being all alike to like deserts.
For thus to check, embase, and vilify
Th' esteem of wealth, will fashion so our hearts To worthy ends, as that we shall by much More labour to be good than to be rich.
This will make peace with Law; restore the Bar T' her ancient silence; where contention now Makes so confus'd a noise-This will debar The fost'ring of debate; and overthrow That ugly monster, that foul ravener, Extortion, which so hideously did grow, By making prey upon our misery, And wasting it again as wickedly.
The strange examples of impov'rishments, Of sacrilege, exaction, and of waste, Shall not be made, nor held as presidents For times to come; but end with th' ages past. When as the state shall yield more supplements (B'ing well employ'd) than kings can well exhaust; This golden meadow lying ready still
Then to be mow'd, when their occasions will.
Favour, like pity, in the hearts of men Have the first touches ever violent;
But soon again it comes to languish, when The motive of that humour shall be spent: But b'ing still fed with that which first hath been The cause thereof, it holds still permanent, And is kept in by course, by form, by kind; And time begets more ties, that still more bind.
The broken frame of this disjointed state B'ing by the bliss of thy great grandfather (Henry the Seventh) restor'd to an estate More sound than ever, and more stedfaster, Owes all it hath to him; and in that rate Stands bound to thee, that art his successor : For without him it had not been begun; And without thee we had been now undone. He of a private man became a king; Having endur'd the weight of tyranny, Mourn'd with the world, complain'd, and knew the That good men wish for in their misery Under ill kings; saw what it was to bring Order and form, to the recovery
Of an unruly state: conceiv'd what cure Would kill the cause of this distemp'rature,
Thou, born a king, hast in thy state endur'd The sowre affronts of private discontent, With subjects' broils; and ever been inur'd To this great mystery of government: Whereby thy princely wisdom hath allur'd A state to peace, left to thee turbulent, And brought us an addition to the frame Of this great work, squar'd fitly to the same.
And both you (by th' all-working providence, That fashions out of dangers, toils, debates, Those whom it hath ordained to commence The first and great establishments of states) Came when your aid, your pow'r's experience' (Which out of judgment best accommodates These joints of rule) was more than most desir'd, And when the times of need the most requir'd.
And as he laid the model of this frame,
By which was built so strong a work of state, As all the pow'rs of changes in the same, All that excess of a disordinate
And lustful prince, nor all that after came; Nor child, nor stranger, nor yet women's fate, Could once disjoint the compliments, whereby It held together in just symmetry.
So thou likewise art come, as fore-ordain'd To reinforce the same more really, Which oftentimes hath but been entertain'd By th' only style and name of majesty ; And by no other counsels oft attain'd Those ends of her enjoy'd tranquillity, Than by this form, and by th' encumbrances Of neighbour-states, that gave it a success.
That had'st thou had no title, (as thou hast The only right; and none hath else a right) We yet must now have been enforc'd t' have cast Ourselves into thy arms, to set all right; And to avert confusion, bloodshed, waste, That otherwise upon us needs must light. None but a king, and no king else beside, Could now have sav'd this state from b'ing destroy'd. Thus hath the hundred years brought back again The sacred blood lent to adorn the north, And here return'd it with a greater gain, And greater glory than we sent it forth. Thus doth th' all-working Providence retain, And keep for great effects the seed of worth, And so doth point the stops of time thereby, In periods of uncertain certainty.
Margret of Richmond, (glorious grandmother Unto that other precious Margaret,
From whence th' Almighty worker did transfer This branch of peace, as from a root well set) Thou mother, author, plotter, counsellor Of union! that did'st both conceive, beget, And bring forth happiness to this great state, To make it thus entirely fortunate:
O could'st thou now but view this fair success, This great effect of thy religious work, And see therein how God hath pleas'd to bless Thy charitable counsels; and to work Still greater good out of the blessedness Of this conjoined Lancaster and York: Which all conjoin'd within; and those shut out, Whom nature and their birth had set without!
How much hast thou bound all posterities In this great work to reverence thy name! And with thee that religious, faithful, wise, And learned Morton! who contriv'd the same, And first advis'd, and did so well advise, As that the good success that thereof came, Show'd well, that holy hands, clean thoughts, clear Are only fit to act such glorious parts. [hearts,
But, Muse, these dear remembrances must be In their convenient places registred, When thou shalt bring stern Discord to agree, And bloody War into a quiet bed. Which work must now be finished by thee, That long hath lain undone; as destined Unto the glory of these days: for which Thy vows and verse bave laboured so much.
Thou ever hast opposed all thy might Against contention, fury, pride, and wrong; Persuading still to hold the course of right; And peace hath been the burden of thy song. And now thyself shalt have the benefit Of quietness, which thou hast wanted long; And now shalt have calm peace, and union With thine own wars; and now thou must go on.
Only the joy of this so dear a thing Made me look back unto the cause, whence came This so great good, this blessing of a king; When our estate so much requir'd the same: When we had need of pow'r for th' well-ord'ring Of our affairs: need of a spir't to frame The world to good, to grace and worthiness, Out of this humour of luxuriousness:
And bring us back unto ourselves again, Unto our ancient native modesty, From out these foreign sins we entertain, These loathsome surfeits, ugly gluttony; From this unmanly, and this idle vein Of wanton and superfluous bravery; The wreck of gentry, spoil of nobleness; | And square us by thy temp rate soberness. When abstinence is fashion'd by the time, It is no rare thing to be abstinent: But then it is, when th' age (full fraught with Lies prostrate unto all misgovernment. And who is not licentious in the prime And heat of youth, nor then incontinent When out of might he may, he never will; No pow'r can tempt him to that taste of ill.
Then what are we t' expect from such a hand, That doth this stern of fair example guide? Who will not now shame to have no command Over his lusts? who would be seen t' abide Unfaithful to his vows; t' infringe the band Of a most sacred knot which God hath ty'd? Who would now seem to be dishonoured With th' unclean touch of an unlawful bed?
What a great check will this chaste court be now To wanton courts debauch'd with luxury; Where we no other mistresses shall know, But her to whom we owe our loyalty? Chaste mother of our princes, whence do Those righteous issues, which shall glorify And comfort many nations with their worth, To her perpetual grace that brought them forth.
We shall not fear to have our wives distain'd, Nor yet our daughters violated here By an imperial lust, that b`ing unrein'd, Will hardly be resisted any where.
He will not be betray'd with ease, nor train'd With idle rest, in soft delights to wear
His time of life; but knows whereto he tends; How worthy minds are made for worthy ends.
And that this mighty work of Union, now Begun with glory, must with grace run on, And be so clos'd, as all the joints may grow Together firm in due proportion:
A work of pow'r and judgment, that must show All parts of wisdom and discretion,
That man can show; that no cloud may impair This day of hope, whose morning shows so fair.
He hath a mighty burden to sustain Whose fortune doth succeed a gracious prince; Or where men's expectations entertain Hopes of more good, and more beneficence: But yet he undergoes a greater pain,
A more laborious work; who must commence The great foundation of a government, And lay the frame of order and content.
Especially where men's desires do run A greedy course of eminency, gain, And private hopes; weighing not what is done For the republic, so themselves may gain Their ends; and where few care who be undone, So they be made: whilst all do entertain The present motions that this passage brings, With th' infancy of change, under new kings.
So that the weight of all seems to rely Wholly upon thine own discretion; Thy judgment now must only rectify This frame of pow'r thy glory stands upon: From thee must come, that thy posterity May joy this peace, and hold this union. For whilst all work for their own benefit, Thy only work must keep us all upright.
For did not now thy full maturity
Of years and wisdom, that discern what shows, What art and colours may deceive the eye, Secure our trust that that clear judgment knows Upon what grounds depend thy majesty, And whence the glory of thy greatness grows; We might distrust, lest that a side might part Thee from thyself, and so surprise thy heart. Since thou 'rt but one, and that against thy breast Are laid all th' engines both of skill and wit; And all th' assaults of cunning are address'd, With stratagems of art, to enter it;
To make a prey of grace, and to invest Their pow'rs within thy love; that they might sit, And stir that way which their affection tends, Respecting but themselves and their own ends.
And see'ng how difficult a thing it is
To rule; and what strength is requir'd to stand Against all th' interplac'd respondences Of combinations, set to keep the hand And eye of Pow'r from out the provinces, That Avarice may draw to her command; Which, to keep hers, she others vows to spare, That they again to her might use like care.
But God that rais'd thee up to act this part, Hath giv'n thee all those pow'rs of worthiness, Fit for so great a work; and fram'd thy heart Discernible of all apparencies;
Taught thee to know the world, and this great art Of ord'ring man: knowledge of knowledges! That from thee men might reckon how this state Became restor'd, and was made fortunate.
That thou the first with us in name, might'st be The first in course, to fashion us a-new; Wherein the times hath offer'd that to thee, Which seldom t' other princes could accrue. Thou hast th' advantage only to be free, T'employ thy favours where they shall be due; And to dispose they grace in general, And like to Jove, to be alike to all.
Thy fortune hath indebted thee to none, But t' all thy people universally; And not to them, but for their love alone, Which they account is placed worthily. Nor wilt thou now frustrate their hopes, whereon They rest; nor they fail in their loyalty: Since no prince comes deceived in his trust, But he that first deceives, and proves unjust.
Then since we are in this so fair a way Of restoration, greatness, and command; Cursed be he that causes the least stay In this fair work, or interrupts thy hand; And cursed he that offers to betray Thy graces, or thy goodness to withstand; Let him be held abhorr'd, and all his race Inherit but the portion of disgrace.
And he that shall by wicked offices Be th' author of the least disturbaney, Or seek t' avert thy godly purposes, Be ever held the scorn of infamy. And let men but consider their success, Who princes' loves abus'd presumptuously; They shall perceive their ends do still relate, That sure God loves them not, whom men do hate.
And it is just, that they who make a prey Of princes' favours, in the end again Be made a prey to princes; and repay The spoils of misery with greater gain: Whose sacrifices ever do allay
The wrath of men conceiv'd in their disdain: For that their hatred prosecuteth still More than ill princes, those that make them ill.
But both thy judgment and estate doth free Thee from these pow'rs of fear and flattery, The conquerors of kings; by whom, we see, Are wrought the acts of all impiety. Thou art so set, as thou'st no cause to be Jealous, or dreadful of disloyalty: The pedestal whereon thy greatness stands, Is built of all our hearts, and all our hands.
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