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And thus sets on him " See, my lord, how here Thus the good father, with an humble thought,
Th' eternal providence of God hath brought (Bred in a cellulary low retire)
You to the shore of safety, (out of fear)

According to his quiet humour, sought
From all the waves of misery, that wrought Tavert him from his turbulent desire;
To overwhelm you; and hath set you clear, When the great earl began-“ Father, I note
Where you would be; with having(which you sought What you with zeal advise, with love require;
Through all these hazards of distress) a king And I must thank you for this care you have,
Of your own making and establishing.

And for those good advertisements you gave. “ And now, my lord, I trust you will sit down, “ And truly, father, could I but get free, And rest you after all this passed thrall,

(Without b’ing rent) and hold my dignity; And be yourself, a prince within your own, That sheepcot, which in yonder vale you see, Without advent'ring any more at all

(Beset with groves, and those sweet springs hard by) Your state in others' bottoms; having known I rather would my palace wish to be, The dangers that on mighty actors fall;

Than any roof of proudest majesty. Since in the foot of your accounts, your gains But that I cannot do I have my part: Come short to make ev'n reck’ning with your pains. And I must live in one house with my heart. “ Enjoy now what you wrought for in this sort, “ I know that I am fix'd unto a sphere, (If great men's ends be to enjoy their ends) That is ordain'd to move- It is the place And know, the happi'st pow'r, the greatest port, My fate appoints me; and the region where Is only that which on itself depends.

I must, whatever happens, there embrace. Here have you state enongh, to be a court Disturbance, travail, labour, hope, and fear, Unto yourself! here! where the world attends Are of that clime, engender'd in that place. On you, (not you on it) observed sole:

And action best (I see) becomes the best : You elsewhere but a part, are here the whole. The stars that have most glory, have no rest. “ The advantages of princes are, we see,

“ Besides, it were a coward's part to fly But things conceiv'd imaginarily:

Now from my hold, that have held out so well For ev'ry state of fortune, in degree,

It b’ing the station of my life, where I Some image hath of principality ;

Am set to serve, and stand as centinel: Which they enjoy more natural and free, And must of force make good the place, or die, Than can great pow'rs, chain'd with observancy, When Fate and Fortune (those great states) compel. And with the fetters of respect still tyd;

And then we lords in such case ever are, B'ing easier far to follow, than to guide.

As Peace can cut our throats as well as War: “ And what are courts, but camps of misery? “ And hath her griefs, and her incumbrances : That do besiege men's states, and still are pressid And doth with idle rest deform us more T'assail, prevent, complot, and fortify;

Than any magha can, or sorceress, In hope t’ attain, in fear to be suppress'd.

With basely wasting all the martial store Where all with shows and with apparency,

Of heat and spir't, (which graceth manliness) Men seem as if for stratagems address’d:

And makes us still false images adore :
Where Portune, as the wolf, doth still prefer Besides profusion of our faculties,
The foulest of the train that follows her.

In gross dull glutt'ny, vap'rous gormandise. “ And where fair hopes are laid, as ambushments, “ And therefore since I am the man I am, To intercept your life, and to betray

I must not give a foot, lest I give all. Your liberty to such entanglements,

Nor is this bird within my breast so tame, As you shall never more get clear away:

As to be fed at hand, and mock'd withal:
Where both th'engagemeut of your own intents, I rather would my state were out of frame,
And other reck’nings and accounts, shall lay Than my renown should come to get a fall.
Such weights upon you, as you shall not part, No! no! th' ungrateful boy shall never think,
Unless you break your credit, or your heart. That I, who him enlarg'd to pow'r, will shrink.
“ Besides, as exiles ever from your homes, qo's What is our life without our dignity?
You live perpetual in disturbancy;

Which oft we see comes less by living long.
Contending, thrusting, shuffling for your rooms Whoever was there worth the memory,
Of ease or honour, with impatiency;

And eminent indeed, but still dy'd young? Building your fortunes upon others' tombs, As if Worth had agreed with Destiny, [wrong. For other than your own posterity.

"That Time, which rights them, should not do them You see, courts few advance; many undo: Besides, old age doth give (by too long space) And those they do advance, they ruin too. Our souls as many wrinkles as our face. « And therefore now, my lord, since you are here, “ And as for my inheritance and state, Where you may have your rest with dignity; (Whatever happen) I will so provide Work that you may continue so: and clear That law shall, with what strength it hath, collate Yourself from out these streights of misery. The same on mine, and those to mine ally'd : Hold your estate and life as things more dear, Although I know she serves the present state, Than to be thrown at an uncertainty.

And can undo again what she hath tyd. 'T is time that you and England have a calm; But that we leave to him, who points out heirs ; And time the olive stood above the palm." And howsoever yet the world is theirs.


" Where they must work it out; as born to run And therefore I sincerely will report, Those fortunes, which as mighty families

First how thy parts were fair convey'd within ; (As ever they could be) before have done.

How that brave mind was built, and in what sort Nor shall they gain by mine indignities,

All thy contexture of thy heart hath been: Who may without my courses be undone.

Which was so nobly fram'd, so well composod, And whoso makes his state and life his ties

As Virtue hever had a fairer seat, To do unworthily, is born a slave;

Nor could be better lodg'd, nor more repos'd, And let him with that brand go to his grave.” Than in that goodly frame; where all things sweet,

And all things quiet, held a peaceful rest ; Here would the rev'rend father have reply'd, Where passion did no sudden tumults raise, “ That it were far more magnanimity,

That might disturb her-Nor was ever breast T endure, than to resist—That we are ty'd Contain'd so much, and made so little noise: As well to bear the inconveniency

That by thy silent modesty is found, And strains of kings and states; as to abide The empti'st vessels make the greatest sound: Untimely rains, tempests, sterility,

For thou so well discern’d'st thyself, bad'st read And other ills of nature that befall;

Man and his breath so well, as made thee force Which we of force must be content withal :" The less to speak; as b'ing ordain'd to spread

Thy self in action, rather than discourse. But that a speedy messenger was sent,

Though thou had'st made a general survey To show the duke of Clarence was hard by, Of all the best of men's best knowledges, And thereupon Warwick breaks off, and went And knew as much as ever learning knew; (With all his train attending formally)

Yet did it make thee trust thyself the less, To entertain him with fit compliment;

And less presume—And yet when being mov'd As glad of such an opportunity

In private talk to speak; thou did'st bewray To work upon, for those bigh purposes

How fully fraught thou wert within ; and prov'd, He had conceiv'd in discontentedness.

That thou did'st know whatever wit could say.
Which show'd, thou had'st not books as many have,
For ostentation, but for use: and that
Thy bount'ous memory was such, as gave
A large revenue of the good it gat.
Witness so many volumes, whereto thou
Hast set thy notes under thy learned hand,

And mark'd them with that print, as will show how

The point of thy conceiving thoughts did stand :

That none would think, if all thy life had been UPON THE DEATH OF THE LATE NOBLE EARL OF

Turn'd into leisure, thou could'st have attain'd DEVONSHIRE.

So much of time, to have perus’d and seen

So many volumes that so much contain'd. Now that the hand of Death bath laid thee there, Which furniture may not be deem'd least rare, Where neither greatness, pomp, nor grace we see, Amongst those ornaments that sweetly dight Nor any diff'rences of earth; and where

Thy solitary Wansted'; where thy care
No veil is drawn betwixt thy self and thee, Had gather'd all what heart or eyes delight.
Now, Devonshire, that thou art but a name, And whereas many others have, we see,
And all the rest of thee besides is gone;

All things within their houses worth the sight;
When men conceive thee not but by the fame Except themselves, that furniture of thee,
Of what thy virtue and thy worth have done: And of thy presence, gave the best delight.
Now shall my verse, which thou in life did'st grace, With such a season, such a temp'rature,
(And which was no disgrace for thee to do) Wert thou composed, as made sweetness one;
Not leave thee in the grave, that ugly place, And held the tenour of thy life still sure,
That few regard, or have respect unto :

In consort with thyself, in perfect tone, Where all attendance and observance ends; And never man bad heart more truly serv'd Where all the sunshine of our favour sets;

Under the regiment of his own care, Where what was ill no countenance defends, And was more at command, and more observ'd And what was good th' unthankful world forgets. The colours of that modesty he bare, Here shalt thou have the service of my pen;

Than that of thine; in whom men never found (The tongue of my best thoughts) and in this case That any show, or speech obscene, could tell I cannot be suppos'd to fatter, when

Of any vein thou had'st that was unsound, I speak bebind thy back, not to thy face.

Or motion of thy pow’rs that turn'd not well. Men never soothe the dead, but where they do And this was thy provision laid within : Find living ties to hold them thereunto.

Thus wert thou to thyself, and now remains; And I stand clear from any other chain [breath: What to the world thou outwardly hast been, Than of my love; which, free-born, draws free What the dimension of that side contains ; The benefit thou gav'st me, to sustain

Which likewise was so goodly and so large, My humble life, I lose it by thy death.

As shows that thou wert born t' adorn the days Nor was it such, as it could lay on me

Wherein thou liv'dst; and also to discharge Any exaction of respect so'strong,

Those parts which England's and thy fame should As t' enforce m'observance beyond thee,

raise. Or make my conscience differ from my tongue: " For I have learnt, it is the property For free men to speak truth, for slaves to lie.”

The library at, Wansted.


Although in peace thou seem'd'st to be all peace, And this important piece like t' have been rent
Yet b'ing in war, thou wer't all war: and there, From off thy state, did then so tickle stand,
As in thy sphere, thy spir'ts did never cease As that no jointure of the government
To move with indefatigable care;

But shook : no ligament, no band
And nothing seem'd more to arride thy heart, Of order and obedience, but were then
Nor more enlarge thee into jollity,

Loose and in tott'ring, when the charge
Than when thou saw'st thy self in armour girt, Thereof was laid on Montjoy; and that other men,
Or any act of arms like to be nigh.

Chok'd by example, sought to put it off.
The Belgic war first try'd thy martial spir't, [fonnd; And he, out of his native modesty,
And what thou wert, and what thou would'st be (As b'ing no undertaker) labours too
And mark'd thee there according to thy mer't, To have avoided that which his ability,
- With honour's stamp, a deep and noble wound. And England's genius, would have him to do:
And that same place that rent from mortal men Alleging how it was a charge unfit
Immortal Sidney, glory of the field!

For him to undergo; see'ng such a one
And glory of the Muses! and their pen

As had more pow'r and means t accomplish it,
(Who equal bear the caduce and the shield) Than he could have, had there so little dóne.
Had likewise been try last; had not the fate Whose ill success, (consid'ring his great worth
Of England then reserv'd thy worthy blood, Was such, as could that mischief be withstood,
Unto the preservation of a state

It had been wrought) did in itself bring forth That much concern'd her honour and her good; Discouragement, that he should do less good. And thence return'd thee to enjoy the bliss

The state reply'd, it was not look'd he should Of grace and favour in Eliza's sight,

Restore it wholly to itself again ;
(That miracle of women!) who by this

But only now (if possible) he could
Made thee beheld according to thy right:

In any fashion but the same retain,
Which fair and happy blessing thou might'st well So that it did not fall asunder quite,
Have far more rais'd, had not thine enemy B’ing thus dishiver'd in a desp'rate plight.
(Retired privacy) made thee to sell

With courage on he goes; doth execute
Thy greatness for thy quiet, and deny

With counsel; and returns with victory.
To meet fair Fortune when she came to thee. But in what noble fash'on he did suit
For never man did his preferment fly,

This action! with what wit and industry!
And had it in that eminent degree,

Is not to be disgrac'd in this small card:
As thou; as if it sought thy modesty.

It asks a spacious map of inore regard.
For that which many (whom ambition toils Here is no room to tell, with what strange speed
And tortures with their hopes) hardly attain And secresy he used, to prevent
With all their thrusts, and should’ring plots, and The enemies designs; nor with what heed
Was easily made thine without thy pain. [wiles, He march'd before report: where what he meant,
And without any private malicing,

Fame never knew herself, till it was done;
Or public grievance, every good man joy'd His drifts and rumour seldom b'ing all one.
That virtue could come clear to any thing, Nor will this place conveniency afford,
And fair deserts to be so fairly paid.

To show how he (when dismal Winter storms)
Those benefits that were bestow'd on thee,

Keeps peace, and makes Mars sheath his sword,
Were not like Fortune's favours: they could see Toils him abroad, and noble acts performs.
Eliza's clear-ey'd judgment is renown'd

Nor how by mastring difficulties so,
For making choice of thy ability.

In times unusual, and by passage bard,
But it will everlastingly rebound

He bravely came to disappoint his foe;
Unto the glory and benignity

And many times surpris'd him upprepar'd.
Of Britain's mighty monarch, that thou wer't Yet let me touch one point of this great act,
By him advanced for thy great desert:

That farnous siege, the master-work of all;
It bing the fairer work of majesty,

Where no distress nor difficulties lack'd
With favour to reward, than to employ.

Tafflict his weary, tired camp withal:
Although thy services were such, as they

That when enclos'd by pow'rful enemies
Might ask their grace themselves; yet do we see, On either side, with feeble troops he lay
That to success desert hath not a way,

Intrench'd in mire, in cold, in miseries;
But under princes that most gracious be:

Kept waking with alarums night and day.
For without thy great valour we had lost

There were who did advise him to withdraw
The dearest purchase ever England made; His army, to some place of safe defence,
And made with such profuse, exceeding cost Prom the apparent peril; which they saw
Of blood and charge, to keep and to invade; Was to confound them, or to force them thence.
As commutation paid a dearer price

“ For now the Spaniard hath possess'd three For such a piece of earth: and yet well paid,

And well adventur'd for with great advice, The most important of this isle," say they;
And happily to our dominions laid:

“ And sooner fresh suppliments Spain transports
Without which out-let England, thou had'st been To them, than England can to us convey:
From all the rest of th' Earth shut out, and pent The rebel is in heart; and now is join'd
Unto thy self, and forc'd to keep within ;

With some of them already, and doth stand
Environd round with others' government."

Here over us, with chiefest strength combin'd
Where now by this, thy large imperial crown Of all the desp'rate forces of the land :
Stands boundless in the west, and hath a way And how upon these disadvantages,
For noble times, left to make all thine own Your doubtful troops will fight, your honour guess."
That lies beyond it, and force all t' obey.

Th' undaunted Montjoy hereto answers this:

“ My worthy friends, the charge of this great | That worthiness which merits to remain state

Among th' examples of integrity; And kingdom to my faith committed is,

Whereby themselves no doubt shall also gain And I must all I can ingeniate

A like regard unto their memory. To answer for the same, and render it

Now, muttring Envy, what can'st thou produce, Upon as fair a reck’ning as I may:

To darken the bright lustre of such parts? But if from hence I shall once stir my feet, Cast thy pure stone exempt from all abuse. The kingdom is undone, and lost this day. Say, what defects could weigh down these deserts : All will fly thither, where they find is Heart; Summon detraction, to object the worst And Fear shall have none stand to take his part. That may be told, and utter all it can:

“ And how shall we answer our country then, It cannot find a blemish to b' enforc'd At our return; nay, answer our own fame? Against him, other than he was a man ; Which howsoever we have done like men,

And built of flesh and blood, and did live here
Will be imbranded with the mark of blame. Within the region of infirmity;
And since we here are come unto the point, Where all perfections never did appear
For which we toild so much, and stay'd so long; To meet in any one so really,
Let us not now our travails disappoint

But that his frailty ever did bewray
Of th' honour which doth thereunto belong. Unto the world that he was set in clay.
We cannot spend our blood more worthily, And Gratitude and Charity, I know,
Than in so fair a cause-And if we fall,

Will keep no note, nor memory will have
We fall with glory: and our worth thereby Of ought, but of his worthy virtues now,
Shall be renowned, and held dear of all.

Which still will live; the rest lies in his grave. And for my part, I count the field to be

Seeing only such stand ever base and low, The honvurablest bed to die upon;

That strike the dead, or mutter under-hand : And here your eyes this day shall either see And as dogs bark at those they do not know, My body laid, or else this action done.

So they at such they do not understand. The Lord, the chief and sov'reign general

The worthier sort, who know we do not live Of hosts, makes weak to stand, the strong to fall.” With perfect men, will never be s unkind;

With which brave resolution he so warm'd They will the right to the deceased give, Their shaking courage, as they all in one

Knowing themselves must likewise leave behind Set to that noble work; which they perform'd Those that will censure them. And they know how As gallantly as ever men have done :

The lion being dead, ev’n hares insult: Of which 't is better nothing now to say,

And will not urge an imperfection now, Than say too little. For there rests behind When as he hath no party to consult, A trophy tbe erected, that will stay

Nor tongue nor advocate to show bis mind : To all posterities, and keep in mind

They rather will lament the loss they find, That glorious act, which did a kingdom save, By such a noble member of that worth, Kept the crown whole, and made the peace we have. And know how rare the world such men brings forth. And now I will omit to show, therefore,

But let it now sufficient be, that I His management of public bus'nesses;

The last scene of his act of life bewray,' Which oft are under Fortune's conduct, more Which gives th' applause to all, doth glorify Than ours: and tell his private carri'ges,

The work-for 't is the ev'ning crowns the day. Which on his own discretion did rely,

This action of our death especially Wherewith his spir't was furnish'd happily. Shows all a mani Here only he is found, Mild, affable, and easy of access

With what munition he did fortify He was; but with a due reservedness :

His heart; how good his furniture bath been. So that the passage to his favours lay

And this did he perform in gallaut wise: Not common to all comers; nor yet was

In this did be comfirm his worthiness. So narrow, but it gave a gentle way

For on the morrow after the surprise To such as fitly might, or ought to pass.

That sickness made on him with fierce access, Nor sold he smoke; nor took he up to day He told his faithful friend, whom he held dear, Commodities of men's attendances,

(And whose great worth was worthy so to be) And of their hopes; to pay them with delay, # How that he knew those hot diseases were And entertain them with fair promises.

Of that contagious force, as he did see
But as a man that lov'd no great commerce That men were over-tumblid suddenly ;
With business and with noise, he ever flies

And therefore did desire to set a course
That maze of many ways, which might disperse And order this affairs as speedily,
Him into other men's uncertainties:

As might be, ere his sickness should grow worse. And with a quiet calm sincerity,

And as for death,” sajd he, “ I do not wey; H' effects his undertakings really.

I am resolv'd and ready in this case. His tongue and heart did not turn backs; but went It cannot come t' affright me any way, One way, and kept one course with what he meant. Let it look never with so grim a face: He us'd no mark at all, but ever ware

And I will meet it smiling; for I know His honest inclination open-fac'd:

How vain a thing all this world's glory is.” The friendships that he vow'd most constant were, And herein did he keep his word- Did show And with great judgment and discretion plac'd. Indeed, as he had promised in this.

And Devonshire, thy faith hath her reward; For sickness never heard him groan at all,
Thy noblest friends do not forsake thee now, Nor with a sigh consent to show his pain;
After thy death; but bear a kind regard

Which howsoever b’ing tyrannical,
Unto thioe bonour in the grave; and show He sweetly made it look; and did retaiq

A lovely count'nance of his being well,

What heretofore could never yet be wrought And so would ever make his tongue to tell. By all the swords of pow'r, by blood, by fire, Although the fervour of extremity,

By rain and destruction · here's brought to pass Which often doth throw those defences down, With peace, with love, with joy, desire: Which in our health wall in infirmity,

Our former blessed union bath begot Might open lay more than we would have known; A greater union that is more entire, Yet did no idle word in him bewray

And makes us more ourselves; sets us at one Any one piece of Nature ill set in;

With Nature, that ordain'd us to be one.
Those lightnesses that any thing will say,
Could say no ill of what they knew within.

Glory of men! this hast thou brought to us, Such a sure lock of silent modesty

And yet hast brought us more than this by far: Was set in life upon that noble heart,

Religion comes with thee, peace, righteousness, As if no anguish nor extremity

Judgment, and justice; which more glorious are Could open it, t' impair that worthy part.

Than all thy kingdoms: and art more by this Por having dedicated still the same

Than lord and sor'reigo ; more than emperor Unto devotion, and to sacred skill;

Over the hearts of men, that let thee in That furnish perfect held ; that blessed Aame

To more than all the pow'rs on Earth can win. Continu'd to the last in fervour still.

God makes thee king of our estates; but we And when his spirit and tongue no longer could

Do make thee king of our affection,
Do any certain services beside,

King of our love: a passion born more free,
Ev'n at the point of parting they unfold,
With fervent zeal, how only he rely'd

And most unsubject to dominion.

And know, that England, which in that degree Upon the merits of the precious death

Can love with such a true devotion Of his Redeemer; and with rapt desires

Those that are less than kings; to thee must bring Th' appeals to grace, his soul delivereth

More love, who art so much more than a king. Unto the hand of mercy, and expires. Thus did that worthy, who most virtuously And king of this great nation, populous, And mildly liv'd, most sweet and mildly die.

Stout, valiant, pow'rful both by sea and land; And thus, great patron of my Muse, have I

Attemptive, able, worthy, generous,
Paid thee my vows, and fairly clear'd th'accounts, which joyfully embraces thy command :
Which in my love I owe thy memory.

A people tractable, obsequious,
And let me say, that herein there amounts

Apt to be fashion'd by thy glorious hand Something unto thy fortune, that thou hast

To any form of honour, t'any way
This monument of thee perhaps may last.

Of high attempts, thy virtues shall assay.
Which doth not t ev'ry mighty man befall:
Por lo! how many when they die, die all.

A people so inur'd to peace; so wrought
And this doth argue too thy great deserts:

To a successive course of quietness, For honour never brought unworthiness

As they 've forgot (and O b'it still forgot!) Further than to the grave: and there it parts, The nature of their ancient stubbornness : And leaves men's greatness to forgetfulness, Time alter'd hath the form, the means, and brought And we do see that nettles, thistles, brakes, The state to that proportion'd evenness, (The poorest works of Nature) tread upon

As 't is not like again 't will ever come The proudest frames that man's invention makes, (Being us'd abroad) to draw the sword at home. To hold his memory when he is gone. But Devonshire, thou hast another tomb,

This people, this great state, these bearts adore Made by thy virtues in a safer room.

Thy sceptre now; and now tum 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 PANEGYRIC CONGRATULATORY,

Amidst our joy !) and give us leave, if we

Rejoice and mourn; that cannot, without wrong, DELIVERED TO THE KING'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY, AT So soon forget her we enjoy'd so long.

BURLEIGH-HARRINGTON, IN RUTLANDSHIRE. Lo here the glory of a greater day,

Which likewise makes for thee, that yet we hold

True after death; and bring not this respect Than England ever heretofore could see In all her days! when she did most display

To a new prince, for hating of the old ;

Or from desire of change, or from neglect: The ensigns of her pow'r; or when as she

Whereby, O mighty sov'reign, thou art told, Did spread herself the most, and most did sway

What thou and thine are likely to expect
Her state abroad; yet could she never be
Thus bless'd at bome, nor ever come to grow

From such a faith, that doth not haste to run

Before their time to an arising sun. To be entire in her full orb till now. And now she is, and now in peace; therefore And let my humble Muse, whom she did grace, Shake hands with union, O thou mighty state! Beg this one grace for her that now lies dead; Now thou art all Great Britain, and no more ; That no vile tongue may spot her with disgrace, No Scot, no English now, por no debate :

Nor that her fame become disfigured: No borders, but the ocean and the shore;

O let her rest in peace, that rul'd in peace! No wall of Adrian serves to separate

Let not her honour be disquieted Our mutual love, nor our obedience;

Now after death ; but let the grave enclose B’ing sabjects all to one imperial prince.

All but her good, and that it cannot close


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