CHRISTOPHER LEVER. STANZAS From " Queene Elizabeth's Teares." MEN are iniurious that report of death To be the highest of extremities; When as we die what loose we else but breath? And many numbers of our miseries, When this life setts, as better doth arise: And though our time be not cut short by death, For we whom custom hath with griefe acquainted By vs her sad proportion best is painted. The griefe of mind is that intestine warre That stirres sedition in the state of man; Where when our passions once commanding are, Our peacefull dayes are desperate, for than The stirres more hote than when it first began; For heady passion's like an vntamed beast, That riots most when we desire it least. This violence exceedes his vertuous meane, For if that reason bound not griefe with lawes, Griefe should be borne with much indifference, To make his burthen easeful as hee may, So much of griefe we onely doe sustaine, Is patience giuen, by whose resolued might This is the most of happinesse we haue, Then what is death that I should feare to die? What then is that which doth beget desire Honour, beautie, nor desire of golde, Then why should that be thought of estimation That giues to base deseruings high creation? The name and place of honour may be giuen, As please the prince in fauour to dispose; But true deriued honor is from heauen, And often liues in meane estate with those That to the courts of princes neuer goes. How vainly prowd are such as would get fame, Yet get no more of honor but the name! He that from enuious eie and full resort And whom the prince with hiest grace doth crown, Enuy brings many hands to pull him downe. See here the glorie of mortallitie, Which we with infinite of care pursue, Fatall to many, fortunate to few, Whereto so many miseries insue As fills our time with cares: then why should I For this respect of honour feare to die? XXVI. THOMAS DEKKER. CHRIST'S COMING TO JUDGEMENT. As in an army royall, led by a king, After the canons' sulphurous thundering; Horror on all sides roaring; wings here flying At wings like armed eagles; here troopes dying A butcherous execution through the field, Bellowing with fiend-like threats, where yet none yeeld, Though death stalkes vp and downe, ghastly and pale, The victor's wreath lying in a doubtfull scale;- Who with swift vengeance do their foes confound, So with great terror, state, and wonder, Heauen's Supreme Monarch-one hand griping thunder, The other stormes of hail, whirlwinds and fire- Trampling on death and hell. About him round, Like petty vizroyes, spirits methought all crownde, Show'd as if none but kings had bin his guard; Whole hierarchies of saints were then preferd, With principalities, powers, and dominations, Thrones, angels, and archangels, all att once Filling the presence; then, like heauen-born twinnes, Flew fiery cherubins and seraphins ; Whilst the old patriarches, cloath'd all in white, * God's heire-apparent (here once made away) * In which heauen was his kingdome, mercy his throne, Justice his scepter, a communion Of sanctified souls the courtly peeres, And his star-chamber lords; who now had yeeres Which neuer turn'd them gray by time's rough weather: Greatness was nowe no more called fortune's fether, Learning burnt bright without contentious fuming; |