Musarum plangores vpon the death of the right honourable, Sir Christopher Hatton, Knight, &c. Johnson, Richard, 1573-1659? This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A04561 of text S105588 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 14685.5). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 14 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 5 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A04561 STC 14685.5 STC 14685A ESTC S105588 99900538 99900538 5890 2264171901

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A04561) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 5890) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 558:15; 2067:13) Musarum plangores vpon the death of the right honourable, Sir Christopher Hatton, Knight, &c. Johnson, Richard, 1573-1659? [8] p. R. Jones?, [London : 1591] Signed: R. Ihonson. Caption title from leaf B1r. Imprint from STC. In verse. Signatures: B⁴. Copy filmed at reel 2067:13 has sheet B only. Reproduction of original in the Folger Shakespeare Library. eng Hatton, Christopher, -- Sir, 1540-1591 -- Early works to 1800. eebo Musarum plangores: vpon the death of the right honourable, Sir Christopher Hatton, Knight, &c. Johnson, Richard, 1591 10 2140 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2002-09 Assigned for keying and markup 2002-10 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2002-11 Sampled and proofread 2002-11 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2002-12 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
Musarum plangores : Vpon the death of the right Honourable , Sir Christopher Hatton , Knight , &c. FLock on apace you troups of saddest wights , Flie fast vnto repining Sorrowes Cell , Banish your ioyes , abandon all delights , And count each pleasing moment for a hell . For he that late did moue your sweete content , Euen now his chiefest fire of life hath spent . Muses come mourne , come gentle Muses weepe , Wayle you the want of such an English Peere : Whose vertues might vprayse from deadly sleepe , The Ghoasts of Poets buried many a yeere . Whose ceaseles moanes might pearce the azurd skies , And fill fayre Albion with their wofull cries . Perisht is the roote from whence such branches sprang , Dimd is the light that glistered like the Sunne , Whose worthy deedes to euery Region rang , And hath ere since his Honour first begunne . Then you that lou'd the Lord that gaue the HINDE , Breathe foorth the sorrowes of your mournful minde .
Princeps . SOrrow is seal'd vpon our Pallace gate , And Heauinesse with discontented steps , Hath chosen Sighs to be his carefull mate , whereby our heart with inward passions leaps . How can the Members then but be distrest , When as the Head so highly is opprest ? Our Cedar stock hath lost a liuely branch , And Death the hunts-man of our humane race , His fierce and egre appetite to stanch , In ranging through our Forrest Syluane chace , Hath slayne the spotles HINDE with cruell spight , In whome his Prince reposde a chiefe delight . Syluanes approach with mournefull melodie , And wooddy Nymphs , that sit in spreading bowres : With brackish teares commix your harmanie , To wayle with me both minutes , months , and howres . For we haue lost that nothing can amend : A faythfull subiect and a loyall friend .
Primates . VPon the Sea , in threatning winters frowne , When rising billowes struggle with the winde : What sooner casts the Sea-mans courage downe , Then want of him their Pilot was assignde ? Such may we call misfortune of our state , Depriu'd the counsell of a worthy mate . If brothers doo lament a brothers death , And Nature ioyne the Parent to deplore His tender sonne , bereft of vitall breath : If for their young the sauage beasts will rore , Then Reason , Nature , dutie knit in one , For our graue friend inioyneth vs to mone . The grace he got by vertue to arise , Was gouerned with such an humble minde ; As none his Honours titles could despise , Or for his fauour any grudging finde : Such name his wisdome alwayes sought to haue , Loued he liu'd , and honoured to his graue .
Populus . BLack Sorrowes night with dismall pitchie cloudes , Hath chast the comfort of the day from hence , Within a hollow toombe our Solace shrowds , And Desolation burieth our defence . For which in teares , in sighes , in harts distresse , We now are forst to shew our heauinesse . Our cryes were heard , our prayers found remorce , Our helpe stood not on lingering delay , Pitie in him retaynd a greater force , And Iustice walkt in Vertues perfect way : Nor meede , nor friendship euer could auayle To make our iust and noble Patron quayle . Why is t not graunted of deuiner powers , That such as best maintaines their sacred lawes , Should haue the longest dayes and happiest howers , Where honour springs by vertues worthie cause ? But all things precious and of purest price Forsakes the earth , to dwell aboue the skyes .
Musarum plangores .
Melpomene . NOt from the sea ( though salt doth hide my brest ) But from a flood of teares , bankt in with griefe , Whereas the black-foot Rauen sought for rest , I come to menace moane without reliefe : My pen is Ebon , and my paper earth , Where I must write of honours endles dearth . My palled face , my eylids hung with lead , The Arches hollow , like the chalkie cliffes , My teeth that chatters ecchoes from the dead , Forst by their sighes that through their sorrow whiffes , Shewes that some noble Lord hath left this land , Whose honourd graces , multiplied with sand . Of earths more tarter is my body made , Of waters scumme ordaynd to tragick tale : Yet were I harsher , his faire flowering fade Would make my sullen nature couch and quaile . And so my tragick Muse shall sit and write , The wasting woe the Commons shall indite .
Polihymnia . CEase prowd vayn glorious birds , and buzzing windes , My Rethorick shall perswade me more to sing : But neasts of Hornets from the rotten rindes , A harsher murmure to my sorrow bring . For from the groaues ( inchaunted now with care ) The HINDE is wandred : ill the flock doo fare . The tongue of Time doth sightles glyde away , And carieth Enuie with his swift-foot course , His spightfull Date hath brought before the day , An end to Honour ( fell without remorse ) My Rethorick now shall be to ridgie rocks , Where Ruine feedes in stead of quiet flocks . The quill I lately pluckt from Hermes wing Shall write my groaning playnt vnto the skye , There shall the Throni with their Censors sing , His Noblesse and his Honours victory . And with this pen the burthen I will beare , That all may know how heauen his prayse doth reare .
Calliope . NOw Phoebus Altars crack with rotten weedes , None bringeth spices from the Phoenix nest : Who discontented with those choaking seedes , Brings floods of teares to drowne that noy some Feast . His browes as smooth , as was his Iuory Lute , Sends lookes for frownings with a swift pursute . This makes me cast my Musick to the grouund , And send Musaeus back againe to hell , The nights sad Prophet makes me pleasant sound , And breedes desire within a caue to dwell : For all my Sisters drop their teares like showers , And leaue the pleasure of Idalian bowers . Of round Cayister quills I le make a pipe , And sing the Swannes last song vpon this hill : For Death doth Honour with his tallants gripe And with his blasting breath the Bay doth spill . Hereafter what I write shall be in praise Of him , his bountie and his vertuous dayes .
Clio. MY ancient bookes of grauen monumentes Are claspt for euer vp with dustie leaues , For in the margent lyes my discontents , How Fate and Death of Honour me bereaues , I le change my late Historicall intent , To write with them whose groanes to clay are sent . Yet first I le turne my Pen vnto a Spade , And chuse the entray les of the purest mould , Where when I see this noble Lord is layd , I le write the rest my Sisters leaue vntould : The ground shall be embalm'd with Muses breath , Whose vertue purgeth all contagious earth . Then shall my Sisters daunce about his Toombe , And with their feete shall make a wreath of flowers : So shall his Coarse be stucke with vertuous bloome , Shall make the ground smell like perfumed bowers , And of these flowers I will Garlands make , And euer weare them for his noble sake .
Thalia . SVrceasing pastime of my comick pen , I le tune my laughter vnto low'd exclaymes And tragick teares the floods of sorrowing men , Doo seeke to quench the fire that honour flames . My labouring hand doth let my tongue preuaile , To treate of sorrow when my mirth doth faile . I le set my breast to Lacus dulcis streame , And swim vnto Elisean lillie field , And in Ambrosian trees I le write a Theame , Of all his deedes that Honour hath vpheld : My dwelling is too full of mirth and glee , To write the Poëms of a Tragedie . To all the Poets that inhabite there , Hauing their wits refind with heauenly ayre , By me his gifts of wisedome shall appeare , And they shall sing them to the highest fayre : Then turning backe from whence I came agayne , I le write of that which hath my pleasure slayne .
Euterpe . THe Northerne Hunter blowes his ycie Horne , And bids me lay aside my windie sound , And blackfast stormes out-braue the rosie morne , And makes her looke as heauie as the ground : So like the noyce of frost and rayne together , My euill sounding Musick tunes with wether . Stiffe are my fingers like a Marble stone , Vnfit to mooue a warbling instrument : My tawnie skinne is shriueled to the bone , As if my senceles Senses did lament , The silent tale with dumbe deliuerance , The passion of some heauie dire mischance . My tongue incorporate with my scalding roofe , Feares to report the fayling of my hand , My sorrowing playmates shrink , and kepe a loofe , As if a darth did couer all the land : No darth , because it is not barren brought , But yet the fruit is cropt which deare I bought .
Tarpsicore . MY Harp is strung with stretching Sorrowes strings , And Death hath tunde it with his knobbie bones , A solemne dump , the Musick that it ringes , Linked in Consort with deepe fetched groanes . For with my Sisters in a Cipres bower , My Blisse is Bale , my Sweete tormenting Sower . The Summers season with her fresh attyre , That alwayes vsde t'muite me to her Pallace : Where Nightingales did make a pleasant Quiere , With sundry Layes to cause their Soueraignes Solace ; Is nipt with Winter , and her pride is lost , My fingers stiffe , my sences numbd with Frost . The prospect that appeareth to my eyes , Are wringing handes of such that are forlorne : My eares are fild with Ecchoes double cries , Proceeding from vnconstant Fortunes scorne . Thus are my Eyes , my Eares , my Hand and Heart , Made thrall to Sorrowes neuer dying smart .
Erato . I That did measure haughty Towers tops , And tooke the compasse of the largest ground , My Sorrowes headlong course no Reason stoppes , And infinite mine agonies abound . For that proportion nature ritchly framde , By Death dissolue'd doth make the Graces blam'd . The numbers that adorn'd my sacred skill , Are now become Decrees of waxing Woe : My studie is distresse , my bookes doo kill , And contemplation maketh dolors growe , Because the substance that I wisht to saue , Hath his dimension in a senceles graue . But since the Destinies haue been seuere To rob the earth of her assur'd delight , I le finde a place deuoyd of deadly feare , To measure out a mansion farre more bright , Where free from harmes , or any foule annoy , This Potentate shall haue eternall ioy .
Urania . GIue me ( at last fayre Sisters ) leaue to speake , Me thinkes you should not wilfully repine , Or with extremities your dueties breake , When as the glorie and the gayne is mine : It grieues not me , when ought accords your will , Your ouerflowing mirth , my ioyes doth fill . Draw in your teares and let your sighes surcease , Exile exclaymings from your drouping harts : For with his death his Honours doth increase . And though the earth contaynes his humane parts , Yet shall his soule made pure with heauenly ayre , Receiue the guerdon of his vertuous care . The starres bright eye shall guide his happie feete , The sunne of gladnes shine vpon his face , The glorious Planets where so ere they meete , Within their shining armes his soule embrace . So that although his mortall dayes doo wayne , Dispayre not Sisters greater is his gayne .
FINIS . R. Ihonson . Sa: