Tears on the death of Evander occasioned by the lamentable losse of the truelie noble and generous, Sir. Iohn Svynton [sic] Knight, Collonel of an regiment of 2000 Nedderlanders, going for Venize, who was cast away by storme on the coast of England upon Goodwin sands the 13 of Octob. 1630. By G. Lauder.

THE Sunne in Thetys armes was gone to bed , And Nightes black curtaines ore this All were spred , Through which heavens glimpseing lightes began t' appeare , And weakly sparkle in our Hemyspheere ; When Lysis , vhose free soule farre from the snaires Of Time ; and worldly base entangling Cares , In quiet sleep did prove the wished joye , Of sueet repose which neuer dreames annoye , Whilst lull'd into a silence calme and deepe , Deaths Sister did his senses senlesse Keepe : Till rouzd with sudden sound amaz'd v'th feare , A voyce ( he knewe full well ) did peirce his eare , And calld him forth that darke and gloomie shade , To see a Ghost stand pale before his bed ; A Ghost much like a Seagod , who did beare The Brave Evander's face his eyes and hayre , Yet as if drench'd into the fatal stood A woe full sight there droppeing droopeing stood , And haveing wak'd both Lysis eare and eye , Frist stareing smil'd to see him panteing lie , At last these wordes did utter , which a groane Did sadly usher , and hee thus went on . Lysis , whose love and faith I liveing found , Where mortalls move , and Phoebus guilds te ground ; Behold mee heere thy late Evanders ghost , A shaddowe of that substance thou hast lost . Who now whilst Night with starres doth seed the skies , Entreats thee open thy sleep shutten eyes : It is no Demon on his browe that beares Mischaunce and horror , and such Maddeing feares , Bot a good soule whom death hath late sett free , In love and freyndship that appeares to thee , If ever mortall anguish greeffe and feare Seas'd any soule which could not find a teare , Bot senselesse made with too much sense of woe , Poore Lysis in that plight such payne did knowe , For not one sighe of breath came from his brest , And chilleing cold his members did invest , Tuo passions in his soule did keep a strife , Feare of him dead and love of him on life , Bot love at last prevaill'd and call'd agayne His sense and speech in these sad wordes to playn . Deare Ghost ( sayd he ) the object of my thought , And hath thy love from blest Elysium brought . Thee backe agayne ; enforceing heavens decree ; Whith ah ! too soone hath rob'd the world of Thee ? O loyall freyndship ! o hard povers of fate ! O changing fortune ! o wretch'd humane state ! O flattring hopes ! o bodyes bot of glasse ! O lasteing greffes ! o Ioyes which poasting passe ! Evander , once my hope thy cuntryes ioye , The world's regret , and now thy freynds annoye , And art thou gone ay Me ! had Death the pover To bound thy Time ; or haste thy fatall hover ? Ere thou hadst yett half honnors race outrunne Which was so brauelie but by Thee begunne ? Thy sommer seem'd in riseing heatte to shine , Still lengthning , bot not yett com'd neare that line . At which thy loungest day should make a stand , Which now hath found her loungest Night at hand . The Laurells which thy suord should have lopp'd doune , To bind thy temples for thy merites croune , Though they there toppes both fayre and high did stretch And seem'd to be beyond the common reach Of valors hand were yett too lowe for thee , Not fitt a garland for thy lockes to be . Bot now the Cypresse hath usurp'd that right Too Soone alace ! thyne Obsequies to light . Thy youth which full of courage led thee on In search of brave Occasions , did it Wonne A reputation and a noble Name , In forrein warres , to prove o dyeing fame ! That with thy life thy Name should buried lie And last bot like a lightning loungst the skie ? No no , heavens Thee for greatter things ordain'd , And thou shouldst have a higher spheare attayn'd ' Thy bright Aurora augur'd greatter heatte And lounger day before thy Sunne should sett , Which in his middayes glorie now gone doune Like Phaetons fall hath brought thy Night at Noone , If enuyous fates had not ecclypst thy light Brave soule , hou had'st thou shin'd in Europe's sight ? The actions of thy first and tender yeares Astonish'd Holland yett for strange admeires , When Iulliers sawe thy forduard youth advances , Where leaders failld and feard the hurt of Chance , Bohemia's battles sawe thee bath'd in blood , Out face all feare where death and horror stood , So deare Eliza's Croune was unto Thee That thou didst seeke a Sacrifice to be To her good fortune , and wouldst glad appease , Heavens frouneing browe if it thy blood could please , To settle on thy slaughtred bones a Throne For her and hers for aye to sitt upon . The Russian warres , and fierce Polonian fightes Sawe Thee a stranger work such wondrous feattes , As made thy Name adoar'd , thy person lou'd , Thy sword redoubted , and thy deeds approu'd , The wilde Hungariam did amazed veiue The terror-stricken misbeleeuing crue , Flie from thy sight , wholle squadrons all at once , Whilst thou didst offer up the dyeing groanes Of such as durst thy kindled wrath abide : Vnto thy glorie , as they fainteing dy'd . Beseeged Stade where Coesars Eagles spred There conquering winges , and poverfull armies led All captive that the Romane pover withstood , Within her starved walles where want of food , And invard famine did more bandes orethrowe Then outvard force of an assaulting foe , Can give records of thy undaunted mynde Who scornd within her fortes to be confind ; Bot bravelie sallied out where dangers most And braveing Enemyes did ruine boast , Yea when all hope was lost of more defence Knowes with what courage and what confidence , Thou fore'dst the Enemy a treattie yeeld And graunt thee passage free through open feeld . These were bot presages of greatter deeds , Though none more glorious in Times Annalls reads ; For had thy late intentions come to end , What fortune did thy forduard armes attend ? That Cittie , Neptunes love , had woundring scene Thy sword enstale her all the Oceans Queene , To weare a Diademe as proud as Spayne Enrich'd with Iewells of the land and Mayne ; Bot ah ! fates would it nott , who what is brave As jealous of our good from us still reave . Bot lett them doe there worst since thou art gone In whom , true Honor and fayre vertue shone : Raise whom they list , and whom they list suppresse Change mirth in mourninge , Wee ll in wretchednesse . Ah! had they yett ordained Thee to die In Mars his feeld ; where in the worlds fayre eye Thou might have left a marke of thy great worth , For aftertymes to sett thy glorie forth , Why was it not , O Greeffe ! with suord in hand ; In presence of tuo Armyes in command ? Where dy'd in blood and sueatte , rage in thyne eyes , Sterne furie in thy lookes 'mongst fainteing Cries Of bleeding wightes , dismembred unto Death Who with a deep fetchd sighe , sighe out there breathe That Thou didst end , and in a lawefull warre Thy dayes with glorie which no Time could marre ? Yett what doe I ( Deare Ghost ) thus wishe in vaine ! Thou hast enough , since heavens did so ordaine , With that his eyes now bigg with teares , sett ope There Christall conduits and gave Greeffe free scope . The Ghost who sawe his sorrove in his eyes , With pittie mou'd did nott his love dispise , Bot mildelie thus his passion did restrayne , And gentlie call'd him to himselfe againe . Lysis , my liveing freynd , and lover dead Forbeare those playntes and teares in vaine to shed , Since heavens Who lent mee life a limite sett Vnto my dayes : and I have reached that My death is too much honored , in the groanes Of those my freynds , with whom I lived once , And that which now afflictes my greeved Ghost Is , that they waille too much what they have lost , My Time was spent , and lifes short spanne was come To that last point where heavens would call mee home , My dayes a webb of wandring errors ; wrought With wee land woe , mee through the world have brought , Bot stil with Hono'r which my loadstarre was , In all my weyes and actions , still my glasse , For Honors love no danger I eshew'd , No force I fear'd , though greatter pover pursu'd , Bot still in chace of it , I bold did roame Throughout the corners of all Christiandome , What charge I bore when chosen to command , And with what care perform'd by this right hand , Lett those for whom I fought be witnes all Whò Mee almost vnknowne to charge did call , Bott that 's all past , and now my soule doth rest In peace , and finds the quiet of the Blest , I now from heavens highe roundes behold this Round , On which you live , lowe lowe , scarce to be found Bot of cleere eye ; so small a thing it is , Compair'd unto the Vniverse of blesse ; There you like Antes doe suarme , and still at Iarres For lesse then title still wage deadly warres , And glorie to be great , on Earth so small , As if there were no other world at all ; Poore foolles ! one day will let you see what oddes There is betuix Mans Empyrie and Gods , Bot thou my Lysis ; by thy love and faith Heark I conjure thee , what Evander sayth , And let the world heare it againe from Thee , When Time shall give thee opportunitie , Though heavens in suelling waves my grave assignd , And made my obsequies the blustring wind : The Tritons and the Nereyds of the mayne , To grace my funerall pompe with goodlie trayne , And Neptunes selfe cheeffe mourner to deplore My Death ; and bring the showe to Brittaines shoare , I enuy nott there hap whom Paros stone Dot shroude in statelie Tombes by Time orethrone , The Christall teares of those my worthy freynds , Who now regrett my losse , a tribute lends . To reare a Monument of love for Mee , Which will perhaps weare with Aeternitie In some one pairt , which Lysis if it be My Ghost shall think she owes the same to Thee . So fare thou weell live honors lover still , Heavens sheild thee with there love and mens goodwill , This sayd Hee vanish'd , Lysis weeping lay Vntill the Sunne had brought about the day . Dignum Laude virum Musa vetat mori , G. LAVDER .