Teares for the neuer sufficientlie bewailed death of the late right honourable and most worthie of all honourable titles, Alexander Earle of Dumfermeling, Lord Fyuie, and Vrquhart late Lord Chancellar of Scotland

TEARES For the neuer sufficientlie bewailed death of the late right honourable and most worthie of all honourable Titles , ALEXANDER EARLE of Dumfermeling , Lord Fyuie , and Vrquhart late Lord Chancellar of SCOTLAND .

EDINBVRGH , Printed by the Heires of ANDRO HART .

ANNO DOM. 1622.

TO MY VERIE Honourable and most respected good LADIE , Dame Beatrix Ruthven , LADIE Coldenknowes . &c. Madam

AS I condemne the vnnaturall custome of the Auntient Thracians , who vsed to weepe at the birth of their Children , and to rejoyce at the death of their Parents , Kins-folke , and Friends : So I can not but commend your Ladyships firm-fixt affection to your friends , which ( contrarie to the common custome of this time-seruing Age ) Death doeth not diminish which your La. makes manifest at this time , for no sooner had fame ▪ filled the eares of all , with the sorrowfull report , of the neuer sufficientlie bewailed death of the late right honourable Lord Chancellar : but your La. to show , that as in this generall losse your losse was more then commone , hauing lost so honourable a Patrone , so faithfull a Friend , and so louing a Father in all your affaires : so you in sorrow exceeded the most sorrowfull , your La. repledged from the fire , this vnpolisht ryme , to the which ( as vnworthie of the worlds view ) I condemned the same , and caus'd the same so bee printed : to the which I condiscended , willing rather to publish mine owne imperfections them that your La. scarce imitable and vnfained affection to that Noble Lord should bee concealed , accept then ( Madam ) in good part those lines which by your owne procurment passes to the Presse and as they beare the badges of your Ladiships sorrow for your so great a losse , let them serue as signes to show the willingnes I haue to doe your Ladiship all the seruice I can performe , to the which I am tyed both by bandes of blood and nature , and by your Ladiships manifold vndeserued courteous fauours to my selfe , hoping that the Title of your Ladishippes name shall seruee as a sufficient defence for all the imperfections of those vnperfect and vnpolisht lines , kissing your Ladiships hands I rest , and shall euer remaine .

Your Ladiships Cousen most humblie devoted to serue you John Lyoun .

Tudor rose

a blazon with the monogram of 'A' (Andro) superimposed on ♡ (Hart)

Scottish thistle

TEARES For the neuer sufficiently bewailed death of the late right honourable and most worthie of all honourable Titles , ALEXANDER EARLE of Dumfermeling , Lord Fyuie , and Vrquhart late Lord Chancellar of SCOTLAND . AH , must my weake and care-benummed hand , Paint out the sorrowes of this sorrowing Land : How can my pen make others passions knowne , Which as they are , can not expresse mine owne : This publike losse , which was a losse too great , Some heauen-taught Muse were fitter to relate : Yet whilst the Learned ( who in silence fit ) Frame loftie Lynes to serue as signes of wit . Sad care-crost Muse vnto the world proclaime , With wofull notes this lamentable Theame : And sing so sadlie to each listning eare , That euerie eye for tribute pay a teare . Come euerie Age , Estate , and Sexe , come all , Come and bewaile this statelie Cedars fall . Come all wrong'd Orphanes , come bewaile your syre , Who did of late ( but yet too soone ) expyre , Come woefull widowes , come you , weepe you fast , Your Anchor , and your hope , your helpe is past . Rich Burgers your of whom hee once was chiefe , With teares bewray vnto the world your griefe , You at the Barre who pleade your clients cause , Mourne that ye want the Iudge that judg'd your Lawes , Graue learned Iudges all burst foorth in mone , Your Light , your Lanterne and your Guide is gone , State-ruling Peeres , true pillers of the Crowne , Fit for Bellona , or the peacefull gownc . Helpe to be-waile that euer-famous Lord , Whose noble partes nobilitie decor'd : The heauens themselues as murners doe prepare , With signes of sorrow to increase our care . For when hee dy'd , the heauens on earth did powre , Greiu'd at his death , of teares a liberall showre . And ere hee dy'd , Latona's child so bright Crab-like retired from his Sphears chiefe hight . As if hee would to euerie one bewray , In humane shape an heauenlie lightes decay . For hee , as where his foolish sonne did guide The head-strong horses hee was wont to ride , Obscures his rayes and hides his glorious eye , Loathe on the earth , this woefull sight to see . Our Day did set when wee expected least , Our Light , when full and at the highest , ceast . Our Summer ended , or it halfe was done , For loe , it ended in the midst of Iune . For with his date , our joyes receiued theirs , His dulefull death gaue life vnto our cares . Speake tyrant Death , shew if thou canst wherefore Thou spoil'd the Stone that did our ring decore ? Did not of late each State a tribute pay ? Did not each-where thy crueltie beare sway ? Peeres , Church-men , Iudges all did tribute giue , And were content so hee alone might liue . But thou insatiate monster who is gladde , To see the world strooke with amazement sadde . In this thou preast thy powerfull force to show , Hurling all States by giuing such a blow . Yet doe thy worst , in spite of Time and Thee , His best partes still shall liue and neuer die . His soule which from the Heauens to Earth descended , Bake from the Earth is to the Heauens ascended . There still to liue with that great KING of Kings , Where Angels euer Halleluiah sings . And heere on earth still famous shall remaine , His famous Acts in spight of Times disdaine . No Marble , Porphire , Gold , Corinthiane Brasse , Or Monument yet halfe so lasting was . Proud Pyramids of Artemisian frame , Vaine Monuments of quicke decaying fame , Will with their builders perish and decay , That where they stood scarce comming time can say , But hee more wise hath built a Tombe more strong , Which still shall last , in spight of Envies wrong , Trueth , Iustice , Mercie , Policie , and Peace , Shall this rare Hero's Tombe with dicton grace , For Trueth shall say ( and Trueth can neuer lie ) His rare true worth vnparalel'd shall bee . Iustice and Mercie fitting for a Iudge , Hee wiselie mixt and in his breast did Iudge : Iustice to none hee neuer did refuse , Yet did sterne Law with mercie of times vse , That Pylian Sage , of whom his Ruler saide , Troy could not stand , if but ten such hee had , Might well bee spar'd , did hee in Counsell sit , Whose rypned Iudgement led each younger wit . And as on Hybla or Hymetus Hill , The hony Birdes the flowrie mountaines fill . Searching from grasse to grasse , from flower to flower , To bring their sweete foode to their sweetned Bower . Looke to the trauell of his younger yeares , And like to those his policie appeares : For loe , hee Bee-like past from place to place , Knowledge to gaine which might his Countrie grace , Paines , trauell , hazard , hee esteemed nought , To gaine the wish'd for knowledge which hee sought . Loire , Seine , and Rhine , with Tiber , Arne , and Poe , Their Bankes hee past to make his learning growe , And as the Bee from euerie flower doth take , The sweetest juice his pleasing food to make . Wherewith full fraught hee hastes him to his Hyue , Where Drones decay , but thristie Bees doe thryue . So in his trauels with judicious eye , Hee did the best of forraine partes espie , And what in vertues Gardens hee found rare , Hee brought them home , and made them flourish faire . Which made his Prince ( true Iudge of noble parts , Sole cherisher of vertue , worth and arts ) To raise this Lord vpon the Stage of State , To show his wit in Iudgements highest seate . Where whilst hee spake with judgement , wit , and Art , Hee ravish'd euerie eare , and euerie heart : His wise graue sentences so each man mou'd , Hee was of all admir'd , of all belou'd . That scarce this envious world afforded one , That for his greatnesse greeu'd , e'er gaue a grone . O wonder rare ! most wonderfull to see , A States-man great , and welbelou'd to bee : Yet hee his greatnesse manag'd with such skill , As hee heap'tvp huge treasure of good-will . Which now is knowne , for now each one may spye , What secret thought , in euerie breast did lye , For loe , the State grieues at this publike losse , Each priuate man thinkes this a priuate crosse . That greatnesse gone ( which as some man did thinke , Might make hid malice in some bosome shrinke ) There 's none that liues , or breathes this common aire , But for his death seemes ouercome with care . And reason would it that it should bee so , Since publike good did from his greatnesse grow . His chiefe designes were for the Common-good , Which who so crost his counsell still with-stood . Yet Princes fauour , honour , vertue , loue , Could not sterne Death to mild compassion moue . O blind and deafe insatiat monster Death , Had thou had seene when as thou rob'd his breath , His Ladies beautie or her carefull cryes , Had pearc't thine eare , or mou'd thine hood-winkt eyes , His Friendes complaints , his Childrens ruthfull teares , Did plead for pittie at thy deafned eares . Yet nought could stay thine hand from such a deed , As makes our heartes with woefull wounds to bleed . For Heauens decree this judgement giues to all , That Prince and Peasant both by Death shall fall : Since Deathes straite doome can bee eschew'd of none , Why for his death should wee sigh , weepe , and grone ? For wee did know when as hee was most hye , That hee was mortall , and was borne to dye . And thus to grudge against IEHOVAHS will , May bring on vs a farre more greater ill . And well wee know , hee dy'de to liue againe , His death was but a period to his paine . Wee grudge not gainst the Architect of wonders , Whose fearfull voyce speakes in the mids of thunders . Wee onelie waile to testifie our loue , For his perfections did affection moue . Those peerelesse parts hee liuing did inherite , Now beeing dead , this at our hands doth merite . That as our bakes this badge of mourning beares , Wee should to Griefe pay tribute with our teares . But ah , my Muse breake off and come away , Thou showes too much of this our sad decay , Let brauer wits this deepe taske vnder-goe . To waile his want and manifest our woe .

Lifes vncertaintie . BEhold vaine man how fraile a thing thou art , Proud of a puffe , of soone consumed breath : Which with a blast will suddenlie depart , When thou art cited by deuouring death . Thy Pride , thy State , thine Honour , Blood & Gold , Can not Deaths stroak one minuts space with-hold Count from thy Cradle euen vnto thy Tombe , And thou shalt find Life but a Mappe of cares . For when thou first comes from thy Mothers wombe , Thy lifes first minut it is spent in teares , As if when borne thou did perfeclie know That thou wast borne to beare a birth of woe . And if more yeeres thou happen to attaine , Thy griefe shall grow still as thy yeeres increasse , The moe thy dayes , the more shall bee thy paine , Few dayes shall passe without a new distresse , Friends , ●●rents , Children , Kins-folk , credits losse , Or some such care shall still increase thy woes . Yea , if the World w●●ld poure into thy lappe , Her richest treasures in a liberall shoure , Yet thinke not much of this imagin'd happe , Which may bee spent , or perish in an houre . Earths flying joyes are like a summer field , Whose blossomes must to flower-quell winter yeild Imagine this ( which to bee found is rare , Thy joyes were neuer interrupt with griefe , Thy life-time spent without a dram of care , Yet at the last Death like a subtill Thiefe , Will steal thy joyes , which is a fading treasure , To make thee know how perishing is pleasure . Life which the Worldings doe so much adore : Is like a dreame , a blast of wauering wind , A shade , a span , a smoake , an airie store , A gulfe of griefe , where few contentment find . A sea of sorrows and a ship of toyes , Fraught full of certaine cares , vncertaine joyes . Since life is such , then let vs learne to die , That wee by death a better life may gaine , Let vs this Scilla this Charibdis flee , Haste to the port and flee the troubled Maine , Where wee shall finde contentment , and till then , No true contentment is to mortall men . FINIS .