Elegie on the untimely death of the incomparably valiant and noble, Francis, Lord Villiers, brother to the Duke of Buckingham. Slaine by the rebells neere Kingstone upon Thames, July the 7. 1648. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A84334 of text R210952 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.12[74]). 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. 3 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A84334 Wing E443 Thomason 669.f.12[74] ESTC R210952 99869700 99869700 162867 2240931930

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A84334) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 162867) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f12[74]) Elegie on the untimely death of the incomparably valiant and noble, Francis, Lord Villiers, brother to the Duke of Buckingham. Slaine by the rebells neere Kingstone upon Thames, July the 7. 1648. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [London : 1648] Imprint from Wing. Verse - "Reader! who here lies dead, may give". Annotation on Thomason copy: "July. 11th". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Villiers, Francis, 1629-1648 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English. Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Campaigns -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. A84334 R210952 (Thomason 669.f.12[74]). civilwar no Elegie on the untimely death of the incomparably valiant and noble, Francis, Lord Villiers, brother to the Duke of Buckingham. Slaine by the anon. 1648 1 395 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. 2007-09 Assigned for keying and markup 2007-11 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-12 Sampled and proofread 2007-12 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
ELEGIE On the untimely Death of the incomparably Valiant and Noble , FRANCIS , Lord VILLIERS , Brother to the Duke of BUCKINGHAM . Slaine by the Rebells neere Kingstone upon Thames , July the 7. 1648. REader ! who here lies dead , may give Thee cause to weep for all that live . Since in him , Courage , Beauty , Blood , All that is Great , and Sweet , and Good , All youth 's contracted Glories , have — ( Weep , pittying Reader ! Weep . ) — their ( Grave . That so it may be justly sed , ( These gone ) the Living are the Dead . But when the sadder voice of Fame Shall to all this , adde Villiers Name , And my unwilling Pen shall tell That by a Rebell hand he fell ; What Soule , will not his Fate ingage At once with Pitty , and with Rage : So in his height of youthfull Pride Fore Troy the beauteous Memnon dy'd . Nor with such teares bewail'd was he , Though wept for by a Deitie . But you , brave souls ! whom the same sense Of Honour moves , the same Pretence , Shrinke not to see his sadder fall . But ( whilst to mind others recall His hopefull vertues , and his yeares Cropt in their bud , lament with teares , Whilst some perhaps , whose Forme might move His noble Heart , sigh for his Love . Others his early valour sing , And Loyaltie unto his King ) Let the example of his Fame Your Bloods to great Attempts inflame . And a Resolve to every Heart As high as your high Cause impart . Hark! from his Grave his Martiall sprite Your Loyall Valours doth excite . On ! 'till a Death like that I found , Each of your conquering Swords hath crown'd , And my glad Ashes then shall rise , And triumph in your Victories . There is no salve can cure agen Your Honors wounds : think not you then Gaine Life , when you by flying , yeeld ; But when you dying , win the field . This unto future Times make good , Or beare the guilt of his lost Bloud . FINIS .