Raglands Niobe: or, Elizas elegie Addressed to the unexpiring memory of the most noble Lady, Elizabeth Herbert, wife to the truly honourable, Edward Somerset Lord Herbert, &c. By Ri. Brathwait, Esq.

RAGLANDS NIOBE : Or , ELIZA'S Elegie . STil-silent Night unveile thy sable eies , And eye the losse of this unequall'd prize Our Family bemones : resolve to teares , And sympathize with ev'ry one that beares A share in these sad rites . When Starres doe fall , Thou mak'st that Astrolabe thy Funerall : Streight thou immasks thy face , contracts thy blood , And shrowds thy virgin beauty in a cloud . Heare me , Latona ! of all starres that were Or ever shone in this inferiour Spheere , The truly purest and refinedst One Is from our Orbe , to gaine more glory , gone . Why should not we then imitatours bee Of that compassion we conceive in thee ? Admit these Halcyon daies give Her encrease Of honour , glory , beauty , plenty , peace , With that blest confluence of heav'nly store , Which crownes pure soules when they arrive a shore . Wee that are Mortals ever have more sense Of our owne want , than others affluence . Tell me thou State-surrounded STRAND , canst finde Through all thy Prospects a selecter minde Cloath'd in a choicer dresse ! Pray , looke about , Thou canst not chuse but see some face peepe out T' attract the forc'd Spectator ; but that skin Is it so sleeke as 't ha's no staines within ? Is it a native tincture ? do'es it wooe The gazer without art ? or if it doe , Is it accomplish'd with some better part To pollish nature with diviner art ? Ha's it adorning graces to make good The splendor of her beauty or her blood ? Can it converse with fashion , and appeare Discreet in her election what to weare ? Can it send out her cies , and not be tane , Or to take Others make it not her aime ? Can it discourse without affected state , Or hearken Lightnesse with a blushing hate ? Can it distinguish times and persons too ? Reserve a state without a seeming show ? Can it pursue the Object it affects With more divine than sensuall respects ? Can it esteeme of beauty as it is ? Imparadize her thoughts in future blisse ? Canst finde me this rare Phoenix ? I much doubt , Thou loosest time in seeking of her out . Two Phoenixes at once were never seene , It is enough , that such an One hath beene . Thou hast indeed , a choice varietye Of mortall beauties to surprize the eye Of a Zenocrates ; but so divine Would not suite well with fashions of the time . Complete and complementall are two things , Which different constructions ever brings : For what 's an outward dresse , or seeming faire , A vading breath resolving into aire ? What 's permanent is good , nor can it be So styl'd , that 's short of this eternitie . But thou hadst One in that Elysian grove ! A precious Sprigge of vertue , beauty , love ; Yea , such a Seat , as no diviner grace But in her Saintly bosome had a place . One richly stor'd with all the gifts of nature , Of gracefull presence and attractive feature ; And what was richer farre than all the rest , An heav'nly fancy in an holy brest . For shew me One within this Orbe of ours , That was so young in yeares and old in houres . So sweetly humble and compassionate , So well compos'd i th' posture of her state ; So loyall in her love , so firme to those Who in her Honour did their hopes repose . And now , me thinkes , in this high overflow Of boundlesse sorrow , I am fixt on you , You sad Attendants , whom she us'd to cheere With pleasing language , while shee breathed heere . The losse you feele is poiz'd above compare , Yet , as I live , I love to beare a share In such depressive burdens : for these bee , As I am yours , reflecting upon mee . Let 's then a mutuall sorrow entertaine , And moisten this dry earth that wanteth raine , With our distreaming teares : for Heav'ns have kept , Thus long their Conduits shut , and have not wept , That with profuser treasures they might store Our native Mother , and wet eies deplore This sad Occasion : Sad , indeed , to us Who eye the Count'nance of that heavie house , Where ev'ry Habit , Object as we passe , Proclaime thus much , time is not as it was . While ev'ry silent accent seemes to breath The last farewell of our Elizabeth . Divine Elysian Lady ! O that eies Made Niobe's , could rescue such a prize ! There is no mortall could so highly erre As did our last yeares weake Astronomer , Who found no Eclypse in our Zodiake heere , Nor any darknesse in this Hemispheere . I have found One , ( I 'm sure ) and more than I , With a great inundation in each eye ; So as , that part which we call Christalline Is now dissolved to a Sea of brine . Teares be those Treasures which wee mortals use To pay to such we lov'd : nor can wee chuse To doe lesse to this Shrine , the scattred dust Of that diviner part , which 'mongst the just Holds her eternall Annall : tell me where I may my Object take without a teare . No where , O no where ! though all humane state Be by injunction subject unto fate , Which solely makes distinction 'twixt the good , And those who with foule actions staine pure blood : For these make State a Subterfuge to guilt , Ttriumphing in those conduits they have spilt Through their profuser bounty : whereas those Who are to none but vice professed foes , Live in their dissolution , and receive A lasting odour from a dying grave . Yet when such glorious Lights their splendor loose , Not to themselves but to our earthly house , As those faire structures have their glory lost , Which by their breathing beauty shined most , Who can dispense with griefe , surcease to mone , Unlesse hee bee a Stoicke or a stone ? I must confesse , the Thracians did expresse An Embleme of our humane wretchednesse ; Who in a various straine of mone and mirth , Wept when men came , joy'd when they went from earth . Which temper , sure , in earthly walls inclos'd , Seemes in my judgement pretiously compos'd , And such as wee should imitate : yet when Like men , we thinke how we convers'd with them Who now are closed from our longing eyes , How much we their society did prize , What choice delight we tooke in their resort , How much their fame improved our report , How short quicke-vading minutes dropt away , How th' closing Ev'ning crown'd the cheerefull day , What sweet Communion of Comforts too Which friend on friend did mutually bestow , With what a rare Confection of reliefe In the communicating of their griefe , One drained from another ; and that one Divorc'd now from his sight , dislodg'd and gone ; Hee farre transcends the mould of humane state , Who scornes in this to be effeminate . Deaths Lachrymae , indeed , is such a song , So short's the Scene of griefe , it lasts not long : Yet where impressive vertues did appeare , They have an Anniversall ev'ry yeare . And such were thine , blest Saint , whose light shall give Direction unto others how to live . I' st irreligious then to shed a teare For one , where such choice vertues lodged were ? A Gardiner would discontented seeme If that prime flower he held in most esteeme , Should be mel-dew'd or cropt before the time ; Can we doe lesse for her , who in her prime Was cropt by th' hand of D●●eh ? much wonder I At popular amazement , who descry A strange distraction in perplexed eyes , When they contemplate vulgar rarities : And such as from meere nat'rall causes spring , As when they see the Sun-beames wrastling With interposed shades : this eclyps'd light Darts an astonishment unto their sight . Good God ( thus will they say ) that which did show Such beauteous rayes , how is it darkned now ? Where is that beaming glory which reviv'd Th' inferiour Orbe ? how is it now depriv'd Of his late full-spread vigour ? how 't is spent Which gave to all things life and nourishment ? Draw nearer wondring Mortals , and see heere A glorious Light reft from our Hemispheere ! One , upon whose cleare brow no Cloud e're sat , Nor e're ey'd Object that she aimed at But what she might affect : nor personate An unbeseeming introduced state : Nor gloze in painted goodnesse : nor expresse More than her Soule did inwardly professe : Nor feed her fancy with conceipts of time , But clos'd her Lifes Act with a Scene divine . And this same taking beauty now is gone , Reft from our sight ! which while we thinke upon , 'T is not sufficient to bemoane her death , But to observe how sweetly vertues breath In her expired Corpse ; and that her Fate , Blest Fate ! h 'as left what wee 're to imitate . " Death from oblivion will exempt no blood , " Unlesse that Highnesse be recorded good . For Monumentall structures may be said E●ected more for th' living than the dead . These have their date and period , and must turne To dust , like mouldred ashes in an Urne . Where vertue scornes such confines , being knowne To leane on no supportance , but her owne . Nor doe I muse why thou should'st vertuous be , Being deriv'd from such a Familie , Whose Actions streame in goodnesse ; they who gave First life to thee , no lesse Memorialls have In Times deserving Annals : DORMERS name Retein's i th' accent a sufficient fame To second our assertion : and to show Thy Mothers house was corresponding too In lineall acts of goodnesse , and what might Give to a noble line a living light , I 'le onely name Him , whome ne're age could tax , The all-approved-loved MVLLINAX . Deare to his owne , to strangers debonaire , Deare to the Muses , who Joves darlings are , Firme where hee doth professe , entire to such Who know , but make no boast of knowing much : And to summe all in one , such a right Lord Hee scornes nought more then sleighting of his word . Deriv'd from these ; that runs through all thy vaines , Which by descent peculiar title claimes In thine now after thee : to whom I meane In this expiring Ode t' addresse my Scene . Blest Babes ! Sweet Graces ! for you are but three ; And may you bee , as your House showes to mee , Still gracious ; my sute shall be but one , That you may represent Her that is gone In your surviving vertues . First , to you Right Noble Sir , let 't be your taske to shew His name , and nature * * From HENRY now Earle of WORSTER , his Grandfather . whence you tooke your name , Beleeve your Servant , 't wil improve your fame , And make you live , belov'd ; I doe not care For guilded honour , 't is a vading ayre That 's soone disperst ; a painted Trophie torne From tainted Heraldry , displai'd in scorne . " Goodnes cloathes greatnes with a gracefull dresse , " And shines most glorious when it shews nought lesse . So pleasing's humble Honour to each eye It wins affection in the Stander by ; Let but your Infant Honour thinke of this , Summer shall rise in love and set in blisse . Now , to you Noble Ladies , who may see Store of examples to endoctrine yee , Some to deprave ; but in your tender brest Such num'rous seeds of native goodnesse rest , Which freely ripened as they are begun , May in due time to their perfection come . With an exacter Patterne none can store you , Then Her example who is gone before you : Let her Life be the Line to regulate Your actions by ; the posture of her state Your constant'st Modell ; her sweet moderation , In her discourse , employment , recreation , Your clearest mirror : for yee cannot erre In any these by imitating her . Confirme your Mothers Anagram on Earth , With this Emphatick Mott : HEERE A BLEST BIRTH . These Observations , I may safely vow , Will multiply more honours upon you , More reall honours , than these who incline To the phantastick fashions of our time : For these are but admired for one day , And straight their melting varnish drops away : Whereas your grounded Colours dyde in graine Shall represent a State admits no staine . Reteining these , Sweet Ladies , you 'l become Exemplar Paragons in Albion . NOW I approach , my deare sad Lord to you , Who having taken your late last adue Of your unequall'd Spouse , are full of griefe , To which divinest comforts breath reliefe . Excuse me , Honour'd Lord , that you are plac't In this sad Scene of serious Sorrow , last ; 'T was my desire , that you should first digest These grounded griefes wherewith you are deprest Before revivall of them ; 'las you know I owe as much to you as I doe owe To the whole world ( without private aime To me or mine ) Save to my soveraigne . Yea , should you flow in teares , as you doe flow , You should not finde your poore MVSAEVS slow In the like tribute : bee it only yours To yeeld your will unto th' Superiour powers . Shee 's reft from you ( 't is true ) but shee is given By your division to be spous'd in heav'n . Nor had she left her Mate , her choice deare Love , But onely for His love shee had above : In whose translation there appeared heere A civill Combat 'twixt two Months i' th yeere , So as , none could definitively say Shee dide the first of June or last of May. Both wrastled like two Champions for the wall , Which might give convoy to her Nuptiall . A solemne sacred Nuptiall ! Where Heav'ns King Becomes the Bridegroome : and where Angels sing Their Epithalamies ; and Saintly Quires With choicest ayres accomplish their desires . " Cloze then with your deare servant ; Heav'ns appeas'd , You from your teares , she from her griefes releas'd : Which done , your late ELIZA's Elegie Will wipe all teares from RAGLANDS Niobe . Niobem mutamur in ipsam .