All worldly pomp and pride thou seest arise,
Like smoke that's scatter'd in the empty skies.
Other hills and forests, other sumptuous tow'rs,
Amaz'd thou find'st excelling our poor bow'rs;
Courts void of flattery, of malice minds,
Pleasure which lasts, not such as reason blinds.
Thou sweeter songs dost hear, and carollings,'
Whilst heavens do dance, and choir of angels sings,
Than muddy minds could feign; even our annoy
(If it approach that place) is chang'd to joy.
Rest, blessed soul, 2 rest satiate with the sight
Of him whose beams (though dazzling) do delight;3
Life of all lives, cause of each other cause;
The sphere and centre where the mind doth pause;
Narcissus of himself, himself the well,
Lover, and beauty, that doth all excel.
Rest, happy soul, and wonder in that glass,
Where seen is all that shall be, is, or was,
While shall be, is, or was, do pass away,
And nought remain, but an eternal day.
For ever rest; thy praise Fame will enrol
In golden annals, while about the pole
The slow Boötes turns, or sun doth rise,
With scarlet scarf to cheer the mourning skies.
1 "Thou," &c.-"Far sweeter songs thou hear'st, and carol
(Though dazzling) do delight"-" both dazzle and de
The virgins to thy tomb will garlands bear
Of flow'rs, and with each flow'r let fall a tear.
Moliades sweet courtly nymphs deplore,
From Thule to Hydaspes' pearly shore.
A PASSING glance, a lightning 'long the skies,
Which, ushering thunder, dies straight to our sight;
A spark that doth from jarring mixtures rise,
Thus drown'd is in th' huge depths of day and night:
Is this small trifle, life, held in such price
Of blinded wights, who ne'er judge aught aright?
Of Parthian shaft so swift is not the flight,
As life, that wastes itself, and living dies.
Ah! what is human greatness, valour, wit?
What fading beauty, riches, honour, praise?
To what doth serve in golden thrones to sit,
Thrall earth's vast round, triumphal arches raise?
That all's a dream, learn in this prince's fall,
In whom, save death, nought mortal was at all.
STAY, passenger, see where enclosed lies
The paragon of princes, fairest frame,
Time, nature, place, could shew to mortal eyes,
In worth, wit, virtue, miracle of fame :
At least that part the earth of him could claim
This marble holds (hard like the destinies):
For as to his brave spirit, and glorious name,
The one the world, the other fills the skies.
Th' immortal amaranthus, princely rose,
Sad violet, and that sweet flow'r that bears
In sanguine spots the tenor of our woes,
Spread on this stone, and wash it with your tears;
Then go and tell from Gades unto Inde,
You saw where earth's perfections were confin'd
OF jet,
Or porphyry,
Or that white stone
Paros affords alone,
Or these in azure dye,
Which seem to scorn the sky;
Here Memphis' wonders do not set,
Nor Artemisia's huge frame,
That keeps so long her lover's name,
Make no great marble Atlas stoop with gold,
To please the vulgar eye shall it behold.
The Muses, Phoebus, Love, have raised of their tears A crystal tomb to him, through which his worth appears.
HIGH AND MIGHTY PRINCE JAMES,
KING OF GREAT BRITAIN, FRANCE, AND IRELAND.
* * In the first edition the title stands thus:"Forth Feasting: a Panegyricke to the King's Most Excellent Majestie.-Printed by Andrew Hart in 1607.”
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