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OBSEQUIES TO THE LADY ANNE HAY, by THOMAS CAREW Poet's Biography First Line: I heard the virgins sigh, I saw the sleek Last Line: Thus even by rivals to be deifi'd. | ||||||||
I HEARD the virgins sigh, I saw the sleek And polish'd courtier channel his fresh cheek With real tears; the new-betrothed maid Smil'd not that day; the graver Senate laid Their business by: of all the courtly throng Grief seal'd the heart, and silence bound the tongue. I, that ne'er more of private sorrow knew Than from my pen some froward mistress drew, And for the public woe had my dull sense So sear'd with ever-adverse influence, As the invader's sword might have, unfelt, Pierc'd my dead bosom, yet began to melt: Grief's strong instinct did to my blood suggest In the unknown loss peculiar interest. But when I heard the noble Carlisle's gem, The fairest branch of Denny's ancient stem, Was from that casket stol'n, from this trunk torn, I found just cause why they, why I, should mourn. But who shall guide my artless pen to draw Those blooming beauties, which I never saw? How shall posterity believe my story, If I her crowded graces, and the glory Due to her riper virtues, shall relate Without the knowledge of her mortal state? Shall I (as once Apelles) here a feature, There steal a grace, and rifling so whole Nature Of all the sweets a learned eye can see, Figure one Venus, and say, Such was she? Shall I her legend fill with what of old Hath of the worthies of her sex been told; And what all pens and times to all dispense, Restrain to her, by a prophetic sense? Or shall I, to the moral and divine Exactest laws, shape, by an even line, A life so straight, as it should shame the square Left in the rules of Catherine or Clare, And call it hers? say, So did she begin, And, had she liv'd, such had her progress been? These are dull ways, by which base pens for hire Daub glorious vice, and from Apollo's choir Steal holy ditties, which profanely they Upon the hearse of every strumpet lay. We will not bathe thy corpse with a forc'd tear, Nor shall thy train borrow the blacks they wear; Such vulgar spice and gums embalm not thee, Thou art the theme of truth, not poetry. Thou shalt endure a trial by thy peers: Virgins of equal birth, of equal years, Whose virtues held with thine an emulous strife, Shall draw thy picture, and record thy life. One shall ensphere thine eyes; another shall Impearl thy teeth; a third, thy white and small Hand shall besnow; a fourth, incarnadine Thy rosy cheek: until each beauteous line, Drawn by her hand in whom that part excels, Meet in one centre, where all beauty dwells. Others, in task, shall thy choice virtues share, Some shall their birth, some their ripe growth declare; Though niggard Time left much unhatch'd by deeds, They shall relate how thou hadst all the seeds Of every virtue, which, in the pursuit Of time, must have brought forth admired fruit. Thus shalt thou, from the mouth of envy, raise A glorious journal of thy thrifty days: Like a bright star shot from his sphere, whose race In a continu'd line of flames we trace. This, if survey'd, shall to thy view impart How little more than late thou wert, thou art. This shall gain credit with succeeding times, When, nor by bribed pens, nor partial rhymes Of engag'd kindred, but the sacred truth Is stori'd by the partners of thy youth: Their breath shall saint thee, and be this thy pride, Thus even by rivals to be deifi'd. | Other Poems of Interest...A PASTORAL DIALOGUE: SHEPHERD, NYMPH, CHORUS by THOMAS CAREW A PRAYER TO THE WIND by THOMAS CAREW AN ELEGY UPON THE DEATH OF DOCTOR DONNE, DEAN OF PAUL'S by THOMAS CAREW BOLDNESS IN LOVE by THOMAS CAREW DISDAIN RETURNED by THOMAS CAREW EPITAPH ON THE LADY MARY VILLIERS [OR VILLERS] (1) by THOMAS CAREW EPITAPH ON THE LADY MARY VILLIERS [OR VILLERS] (2) by THOMAS CAREW INGRATEFUL [OR UNGRATEFUL] BEAUTY THREATENED by THOMAS CAREW MARIA WENTWORTH by THOMAS CAREW |
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