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First Line: Madam, men say you keep with dropping eyes
Last Line: Shall sing the trophies of your conquering eye.
Subject(s): Death

MADAM, men say you keep with dropping eyes
Your sorrows fresh, wat'ring the rose that lies
Fall'n from your cheeks upon your dear lord's hearse.
Alas! those odours now no more can pierce
His cold pale nostril, nor the crimson dye
Present a graceful blush to his dark eye.
Think you that flood of pearly moisture hath
The virtue fabled of old Æson's bath?
You may your beauties and your youth consume
Over his urn, and with your sighs perfume
The solitary vault, which, as you groan,
In hollow echoes shall repeat your moan;
There you may wither, and an Autumn bring
Upon yourself, but not call back his Spring.
Forbear your fruitless grief, then, and let those
Whose love was doubted gain belief with shows
To their suspected faith. You, whose whole life
In every act crown'd you a constant wife,
May spare the practice of that vulgar trade,
Which superstitious custom only made.
Rather, a widow now, of wisdom prove
The pattern, as, a wife, you were of love.
Yet since you surfeit on your grief, 'tis fit
I tell the world upon what cates you sit
Glutting your sorrows; and at once include
His story, your excuse, my gratitude.
You that behold how yond' sad lady blends
Those ashes with her tears, lest, as she spends
Her tributary sighs, the frequent gust
Might scatter up and down the noble dust,
Know, when that heap of atoms was with blood
Kneaded to solid flesh, and firmly stood
On stately pillars, the rare form might move
The froward Juno's or chaste Cynthia's love.
In motion, active grace, in rest, a calm
Attractive sweetness, brought both wound and balm
To every heart. He was compos'd of all
The wishes of ripe virgins, when they call
For Hymen's rites, and in their fancies wed
A shape of studi'd beauties to their bed.
Within this curious palace dwelt a soul
Gave lustre to each part, and to the whole:
This dress'd his face in courteous smiles, and so
From comely gestures sweeter manners flow;
This courage join'd to strength; so the hand, bent,
Was valour's, open'd, bounty's instrument,
Which did the scale and sword of Justice hold,
Knew how to brandish steel and scatter gold.
This taught him not to engage his modest tongue
In suits of private gain, though public wrong;
Nor misemploy (as is the great man's use,)
His credit with his master to traduce,
Deprave, malign, and ruin innocence,
In proud revenge of some misjudg'd offence:
But all his actions had the noble end
T' advance desert, or grace some worthy friend.
He chose not in the active stream to swim,
Nor hunted honour, which yet hunted him;
But like a quiet eddy, that hath found
Some hollow creek, there turns his waters round,
And in continual circles dances free
From the impetuous torrent; so did he
Give others leave to turn the wheel of State,
(Whose restless motion spins the subjects' fate,)
Whilst he, retir'd from the tumultuous noise
Of Court, and suitors' press, apart enjoys
Freedom and mirth, himself, his time, and friends,
And with sweet relish tastes each hour he spends.
I could remember how his noble heart
First kindled at your beauties; with what art
He chas'd his game through all opposing fears,
When I his sighs to you, and back your tears
Convey'd to him; how loyal then, and how
Constant he prov'd since to his marriage-vow;
So as his wand'ring eyes never drew in
One lustful thought to tempt his soul to sin:
But that I fear such mention rather may
Kindle new grief, than blow the old away.
Then let him rest, join'd to great Buckingham,
And with his brother's mingle his bright flame.
Look up, and meet their beams, and you from thence
May chance derive a cheerful influence.
Seek him no more in dust, but call agen
Your scatter'd beauties home; and so the pen
Which now I take from this sad elegy,
Shall sing the trophies of your conquering eye.

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