<!DOCTYPE ETS PUBLIC "-//UMDLPS//DTD EEBOPROOF 2.0//EN">
<ETS>
<TEMPHEAD>
<REVDESCR>
<CHANGE>
<DATE>2008-10-02</DATE>
<RESPSTMT>
<NAME>Mona Logarbo</NAME>
<RESP>MURP</RESP>
</RESPSTMT>
<ITEM>Proofed and reviewed as part of batch B080831.pdcc.</ITEM>
</CHANGE>
</REVDESCR>
</TEMPHEAD>
<EEBO>
<IDG S="marc" R="UM" ID="B03223">
<STC T="W">E408</STC>
<BIBNO T="umi">99889968</BIBNO>
<VID>182588</VID>
</IDG>
<TEXT LANG="eng">
<BODY>
<DIV1 TYPE="elegy">
<PB REF="1" MS="y"><!-- PDF PAGE 7 -->
<HEAD><FIGURE>
<P>MEMENTO MORI.</P>
<FIGDESC>outline of tombstone including emblems of Death which surrounds text</FIGDESC>
</FIGURE></HEAD>
<HEAD>AN ELEGY ON THE Death of the Right Noble PRINCE HENRY HOWARD, Duke of NORFOLK, <HI>Who Departed this Life </HI> <DATE>the 13th. <HI>day of this In&s;tant</HI> January, 1684.</DATE></HEAD>
<OPENER><DATELINE><DATE><ADD>18. Jan. 1684</ADD></DATE></DATELINE></OPENER>
<LG>
<L><HI>NORFOLK</HI> is Dead like Lightning, which no part</L>
<L>O'th' Body touches, but fir&s;t &s;trikes the Heart!</L>
<L>This Sound is Fatal, for there's not in all</L>
<L>The &s;tock of <HI>Sorrow,</HI> any Charm can call</L>
<L><HI>Death</HI> &s;ooner up; there's Mu&s;ick in the breath</L>
<L>Of <HI>Thunder,</HI> and a &s;weetne&s;s in the <HI>Death:</HI></L>
<L>It brings with it, if we with this compare,</L>
<L>All the loud Noi&s;es that torment the Air.</L>
<L>They Cure (Phy&s;icians &s;ay) the Element,</L>
<L>Sick with dull Vapours, and to Bani&s;hment,</L>
<L>Confine Infections: But this Di&s;mal &s;hriek,</L>
<L>VVithout the lea&s;t Redre&s;s, is utter'd like</L>
<L>The <HI>la&s;t day's</HI> Summons, when Earths Glories lie</L>
<L>A &s;catter'd heap, and <HI>Time</HI> it &s;elf mu&s;t Dye.</L>
<L>What now hath it to boa&s;t of? can we have</L>
<L>A thought le&s;s dark then th' horrour of the Grave?</L>
<L>Now thou do&s;t dwell below; as brave a Soul,</L>
<L>As humane &s;ighs and tears did e're condole:</L>
<L>Sprung from tho&s;e great Progenitors, who&s;e Name</L>
<L>Shines <HI>high</HI> and <HI>glorious</HI> in the Book of Fame:</L>
<L>Renown'd for Martial Deeds, true <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> born,</L>
<L>Such as for ever &s;hall our I&s;le adorn;</L>
<L>Who in their great Example &s;till do live,</L>
<L>And to brave Spirits &s;till In&s;tructions give:</L>
<L>Pointing the way to Honour, by true worth,</L>
<L>Such as them&s;elves did to the world &s;et forth.</L>
<L><HI>Howard!</HI> a Name which <HI>France</HI> has forc'd to &s;hake,</L>
<L>The very Sound has driv'n whole Armies back;</L>
<L>But all their Prowe&s;s and Heroick Might,</L>
<L>No Death the Univer&s;al Monarch, fright;</L>
<L>To Fare their Glorious Heads at length did bow,</L>
<L>And God-like Men like Bea&s;ts, in Du&s;t lye low;</L>
<L>Nor was Great <HI>Norfolk</HI> then his Fathers le&s;s,</L>
<L>But all their Vertues did at large expre&s;s.</L>
<L>Of the fir&s;t <HI>Magnitude</HI> a fixed Star,</L>
<L>Never <HI>Excentrick</HI> in the <HI>Britti&s;h</HI> Sphere;</L>
<L>But always Loyal to his Prince, he &s;tood</L>
<L>In every Shock of State, and &s;temm'd the Flood</L>
<L>Of <HI>Popular Rage,</HI> and did him&s;elf approve,</L>
<L>To his own Honour, and the Royal Love;</L>
<L>Ble&s;t with great Titles, VVealth, and ample Power,</L>
<L>And by his own great Regarded more.</L>
<L>Valiant and VVi&s;e, in Dangers often to&s;t,</L>
<L>But yet his God-like Courage never lo&s;t.</L>
<L>VVhen Fortune frown'd, he found him&s;elf then mo&s;t</L>
<L>Re&s;olv'd, and with collected &s;trength abides</L>
<L>Th' impetuous rage of VVinds and adver&s;e Tides;</L>
<L>Always undaunted, and his Noble Mind,</L>
<L>Not blood e&s;t threats cou'd force, nor flatteries blind.</L>
<L>A <HI>Hero</HI> &s;o compleat, not every day</L>
<L>Is form'd, but Heav'n does once an Age di&s;play</L>
<L>Some wondrous work, a while to ble&s;s our eyes,</L>
<L>And then de&s;troys, le&s;t we &s;hould Idolize.</L>
<L>But yet the Memory thereof remains,</L>
<L>And we're allow'd in tears to ea&s;e our pains.</L>
<L>Our lo&s;s is Univer&s;al, all &s;hould weep,</L>
<L>A Anniver&s;ary our eyes &s;hould keep,</L>
<L>To &s;ome &s;ad Numbers tun'd, &s;ome Solemn Ver&s;e,</L>
<L>That may his Glories and our Griefs rehear&s;e;</L>
<L>Nor &s;hould we cea&s;e to grieve and to admire,</L>
<L>Until our wearied Souls, like his Expire.</L>
</LG>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="epitaph">
<HEAD>The EPITAPH.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>HEre is true Eloquence,</L>
<L>The Grave alone &s;peaks Sen&s;e;</L>
<L>It &s;ays that Mortal Joys,</L>
<L>Each bla&s;t of Time De&s;troys,</L>
<L>But he that has Liv'd Ju&s;t,</L>
<L>His <HI>Glory</HI> keeps in Dust.</L>
</LG>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
<BACK>
<DIV1 TYPE="colophon">
<P>Printed for <HI>I. Deacon,</HI> at the <HI>Angel</HI> in <HI>Guilt-&s;pur-&s;treet,</HI> without New-Gate, 1684.</P>
</DIV1>
</BACK>
</TEXT>
</EEBO>
</ETS>
