Bosvvorth-field with a taste of the variety of other poems, left by Sir Iohn Beaumont, Baronet, deceased: set forth by his sonne, Sir Iohn Beaumont, Baronet; and dedicated to the Kings most Excellent Maiestie.

A funerall Hymne out of Pru∣dentius.

O God, the soules pure fi'ry Spring, Who diff'rent natures wouldst combine: That man whom thou to life didst bring, By weakenesse may to death decline, By thee they both are fram'd aright, They by thy hand vnited be; And while they ioyne with growing might, Both flesh and spirit liue to thee: But when diuision them recals, They bend their course to seu'rall ends, Into dry earth the body falls, The feruent soule to heau'n ascends: For all created things at length, By slow corruption growing old, Must needs forsake compacted strength, And disagreeing webs vnfold. But thou, deare Lord, hast meanes prepar'd, That death in thine may neuer reigne, And hast vndoubted waies declar'd, How members lost may rise againe:

That while those gen'rous rayes are bound In prison vnder fading things; That part may still be stronger found, VVhich from aboue directly springs. If man with baser thoughts possest, His will in earthly mud shall drowne; The soule with such a weight opprest, Is by the body carried downe: But when she mindfull of her birth, Her selfe from vgly spots debarres; She lifts her friendly house from earth, And beares it with her to the Starres. See how the empty bodies lyes, VVhere now no liuely soule remaines: Yet when short time with swiftnesse flyes, The height of senses it regaines. Those ages shall be soone at hand, VVhen kindly heate the bones reuiewes; And shall the former house command, VVhere liuing blood it shall infuse. Dull carkases to dust now worne, VVhich long in graues corrupted lay, Shall to the nimble ayre be borne, VVhere soules before haue led the way. Hence comes it to adorne the graue, VVith carefull labour men affect: The limbes dissolu'd last honour haue, And fun'rall Rites with pompe are deckt,

The custome is to spread abroad VVhite linnens, grac'd with splendour pure, Sabaean Myrrh on bodies strow'd, Preserues them from decay secure. The hollow stones by Caruers wrought, VVhich in faire monuments are laid, Declare that pledges thither brought, Are not to death but sleepe conuay'd. The pious Christians this ordaine, Beleeuing with a prudent eye, That those shall rise and liue againe, Who now in freezing slumbers lye. He that the dead (disperst in fields) In pittie hides, with heapes of molds, To his Almighty Sauiour yeelds, A worke which he with ioy beholds. The same Law warnes vs all to grone, VVhom one seuere condition ties, And in anothers death to mone. All Fun'rals, as of our Allies, That Reu'rend man in goodnesse bred, VVho blest Tobias did beget, Preferr'd the buriall of the dead Before his meate, though ready set; He, while the seruants waiting stand, Forsakes the cups, the dishes leaues, And digges a graue with speedy hand, Which with the bones his teares receiues.

Rewards from heau'n this worke requite: No slender price is here repaid, God cleares the eyes that saw no light, While Fishes gall on them is laid. Then the Creator would descry, How farre from reason they are led, VVho sharpe and bitter things apply, To soules on which new light is spred. He also taught that to no wight, The heau'nly Kingdome can be seene, Till vext with wounds and darksome night, He in the worlds rough waues hath been. The curse of death a blessing finds, Because by this tormenting woe, Steepe waies lye plaine to spotlesse minds, VVho to the Starres by sorrowes goe. The bodies which long perisht lay, Returne to liue in better yeeres: That vnion neuer shall decay, VVhere after death new warmth appeares. The face where now pale colour dwels, VVhence foule infection shall arise, The flowres in splendour then excels, VVhen blood the skinne with beauty dies. No age by Times imperious law, With enuious prints the forehead dimmes: No drought, no leanenesse then can draw The moysture from the wither'd limmes.

Diseases, which the body eate, Infected with oppressing paines, In midst of torments then shall sweate, Imprison'd in a thousand chaines. The conqu'ring flesh immortall growes, Beholding from the skies aboue, The endlesse groning of her foes, For sorrowes which from them did moue. VVhy are vndecent howlings mixt By liuing men in such a case? VVhy are decrees so sweetly fixt, Reprou'd with discontented face? Let all complaints and murmurs faile; Ye tender mothers stay your teares, Let none their children deare bewaile, For life renew'd in death appeares. So buried seeds, though dry and dead, Againe with smiling greenenesse spring: And from the hollow furrowes bred, Attempt new eares of corne to bring. Earth, take this man with kind embrace, In thy soft bosome him conceiue: For humane members here I place, And gen'rous parts in trust I leaue. This house, the soule her guest once felt, VVhich from the Makers mouth proceeds: Here sometime feruent wisdome dwelt, VVhich Christ the Prince of VVisedome breeds.

A cou'ring for this body make, The Author neuer will forget His workes; nor will those lookes forsake, In which he hath his Picture set. For when the course of time is past, And all our hopes fulfill'd shall be, Thou op'ning must restore at last, The limbes in shape which now we see. Nor if long age with pow'rfull reigne, Shall turne the bones to scatter'd dust; And onely ashes shall retaine, In compasse of a handfull thrust: Nor if swift Floods, or strong command Of VVindes through empty Ayre haue tost The members with the flying Sand; Yet man is neuer fully lost, O God, while mortall bodies are Recall'd by thee, and form'd againe. VVhat happy seate wilt thou prepare, VVhere spotlesse soules may safe remaine, In Abrahams bosome they shall lie Like Lazarus, whose flowry Crowne The rich man doth farre off espie, While him sharpe fiery torments drowne. Thy words, O Sauiour we respect, Whose triumph driues black Death to losse, When in thy steps thou would'st direct The Thiefe thy fellow on the Crosse.

The faithfull see a shining way, Whose length to Paradise extends, This can them to those trees conuay, Lost by the Serpents cunning ends. To Thee I pray, most certaine Guide: O let this soule which thee obay'd, In her faire birth-place pure abide, From which she, banisht, long hath stray'd. While we vpon the couer'd bones Sweet violets and leaues will throw: The title and the cold hard stones, Shall with our liquid odours flow.

FINIS.