Scotlands complaint. Vpon the death of our late soveraigne King Iames of most happy memorie. / By Mr. D. Prymerose.

SCOTLANDS COMPLAINT.

WHAT pressing pangs bee those? what waues of woe returne? It seem'th each fatall Day doth teach, another day to mourne: Griefe following griefe; and Sorrow tracing sorrow, This day too flowing and too deepe, are shallow found to morrow. For while in Silence sad, all Solace forc'd to shunne, Mine Agonies were fresh and greene, my Plaintes but new begunne. Behold, the worst Assault, O pitti-lesse Excesse! Now am I forc'd to beare the great, that scarce could beare the lesse. Was it not more than much? within short space to finde, Three Burgeons of the Royall Blood in Coffins sad inshrin'd. But that mine Eares should heare, or dazled-Eyes should see, Mine home-bred Deare, thryse-sacred SIRE, O Sorrow! breathlesse lye Light Cares are cur'd by Speach, and vented get reliefe, But secreit Silence doth bemone, a Soule surcharged with Griefe. So should a chilling cold, haue lul'd my Vitall part, Into a dull Lethargicke Sleepe, and sopped downe mine heart. Like wretched Niobe, or Bibles frightfull Feares. The one was turn'd into a Stone; the other into Teares. But that a rising Sunne, in State and Majestie, With golden Beames enlightned hath, my Neighbour Coastes & mee. That blest and Royall Plant sprung of His Sacred SIRE, Hath breath'd new Comfort to my Soule, and Hope to my Desire. So then I neede not doubt, but Heauen shall make mee proue, From Father glyding to the Sonne, refreshing streames of Loue. For signes of future Happe, my calmed Minde assure, As blest IAMES did, Great CHARLES shall, my Weale and Peace procure Yet can I not but mourne, and Sorrowes thesaurize, While heere to my deceased LORD, my Loue I sacrifize. Vnto your Glorious Ghost, my Princely Saint I vow, Ingrauen on mine Heart to keepe, fresh memorie of You.

That day shall never dawne, that shaddowing night shall never Spread sable courtaines ou'r my Coast, and this Horizon cover, But consecrate I shall, my long-acquainted SYRE, To You, the praises of my lips, my thoughts, and my desire. And though my orphane fieldes, His wonted splendor want, Yet daylie service shall bee done to my adored Saint. All times and ages shall; while measured time doth laste, And till the Angels trumpet sound, to tell that time is past, Vnfold to wondring Earth, this worke of nature chiefe, Which pondered right, will move in men, more marvaile nor beliefe. Since Heav'ns did never grant, to any mortall King, So soone, so well, so sure, so long, and in such peace to reigne. For since his Royall grace, to three moe Crownes was cal'd, And by a free applause of all, most gloriouslie install'd; Mee thought my darkned Name did then include my Fate, And with an everlasting Night had threatned mine estate; But O! the gratious beames of His transcending Face, Were ever present to procure, my health, my wealth, my peace. And though His absence seem'd, a wofull want to bee, Yet prov'd His present power, and love, a sure reliefe to mee. His Princelie selfe retir'd, did hee not leave behind A seat of Iustice fil'd by men, agreeing to His minde, And when pale Death by times had prun'd that fruitfull Tree, An Impe of proofe is quickelie drest, that want for to supplie. Great Alexanders Speach by dying Voyce exprest, Wil'd His Monarchick Crowne and Reigne be granted to the best: Such was our SOVERAIGNES choise, such was His constant Will. That Places voide, the wisest, and the vvorthiest men should fill. Witnesse that Noble Peere, chiefe States-man of this Land, Whom all doe loue, whom all obey, who doth in loue command: Of Nerva made by fate Sole-Monarch of the Earth Was said, to haue bene fortunate in Life, but more in Death. That left to beare the sway of Romes farre-spred Impyre, Great Trajane whose Heroicke Partes all Ages did admyre. So let my modest Muse account Him happie twyse, Who blest in Life, hath by His Death made this bright Star to ryse.

But O! it was not Hee, and if it was by chance, His end gaue place, and was not cause, which did this Peere aduance▪ O! No, it was my SIRE, whose Heauen-inspyred Heart, Knew when, to whom, and how Hee should, His Honours all im∣part Hee found that generous Spirit first States-man fit to bee, Then for Him-selfe, and now vnto, His Royall Sonne and mee. O! if it were my choise, no Time, no Power, nor Fate, Should haue the force to change or moue these Minions of my state. Strong Pillars meete for mee; by choise not chance erected, Are for their Knowledge, Loue and Skill, so worthilie respected Of mee and mine, that now I feele no present crosse, Saue that too sharpe and publicke griefe of my late Soueraignes losse. The thought of which Distresse, and agonizing woe, I feare no Tract, no change of Time, shall make mee to for-goe. That Macedonian PRINCE, who vnacquaint with Feares, Did neuer bow to forraine Force, perforce must yeeld much Teares, For when His fauorite arrested was by Death, Hee could not Sorrow's passion daunt, that had subdu'd the Earth, But was so plung'd in woe, for his deare Minions sake, That Maugre all His Princes toyle, no comfort Hee would take, Till Amons Iupiter, enforc'd Him to for-beare, And fray'd the superstitious King from shedding of a Teare, Suggesting falsely that His Minion best belou'd, Was rank't in Heauen, a Deitie by all the gods approu'd. That flamming fires of Ioye, and Sacrifices must Cherish the teare-provoked wrath of God Ephestions Ghost. More cause haue I to mourne, no priuate losse is mine, That Majestie is now vnseene, that ouer all did shine. Those Beames of Beautie are shrunke vnder-neath the Earth, That Tongue diuine is silenc'd now, and by this onely Death, Ten thousand die at once, since life to griefe annex'd, Is but a liuing Death, or then a dying Life perplex'd. Yet since that Paynim Prince by cunning slight was eas'd, And through belieuing what was false, had all his woes appeas'd. Why? should not I and mine, lift vp our weeping eyes, And find King IAMES in Majestie, aboue the azur'd Skies.

Where Angels Songes are heard, such as his Sacred Grace, By His Lepanto showes to bee in that excelling place, O then! why should wee mourne, and shed such stormes of Teares? Or fright our Soules with agonies, or fill our Hearts with Feares. Since what hee novv enjoyes, the smallest graine is more, Than all the Pleasures summ'd in one, vvhich Hee enjoy'd before. Heere, heere, by Faith wee trust, tymes period last compleete, Saintes glorified; with glories Crowne our Soueraigne crown'd to meet. Soft then my plaining Muse, and though in homelie Phraise, Not what's His due, but what thou canst sob foorth vnto His praise. Behold Him first a Man, survey his priuate wayes, And then confesse Him to haue beene, the Glorie of our Dayes. Bright Mirrour set on high, most glorious to detect The inward beautie of Him-selfe, and others fraile defect. His Minde a Magazin, of Heauen-infused Grace, Still yeelding fruites of Faith to God, and breathing Loue and Peace To mortall men on Earth, with such a fragrant smell, This large Theater hath indew'd, that after Ages shall Complaine of posting Time, which rob'd them of the sight Of Natures Darling, Earths triumph, GODS Minion, Mans delight Then turne with gazing Eyes, behold His Kinglie partes, A PRINCE of Peace, a KING of Men, a Conquerour of Heartes, For vnderneath His Winges, which all the World admires, I breathed haue the aire of Peace now neare thrise twentie yeares. What forraine Force or Power, what Death menacing bandes, Aduenture durst t'approach the Coast of my Sea-bordring Landes. What ciuill Broyle did staine, in those Halcyons dayes, My backe with blood, or fill my breast with feare, or eares with frayes. For some coelestiall Power so circuled Him about, That to approach His Sacred Shryne, all Furies stood in doubt. And arm'd at strongest proofe, Christs Champion, did repell All charmes, and thundring Powder-plots, hatch'd in the depth of hell. Yea, from His Cradle foorth, th'Eternall Him prepar'd, Emplumed Squadrons set a part, to bee His surest Guarde. His Throne a Center was approaching neare the Deitie. Whereon two Pillers were erect'd of Iustice and of Pietie.

IEHOVA'S diuine Will, first model'd in the Heauen, With Gold Charecters on the two, by curious Aire ingraven, Tell that in power, and will, our Monarch still was able, As Gods great Vice-Roy to defend th'one and other Table. Who could or durst presume, to call this power in doubt, Since Iuda's Lyon to the World, our Lyon did send out. And to ennoble his strength the more and Name for to aduance, Did Englands Leopards adjoyne, and Golden Flowers of France. So His religious Will was published to the Earth, By sound of Fame in Word and Worke, in Life and seal'd in death. But of this Hero's life the progresse to receit, Not Mans abortiue birth of speach, but Angels Tongues are meit. Come then You learned Band that on my Coastes doe dwell. And tasted haue the christall streames of Aganippe's Well. But His Monarchicke Muse, l first of all adjourne, Who wont about fresh Dovan's Bankes, old Monarch's fate to mourne. Thy griefe-surcharged Spirit, rouze vp with Sacred Fyre, And solemnize the obsequies, of thine anoynted SYRE. In measured Accents reare, whole Iliad's to His praise, And our Pelidas deifie, by thine immortall Layes. Or then in stately Prose, (for well thou canst) penne foorth, New Xenophon, thy Cyrus life, and vmbrage of his worth. Next Thou deare Minion, whose sweete Nectar-flowing Tong, In Hymnes diuine, Moeliades, and feasting-Forth hast song. Come Darling mine take part, shed foorth some pretious teares, With sopping sorrow fill all heartes, with plaining charme all Eares. Dresse Trophees new to woe, vnceasing sighes among, Let Fastirg-Forth not Feasting bee, the subject of Thy Song, Let all his Streames bee blacke, which earst haue Chrystall beene, And let his Bankes bee turn'd in jette, his curled Medowes greene Assume Chameleon-like a Pitchie-coloured hew, And all those rare eye-pleasing Flowers, which in his Garden grew. Bee chang'd in Prophyrie, or in that polish'd Stone, Which to thy statelie Pyramide, Paros did yeelde alone. Scarce was the golden Sunne thrise hidden from mine Eyes, Scarce thrise had plung'd his purple Beames in the Hesperian Seas.

After my Sacred LORD had yeelded vp aboue His glorious Ghost, into the hands of His eternall Loue. And ere these fatall newes were come vnto mine Eares, The boistrous Wind did tempestes sigh; the Heauen did melt in teares. And Forth in such a rage, as was not seene before, His wonted Limits far ou'r-reach'd, and channel'd vp the Shore. Peace foaming Forth, I know thine East-ward flowing Streames, Rancountred haue some swelling Tyde, which wafting from the Thames. Sough't forth Thy SOVERAIGNES fate, as then vnknowne to mee, So spytefull Thou vpbraid'st all those that would not mourne with Thee. Peace Forth, that Day will come, and perchance is at hand, When thy best Hope, Great CHARLES shall vpon the Sea-banks stand. When shoutes of Ioy shall cheare, thy now-deserted Shore, And make Thy Nymphes, and Tritons feast, as they haue done before. When Thy sweete Poet shall imploy yet once againe, To point the presence of his PRINCE, his Muse-inspyred Pen. And last, Yee choisest Spirites, whose paines and well-spent Toyle, Did my late SOVERAIGNE welcome Home to His true natiue Soyle. Though dissonant in partes, in Harmonie accord. To eternize the diuine Actes, of my triumphing LORD. So many Healthes as then, You did to Him bequeath, As many Fare-welles bid His Ghost, which now hath left the Earth. And when the Tragicke sound, of those Farevvells are done, As many Wel-comes bid againe, to His thryse-Sacred SONNE.

EPILOGVS.

OF ENGLANDS Virgine Queene, what was and justlie said? Shee was on Earth the first, and is in Heauen the second Maide. Is turn'd to Heauen-blest IAMES, and Angels all doe sing, Hee was on Earth the first, and is, in Heauen the second King.

FINIS