L.A. Seneca the philosopher, his booke of consolation to Marcia. Translated into an English poem

Cap. 3

SO one after this was Livia's patience try'd, By the like fatall blow, for Drusus dy'd, A famous Captaine then, and like to be Inheritor of Caesars dignitie; Who with successefull fortune did invade The heart of Germanie, and there display'd The Roman Ensignes, where the Roman name Was hardly knowne, so freely was his fame Acknowledg'd by his very enemies, That they admir'd his daring enterprise, And in his sicknesse mutuall greetings sent, Scarse wishing that was most expedient: And at his death caus'd for his Countries sake, Came people from all quarters to partake Of Funerall Duties, who in great remorse, Did Triumph-like to Rome conduct the Coarse. His Mother, as each tender Parent wishes, Had not the meanes to enjoy his latest kisses; But waiting on the Body many a mile, Was as she went by every flaming pile,

So often put in mind of her dead Sonne, Yet she when once the obsequies were done, Him and her sorrow buried in one Grave, And wept no more than decencie might crave, Or then became great Caesars Majestie, And therefore ceased not to magnifie The Acts of Drusus, wheresoere she came, And willingly to speake and heare his name. Whereas none could make mention of the other, But it begat new sorrow in the Mother. Choose then by which Example thou'lt be led, If by the first, esteeme thy selfe but dead; All Children will avoid thee, and thy sight As ominous, all Mothers will affright; No solace will seeme fit, thou'lt hate the Sunne, And curse thy yeeres that will no faster runne, And which is worst, and most against thy mind, Knowne in the better part, the world may find, And by thy carriage plainly will descry, Thou wouldst no longer live, yet canst not dye. But if this famous Queene thou'lt imitate, Thou shalt not dwell in woe, nor macerate Thy selfe with cares, 'tis madnesse to increase Our owne regret and hinder our owne peace; That temper which in thee hath erst beene knowne, Thou'lt keepe, for modesty in griefe is showne; And even the Youth himselfe worthy of rest, By glad remembrance thou wilt make more blest.