Of the Death and Burial of Truth

Truth in the Golden Age was healthy, strong,1
But in the Silver Age grew lean and wan;2
I’th’Brazen Age sore sick abed did lie,
And in the last hard Iron Age did die.
Reck’ning and Measuring,3 both being just,                             5
She as her two executors did4 trust,
Which did distribute all her goods5 about
To her dear friends, and6 legacies gave out:
First useful arts, the life of man7 to ease,
Then those of pleasure, which the mind do please;             10
Distinguishments from this to that8 to show,
What’s best to take or leave, which way to go;
Experiments to shun, or to apply,
Either for health or peace, or what to fly;
And sympathies, which do9 the world unite,                         15
Which else antipathies10 would ruin quite.
This will and testament she left behind,
And as her deed of gift, left to11 mankind.
Mourning she gave to all her friends to wear,
And did appoint that four her hearse should bear;              20
Love at the head did hold the winding-sheet;
On each side, Care and Fear; Sorrow the feet.
This sheet at every corner fast was tied,
Made of oblivion strong, and very wide.
Nat’ral affections, all12 in mourning clad,                              25
Went next the hearse, with grief distracted mad:
Their hair, their face, their hands, tore, scratched, and wrung,13
And from their eyes fountains of tears outsprung,14
“For Truth,” said they, “did always with us live.
But now she’s dead, there is no Truth to give.”15                  30
After came kings, which all good laws did make,
And power used for Truth and Virtue’s sake.
Next Honor came16 in garments black and long,
With blubbered face, and down her head she hung,17
Who wished to die, for life was now a pain;                          35
Since Truth was dead, honor no more could gain.
Then lovers came18 with faces pale as death,
With shamefast eyes, quick pulse, and shortened breath,
And in each hand, a bleeding heart did bring,
Which hearts within the grave19 of truth did fling.             40
And ever since, lovers inconstant prove;
They more profession give than real love.
Next them came counsellors of all degrees,
From courts and countries, and from20 chief cities;
Their wise heads were a guard, and a strong wall,              45
So long as Truth did live amongst them all.
All sorts of tradesmen, using not to swear
So long as Truth, not Oaths, sold off their ware.
Physicians came, not those that try21 for skill
New ways, and for experience22 many kill,                           50
But which use simples good, by23 Nature sent,
To strengthen man, and sickness to prevent.
Judges and lawyers came, not wrangling,24 base,
But which for Truth25 did plead, decide each case;
Widows, which26 to their husbands kind had swore           55
That, when they died, they’d27 never marry more;
At last the clergy came, who28 taught Truth’s way,
And how men in devotion ought to pray,
Who did men’s lives by moral laws29 direct,
Persuade to peace, and governors respect.                            60
They wept for grief, as prophets did foretell,
That all the world with falsehood would rebel.
“Faction will come,” said30 they, “and bear great sway,
And bribes shall all the innocent31 betray.
Within the church shall controversies rise,32                        65
And heresies shall bear away the prize.
Instead of peace, the priests shall discords preach,
And high rebellion in their doctrines teach.
Then shall men learn the laws for to explain,
Which learning only serves for lawyers’ gain.                      70
For they do make and spread them like33 a net,
To catch in clients, and their money get.
The laws, which wise men made to keep the34 peace,
Serve only now for quarrels to increase.
All those that sit in Honor’s stately throne                             75
Are counterfeits, not any perfect known.
They put on vizards of an honest face,
But all their acts unworthy are, and base.
Friendship in words and compliments will35 live,
But in the heart not one night’s lodging give.36                     80
Lovers shall die for lust, yet love not one,
And virtue unregarded sit alone.
Now Truth is dead, no goodness here shall dwell,
But with disorder make each place a hell.”
With that they all did shriek,37 lament, and cry                    85
To Nature, for to end their misery.
And now this Iron Age’s so rusty grown,
That all the hearts are turned to hard flintstone.

FINIS

An Elegy on my Brother, Killed in these Unhappy Wars

38

Dear Brother,39
.                          Thy idea in my mind doth lie,
And is intombed in my sad memory,
Where every day I to thy shrine do go,
And offer tears, which from my40 eyes do flow.
My heart the fire, whose flames are ever pure,                    5
Shall41 on Love’s altar last, till life endure.
My sorrows incense strew of sighs fetched deep;
My thoughts do watch while thy42 sweet spirit sleeps.43
Dear blessèd soul, though thou art gone, yet lives
Thy fame on earth, and men44 thee praises give.45               10
But all’s too small, for thy heroic mind
Was above all the praises of mankind.

 

Upon the Funeral of my Dear Brother, Killed in these Unhappy Wars

46

Alas, who shall condole my funeral,47
Since none is near that doth my life concern?48
Or who shall drop a sacrificing tear,
If none but enemies my hearse shall bear?

For here’s no mourner to lament my fall,                                5
But all rejoicèd in my fate, though sad,49
And think my heavy ruin far too light,
So cruel is their malice, spleen, and spite!50

For men no pity nor compassion have,51
But all in savage wilderness do delight52                                10
To wash and bathe themselves in my pure53 blood,
As if they health received from that red flood.

Yet will the winds ring out my knell,54
And showering rain fall on my hearse,55
And birds as mourners sit thereon,56                                     15
And grass a covering grow upon.57

Rough stones, as scutcheons, shall adorn my tomb,58
And glow-worm burning tapers stand thereby;
Night sable covering shall me overspread;
Elegies of mandrakes’ groans shall write me dead.            20

Then let no spade nor pickaxe come near me,59
But let my bones in peace rest quietly,60
For who the dead dislodges from their grave61
Shall neither blessedness nor honor have.

The Funeral of Calamity

Calamity was laid on Sorrow’s hearse,
And coverings had of melancholy verse.
Compassion, a kind friend, did62 mourning go,
And tears about the corpse as flowers strow.
A garland of deep sighs, by pity made,                        5
Upon Calamity’s sad corpse was laid;63
Bells of complaints did ring it to the grave;
Poets a monument of fame it gave.64

On a Beautiful Young Maid, that Died Daughter to the Grieved Mother

65
You lovers all come mourn here, and lament
Over this grave, and build a monument
For beauty’s everlasting memory;
The world shall never such another see.
Her face did seem like to66 a glory bright,                                  5
Nay, e’en the rising sun from her took light.67
The sun and moon could ne’er eclipsed have been
If e’er these68 planets had her beauty seen.
Nor had this isle been subject to dark nights,
Had not sleep shut her eyes, and69 stopped those lights;     10
No bodies could infection take; her breath
Did cleanse the air, restoring life from death.
But Nature, finding she had been too free
In making such a mighty power as she,
Used all Industry’s powerful art and skill,                             15
And gave Death pow’r this body for to kill.70
For had but Nature let this body live, 71
She’d’ve had no work for Death nor Fates to give.72

On a Mourning Beauty

Upon the hill of sad melancholy,84
I did a silent mourning beauty spy,85
Still as the night; not one86 articulate noise
Did once rise up, shut close from th’light87 of joys,
Only a wind of sighs, which did88 arise                                          5
From the deep cave, the heart, wherein it89 lies.
A veil of sadness o’er90 her face was flung,
Sorrow, a mantle black, about her hung.
Her leaning head upon her hand did rest;
The other hand was laid upon the breast.                                  10
Her eyes did humbly91 bow towards the ground;
Their object, th’earth, was92 in her eyes quite drowned.
From her soft heart a spring of tears did rise,
Which ran93 from the two fountains of her eyes,
And where those show’rs did fall, the flow’rs which94 sprung 15
No comfort gave;95 their heads for grief down hung.
Yet did the stars shine bright as tapers by;
Shadows of light did sit as mourners nigh.
At last the gods did pity her sad fate,
Her to a shining comet did96 translate.                                       20

On a Furious Sorrow

Upon a grave outrageous Sorrow set,97
Digging the earth, as if she through would get.
Her hair untied loose on her shoulders hung,
And every hair with tears, like beads, was strung,
And when those tears98 did fall with their own weight,      5
Then99 newborn tears supplied their places straight.
She held a dagger, seemed with courage bold;
Grief bid her strike, but Fear did bid her hold.
Impatience raised her voice, and shrieking100 shrill,
Which sounded like a trumpet on a hill.                              10
Her face was flecked, like marble streaked with red,
Caused by grief’s vapors flying to her head.
Her bosom bare, her garments loose and wide,
And in this posture lay by Death’s cold side.
By chance a man, who had a fluent tongue,                        15
Came walking by, seeing her lie along,
Pitying101 her sad condition and her grief,
Did strain102 by rhet’ric’s103 help, to give relief.
“Why do you mourn,” said he, “and thus complain,
Since grief will neither Death nor gods104 restrain?             20
When they at first all creatures did create,
They did them all105 to Death predestinate.
Your sorrow cannot alter their decree,
Nor call back life by your impatiency.
Nor can the dead from Love receive a heat,                        25
Nor hear106 the sound of lamentations great,
For Death is stupid, being numb107 and cold,
No ears to hear, nor eyes for108 to behold.
Then mourn no more, since you no help can give,
Take pleasure in your beauty whilst109 you live,                 30
For in the fairest Nature pleasure takes,
But if you die, then Death his triumph makes.”
At last his words like keys unlocked her ears,
And then she straight considers what she hears.
“Pardon, you gods,” said she, “my murm’ring110 crime;    35
My grief shall ne’er dispute your will divine,
And in sweet life will I take most delight.”
And so went home with that fond carpet-knight.