This elegy was written by R. Abbey and printed in London in 1629, shortly after the poem’s subject, Prince Frederick Henry of Bohemia/Palatinate drowned on his way to Amsterdam. The poem is an elegy upon his death and explores the pain and suffering that comes with discovering that a young person of the crown has died tragically. The deaths of any kind of royalty at the time greatly affected the people under their rule. Henry was Elizabeth Stuart of Bohemia’s oldest son. Elizabeth Stuart was the daughter of King James I and was known as the Winter Queen. Henry Frederick was 15 when he drowned and his father, Frederick V, survived. For further reading on Prince Henry’s family, one may turn to Brennan Pursell’s book, The Winter King: Frederick V of the Palatinate and the Coming of the Thirty Years' War.
As I began to render the text, I decided to keep as close as possible to the text while updating it to modern American English. I did this with the mindset that students who are not English majors would be able to read and understand the text easily. A consistent change I have made is to spelling. For ease of reading, I have changed f’s to s’s, v’s to u’s, and dropped extra e’s at the ends of words. I also modernized the spelling as much as possible. I also kept all original punctuation. The definitions I have provided are from the Oxford English Dictionary and were chosen because they matched closely within the context of the poem.
An Elegy Upon the Most Deplorable Death of Prince Henry
Eldest son to the king of Bohemia: who upon the 9th of January last passing to Harlem,
most unfortunately perished.
Eternal tears, griefs, that shall never end,
With murmurs uttered in lamenting verse,
Sad accents, and such lines that forth may send
Sounds, such as widowers howl about the hearse
Of their dead Husbands; words whose force may bend
Relentless hearts, and flinty bowels pierce
Come to my plaints1 bring characters of woe,
That endless grief, unvalued loss may show.
Me thinks my hand as with a Fever shakes,
Which when I to the trembling leaf apply,
More ghastly white than earst*, for grief it quakes, * earnest
And seems with us to have a Sympathy;
But willingly this mournful dye it takes
Badge of our passions, sorrows liverie2,
Which as it drops from my unsteadfast pen,
Seems to lament the general loss of men,
In this young Prince most likely to revive
The glorious Triumphs of his ancestry;
This flower of youth, in whom did Nature strive
With Education for the victory:
Each seeming Conqueress, for they both did thrive,
And grew so soon to such an excellency,
Whom angry Fortune fiercely taught to fear,
Nor hope’s vain breath aloft could ever bear.
Drenched in the sea, left enamored Earth
Love-burnt might chance to prove Trinacrias3 loss,
And from her burning Entrals* send a breath *Entry
Like that which comes from Aetnas4 sulph’ry fosse5;
Or left a flower should from his Urn have birth
That might have power, the power of Fate to cross:
And like the immortal Nectar of the sky,
Enfranchise men to immortality.
Batavia6, rather should thy shores down fall,
And the fierce waves their ancient Lordship fill,
Rather should time back summon and recall
The bloody Actors in thy former ill:
Rather in former feats should Fate install
Proud Austria, D’Alva7, Parma8, Longeville9
In this revenge back to reduce a flood,
And make where once was Sea, a Sea of blood.
What profits it though Nereus10 did resign
Some of his Kingdome to the Continent,
When his general forces did combine,
And froth-immantled11 all in rage he went
Against that straight which Albion* did confine, *the island of Britain
Which with his boisterous fury down he rent;
And broke that Isthmus* that did join before *narrow portion of land
Our chalky cliffs unto the Belgic shore?
If like a cruel Lord he doth demand
Such chief, such duties for the unnatural soil;
And doth exact a due for barren sand
Of greater worth then was the richest spoil
His waves could ever gain, or the bright strand
Of the fair East, fought with so dangerous toil,
Did ever vie against the Sun, or gold
Pactolus12 streams, or Tagus13 sands enfold.
Rather should braved Iberia keep the Ore
Brought from the ransacked India’s wealthy ground;
Better our joys were disannulled before
Report did ever such a prize resound,
Rather should Holland back again restore
The riches in that conquered fleet she found,
Then that it more should hurt when it was gained,
Then had it in our enemies hand remained.
Thus by our gain we lost, our joy’s our woe,
So the angry heavens our hopes still countermand14,
Our Conquest proves our fatal overthrow;
The Nerves of war bring weakness to our Land,
Thus while we most do rise, most down we go,
Ever residing on the tottering sand
Of expectation, which each blast doth cross,
And every gale can turn to greater loss.
High Providence, could humane wit be found
The deep abyss of thy mysteries:
How soon should we on Heaven our Comfort ground
Not on conjectures, possibilities,
Which then most vain, when trusted most are found
But broken reeds are all our policies,
The Heavens will have our hearts, and take away
Those things the soonst that cause them most to stray15,
Thus both our Henries soon away did go,
Shown the earth, not suffered to remain,
Now in the Heaven, more bright then ere did show
Proud Cyllarus16 riders o’re the liquid plaine
Of the vast Oceans Empire, Fates bestow
On them by turns to shine upon the maine,
Ours both together glister, jointly live
To Heaven and Earth their light at once they give.
Did Silver footed Thetis17 cause thee dye,
In the the Pelian18 stemme to contemplate,
Or Pallas19 weary of Virginity,
To enjoy thy love compact with envious Fate,
To bring thee up above the golden sky:
She worth thy love, thou worthy such a mate,
And leade thee up, fith20 all the world denied
A match for her like thee, thee such a bride!
Or did those Heroes that in Paradise
Enjoy those sweets the inamel’d* plains do yield; *enameled
Or masking in their Robes of greatest prize,
In gentle ranks pass over the flowery field:
Where every Vale, each mount, each fall, each rise,
With thousand kinds of rarities is filed:
Where noiseless floods do branch the youthful mead21,
Birds sweetly dumb eternal silence lead;
As hence secure of Fate they cast their eyes
(Their eyes all seeing, passing all they see)
In this sweet Prince they view those qualities
That brought their souls to such felicity,
When envying us, they with the Fates devise
To bring him, (worthy of their company)
Which as they found him, took him straight away:
Their strong desires admitting no delay.
Arion22, thou hadst power to charm with string
A fish to bear thee safe unto the shore:
Could not thy plaints (sweet Prince) have power to bring23
Something amidst the waves to pass the over
Whose voice was better Music? Did what bore
So sweet a burden fear abandoning,
And with the traitorous winds and air agree
To keep thee still, to deal so cruelly.
Enjoy sweet Spirit thine eternal rest,
Our loss, not thine, is cause of this our woe;
Above the golden spheres live ever blessed,
Possess the Crown the Heavens on thee bestow,
Instead of earthly diadem; possessed
By glorious Saints, so may thou ever show
Thy light, not set a faint Star in sky,
But placed a Saint in greater dignity.
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