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Henry King - AN ELEGY Upon Prince Henry`s death.
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Keep station Nature, and rest Heaven sure 
On thy supporters shoulders, left past cure, 
Thou dasht in ruine fall by a griefs weight 
Will make thy basis shrink, and lay thy height 
Low as the Center. Heark! and feel it read 
Through the astonisht Kingdom, Henry`s dead. 
It is enough; who seeks to aggravate 
One strain beyond this, prove more sharp his fate 
Then sad our doom. The world dares not survive 
To parallel this woes superlative. 
O killing Rhetorick of Death! two words 
Breathe stronger terrours then Plague, Fire, or Swords 
Ere conquer`d. This were Epitaph and Verse 
Worthy to be prefixt in Natures herse, 
Or Earths sad dissolution; whose fall 
Will be less grievous though more generall: 
For all the woe ruine ere buried, 
Sounds in these fatal accents, Henry`s dead. 
Cease then unable Poetry, thy phrase 
Is weak and dull to strike us with amaze 
Worthy thy vaster subject. Let none dare 
To coppy this sad hap, but with despair 
Hanging at his quills point. For not a stream 
Of Ink can write much less improve this Theam. 
Invention highest wrought by grief or wit 
Must sink with him, and on his Tomb-stone split. 
Who, like the dying Sun, tells us the light 
And glory of our Day set in his Night.
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