(And that thy smallest worke) have gleaned more Then all those times, and tongues could reape before; 60 But thou art gone, and thy strict lawes will be Too hard for Libertines in Poetrie. They will repeale the goodly exil'd traine Of gods and goddesses, which in thy just raigne Were banish'd nobler Poems, now, with these 65 The silenc'd tales o'th'Metamorphoses Shall stuffe their lines, and swell the windy Page, Till Verse refin'd by thee, in this last Age, Turne ballad rime, Or those old Idolls bee Ador'd againe, with new apostasie; 70 Oh, pardon mee, that breake with untun'd verse The reverend silence that attends thy herse, Whose awfull solemne murmures were to thee More then these faint lines, A loud Elegie, That did proclaime in a dumbe eloquence 75 The death of all the Arts, whose influence Growne feeble, in these panting numbers lies Gasping short winded Accents, and so dies: So doth the swiftly turning wheele not stand In th'instant we withdraw the moving hand, 80 But some small time maintaine a faint weake course By vertue of the first impulsive force: And so whil'st I cast on thy funerall pile Thy crowne of Bayes, Oh, let it crack a while, And spit disdaine, till the devouring flashes 85 Suck all the moysture up, then turne to ashes. I will not draw the envy to engrosse All thy perfections, or weepe all our losse; Those are too numerous for an Elegie, And this too great, to be express'd by mee. 90 Though every pen should share a distinct part, Yet art thou Theme enough to tyre all Art; Let others carve the rest, it shall suffice I on thy Tombe this Epitaph incise. _Here lies a King, that rul'd as hee thought fit 95 The universall Monarchy of wit; Here lie two Flamens, and both those, the best, Apollo's first, at last, the true Gods Priest_. [An Elegie _&c._ _Also in Carew's _Poems_ 1640._ _See note_] _An Elegie on D^r. DONNE: By Sir Lucius Carie._