‘To the Grave’
Unclasp thy womb, thou mortuary shrine,
And take the worst part of the best we had.
Thou hast no harbourage for things divine,
That thou had’st any part was yet too bad.
Graves, for the grave, are fit, unfit for thee
Was our sweet branch of youthful royalty.
Thou must restore each atom back again
When that day comes that stands beyond all night.
His fame (meanwhile) shall here on earth remain,
Lo thus we have divided our delight:
Heaven keeps his spirit stalled amongst the just,
We keep his memory, and thou his dust.
Prince Henry was the eldest son of James I and VI (that’s first of England, sixth of Scotland). In 1612 he died at the age of eighteen. An extraordinary period of spontaneous popular mourning followed. Henry had been a notably pious Protestant and the relationship between him and his father had become strained.
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