Thomas Carew: They’ll hang their arms upon the olive bough
From In answer to an Elegiacall Letter upon the death of the King of Sweden from Aurelan Townsend, inviting me to write on that subject
And (since ’twas but his Church-yard) let him have
For his owne ashes now no narrower Grave
Than the whol German Continents vast womb,
Whilst all her Cities doe but make his Tomb.
But let us that in myrtle bowers sit
Vnder secure shades use the benefit
Of peace and plenty…
But these are subjects proper to our clyme.
Torueyes, Masques, Theaters better become
Our Halcyon dayes; what though the German Drum
Bellow for freedome and revenge? the noyse
Concernes not us, nor should divert our joyes;
Nor ought the thunder of their Carabins
Drown the sweet Ayres of our tun’d Violins;
Beleeve me friend, if their prevailing powers
Gain them a calm security like ours,
They’l hang their Armes upon the Olive bough.
And dance, and revell then, as we doe now…