At a much deader fault must reason bee,
Death having broke-off such a linke as hee.
But compare The Second Anniversary, p. [255], ll. 143-6.
Page 271. Obsequies to the Lord Harrington, &c.
The MS. from which 1633 printed this poem probably had the title as above. It stands so in D, H49, Lec. By a pure accident it was changed to Obsequies to the Lord Harringtons brother. To the Countesse of Bedford. There was no Lord Harington after the death of the subject of this poem.
John Harington, the first Baron of Exton and cousin of Sir John Harington the translator of the Orlando Furioso, died at Worms in 1613, when returning from escorting the Princess Elizabeth to her new home at Heidelberg. His children were John, who succeeded him as Second Baron of Exton, and Lucy, who had become Countess of Bedford in 1594. The young Baron had been an intimate friend of Prince Henry. In 1609 he visited Venice and was presented to the Doge as likely to be a power in England when Henry should succeed. 'He is learned', said Wotton, 'in philosophy, has Latin and Greek to perfection, is handsome, well-made as any man could be, at least among us.' His fate was as sudden and tragic as that of his patron. Travelling in France and Italy in 1613 he grew ill, it was believed he had been poisoned by accident or design, and died at his sister's house at Twickenham on the 27th of February, 1614.
There is not much in Donne's ingenious, tasteless poem which evinces affection for Harington or sorrow for his tragic end, nor is there anything of the magnificent poetry, 'ringing and echoing with music,' which in Lycidas makes us forgetful of the personality of King. Donne's poem was written to please Lady Bedford:
And they who write to Lords rewards to get,
Are they not like singers at dores for meat?
Apparently it served its purpose, for in a letter written a year or two later Donne says to Goodyere: 'I am almost sorry, that an Elegy should have been able to move her to so much compassion heretofore, as to offer to pay my debts; and my greater wants now, and for so good a purpose, as to come disingaged into that profession, being plainly laid open to her, should work no farther but that she sent me £30,' &c. Letters, &c., p. 219.