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B02265 An elegie sacred to the memory of Sir Edmund-bury Godfrey Knight; whose body was lately found barbarously murthered, and since honourably interr'd, the 31th of October, 1678. Care, Henry, 1646-1688. 1678 (1678) Wing C513; Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.2[112]; ESTC R8152 1,520 1

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AN ELEGIE Sacred to the Memory of Sir Edmund-bury Godfrey Knight Whose Body was lately found Barbarously Murthered and since Honourably Interr'd the 31th of October 1678. AN ELEGIE forbear who ere profanes This lasting Name with cheap unhallowed strains Commits a Murther second to their Guilt By whose infernal Hands his Blood was spilt So vast a Merit and so strange a Fate Must not be Blazon'd at the common Rate With mercenary Rhyme Set-forms of Praise Or stale Applauses which bold Flatterers raise To pin upon some Herse whose waiting throng Mourn onely ' cause the party liv'd so long Those customary Sighs have here no part We Weep in earnest and untaught by Art Slight Griefs may speak aloud but those that come From deep Resentments of our Loss are dumb As when fierce Thunder the Worlds Poles doth shake Or Winds break Jail and make the Earth to quake Mortals amaz'd can scarce exprese their Fears But onely court Heav'ns aid with silent Prayers So this dire Fact which equal Terrour brought Stisles our Reason and Benums our Thought A Chilling Horrour thrils through every Vein Each honest man by Sympathy is slain Or feels with Him though not the Death the pain 'T is dangerous to be Good well may we praise Vertue or Innocence but who can raise A pow'r that shall secure them or withstand Th'Assassinations of a bloody Hand He whose clear Life might an Example be Of upright Justice generous Charity That publique spirit that laid out his Store T' employ and cherish all industrious Poor And ne'r with any did a Feud profess But busie Treason and lewd Idleness Whose Actions were not fram'd meerly for sight Like artful Pieces plac'd in a fit light That they may take at distance but appear Most fair when you observe them most and near This LOYAL PATRIOT by untimely Fate And basest cruelties of unjust Hate Falls as a Victim for the Church and State Could we have seen with what composed Eyes He entertain'd th'astonishing surprize How he with Christian grandeur did engage Their sharpest Malice and their utmost Rage T 'had fill'd our mindes with thoughts enlarg'd and high And taught unhappy Heroes how to die Methinks t' observe how Vertue draws faint breath Subject to Slanders Plots and Violent Death How many dangers on best actions wait Right check'd by Wrongs and ill men fortunate These mov'd Effects from an unmoved Cause Might shake an easie Faith Heav'ns sacred Laws Might casual seem and our irregular Sense Spurn at just Order and blame Providence Did we not know there 's an adored Will In all that happs to Men or Good or Ill Suffer'd or sent and what is Man to pry Into th' Abyss of such a Mystery The Rising Sun to mortal sight reveals This lower Globe but the bright Stars conceals So may our Sense discover natural things But those Divine soar above Humane Wings Then not the Fate but Fates bad Instrument Let us accuse in each sad accident Good men must die Rapes Incest MURTHERS come But Woe and Curses follow them by whom God Authors all mens Actions not their Sin For that proceeds from dev'lish Lust within Nor let the barbarous Actors hug their Crime Because they lurk concealed for a time Heav'n sees and will expose what they have done No doubt ere long to Justice and the Sun Mean time loaded with Blood Horrour and Fears And that which crowns all Villany Despair May they possess their PURGATORY here And as Cains sin so his Self-tortures bear May they the wounding stripes of Conscience feel That lashes Guilt with whips of flaming steel So long till they shall count Deaths pains far less And freely come the Murther to confess But as when stinking Exhalations rise And with black storms invade the purer skies They cann't put out the Sun though hide his Rays Which quickly he more gloriously displays So these vile hands in their Revenge are poor In murthering Him their Cause they murther more Hells Agents do but hasten him Heav'ns way And Pow'rs of darkness antedate his day In vain in vain is all their cursed spight He still survives in Fields of blissful light And with a pitying smile from thence looks down Ennobled with a Martyrs brighter Crown Whilst at th' Interment of his slumbering Clay A weeping Nation shall just Honours pay H. C. FINIS Licens'd Octob. 30 1678. LONDON Printed for L. C. 1678.