Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A39263
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Piæ juventuti sacrum, an elegie on the death of the most vertuous and hopefull young gentleman, George Pitt, esq.
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Ellis, Clement, 1630-1700.
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1658
(1658)
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Wing E567; ESTC R31412
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8,391
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30
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was not to wast A life or stay 'till some few minutes pass'd All that he came to doe was this no where He had to leave 's mortallity but here His blessed soul came hither but to shew That all that goe to Heav'n must this way goe Had it been possible a soul should bound So high without a fall upon the Ground Could man enjoy aeternall life and not First dye then had he never been forgot Heav'n would have priz'd such jewells much more high Then to expose them to each vulgar eye But since the purest Di'mond e're it stand The pride and Glory of a Noble hand Must first endure the file and not think much T' abide the Lapidarie's ruder touch Even so his richer soul now safely set In God's more wide and Glorious Cabinet Enamell rich as those bright Orbes e're wore Was here plac'd to be Cut and polish'd ore Such was his entertainment here that day Which first gave life first took his health away Born but to practice his mortallity Only to learn how to be sick and dye Nature grew jealous at his birth she saw A face so sweet so brave a soul in awe Of her own work she stood and lest it should Grow more then man and deifie her mould She sent him not abroad but as we do Our Prisâ—ners with his churlish keeper too His guard's a sad disease which does essay To stifle 's soul in his infected clay And when she would have walk'd abroad to view What Nature made of old or Art anew Clapp'd bolts and shackles on each faculty And made her life a death who could not die Till leaning too too heavy on the wall It had so weakn'd caus'd at length its fall And now the joyfull soul escaped is Into a fair aeternity of blisse O Happy soul in this thy misery For having try'd so long what t is to die Thou quickly did'st thy work without all pain And go'st to rest aeternally again Whil'st others drop or stumble in Heav'ns gave Him leave to walke softly into this grave Such Flowr's are not cut down but drawn up hence By their bright Sire's attractive influence No sudden raging Fever parch'd his clay And in an instant scorch'd his life away But as wax in the Sun-shine when 't has felt That warmth does rather sweetly yeeld then melt And seems to smile upon its kinder fates And to embrace the wounding raies dilates And kindly spreads it's selfe and wooes it's death Longing it's last embraces to bequeath So did his melting body yeelding lie Smiling upon the Courteous Cruelty Of such a kind disease which in each limbe Did seem to wast it selfe much more then him Who saw him breath his last would conclude thence He whisper'd Death in 's eare to fetch him hence They seemd to strive which should yeeld first of these His feeble body or his weak disease He did espouse his sicknesse was in love With that which first could seat his soule above Angry with his Phisitians who did try To kill the Death brought Immortality His sicknesse to his body was born twin As every soul since Adam to it's sin Such entire friends that both must be or neither Since both were borne both live both dye together But why miscall we't sicknesse or disease Which is his Conduct to aeternall ease Which Heav'n sent hither with him lest when hurl'd Now here now there in a tumultuous world He might forget where 't was his bus'nesse lay This softly pulls and tells him that 's the way If ere it pinch'd so hard as fetch'd a groan It quickly sends a slumber to atone The breach of friendship as an early taste Or soft praeludium to aeternall rest So like the sisters were in him his breath Did onely tell us which was sleep which death His last successive breathings did increase In such proportion'd measures that to cease Did seem Impossible what e're may be The adverse dictates of Philosophy His breathings pass'd in such proportion As each respected that aeternall one When by his long disease his patient brest Did seem to be more then was fit opprest And made us sometimes over apt to say His spirit was as heavy as his clay We sinn'd against his piety which thus Sequestred from 's malignant dust and us That purest soule which up to Heav'n was gone In holy raptures of Devotion When e're we judg'd him to be sad or dull 'T was absence but no heavinesse of soul He was a study'ng whil'st he here did stay Onely to make choice of a dying Day And 't was no wonder he dispatch'd so soon Who goes with th' Sun shall come to Heav'n at noon 'T was not too soon to goe when God did call His fruit was ripe before his flow'r did fall Angels could not too soon their Hooks here bring 'T is ever Harvest where there 's such a Spring He saw but little dislik'd more the world Unsetled alwayes round about him hurl'd To fixe there were not to stand still but reel Who would live to be broake on such a wheele Yet did he try Towne Country and did see Some Reliques of an University But nought could force his stay much more he might Have seen but strove to be at home ere night And now no wonder if such Flow'rs do fade Set in so lean a soyle so cold a shade As is the barren world that 's here below No such faire flow'rs on such foule dung-hils grow Just blowne he was when Heav'ns all-searching eye In love with 's beauty and his fragrancie Streight plucks him up and gives him this new name A Saint inth Bosome of blest Abraham This is his name And now whom I before Did love and honour I must learne t' adore He now has happ'ly chang'd his mortall state And 't was his aemulation not his Fate That Death so early call'd a soule so chaste Argues his timely ripenesse not it's haste It was my happinesse when I could call Him friend not startled at a Funerall But since 't is more his blisse thus to acquaint Himselfe with Angels canoniz'd a Saint By Death 's owne hand I must aesteeme it more To be his vot'ry now then friend before He was not borne for us alas we must Not thinke such Iewels fitted for our trust His Goodnesse was our losse Heav'n often spares Lesse blessings for a greater terme of yeares We measure Good lives not by yeares but houres 'T is much that we can say he once was ours That we once saw him is enough to boast And 't is the noblest bragge to say we 've lost And yet we have not lost our Saint unlesse In an aeternity of Happinesse We well may lose our selves in thinking how Heav'n is so mindfull of poor things below As lend us so long his sweet presence when It selfe thus picks him out from other men So when the Glorious eye of Heav'n doth goe To view the wonders which we call below We use to say he sets and falls when there He 's no lesse high or bright then he was here His course is one and Constant though we call What our owne Nat'rall darknesse is his fall Hee 's not of life but we of him bereft The sorrows we have found those he has left Going to 't all the morning now at Even We see him step over the Grave to Heaven All joy to thee in Heav'n blest soul whil'st we Here weep and groan and pray to rest with thee T is not thy fate that we thy friends bemoan T is not thy death not thy losse but our own We nee'r shall find our joies again 'till we Can die and lose our griefs in Heav'n with thee But we disturb thy sacred dust now close Wrapt up securely in a sweet repose We not so prize thy soul as hope to buy It back by th' cheap expences of an eye Why should'st thou now from all thy joyes descend Unblesse thy selfe so to reblesse thy friend When we 'd enjoy thee next 't will be a light Task for thy sake to bid the world Good-night We eas'ly shall passe through the Grave and death To come to thee we 'll run quite out of breath Such pious journeys still successefull be He 's sure to go to Heav'n that comes to thee Mors iter ad vitam An EPITAPH on the same ASke you what 's by this Marble meant Thus said the soul which this way went Friend I am gone There nothing lies but dust and stone Would'st thou be here Step in and leave thy body there Why at the door Do'st stand and talk I 'm far before Would'st be where I Now happy rest Dispatch and die So shalt thou be that in thy selfe thou seek'st in me Strike through this stone make hast to tast know What I enjoy but cannot tell thee now Another KNock not but enter why do'st fear His ashes sleep his soul 's not here VVhat here thou see'st this breathlesse dust Liv'd seav'nteen yeares Chast Good and Iust. VVhen here it could no better be 'T went home ro Immortallity This Grave which by its death became The sole surviver of the * * PITT He being the last heir male of the family name VVas left its Heir 'till that day when These ashes shall revive againe And up to those blest mansions sore VVhither the soul went long before FINIS * The two tops are the Church and your house