humum Ac tutos sponsi thalamos ingresse boati Convivae niveâ cingito veste latus Caelicolúmque pie primâ te classe repone Dum subit infernas impia turba domos The same in English GReat was the havock Death had made Whilst every where men dread a shade The famish'd ground was then full fed With a rich feast of bodies dead What time that breathless Post of Fate Knocks at our friends attentive gate With hastie summons to invite The man to bid the World goodnight The watch that had the guard that day Prevents his speed and bids him stay Then holding parley know said he From lewd companions we are free No horrid crimes this house doth hide Nor is that Heaven-assaulting Pride Which vainly scorns the powers above Charg'd here nor the dissembled love Of pure Religion made a paint To wash and falsifie a Saint Nor may a Judas here commend Kiss and betray his fearless Friend The oppressed Poor's vindictive cries Do not from hence to heaven arise Detracting envy here must raise No damps to poyson others praise No sullen cloud cast o're the face Obscures the entertainers grace Which did the Muses so far take As made them frequent visits make And bless the place from drowsie Fools That fill the seats in Bacchus Schools Yet hospitable kindness feasts The civil ever-welcome guests Then pass us by and aim thy darts At wither'd and out-dated hearts Or let thine arrows find out those Whose brutish corps like Souls inclose Must Virtue Grace and noble Birth Descend into sepulchrall earth And the dear consort of his life Be now a Widdow not a Wife And must that stock be now cut down Whose branches are so fairly grown Let theirs let Friends and Neighbours teares Both rich and poor prolong his years How faign would Christs black comely Bride This flow'r might still uncrop'd abide That they might smile and droop together Or in Serene or Cloudy weather Tears have no force nor wishes power To intercept the fatal hour Death's deaf to all soon strikes a note That sounds harsh from his wounded throat Now the fell humour doth infest The troubled region of his breast So long till the diviner Form Not able to ride out the storm Fain in safe harbour would retire And quit the Bark which all on fire Is soon blown up and forc'd to Land Her Pilot on the Ethereal strand Unbody'd Saint now safely rest From the foul worlds black tempests blest And in the Bridegrooms closet dress Thy self with Robes that may confess A richer glory and more white Than his that doth eclipse the light With crowned Elders then repose Thy pious self while graceless foes Sail down the Stream the Port forsake And perish in th' Inferal Lake S. Brunsil In obitum celeberrimi viri Francisci Pierepont Armigeri Carmen funebre O Si vel pietas vitae candórve moverent Supremos Divos Tartareasve domos Si summum Ingenium studiumque notabile cursum Fatorum potuit sistere vivus adhuc Et graâ—us vivis mortis contempserat iram Pierepont verus Nobilitatis honos Sed durae nimium Parcae nec talia curant Fatorum rabiem sistere nemo queat Thus Englished O That these links of Noble Birth high Parts Candor that gave him int'rest in all hearts Bounty inlarged unsoyl'd integrity Wel-temper'd zeal wel-fixed piety Had made a chain t' have ty'd th' Immortal guest His Heav'n-born soul to th' Mansion of his breast Then the much loved Pierepont stil should live By 's own Embalming self-preservative We should not then sit down by weeping crosse Computing his great worth and our great losse This 's all we say to make the reckoning even He though thus good was not too good for heaven Laurence Palmer On the Death of that Honorable and worthy Patriot FRANCIS PIEREPONT Esq Sic flevit Z. C. IF to be deeply wise and honest too If to know well to speak and well to do If to be learned and the learned's friend If much in Alms nothing in Pride to spend If to grow rich on his own Patrimony Without the loss or grief or curse of any If to profess Religion and withall Not to be dangerous or schismatical If to be noble at th' old Herald's rate And humbler far than those o' th' mushroom's date If to be both in love and blood most near To the great Aesculapius Dorchester If to be Parent Master Husband all As each relations rule doth strictly call If to attain that heavenly art to end And umpire strifes and yet lose neither friend If these may be esteem'd a good mans glory They were constellated in Pierepont's story And if these lost at once can make the world Wisely consider her last sand is running Cause such a prop and pillar down is hurl'd We need no Sedgwick t' tell us Doomesday's coming Zach. Cauderey On the death of the Honourable Francis Pierepont Esq Third Son of the Right Honourable Robert Earl of Kingston BUt is he dead can I believe That he should dye and we should live Me-thinks we may the knot untie Better to live fitter to dye Death I see doth wisely chuse The Gold but doth the dross refuse If each place had had its right Thou long since hadst bid's good-night But now th' art gone in doubt are we Whether to joy or grieve for thee Our loss is great greater thy gain Our comfort doth exceed our pain He that writes thy sad Elegy Shews more love to himself then thee Blest soul I can no more relate Thy life past than thy present state My Pen can onely blot the story Of thy life and of thy glory Our all 's unwelcome courtesie At best but wel-meant injury Long may thine live and forward grow In Grace and Goodness for to show The world that as they bear thy name They are heirs also of thy Fame Sam. Pickring Vpon the praemature and much lamented death of of the Honorable Francis Pierrepont Esq deceased January 30 1657. AH Why so fast great Sir the soul that was but sent A while agoe so soon to quit its Tenement And leav's is sad and strange to us such sudden flight Doth cloud our day and turn it to a darksom night And thus it needs must do for though some Stars appear Yet when the Sun is set it 's night i' th' Haemisphere And so it is with us for since our sad deprival Of thy self where is thy Compeer or thy Rival If to thy birth we cast our eyes thou wast of them Whom well we may call Surcles shot from noble stem In glistering beams of Honor thou did'st brightly shine And virtues Pearly Chain to deck thee it was thine With all the gifts and richest ornaments of nature Thou wast stor'd which might adorn and bless a creature The sev'ral parts of happiness which scattered be In others all concentred were and met in thee Then why so fast away since to make up thy bliss All things did thus concur O sure the cause was
this The little Common-wealth of man like greater States Hath some certain periods set and hidden fates Heaven's statute-Law stands vnreverst that all must die But how or where or when we have no certainty Sam Cottes of Collick Vpon the much lamented death of the Honorable Francis Pierrepont Esq WHen Sun is set the Stars by their faint light Serve onely for to shew us that 't is night Change but the Scene 't is we who now attend The doleful Funerals of this noble friend Whose presence made it day with us we knew No night till he bad us and th' world adieu Surviving friends cannot though joyn'd repair Our loss onely tell us how poor we are Strangers that live at distance can no more Conceive of it then we our selves before It did befall us still so sensless does Enjoyment make us of what 's precious But now quick-sighted sorrow hasts t' indite His Epitaph and dictates thus to write Here lies the glory of his kinde The sweet composure of whose minde Won all that knew him such it was So milde in it as in a glass Others who would behold might see Not what they are but ought to be Whom Learning had its Patron sad That we can onely say it had In whom impartial Justice knew To distribute to each his due Happy in reconciling those Whom pride and passion had made foes A constant hearer of the Word Though great he own'd a higher Lord. Whose zeal and prudence you might see In his well-govern'd Family Stay Reader all 's not here exprest But silent grief sighs out the rest Richard Grant On the much lamented death of the truly Honorable Francis Pierepont Esq IS mourning grown a fashion and a Hearse Become the common subject of a Verse Are th' Muses all close Mourners and are Tears The onely Pearls which they of late do wear And drop for Beads over their Graves to whom In Pilgrimage Poetick feet do come No wonder then great Sir if at your Shrine The Muses should turn Vo'tries and combine There to lament the loss which they sustain By your sad death whose sacred Urn contains Those precious Reliques which may justly call For their attendance at your Funeral Mahomets Tomb may unfrequented lie Whilst yours is visited by passers by O're which to drop our Tears in Verse will be Devotion now instead of Poetry Doth virtue now prove fatal Is' t a sign A Star is falling when it doth out-shine It 's bright Colleagues doth a more glorious light Onely portend a sad approaching Night Do Pearls dissolve the soonest and they die Fastest who best deserve to multiply Their days among us Do the highest Sphears Finish their course in the least tearm of years Or have the greatest Orbs as well's the least The Earth their Centre and the place of rest Did these things seem so strange to us that you Great Sir are fain to die to prove them true But if our knowledge at no meaner rate Can purchs'd be out of the hands of fate Than by your loss wee 'd rather much remain Ignorant still than at such cost obtain A demonstration Could none else be To us a patern of mortality But he whose life was so much priz'd by those Who value men by real worth not shews And can distinguish by converse with one Right watred Diamonds from a Bristol Stone Such those knew you to be who knew you best Whose worth was greater then the vulgar test Could reach to comprehend they onely knew So much as to admire 't was not one view Or two or more made by a vulgar eye Would serve to take your elevation by You lov'd not to expose your self too much To common view that you reserv'd for such As could discern where the distinction lies Between pretences and true Piety You scorn'd to prostitute Religion to The lusts of men as now too many do Whose consciences are weather-wise and go Round with the quarter where the wind doth blow Your blood receiv'd a nobler tincture from Your great endowments then by what did come Down from your Ancestors whose virtues too Had the same Chanel with their blood to you Next to your noble Brother whose great worth Have set a Copy to be transcrib'd forth By all great Persons they may learn by you How to be Noble Wise and Learned too Edward Stillingfleet Fellow of St. Johns Coll. Cambr. On the much lamented death c. MY coal-black Muse presents gives fire Just in my bosom founds retire To levity More zealous thence With sense of loss and loss of sense Proceeds to tell how that of late Such was her passion Church and State Had lost a light So she refuses To be prophane amongst the Muses Such influences Subjects grave Upon a Poets vein may have Especially when they are noble dust Religious Charitable Just Learned and Politick such compositions Without tautologies and repititions Can ne're be press'd the Book of Life Is able to decide the strife O horrid graves ye can retain But what 's your own no Pierreponts brain I summon every heart and hand Within the bounds of Holy Land T'unite their forces let them know They 've lost a leader and that now The Church since she is grown more old Must learn to go without a hold Arthur Squire On the memrry of the honorable Francis Pierrepont Esq third Son to the right Honorable Robert late Earl of Kingston who exchanged this life for immortality January 30. 1657. IF any ask the reason why so late My Muse a mournful song doth meditate I 'le answer at the first she was struck dumb With petrifying stupor Let her come To recollect her self her sighs and tears Will amply shew the high respect she bears To inshrin'd vertue and Nobility Deriv'd higher then Natures Pedigree Hence is 't that brokenly she Versifies Words in deep sorrow caâ—â—'t be heard for cries Copartnership alleviates sufferings From sympathy a much less trouble springs But here such losers are both Church and State They scarce suffice each to lament her fate When such as thou great soul are snacht away And so both robb'd on the same dismal day So that if we lament a Senator Most sage and faithful or a Warrior Steel'd with true valor While we condole The maim'd Republick the Church as if our soul Were too much soakt in Politicks cries out Alas How is it that you look about With careless mindes Is' t nothing that I want When such a pillar's shrunk who was not scant In any point whereby to introduce Religions pow'r into his housholds use â—or onely acting in a narrow Sphere Comes forth in publick fitter to act there Doctrine methinks and Discipline contend Which have in Pierepont lost the greater friend Uncertain which most truths complexion Or orders symmetry took his affection Which truly noble Candor we in vain May look and wish for not call back again Nay rarely finde in any Mortal brest Hence't comes to pass our friend is gone to rest An Ostracism ejects him out o' th' World Which can no longer bear virtue install'd In state majestick but soon tenders up To Heaven the overflowing of its cup. John Tuckney C. C. J. Vpon the Death of the Honourable Francis Pierepont Esq c. SHall I be forc'd to dip my Pen In tears and scrible mortal men Who being mortal do but nibble At highest things and therefore scrible If any thing such subjects might As these teach mortals how to write Make them more perfect and confess Such copies never could doe less But here 's the judgement most men hate Such a Text-hand to imitate I have heard great Sirs vainly boast Of Riches Honours and their host I 've seen that man of merit sit In Rome and biting on his bit In state as if by Axiome true He would prove Paradise as due Poor Majesty compar'd to some Who knew all those no life to come I have known the learned Rout so puft When they as wind have knowledge snuft Who in their Rapsodies have been To the third Heaven near a kin Yet when that pale-fac'd hag did low'r And summon them to flit their bow'r Could not dispute No death to dye He dyed to live this was the cry Of him whose language yet doth warble Through the cruel spightful Marble As you pass by hark how it breaks Your hearts when he being dead yet speaks His honour doth invite a stand And ev'ry Passenger command To know himself Let no man spurn Though ne'r so Noble at his Urn Except they have a mind to dim Their Honours by dishonouring him And while they doe his corps infest Like silly birds defile their nest But he who thought all this a bubble T' have onely birth began to double The same with Learning and her charms Which wel became a Talbots Arms And finding fruitful Helians Font He suck'd it like a Pierepont All Coats of Arms so thick so old Without this lining are but cold His moral virtues do present To us a richer monument Prudence her self she did abhor Not to make him a Senatour Love to his Countrey made him stand Obedient to her strict command He might have chus'd but that the beauty Which doth complexion such a duty Soon mov'd his temper 't was his food To have occasion to doe good Without requital and if a crime Not to grow richer by the time I blame him that he did so halt Let this be put in for a fault But above all that which did throw The greatest lustre on his brow That which did crown his temples round And heav'd his soul above the ground It was the image of his God To some a countenance some a rod That shone in him let Church let State Let family Arts all bear the date Since that they lost him Such a day Say Nottingham here did they lay His careful head and such a night O dismall rent him from our sight And when you have bedew'd his herse With many a dolefull blear-ey'd verse Return and as you softly walk Confess your grief your stones will talk If you say nothing and conclude 'T was you not they that were so rude FINIS
rich as poore Dame Natures debt must pay The great the good the just the wise the high Princes and Pierreponts too they all must dye And must he die then rather is he dead Was there no Proxy to appear in 's stead Might not one poor Debt be forgiven him Who many a poor man's Debt had oft forgiven 'T is payd 't is payd Then Reader passe not by But pay a Tear if not an Elegy As tributary to his noble Hearse Whose name wil stand in Prose as well as Verse And needs no Poet to proclaime him good In words rather exprest then understood Whilst â—ho him understood knew him a man Meek not Morose though Presbyterian Had only such been trusted with that key Good men had all been for Presbytery Though vast in parts and Patrimony rather H' appear'd a giving then a gifted Brother And yet his gifts were high enough to reach As far to judge as any man 's to preach Grace crown'd his gifts glory now crownes his graces Heav'n with supplies fill up such vacant places Sic cecinit Lachrymans Sic Lachrymans precatur G. Pigot Vpon the much lamented Death of the Honourable FRANCIS PIEREPONT Esq EAch Debtor has been call'd his dues to bring Of just acknowledgements an Offering To make upon the sad and mournful Urne Of this Beloved Saint shal others mourne Much lesse concern'd then I I silent stand Whom you when living might of right command To whom I ought of Love and service more Then if my All was sould would pay that score Dame Natures Debt or yours I know not whether The greater but like to be clear'd together So great a summe requires a longer day I now the Interest alone can pay But why so long ere that comes in my Muse Oh! blame me not heark to my just Excuse My Plumes have been so steept in teares that I Could not til now get wing neither so high As others can I soare I 've only breath To crawle upon the ground and chide with Death Who hath bereft me and not me alone But ev'n the Church and Common-Wealth of one Whose parts and virtues will eclipsed be If my dul pen set forth his Elegy I 'le only hint what in a larger story More fully may be spoke of Piereponts glory Nature being lavish to 'm with art did strive Which longest should his name preserve alive Heralds he left his birth to tell did scorne That as below a person Heaven borne Heroick Acts not words spoke his Discent His Freindship real was 'bove Complement His noble spirit deck't with humility His humble soule inrich't with Majesty His Justice gave to every one his own His Wisdome sav'd his His Charity was sown In each fit soile His Piety was free From common errors or State policy Pious and politick rare in our State These in a Statesman should concenterate Hold Muse the Field is large should'st over run Thy self canst thou add Lustre to the Sun Darken it thou dost its time now to retire Sigh out thy remnant dayes observe admire What cannot by the loftiest stile b'exprest Labour to imitate le ts not disturb the rest Of this deare soule with thy Caelestiall Graces â—le repone te in Heavens imbraces Collonell White Vpon the much lamented Death of the Honourable Francis Pierrepont Esq VVEll may I be asham'd and blush that in This Worthies praises I have silent bin When others trumpets sound so loud that I Might though unfit to speake an Eccho be But greif that 's great vents slowly first it will Utter it self in briny teares which still The Pen may steep in that strives to expresse What 't is to want so great a happinesse As I and more enjoy'd whilst the Sun shone clear Now alas set in this our Hemisphere Pardon then Reader when 't is so great worth If my dull Muse fall short in setting forth In such a publick cause it is I see Hard to speak full as hard to silent be O! how my greif renewes while each fresh thought Of him cloath'd with a sigh heart-deep breakes out In broken Language that the World may tell My losse but only they that feel 't can spell My meaning out but lest the torrent should Too soon drye up I cannot but behold How the Wound bleeds afresh in 's consorts eyes Whilst shee think 's on her dearest's Obsequies As the widow'd Dove deprived of her Mate To greive is all her joy to mourne her State Her teares her daily bread are as if he Who in one moment ceased for to be Was by th' all wise creator who in vaine Does nought each minute giv'n and tak'n againe Her losse so great as he that doth it view May think what Poets faine might here prove true With Greif one turned quite into a stone Nature would yeild indeed 't is grace alone Makes this a fiction yet the sword cuts deep And when God strikes then it is grace to weep Excuse her passion then because her head Her joy part of her selfe her Husband 's dead Death only could that knot unty where Love Inform'd two bodies with one soule to prove There was not Freindship here but unity And he though dead lives in her memory And still will live His name 's not writ i' th sand A nobler Tombe inshrines him whose command Ore each rebellious passion shew'd how far He did excell what common Mortalls are Though high yet humble high in parts not pride His power great his pittie nere deny'd The poore mans suit who ere had cause to say He came complaining that went sad away Learn'd in what was worth his study and that His cheif delight was to communicate Thus virtue that in 's greener yeares did lye Sown in his heart grew to maturity Till's Harvest came when he full ripe from us Was take'n and layd amongst what 's precious In Gods peculiar store house where he stayes Waiting to see those long expected dayes When what death parts shall reunite and then No night that joy will overcloud againe George Fisher On the lamented Death of the truly Honourable Francis Pierepont Esq TO thy dear memory blest Soul I pay This humble tribute though in such a way As rather doth proclaim my want of skill That n'ere set foot on high Pernassus hill Than thy great merit Greif knowes not the art To break that silence which might break an heart My deep Resentments of thy noble Love And faithfull freindship I so oft did prove With all those Heavenly virtues did inspire Thy generous breast with more than common fire I faine would utter and thereby engage The cold attempts of a declining age Which may admire thy Candor but dispaire To match that copy thou hast drawn so faire Whom not our words as thy own worth commends Dear to thy God thy Country and thy Freinds But why do I in vaine strive to rehearse Thy praises in the ligatures of Verse I 'le leave that work most worthy to be done By those in words that not