his soul become non-resident 'T was to make him such honours to him given Regius Professor to the King of Heaven By whom he 's prelated above the skies And the whole World 's his See t'Episcopize So that me think one Star more doth appear In our Horizon since his being there Death's grown tyrannical by imitation ' Cause he was learned by a sequestration He took his living butfor 's Benefice He is rewarded with eternal bliss Let'a all prepare to follow him for hee 's But gone to Glory ' School to take degrees LVIII To the memory of Doctor Hearn who dyed September 15. 1644. SAd Spectacle of grief how frail is Man Whose self 's a bubble and his life a span Whose breath 's like a careering shade whose sun Begins to set when it begins to run Lo this Mans sun sets i' th Meridian And this man's sun speaks him the son of Man Among the rest that come to sacrifice To 's memory the torrents of their eyes I though a stranger and though none of those That weep in rhythme though I oft mourn in prose Sigh out some grief and my big-belly'd eyes Long for delivery at his obsequies For he that writes but truth of him will be Though without art slander'd with poesie And they that praise him right in prose or verse Will by the most be thought Idolaters Men are incredulous and yet there 's none Can write his worth in verse but in his own He needs no other monument of fame But his own actions to blaze out his name He was a glory to the Doctors Gown Help to his Friends his Countrey and his Town The Atlas of our health who oft did groan For others sickness e'r he felt his own Hippocrates and Galen in his brain Met as in Gemini it did contain A Library of skill a panoply A Magazine of ingenuity With every Art his brain so well was mated As if his fancy had been calculated For that Meridian he none would follow But was in skill the Britannish Apollo His Patients grow impatient and the fears Of death lymbeck'd their body into tears The widow'd Muses do lament his death Those that wrote mirth do now retract their breath And breath their souls in sighs each strives to be No more Thalia but Melpomene He stood a Champion in defence of health And was a terrour to death's Common-weaith His Esculapian art revok'd their breath And often gave a non-suit unto death Now we 've a rout death kills our General Our griefs break forth grow Epidemical Now we must lay down arms and Captives turn To death man has no rampire but an urn In him death gets an University Happy the bodies that so neer him lye To hear his worth and wit 't is now no fear To dye because we meet a Hearne there Earth-quakes and Cemets usher great mens fall At his we have an Earth-quake General Th' ambitious vallies do begin t' aspire And would confront the Mountains nay be higher Inferior orbes aspire and do disdain Our Sol each Bear would ride in Charles his wain Our Moon 's eclips'd and th' Occidental Sun Fights with old Aries for his Horizon Each petty Star gets horses and would be All Sols and joyn to make a prodigie All things are out of course which could not be But that we should some eminent death foresee Yet let 's not think him dead who ne'r shall dye Till time be gulf'd in vast eternity 'T is but his shadow that is past away While he 's eclips'd in earth another day His better part shall pierce the skies and shine In glory 'bove the Heavens Chrystaline We could not understand him he 's gone higher To read a Lecture to an Angels Quire He is advanced up a higher Story To take 's degrees i' th upper Form of glory He is our Prodrome gone before us whither We all must go though all go not to gether Dust will dissolve to dust to earth earth are all men And must all dye none knows how where nor when LIX An Elegy on the death of his School-master Mr. W. H. MUst he dye thus has an eternal sleep Seiz'd on each muse that it can't sing nor weep Had he no friends no merits or no purse To purchase mourning or had he that curse Which has the scraping worldling still frequented To live unlov'd and perish unlamented No none of these but in this Atlas fall Learning for present found its funeral Nor was 't for want of grief but scope and vent Not sullenness but deep astonishment Small griefs are soon wept out but great ones come With bulk and strike the straight lamenters dumb This was the School-master that did derive From parts and piety's prerogative The glory of that good but painful art Who had high learning yet an humble heart The Drake of Grammer learning whose great pain Circled that globe and made that voyage plain Time was when th' artless pâ—dagogue did stand With his vimineous Scepter in his hand Raging like Bajazet o'r the tugging fry Who though unhors'd were not of th' infantry Applying like a glister hic haec hoc Till the poor Lad's beat to a whipping-block And school'd so long to know a Verb and Nown Till each had Propria mariâ—us of his own As if not fit to learn As in prasenti But legally when they were one and twenty Those few that went to th' Univers'ties then Went with deliberation and were men Nor were our Academies in those daies Fill'd with chuck-farthing Batchelors and boyes But Scholars with more beard and age went hence Then our new Lapwing-Lectures skip from thence By his industrious labour now we see Boyes coated born to th' University Who suck'd in Latine and did scorn to seek Their scourge and top in English but in Greek Hebrew the general puzler of old heads Which the gray dunce with pricks and comments reads And dubs himself a Scholar by it grew As natural t' him as if he 'd been a Jew But above all he timely did inspire His Scholars breasts with an aetherial fire And sanctify'd their early learning so That they in grace as they in wit did grow Yet neither 's grace nor learning could defend him From that mortality that did attend him Nor can there now be any difference known between his learned bones and those with none For that grand Lev'ler death hurles to one place Rich poor wise foolish noble and the base This only is our comfort and defence He was not immaturely ravish'd hence But to our benefit and to his own Undying fame and honour let alone Till he had finish'd what he was to do Then naturally split himself in two And that 's one cause he had so few moyst eyeâ— He made men learned and that made them â—ise And over-rule their passions since they see Tears would but shew their own infirmitie And 't is but loving madness to deplore The fate of him that shall be seen no more But only I cropt in my
for neither Be we round be we square We are happier than they 're Whose dignity works their ruin He that well the bowl rears Can baffle his cares And a fig for death or undoing SONG V. The Trâ—oper 1. COme come let us drink 'T is in vain to think Like fools on grief or sadness Let our money fly And our sorrows die All worldly care is madness But Sack and good cheer Will in spite of our fear Inspire our souls with gladness 2. Let the greedy clowns That do live like hounds That know neither bound nor measure Lament each loss For their wealth is their cross Whose delight is in their treasure But we that have none Will usetheirs as our own And spend it at our pleasure 3. Troul about the bowl The delight of my soul And to my hand commend it A fig for chink 'T was made to buy drink Before that we go we 'l end it When we 've spent our store The land will yield us more And jovially we will spend it SONG VI. The Good-fellow 1. STay stay shut the gate T' other quart faith it is not so late As you 're thinking Those Stars which you see In this hemisphere be But the studs in your cheeks by your drinking The Sun is gone to tipple all night in the sea boyes Tomorrow he 'l blush that he 's paler then we boyes Drink wine give him water 't is sack makes us the boyes 2. Fill fill up the glass To the next merry Lad let it pass Come away w'it Come set foot to foot And but give your minds to 't 'T is heretical six that doth slay wit No helicon like to the juice of the Vine is For Phaebus had never had wit or diviness Had his face not been bow-dy'd as thine his and mine is 3. Drink drink off your bowls We 'l enrich both our heads and our souls With Canary A carbuncled face Saves a tedious race For the Indies about us we carry Then hang up good faces we 'l drink till our noses Give freedome to speak what our fancy disposes Beneath whose protection is under the Roses 4. This this must go round Off your hats till that the pavement be crown'd With your beavers A red-coated face Frights a Sergeant at mace And the Constable trembles to shivers In state march our faces like those of the Quâ—rum When the Wenches fall down the vulgar adore 'um And our noses like Link-boyes run shining before ' um An Addition by M. C. Esquire 5. Call call honest Will Hang a long and tedious bill It disgraces When our Rubies appear We justly may swear That the reckoning is true by our faces Let the Bar-boy go sleep the drawers leave roaring Our looks wil account without them had we more in When each pimple that rises will save a quart scoring SONG VII The Mock-Song by T. J. 1. HOld hold quaffe no more But restore If you can what you 've lost by your drinking Three Kingdoms and Crowns With their Cities and Towns While the King and his progeny's sinking The studs in your cheeks have obscur'd his star boyes Your drinking mischarriages in the late war boyes Have brought his prerogative now to the bar boyes 2. Throw throw down the glass He 's an Ass That extracts all his worth from Canâ—ry That valour will shrink That 's only good in drink 'T was the cup made the camp to miscarry You thought in the world there 's no power could tame ye You tippled and whor'd till the foe overcame ye Gods nigs and ne'r stir Sir has vanquish'd God damm me 3. Fly fly from the Coast Or you 're lost And the water will run where the drink went From hence you must slink If you have no chink 'T is the course of the royal Delinquent You love to see Beer-bowls turn'd over the thumb well well You like three fair Gamesters four Dice a Drum But you 'd as lief see the Devil as Fairfax or Cromwel 4. Drink drink not the round You 'l be drown'd In the source of your sack and your sonnets Try once more your fate For the King against the State And go barter your beavers for bennets You see how they 're charm'd by the Kingdoms inchanters And therefore pack hence to Virginia for planters For an Act and two Redcoats will rout all the ranters SONG VIII The Answer 1. STay stay prate no more Lest thy brain like thy purse run ' th score Though thou strain'st it Those are Traytors in grain That of sack do complain And rail by 'ts own power against it Those Kingdoms and Crowns which your poetry pities Are faln by the pride and hypocrisie of Cities And not by those brains that love sack good dities The K. and his progeny had kept 'um from sinking Had they had no worse foes then the Lads that love drinking We that tipple ha' no leisure for plotting or thinking 2. He he is an Asse That doth throw down himself with a glass Of Canary He that 's quiet will think Much the better of drink ' Cause the cups made the camp to miscarry you lie You whore though we tipple and there my friend Your sports did determine in the month before July There 's less fraud in plain dam me then your sly by my truly 'T is Sack makes our blouds both the purer warmer We need not your priest or the feminine charmer For a bowl of Canary's a whole suite of armour 3. Hold hold not so fast Tipple on for there is no such hast To be going We drowning may fear But your end will be there Where there is neither swiming nor rowing We were Gamesters alike and our stakes were both down boyes But Fortune did favour you being her own boyes And who would not venture a cast for a crown boyes Since we wear the right colours he the worst of our foes is That goes to traduce us and fondly supposes That Cromwel is an enemy to Sack and red noses 4. Then then quaffe it round No deceit in a brimmer is found Here 's no swearing Beer and Ale makes you prate Of the Kirk and the State Wanting other discourse worth the hearing This strumpets your Muses to ballad or flatter Or rail and your betters with froth to bespaâ—ter And your talk 's all diurnals and Gunpowder matter But we while old Sack does divinely inspire us Are active to do what our Rulers require us And attempt such exploits as the world shall admire us SONG IX The Levellers Rant Written in 1648. TO the Hall to the hall For justice we call On the King and his pow'rful adherents friends Who still have endeavoured but we work their ends 'T is we will pull down what e're is above us And make them to fear us that never did love us We 'l level the proud and make every degree To our Royalty bow the knee 'T is no less then treason ' Gainst freedom and Reason For our brethren to be higher
tender years Without a tongue or wit but sighs and tears And Yet I come to offer what is mine An immolation to his honour'd shrine And retribute what he confer'd on me Either to 's person or his memory Rest pious soul and let that happy grave That is intrusted with thy Relicks have This just inscription That it holds the dust Of one that was Wise Learned Pious Just LX. An Epitaph IF beauty birth or friends or virtue cou'd Preserve from putrefaction flesh and bloud This Lady had still liv'd and had all those And all that Nature Art or Grace bestowes But death regards not bad or good All that 's mortal is his food Only here our comfort lyes Though death does all sorts confound Her better part surmounts the skies While her Body sleeps i' th ground Her soul returns to God from whom it came And her great virtues do embalm her name LXI An Epitaph upon Mrs. G. WHo ever knows or hears whose sacred bones Rest here within these monumental stones How â—ear a mother and how sweet a wife If he has bowels cannot for his life But on her ashes must some tears distill For if men will not weep this marble will EPIGRAMS Translated I. On Rome TRav'ller thou look'st for old Rome in the new And yet in Rome thou nought of Rome canst view Behold the frame of walls dis-joynted stone And the vast Theatre that 's overthrown Lo here 's Romes carkass still thou may'st behold How the new Rome is threatned by the old Learn hence the power of fate fix'd things decay But that that 's alwaies toss'd mov'd does stay II. On a Quarreller A Humorous fellow in a Tavern late Being drunk and valiant gets a broken pate The Surgeon with his instruments and skill Searcheâ— his skull deeper and deeper still To feel his brains and tries if those were sound And as he keeps â—dâ— about the wound The fellow cryes Good Surgeon spare the pains When I began this brawl I had no brains III. On a Lover WHat various griefs within my breast do grow I burn yet from my flames my tears do flow I 'm Nile and Aetna both together grown For the same grief does both enflame and drown O let my tears make my strong flames expire Or let my tears be drunk up by my fire IV. On Gold IN vain was Danae clos'd in brazen Tower No brazen fort keeps out a golden showre V. To a Friend THou sent'st me Wine I 'd too much Wine before Send thirst if thou would'st send to pleaâ—â— me more VI. On Alexander GRreat Alexander thought the World too smal Which he with 's warlike hand subdu'd and beat But did not he himself most little call He in a little World could not be great VII On a Bankrupt A Bankrupt heard a Thief enter by stealth His house by night and search about for 's wealth In vain quoth he thou look'st for goods by night For I my self can see none when 't is light VIII On a Priest and a Thief A Priest did with a thief together come To th' place where he was to receive his doom Said be not sad do but believe and thou Shalt be a guest to feast with Angels now He sigh'd and said if you 'll true comfort shew Go then and take my place I 'll stay below No quoth the Priest this day I keep a fast And cannot eat until this day be past IX On Love and Death LOve once and Death chang'd weapons Death took Loves fiery dart while Cupid got Death's hook Love at the body Death at th' mind lets fly This makes old men to love and young men dye X. On Women WOmen are pleasant evils and they have Two proper seasons when in bed or grave XI On the Wolf Sentenc'd THe Countrey people once a Wolf did take That of their Sheep Lambs did havock make Some voted that he should be crucifi'd Others would have him in the fire be fry'd Some to be hew'd in pieces with a sword And to be thrown to dogs to be devour'd Among the rest one whom unlucky fate Had doom'd to th' troubles of a married State The common lot of men oh Friends sayes he Lay by your forks and ropes that knotty be The sword the fire the guns the cross the whipâ— Are but slight tortures I have one out-strips All those if you would punish him to th' life Fit for his crimes then let him wed a wife XII On one more learned then others THou mak'st thy self more learned then thy betterâ— And brag'st thou know'st Greek Hebrew Latine letters Thou hast them in thy fore-head and thy hand As if th' hadst all the tongues at thy command For the executioner has made thee more Letter'd by far then thou wert e'r before XIII On Galla. BLame not fair Galla that she 'ld married be Though she be fair to one that could not see For in that thing in which she took delight And which he lov'd there is no need of sight XIV On one Lowsie and Poor A Lowsie fellow once was ask'd how he Having so many cattel poor could be He answered hence proceeds my poverty Though I 'ld sell all for nought yet none would buy XV. A happy Death LEarn to live well if thou 'ldst dye happily And that thou may'st live happy learn to dye XVI On Nero. WHen bloudy Nero his own mother slew He did not hurt her face or eyes 't is true But ripp'd her bowels up 't was justly done They'd guilt enough in breeding such a Son XVII On Love LOve is a Merchandize and Venus drove The first Monopoly Rich only Love What cannot fortune hire alas for gold When Gods themselves for this are bought and sold XVIII Rules of Drinking IF the Philosopher sayes true the first Draught ' is refeshment unto them that thirst The second mirth and wit doth still afford But perfect drunkenness issues from the third If to these rigid rules you 'l me confine Hence glasses I 'll in flagons drink my Wine XIX A vain Beastor THou need'st not boast cause thou afore does go If that be honour my dog does so too XX. To Momus THou call'st me begger Momus and dost tell I must not triumph so nor so much swell Because I have but little and yet that Is not my own but other Mens Estate Why shouldst thou thus upbraid me with my want Must I be blam'd because my fortunes scant I 'm honest still thou liv'st by theft alone Between us two the difference is none For both of us on others bread do dine Only thou steal'st thy meat I beg for mine XXI On Phillis Tears WHen Phillis comes t' her husbands grave she brings No garlands nor with Odorif'rous things Sprinkles the ground only her tears doth shed Upon the grave wherein her joy was laid The flowers do straight spring up as if she had power To ripen with her eyes and moysten with her showre XXII On a proud Foolâ— THou call'st me ignorant 't
their loads they 'ld groan Or with shame would throw them down And live as free From needless cares as we Slight pomp and wealth that makes men melancholly 5. Pray what are all these gaudy bubbles That so boast and rant Of what they think they have but ha'nt But men that had the luck of living And made others fall their thriving Hail-stones got in storms of troubles That for valour are as fit For Knights as to be Squires for wit Inspir'd with pride Did what good men defi'd Grown great by Protean turning and conniving 6. That man that would have me adore him With my heart he must Be noble pow'rful wise and just And improve his parts and power To support not to devour Nor pride nor lust must e'r rule o'r him Th' bug-bear greatness without this An idle empty pageant is He that doth rise And is not good and wise I honour not but pity and deplore him SONG XXXI The Cheerful Heart 1. WHat though these ill times do go cross to our will And fortune still frowns upon us Our hearts are our own and they shall be so still A pin for the plagues they lay on us Let us take t'other cup To keep our hearts up And let it be purest Canary We 'l ne'r shrink or care For the crosses we bear Let 'um plague us until they be weary 2. What though we are made both beggars and slaves Let us stoutly endure it and drink on 'T is our comfort we suffer ' cause we will not be knaves Our redemption will come e're we think on 't We must flatter and fear Those that over us are And make 'um believe that we love 'um When their tyranny's past We will serve them at last As they serv'd those that have been above ' um 3. The Levites do preach for the Goose and the Pig To drink wine but at Christmas and Easter The Doctour doth labour our lives to new-trig And makes nature to fast but we feast her The Lawyer doth bawl Out his lungs and his gall For the Plantiff and for the Defendant At books the Scholar lies Till by Flatus he dies With the ugly hard word at the end on 't 4. But here 's to the man that delights in Sol fa 'T is Sack is his only Rosin A load of heigh-ho's are not worth a ha ha He 's the man for my money that draws in Come a pin for this Muck And a fig for ill Luck 'T is better be blyth and frolick Then to sigh out our breath And invite our own death By the Gout or the stone and the cholick SONG XXXII Made and Set Extempore 1. WHen our glasses flow with Wine And our souls with Sack are rais'd When we 're jeer'd we do not repine Nor are proud when we are prais'd 'T is Sack alone can raise our souls A pin for Christning drinking-bowles 2. Let the Drawer raise our fancies With his wit-refining drink Hang your stories and Romances Those are fit for them that think Let him love that has a mind We to drinking are inclin'd 3. Wit and love are th' only things Which fill the thoughts of Kings and us Imagination makes us Kings And that 's rais'd by doing thus Drink your Sack let wit alone Wit by drinking best is shown SONG XXXIII The Answer to the Curse against Ale 1. OGag for shame that strumpet muse Let not her Spanish tongue abuse Our wholsome and Heroick English juice 2. 'T was not this loyal liquor shut Our Gates against our Soveraign but Strange drinks into one tub together put 3. When Ale was drink Canonical There were no theeves nor watch nor wall Men neither stole nor lack'd for Ale was all 4. That Poet ought be dry or dumb And to our brown bowls never come Who drinking Ale vents only dregs and scum 5. Nor had that Souldier drunk enough For Ale both valour gives and buffe Makes men unkickable and cudgel-proof 6. 'T was the meal not meal-man was the cause The mill fell down for one small clause In one meal-act hath overthrown our lawes 7. The worth of Ale none can proclaim But by th' assistance of the same From it our Land derives its noblest name 8. With this men were inspir'd but not As kick shaw-brains are now God wot Inspir'd that is run mad none knows with what 9. How did our stout fore-fathers make All Antichristian Nations quake When they their Nut-brown bowles and bills did take 10. What noble sparks old Ale did kindle But now strange drinks do make men dwindle And Pigmies get scarce fit to sway a spindle 11. This liquor makes the drinkers fight Stoutly while others stoutly write This both creates the Poet and the Knight 12. This makes the drawer in his Gown And chain to ride and rule the Town Whose orient Nose exemplifies his frown 13. How reverently the burly Host With basket-hilted pot and tost Commands the bak'd-meats and then rules the rost 14. But oh the Brewer bears the bell This makes him to such highness swell As none but Ale-inspir'd can think or tell 15. Divert that curse then or give o're Don Philip can hurt Ale no more Then his Armado England heretofore SONG XXXIV The Reformation 1. TEll not me of Lords or Lawes Rules or Reformation All that 's done's not worth two strawes To the welfare of the Nation Men in power do rant it still And give no reason but their will For all their domination Or if they do an act that 's just 'T is not because they would but must To Gratifie some parties lust Or meerly for a fashion 2. Our expence of bloud and purse Has produc'd no profit Men are still as bad or worse And will be what e'r comes of it We 've shuffled out and shuffled in The persons but retain the sin To make our game the surer Yet spite of all our pains and skill The knaves all in the pack are still And ever were and ever will Though something now demurer 3. And it cannot but be so Since those toyes in fashion And of souls so base and low And meer Bigots of the Nation Whose designs are power and wealth At which by rapines fraud and stealth Audaciously they vent'r ye They lay their consciences aside And turn with every wind and tide Puff'd on by Ignorance and pride And all to look like Gentry 4. Crimes are not punish'd cause they 'r crimes But ' cause they 're low and little Mean men for mean faults in these times Make satisfaction to a tittle While those in office and in power Boldly the underlings devour Our Cobweb-laws can't hold ' um They sell for many a Thousand crown Things which were never yet their own And this is law and custome grown Cause those do judge that sold ' um 5. Brothers still with Brothers brawl And for trifles sue 'um For two pronouns that spoil all Those contentious Meum Tuum The wary lawyer buyes and builds While the Client sells his fields To
who 'll soon throw down what e'r they mounted high Nor trust in friends he that 's now hedg'd about In time of need can hardly find one out Nor yet in strength or power for sin will be The desolation of my strength and me Nor yet in Crowns and Kingdomes who has all 's expos'd to a heavy though a royal fall Nor yet in wisdome policy or wit It cannot keep me harmless or I it He that had all man could attain unto He that did all that wit or power could do Or grace or virtue prompt could not avoid That sad and heavy load our sins have laid Upon his innocent and sacred Head but must Submit his person to bould Rebels lust And their insatiate rage who did condemn And kill him while he pray'd and dy'd for them Our only trust is in the King of Kings To wait with patience the event of things He that permits the Fathers tumbling down Can raise and will the Son up to the Crown He that permits those traytors impious hands To murther his anointed and his Lands To be usurp'd can when he sees it fit Destroy those Monsters which he did permit And by their head-long and unpitied fall Make the Realms Nuptial of their Funeral Mean time that Sainted Martyr from his throne See's how these laugh and his good subjects groan And hugs his blessed change whereby he is Rob'd in t ' a Crown and murther'd into a bliss LVI A Funeral Elegy GOn are those Halcyon daies when men did dare Do good for love undrawn by gain or fear Gon are our Heroes whose vast souls did hate Vice though 't were cloath'd in sanctity or state Gon is our Aâ—brey who did then take's time To dye when worthy men thought life a crime One whose pure soul with nobleness was fill'd And scorn'd to live when peace truth were kill'd One who was worthy by descent and birth Yet would not live a burthen on the earth Nor draw his honour from his Grandsires name Unless his progeny might do the same No guilded Mammon yet had enough to spend To feed the poor and entertain his friend No gaping Miser whose desire was more T' enrich himself by making's neighbour poor Then to lay out himself his wealth and health To buy his Countreys good and Common-wealth Religion was his great delight and joy Not as 't is now to plunder and destroy He lean'd on those two pillars faith and reason Not false Hypocrisie nor headlong Treason His piety was with him bred and grown He 'ld build ten Churches e'r he 'ld pull down one Constant to 's principles and though the times Made his worth sin and his pure vertues crimes He stood unmov'd spite of all troubles hurl'd And durst support but not turn with the World Call'd to the Magistracy he appear'd One that desir'd more to be lov'd then fear'd Justice and Mercy in him mingled so That this flew not too high nor that too low His mind could not be carved worse or better By mean mens flattery nor by great mens letter Nor sway'd by Bribes though profer'd in the dark He scorn'd to be half Justice and half Clerk But all his distributions ev'nly ran Both to the Pesant and the Gentleman He did what nature had design'd him to In his due time while he had strength to do And when decay and age did once draw nigh He 'd nothing left to do but only dye And when he felt his strength and youth decline His bodies loss strength'ned his souls design And as the one did by degrees decay T'other ran swifter up the milkie way Freed from those sicknesses that are the pages Attending Natures sad decay and ages His spotless soul did from his body fly And hover in the heav'nly Galaxy Whence he looks down and lets the living see What he was once and what we ought to be LVII Upon the Death of that Reverend and learned Divine Mr. Josias Shute TUsh tush â— he is not dead I lately spy'd One smile at 's first-born Sons birth and a bride Into her heart did entertain delight At the approach of her wish'd wedded night All which delights if he were dead would turn To grief yea mirth it self be forc'd to mourn Inspired Poets would forget to laugh And write at once his and Mirths Epitaph Sighs would engross our breath there would appear Anthems of joy lymbeck'd into a tear Each face would be his death-bed in each eye 'T were easie then to read his Elegy Each soul would be close-mourner each tongue tell Stories prick'd out to 'th tune o' th Passing bell The World re-drown'd in tears each heart would be a Marble-stone each stone a Niobe But he alass is gone nor do we know To pay for loss of him deserving wo Like Bankrupts in our grief because we may Not half we owe him give we 'l nothing pay For should our tears like the Ocean issue forth They could not swell adaequate to his worth So far his worth 's above our knowledge that We only know we 've lost we know not what The mourning Heaven beholding such a dearth Of tears showrs rain to liquifie the earth That we may see from its adulterate womb If it be possible a second come Till then 't is our unhappiness we can't Know what good dwelt in him but by the want He was no whirlegig Lect'rer of the times That from a heel-block to a Pulpit climbs And there such stuff among their Audients break They seem to have mouth and words yet cannot speak Nor such as into Pasqnil Pulpits come With thundering non-sense but to beat the Drum To Civil Wars whose Texts and Doctrines run As if they were o' th separation And by their spiritual law have marry'd been Without a ring because they were no kin Knowledge and zeal in him so sweetly met His Pulpit seem'd a second Olivet Where from his lips he would deliver things As though some Seraphin had clap'd his wings His painful Sermons were so neatly dress'd As if an Anthem were in prose express'd Divinity and Art were so united As if in him both were Hermophradited Oh what an ex'llent Surgeon has he been To Set a conscience out of joynt by sin He at one blow could wound and heal we all Wondred to see a purge a cordial His Manna-â—reathing Sermous often have Given all our good thoughts life our bad a grave Satan and Sin were never more put to 't Then when they met with their still-conquering Shute His life was the use of 's doctrine so 't was known That Shute and Saint were convertible grown He did live Sermons the Prophane were vext To see his actions comments on his Text So imitable his vertues did appear As if each place to him a Pulpit were He was himself a Synod ours had been Void had he liv'd or but an idle dinn His Presence so divine that Heaven might be If it were possible more Heavenly And now we well perceive with what intent Death made