Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
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A38724
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Elegies on the much lamented death of the honourable and worthy patriot, Francis Pierepont, Esq., third son of the Right Honourable Robert, Earl of Kingston, who dyed at Nottingham the 30th day of January, 1657/8
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Pottlintun, O.
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1659
(1659)
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Wing E340; ESTC R14753
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13,123
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36
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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
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