AN
ELEGY
IN
Commemoration of the Right Honourable
James Earl of Salisbury,
Who Departed this Life on the (7th) of this Instant June Anno Domini 1683.
Mors Omnibus Communis, etc.
|
CAN Salsbury be dead? Can Death Surprize
|
The Miror of mankind, and from our Eyes;
|
The Brinie Rivulets not force their way;
|
Nor sullen grief her last due Tribute pay;
|
At his sad Mournful Herse whose high deserts,
|
Fames loudest breath to all the world imparts?
|
What can the Good, the Great, the Just Expect,
|
On Earth, if Man-kind shoud such worth Neglect?
|
If black Ingratitude her wings should spread,
|
To shade the sacred Relicts of the dead
|
In dark Oblivion Naturs self woud groan,
|
And make the mighty loss to England known;
|
The loss of one in Arts and Arms Renownd,
|
With Olive-Branches and with Lawrels Crownd.
|
Famd as his Ancestors, who braving Fate,
|
Durst prop the Nation in its falling State,
|
And almost bore a Tottering Empirs Weight.
|
For Piety admird; in Councils Grave;
|
Curteous at home, and in the Field as Brave;
|
Bounteous to all, that did his Bounty Crave.
|
Religious Friend, an Enemie to those,
|
Who were his Princes and his Countries Foes.
|
The Roman Engins by his prudence foild,
|
Back on him sought in vain to have recoild:
|
His Loyal mind unmovd stood like a Rock,
|
And unconcernd repelld the raging Shock
|
Of Boisterous Billows when they went most high
|
Proof armd with Innocence and Constancy;
|
He did the worst of dangers still out-vie.
|
Sure Bucklers those are which can never fail,
|
But will against the worst of ills prevail;
|
Strong Forts Impregnable that none can scale.
|
No force can ravish from a virteous brest,
|
That inward calmness that secures its Rest.
|
Let Tides rise high, and Tempests rufle loud,
|
Winds fight with Winds, and Cloud, still justle Cloud,
|
Till all seem Chaos; yet in this Extream,
|
Hes undisturbd that holds Truths Golden Mean.
|
Cecil, that Name long to our Nation known,
|
Has provd an Ornament to Grace our Throne;
|
Esteemd a Jewel in the British-Crown,
|
Polishd by Deeds, that purchasd high Renown.
|
But since the World has lost his better part,
|
His great immortal mind which durst assert,
|
Unto the last his Kings and Countrys Right,
|
Since that to Heaven has swiftly taken Flight:
|
On Wings of Cherubs, Centerd there in bliss,
|
Lodgd on a Coast full stord with happiness;
|
Whence cares, and fears, are banishd, Peace and Rest
|
Are the attending constant welcome Guest.
|
And all is Love, such Love as ner can die,
|
But lives and lasts to all Eternity.
|
Let Virtue Mourn the loss of him below;
|
And Charities Dim Eyes with Tears ore-flow.
|
Let Mournful Cyprus shade each learned brow,
|
Let all true worth with weighty sorrow bow;
|
And Sing his Requiems with a doleful sound,
|
For all of these Deaths Shaft, in him, did wound.
|
Mourn Reader, for beneath this Marble lies,
|
(Till the last Trumpet Summons him to rise)
|
Great Salsbury: Nay, stay, tis but his dust,
|
Heavn with the rest woud Earth no longer trust.
|
His better parts exalted far above,
|
The reach of Fate those endless joys to prove,
|
For which he labourd in his Pilgrimage,
|
Whilst here he trod the Worlds uncertain Stage;
|
Yet Mourn his loss, for though he joys possess,
|
We by his death have gaind unhappiness.
|
Wisdom by him her Orator still speak,
|
And woud no other for her Champion take,
|
Than he whose Virtues kept the world awake.
|
|
|
|
|
|