AN
ELEGY
On the Death of the Right Honourable
HENEAGE LORD FINCH,
Baron of Daventry, High Chancellour of England,
Earl of Nottingham; And one of the Lords of the most Honourable Privy-Council;
Who Departed this Life, Decemb. 18. 1682.
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GReat FINCH is Dead, Oh! tell it not aloud,
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Left cruel Death insult and grow too proud,
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Fraught with so rich a Spoil, whose Worth alone
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Was more than Thousand common Victims own,
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And by our Loss, alas! too dearly known.
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Let Sorrow stalk in silence, and become
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The greatness of our Grief by being Dumb:
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Let all our Eyes release their flowing springs,
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While some sad Bird his Mournful Ditty sings;
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Justice her self in sables will appear,
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As for a Son, the Darling of her Care;
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She Weeps and Mourns, and sighing sorely, stands
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Unmovd, dejected, and with folded Hands:
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Where shall be found a Man so good, so great,
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So Noble, and so every way compleat;
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When young, untainted with the vice of Youth,
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A Soul made up of Innocence and Truth.
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Vice he abhorrd, but Virtue was his Life,
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By which he evermore maintaind the strife
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With wickedness and sin; nor would submit
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To be ungodly to be thought a Wit;
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But sollid Wisdom was his only Rule,
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(All else is but pretence to guild a Fool)
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Sage Care and prudence in his Face were seen,
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Sweet, though Majestick, was his portand meen;
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His Tongue dropd Manna, sweetly did he speak,
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Nor was his Copious Fancy long to seek;
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Judgement and Eloquence together joyn,
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And with a perfect Harmony combine,
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To make his sense and Language both Divine,
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As in some great and Regular Design.
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But never must we hope to reach thy praise,
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He that dares highest will deserve the Bays.
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Nothing thy Merit ever can express,
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We hope but pardon, since we do confess
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Our Faults, acknowledgement will make them less.
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Thou livst above the power of Time and Death,
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Which though it has deprivd thee of thy Breath,
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Thy Lasting Name to ages shall endure,
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Than Rocks of Adamant more firm and sure;
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Thy Universal Goodness shall be told
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Throughout the World, thy Glories be enrolld
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In the great Book of Fame, where thou shalt stand
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An Instance high of Vertues large command:
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To God thy Duty thou didst early pay,
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Presenting him the first Fruits of the Day,
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And over all thy great Concerns didst pray:
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The Pillar of the Church as well as State,
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Thou boughtst thy Honours at no easie Rate;
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But still wast caring for the Nations Peace,
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That Arts might grow, and Piety encrease,
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Thy Countries Glory was thy latest wish.
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Most Loyal to thy Prince, whom thou didst know
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Was placd as Gods Vicegerent here below;
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And therefore didst oppose all lawless Rage,
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That threatned so to over-flow the Age;
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But thou, the Chancellour, with prudent Law
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Didst keep the Factious Multitude in awe;
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Thou every part of Life didst act with skill,
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And each Relation prudently fullfil:
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And when thy Work was finishd quite and done,
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The all-wise God thought fit to call thee Home.
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The Epitaph.
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HEre lies the sacred Dust
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Of FINCH, as Great as Just;
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The Glory of His age,
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Who having left the Stage
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Of Mortal Life, by Death
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Has gaind a better Breath.
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