AN ELEGIE ON THE DEATH Of that Worthy DIVINE M r. JAMES JANEWAY, Who Departed this Life, MARCH the 16 th 1673/4.
I.
FOr
Caryl's Death scarce had I dry'd mine
Eyes,
Loder, then
Venning crav'd some fresh supplies:
Pierc'd at this
Newes,
I straight began to muse,
And scarce for them an
Elegie had bred,
But I'm inform'd, that
Janeway's likewise
Dead.
II.
Startled at this, like one that's
Planet-struck,
All
Signs of
Joy forthwith my
Face forsook:
The
Characters
Of doleful
Grief, and
Fears
Were so engraven on my
Heart, that I
Could not efface their
Stamp, unless I'de dye.
III.
Th' eight parts of Speech, that alwayes send
Relief
Unto the
Grammar, of a lawful
Grief,
Breaking their hold
Pass'd free, and uncontroul'd
Thorough my
Mouth block't up almost with
Sighs,
And barricado'd with dis-joynted
Cryes.
IV.
The
Tears brought forth from my big-belly'd
Eyes
Pickl'd my
Face; yet this could not suffice.
Suffice? For what?
Guess you your selves at that:
For I
Prognostick, If such
Stars should
fall,
Darkness would soon be
Epidemical.
V.
No, he's not
fall'n, but is
ascended higher,
And warbles out sweet
Anthems in a
Quire
Of
Saints, that are
Joyful beyond compare;
Where stript of 's
fleshly part, his
Soul's alive,
His
Fame with us for ever shall survive.
VI.
Soaring aloft, he quite left th'
Earth, wherein
The
Chequer-work of
Sorrow and of
Sin
Could not excite
His nobler
Appetite
To taste this
World, this
bitter-sweet, once more,
Knowing 'twas
rotten to the very
Core.
VII.
Who ever saw him, and did not admire
To see that outward
Harmony conspire
With such rare
Art
In each agreeing part,
As if
Dame Nature in's
formation had,
To see
her self out-do
her self, been glad?
VIII.
Who ever heard him
Preach, and did not wonder
To hear his
threats 'gainst
Sinners, which like
Thunder
(The contrary
To Saints he would apply)
Struck a
Convulsion through the
Hearts of those;
That (
Balaam-like) would still
Gods wayes oppose?
IX.
In fine, all those that knew him must commend
That
Virtue, which did alwayes him attend,
And so appears
In the redoubled
Sphere
Of
Mind and
Body, that, if you
Vertue love,
Of him you must (for
Vertues sake) approve.
X.
He was—but hold, I cannot tell you what;
Sum all
Perfections up, and he was that:
Whatever 'tis
That good, and worthy is
Of the most lasting and resplendent
Praise,
Surely in him deserv'd a
Crown of
Bayes.
XI.
'Tis
well for thee, but
ill for us, blest
Soul,
That
Death does 'mong her
Captives thee enroll:
Fain wee'd
rejoyce
In
Heart as well as
Voice
For
thee; but for
our selves we needs must mourn,
And drop a
Tear at thy
Religious Urn.
XII.
Our
Faces are
afloat, our
Cheeks do swim
In briny
Tears, wept for
our selves, not
him:
At some ones
Hearse
I've whilome wept a
Verse
For
fashion-sake, but now the
Tears I shed
Flow from my
Heart; Grief makes me likewise
Dead.
J. S.
LONDON, Printed, AN. DOM. 1674. ⟨77.⟩