ELEGIE On the Much to be Lamented Death of the Right Honourable, ALEXANDER Lord REATH, One of His Majesties Most Honourable Privy Council, and Exchequer, &c. Departed this Life, March 21 1698.
IT seems the Heavens begins to frown, the World draws near an end
When Wisdom drops down to the Grave, that did this Land defend;
Great
A'banie, go mourn a while, my Quil is droping Tears,
Thou lost not such a Friend I trow, no not this Hundred years;
Now Wisdom, Charity and Love, put on your ragged Gown,
There is a Jewel very rich, this day, fall'n from your Crown!
The Voice of Poor, like Echo cryes, making a dolefull Sonnet,
Until the Council find a Head, that well can fill his Bonnet.
His Wisdom lay in Silence long, until it got a Vent,
Like precious Oyntment gave a Smell, the King than for him sent:
And gave him places Honourable, he did Deserve them All,
In future Ages for to come, will be Chrononical.
Dame Nature has been very bold, that Fram'd him at first,
The Motto of his Emblem was, GOD sayes,
Be Good and Just;
And when he came into the World he was endu'd with Grace,
Than Reason did take hold thereon, and sat in Natures place:
Vertue sent him to her Garden, to see what Flower he would pull,
There he puld Grace, like
Aarons Rod, that buded ever still:
Then Vertue fell in Love with him, 'cause he had chosen the best,
She sayes to Honour, follow him, he is my Real Guest.
When Vertue saw that Honour went, and followed at his back,
Wisdom cryes aloud, I will run with Truth, to be his Cloak:
And that will serve him all his Life, what e're he can need,
But I'le defy the Universe to take from it one Threed:
As
Solomon did Wisdom choise, for to obey GOD's Will;
So I resolv'd to follow him, and will do ever still.
The Ark was of a curious Bulk, but was not very much.
Yet it contain'd the World great, yea and the Holy Church.
King
David was but a little Man, Sober, but not
Machia,
Yet Wisdom found him out a way, to kill the Great
Golia.
His Virtuous Person and its Worth, before Others to discrive,
For Vertue, Wisdom, Parts, and Grace, there's few like him alive:
His Wisdom like the
Jordans Flood o'reflow'd, refresht the Land,
His Council great as Oracles, but none could it withstand.
He spake in council like to
Job, with out all kind of fear,
Gray Hairs rose up, and gave him praise, his Wisdom did admire.
His Worthie Noble Family, even from their very Youth,
The whole Track of their Life has been to Suffer for the Truth:
Till
Phoebus rose with mighty heat, in all his Radiant Beams,
They Sail'd the Goulf, against the Tyde, came to the Crystal Streams.
Now thy Successour
Leven Great, he is a Man Belov'd
In Council, State, and Mighty Warr, the King has him approv'd;
He did behave himself so well abroad by Sea and Land,
Which made the King put him in Trust, Hye Keeper of
SCOTLAND.
Though now L:
Reath lyes in this Tomb, according to GODS Will,
His Name and Fame continue shal in future Ages still.
You Seraphims and Cherabims, Salute him with a Bless,
He's gone from Earth to Heavens Glor, that truely Honour'd was,
Ten Thousand Ages yet to come, is but to him one day.
That Beatiphick Vision great, he will enjoy for aye.
As One of the Saints, all clade in White, upon Mount Zion Hill,
Through Ages of Eternity the Lamb will follow still.
Tho Friends should make the Rivers run with Tears that's shed below,
He will not rise for all their Cryes, till the last Trumpet blow.