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