Iter boreale With large additions of several other poems: being an exact collection of all hitherto extant. Never before published together. The author R. Wild |
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31
TO THE MEMORY OF Mr. Jeremy Whitaker,
Powerful in Prayer and Preaching, Pious in Life, Patient in Sickness, &c.
Nay, now forbear; for pity sake give o're,You that would make the Clergy none, or poor:
We are made miserable enough this year,
That we have lost our Reverend Whitaker;
Loss above Deans and Chapters! had but he
Liv'd still and preach'd: Ziba take all (for me.)
Nay I believe had sacrilegious hands
Finger'd our poor remains of Tithes and Lands,
Whil'st he surviv'd they had but pray'd in vain,
Whitaker would have pray'd them back again,
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Giv'n to the Devil under Hand and Seal,
A Chariot and an Horseman we have lost,
In whose each single Pray'r incamp'd an Host.
How have I heard him on some solemn Day,
When doubtful War could make all London pray)
Mount up to Heav'n with armed cries and tears,
And rout, as far as York, the Cavaliers!
Have you not seen an early-rising Lark
Spring from her Turf, making the Sun her mark,
Shooting her self aloft, yet higher, higher,
Till she had sung her self into Heaven's Quire?
Thus would he rise in Pray'r, and in a trice
His Soul become a Bird of Paradise:
And if our faint Devotions Prayers be,
What can we call his less than Extasie?
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