University of Virginia Library

His Life is our best method, and the Graces
Compose him a fair Book of Common places
Directing to all vertues, that inherit
The glorious Microcosm of Bloud and Spirit.
His Birth, is not his boast; for he will treat
Of his blest Ancestors, as Good, not Great:
And though the Tapers of their Fame wax dim,
Th'illumination is supply'd by him;
Whose most enumerate Vertues make such swarms,
You'l know his House, better by's Arts, then Arms:
He studies man, and doth extract from thence
A knowledge, gain'd by safe Experience:
So justly square he is, that we may see
In him, Natures best Rules of Geometry:
A Dye without a Chance; whom Fortunes face
With smiles, or frowns, makes neither Sice nor Ace:
So uncorrupted with his Countries crimes,
He scapes their plagues, & fears no change of Times;
Who keeping in his own sublimed height,
Elects Friends not by Number, but by Weight.
That never durst admit of such a Treason,
As priviledgeth Passion to rule Reason:
Whose self-confining Edicts can maintain
All Acts of Parliament, to him are vain
And useless; since he needs no law at all,
Who to himself is a Law rational:
He is not one that mourns, or rejoyces
At new Events, according to most voices;
And thinks the true tract to Eternal Rest,
Is not the Road which Most resort, but Best:
For matter of Deportment, he'l ne'r fall
At odds, to see a worse man take the Wall,
Assume the Table; or appear disgrac'd,
If, amongst many, he's saluted last:
In Argument, he treads a wary pace,
And you may reade your Errour in his Face:
In Disputations of Religion, he
Barrs things Inscrutible, or Mystery:
His holy Actions such a faith expresses,
That none ask what Religion he professes,
Indep: or Presbyt: what he was, he's still,
And will remain so, call it what you will:
Honour is not his aym, though he would have
That worth which makes just Honour truly brave.
Like him that is contented with the fate
Of a Squires Title, and a Lords Estate:
Calamities, and Court-preferments, he
Looks on with such a Mediocritie,
That though the first would vex, the latter love him;
Both alike move, but never can remove him.
He is that real Argus that can keep,
(In spight of Mercury) his eys from sleep:
For flattery with an alluring tongue,
Like Hermes pipe, shall never do him wrong:
He loves his Equals, envies no Superiours,
And proves an humble pattern to Inferiours:
He safely sits above, and sees the salley
Of Peace-deflowrers, dye the verdant Valley:
Who 'gainst his unknown foes, doth well agree,
To use his Brest-plate, not Artillerie:
Concelving though Hell threatens greatest harms
To Man, yet Innocency wants no Arms.
He is a Tower so flank'd on every part,
By something more then Mathematick Art;
That Envy, Pride, or Malice, cannot be,
The Dis-composers of his unitie:
But every shot sent from a Foe (perplext
At Goodness) proves prevention to the next.
His high resolves fixt by divine consent
Pass Persian Laws, or Acts of Parlament:
Thus with an even pace, wears many years,
Dying imbalm'd in good mens spiritual tears:

These are the Virtues make poor man compleat,
Whil'st wealth & crimes patch up the rich man great,
But never good; for Hell and her Complices
Contrive to bury him quick in his own Vices:
When t'others winged Soul ascends the skies,
With contribution from each Good man's Eyes.