University of Virginia Library

ELEGY

Upon my Worthy Friend Mr. Isaack Lawton.

Damme up those floods, what means all this ado!
Isaac is dead, and, is not Abraham too?
Do we not know, the just, and the unjust,
Are, alike, Captives in the chains of dust?
But, see, his soul shakes off those earthy Fetters,
And now is free, while we are natures Debters.
Yet, shall this Clay again in glory rise,
Nor needs it to be water'd with your eyes.
E're long upon his flowery Grave ye'l see
The Violets of his humility;
Lillies and blushing Roses shall spring thence,
Emblems of modesty and innocence.
With many more his Vertues to proclaim,
Deriving all their Odours from his name.
Is Death, the best thing God can mortals give?
Heaven seems to hate us then to let us live.
For his Decease, let others Mourners be,
I rather envy his Felicity.
This, I could sorrow for, and who would not?
Not to be worthy of his happier lot.
Yet, could ye mourn? this might Your grief aswage,
He did not live to be the Slave of Age.
And scorn of Fortune, rackt with doubts, despair,
False hope, and fear, as most Men living are.
Some sullen Souls, at Deaths unwelcom doom,
Break like an Earthquake from the trembling womb.
And with unknown Convulsions, tear, and wrest,
As Devils took their leave of the possest.
But Lawton's parting was so still, his soul
Out of his body broke not, but, even stole.
The peaceful Psyche is to Heaven fled,
Leaving her sleeping consort in the bed.
No noise she made, nor of grief any shew,
Only one sigh, to bid her sweet, adieu.
Her easie steps he neither hear'd, nor felt,
Yet on his Lips some minutes space she dwelt.
As who should say, sleep on, and by this kiss
Ile come, and wake thee to Eternal bliss.