University of Virginia Library

An Elegy upon Sir Henry Wright Baronet, who dyed Feb. 5. 1663.

Essex has lost her better Genius,
The Son of Englands Esculapius.
The King has lost a Subject of Renown,
None of the meanest Jewels of his Crown.
Sir Henry Wright, in whose deplored losse,
The Church too has th' addition of a Crosse.
Relations, Neighbors, Tenants, Servants, all
Are here concern'd, the loss is general.
His Death exacts of whosoe're it hears,
Tempests of sighs, and Hurricans of tears.
Faith, Justice, Love, and Loyalty are gone
With blest Astrea to the Horizon.
With whom our comforts like a Winters Sun,
Vanisht almost as soon as they begun;
Scarce did his early rayes arrive at noon,
He liv'd too fast, and therefore dy'd too soon.
Where others make an end, he did begin.
True, he has green without, but grave within.
And when at any time he silence broke
An Age, at least, beyond himself he spoke.
As if his reason, and his Richer sense
He ow'd to Nature, not Experience.
The vastnesse of his Heart, in this was shown,
That Hospital'ty made his House Her Throne.
He was of all belov'd to whom as due,
His King gave Honour, and his Country too.
Who all for him unanimous votes did give,
To be (as twice) their Representative.
Of whom their wisely grounded hope was more
Than Alexander gave a Kingdom for.
Nor were they here deceiv'd, he was so just
With interest, he answer'd all their trust.
He din'd but here, and went to Heaven to supper,
Rais'd from the lower house, now, to the upper.
Then let his Lady spare her precious flood,
Since a whole Kingdom shares her Widow-hood.
Whose flowing eyes must like another Nyle,
Drown the sad Face of this impoverisht Isle.