University of Virginia Library

On the Death of the Duke of Glocester.

Thus translated by the Ld Jefferies.

What reason have I to complain,
Since in all times it has been plain,
That great and weighty things must soon,
Like Jacks with their own Weight, go down?
And Nature when upon her Back
She lays too much, will surely crack.
So little Willy dies, and cares
Neither for Scepters, nor our Pray'rs:
And I shall love him long, for all
The Hopes he gave us were but small.
Or rather God, who gave us Birth,
Being in Wrath with lazy Earth,
Takes this occasion, and prefers
Illustrious Souls among the Stars.
If it be so, I told a Lye,
And little Willy does not die;
But mounts alive, and swiftly flies,
On airy Horseback thro the Skies.
'Tis the same Horse old Enoch rode,
And Asgil keeps to go to God.
Now see the Youth without his Clothes,
How like a new-born Flow'r he shows.
See how his rosy Cheeks do shine
Among his Ancestors Divine.
While we poor Mortals here below
Our Sighs and Tears in vain bestow;
And empty Obsequies are paid,
Just as if he were really dead:
Which makes it plain, that living on
A hated Life, now he is gone,
Will be to us, altho our Breath
Should ne'er be stopt, a double Death.