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Poems Divine, and Humane

By Thomas Beedome

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An Elegie on the death of his loving friend. J: C
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

An Elegie on the death of his loving friend. J: C

Why should the labour of my mournefull Verse,
Find so sad subject as thy timelesse hearse?
My soule, which now is not, but where thou art,
Stayes but to tell the world we will not part.
And the glad Casket which thy ashes beares,
Shall tide me after thee in mine owne teares,
And then rejoyce that we whose hearts were one,
In death shall celebrate Communion.
Wisedome of fate: that earely did remove,
Thee hence, that I in heaven might seeke my love,
And so assure me that time thou couldst dye,
No beauty but must taste mortality.
I know my bounded every Grace


In the strict limits of thy well built face,
And thought those principles of beauty there
Unchangable, as bodies in their sphere;
But I recant, and tell the world this truth,
There is no priviledge in blood or youth
Else how could'st thou, whose every smile: or breath
Was a sufficient antidote 'gainst death,
Have met a grave; and like a drooping flowre,
Have withered to nothing in an houre?
Sleepe while some Angell with a peacefull wing,
Courtaines thy ashes here, and hovering
O're thy innocuous breast by that display,
Informes mee where my dust must take its way,
Then my infranchis'd spirit up shall fly,
To our just wedding for eternity,
And pitty all those enmities below,
That did with hold us from uniting so,
And smile to know that all our envious friends,
Have lost their plot, and we obtain'd our ends:
But wee will marry here in spight of those
That would our much wish't meeting interpose;
Death shall be prest, lye closer sweete, make roome
That wee may make our marriage bed thy Tombe.