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48

2. Part Two: Elegies and Epitaphs

51

A POEM Dedicated to the Memory OF The Reverend and Excellent MR. URIAN OAKES, the late Pastor to Christ's Flock, and Præsident of Harvard-Colledge, in Cambridge, Who was gathered to his People on 25d 5mo 1681. In the fifty'th Year of his Age.

TO THE READER.

Worthies to Praise is a Praise-worthy thing;
Christ did it; and will do it! And to Sing
The Elogyes of Saints departed in
The Rhythm of Elegyes, has always been
Esteemed Reason! David bids me go
My Christian Reader! and like him do so.
Cotton Embalms great Hooker; Norton Him;
And Norton's Herse do's Poet-Wilson trim
With Verses: Mitchel writes a poem on
The Death of Wilson; And when Mitchel's gone,
Shepard with fun'ral Lamentations gives
Honour to Him: and at his Death receives
The like from the [like-Maro] Lofty Strain
Of admirable Oakes! I should be vain
To thrust into that gallant Chorus: Pride
Ne'er made mee such an Icharus: I cry'd
Of good Exemples [Ahimaaz his Thought]
How if I should run after them? And brought
These as a Pattern, and a Plea for what
52

I do; that my cross Reader blame me not.
But why so late? my Nænia's some will deem
Both out of Time, and Tune! To some I seem
Grief's Resurrection to essay; and bee
Just like the Trojans who came late to see
And sorrow with Tiberius!—Only this
Shall be Reply'd! The fond Bookseller is
Now guilty of this Paper's Ravishment
When long supprest: Give him thy Discontent!
Since Oakes (as Homer) has all Places Claim;
Let Boston too forget its Anagram!

Memoirs of the Life and Worth: Lamentations for the Death, and Loss of the every way admirable Mr. URIAN OAKES.

Weep with me, Reader! Never Poet had
His Quill employ'd upon a Theme so sad
As what just Providence (Grief grumble not)
Do's with black Warrant Press mee to! O what?
This! OAKES is dead! One of the bittrest Pills
(Compounded of three Monosyllables)
That could have been dispensed! Absalom
Sure felt not more Distress, Death, Danger, come
With the three Darts of Joab!—
Blest Shade! an Universal Tax of Sorrow
Thy Country ows thee! Ah! we need not borrow
The Prasica's: Say, Oakes is dead! and there!
There is enough to squeese a briny Tear
From the most flinty Flint: Once at the Blow
Of Moses, from a Rock a Stream did flow;
But look! th' Almightye's Rod now Smites us home
Oh! what Man won't a Mourner now become?
Dear Saint! I cannot but thy Herse bedew
With dropping of some Fun'ral Tears! I Rue
53

Thy Death! I must, My Father! Father! say,
Our Chariots and our Horsemen where are they?
I the dumb son of Crasus 'fore mine Eyes
Have sett, and will cry when my Father dyes.
Oh! but a Verse to wait upon thy Grave,
A Verse our Custome, and thy Friends will have:
And must I brue my Tears? ah! shall I fetter
My Grief, by studying for to mourn in Metre?
Must too my cloudy Sorrows rain in Tune,
Distilling like the softly Showrs of June?
Alas! My Ephialtes takes me! See't!
I strive to run, but then I want my feet.
What shall I do? Shall I go invocate
The Muses to mine aid? No, That I hate!
The Sweet New England-Poet rightly said,
It is a most Unchristian Use and Trade
Of Some that Christians would be thought.

Mr. M. Wigglesworth, in Pref. to D. D.

If I
Call'd Help, the Muses mother Memory
Would be enough: He that Remembers well
The Use and Loss of Oakes, will grieve his fill.
Ih'd rather pray, that Hee, in whose just Eyes
The Death of his dear Saints most preciose is,
And Hee who helped David to bewail
His Jon'than, would not my Endeavours fail.
A sprightly Effort of Poetick Fire
Would e'en Transport mee to a mad Desire:
How could I wish, Oh! that the nimble Sun
Of thy short Life before thy Day was done
Might backward Ten Degrees have moved! or
Oh! that thy Corps might but have chanced for
To have been buried near Elisha's bones!
Oh! that the Hand which rais'd the Widows Song
Would give thee to thy Friends again! But, Fy!
That Passion's vain! To sob, Why didst thou dy?
Is but an Irish Note: Death won't Restore
His Stolen Goods till Time shall be no more.
Shall I take what a Prologue Homer hath
Lett mee Relate the Heavenly Powers Wrath?
Or shall I rather join with Jeremie,
And o're our great and good Josiah sigh,
O that my Head were waters, and mine Eyes
A fountain were, that Hadadrimmon's Cryes
Might bubble from mee! O that Day and Night
54

For the Slain of my People weep I might!
Ah! Why delay I? Reader, step with mee,
And what is for thee on Grief's Table see
Memoria, Præteritum is
The Dish I call thee to: Come taste of this.
Oakes was! Ah! miserable word! But what
Hee was. Let Never, Never be forgot.
Beleeve mee once, It were a worthy thing
Of's Life and Worth a large Account to bring
To publick View, for general Benefit.
I would essay (with Leave, Good Reader) it,
So far as feet will carry mee; but know it
From first to last, Grief never made good Poet.
Hee that lasht with a Rod could versify,
Attain'd, and could pretend far more than I!
Short was thy Life! Sweet Saint! & quickly run
Thy Race! Thy Work was, oh! how quickly done!
Thy Dayes were (David's measure) but a Span;
Five Tens of Years roll'd since thy Life began.
Thus I remember a Greek Poet Rhimes,
They whom God Loves are wont to dy betimes.
Thus Whit'ker, Perkins, Preston, Men of Note,
Ay! many such, Never to fifty got.
And thus (Rachel New-England!) many Seers
Have left us in the akme of their Years.
Good Soul! Thy Jesus who did for thee dy,
In Heaven longed for thy Company.
And let thy Life be measur'd by thy Deeds,
Not by thy Years;

Non Annis, sed Factis vivunt mortales. Not with years, but with deeds do mortals live.

Thy Age strait nothing needs.
Divert, My Pen! Run through the Zodiac
Of Oakes his Life: And cause I knowledge lack
Of most Occurrents, let mee now and then
Snatch at a Passage worthy of a Pen.
Our Mother England, ev'n a Village there
(Fuller, insert it!) did this Worthy bear.
Over the Ocean in his Infancy
His Friends with him into New-England fly:
Here, while a lad, almost a miracle
(As I have heard his Aged Father tell)
Sav'd him from drowning in a River: Hee
Would (guess) a Miracle and Moses bee.
Now did Sweet Nature in him so appear
A Gentlewoman once cry'd out, If ere
55

Good Nature could bring unto Heaven, then
Those wings would thither carry Urian.
Prompt Parts, and early Piety now made
Men say of him, what once observers said
Of great John Baptist, and of Ambrose too,
To what an one will this strange Infant grow?
Her Light and Cup did happy Harvard give
Unto him; and from her he did receive
His Two Degrees: (A double Honour to
Thee (Harvard! Own it!) did by this accrue!)
So being furnisht with due burnisht Tools
The Armour and the Treasure of the Schools,
To Temple-work he goes: I need not tell
How he an Hiram, or Bezaleel
Did there approve himself; I'le only add
Roxbury his first-fruits (first Sermon) had.
Some things invite: Hee back to England goes;
With God and Man hee there in favour growes:
But whilst he lives in that Land, Tichfield cryes
Come over, Sir, and help us! He complyes:
The Starr moves thither! There the Orator
Continu'd charming sinful mortals for
To close with a sweet Jesus: Oh! he woo'd,
He Thundred: Oh! for their eternal good
How did he bring the Promises, and how
Did he discharge flashes of Ebal? Now
Hee held Love's golden Scepter out before
The Humble Soul; Now made the Trumpet roar
Fire, Death, and Hell against Impenitent
Desp'rates, untill hee made their hearts relent.
There did hee merit Sibs's Motto, I
Just like a Lamp, with lighting others dy.

Pralucendo pereo. By lighting the way I am lost.


Ah! like a Silk-worm, his own bowels went
To serve his Hearers, while he soundly spent
His Spirits in his Labours. O but there
He must not dy (except Death Civil) Here
(Why mayn't we Sigh it! here) dark Bartholmew
This gallant and heroic Witness slew.
Silenc't he was! not buried out of sight!
A worthy Gentlemen

Col. N.

do's him invite
Unto him; and like Obadiah, hide
Him, dear to them with whom he did reside,
56

Finding his Prayers and Presence to produce
An Obed-Edom's blessing on the House.
A Spirit of great Life from God do's enter
Within a while into him: Hee do's venture
To stand upon his feet: Hee prophesy's;
And to a Congregation Preacher is,
Join'd with a loving Collegue; who will not
Be buried, till Symmons be forgot.
But our New-England-Cambridge wants him, and
Sighs, “Of my Sons none takes me by the hand,
“Now Mitchel's gone! Oh! where's his parallel?
“Call my Child Urian! Friendly Strangers tell
“An OAKE of my own breed in England is,
“That will support mee Pillar-like; and this
“Must be resolv'd; I'le Pray and Send! Agreed!
Messengers go! and calling Council, speed!
The good Stork over the Atlantic came.
To nourish and cherish his Aged Dam.
Welcome! great Prophet! to New-England shore!
Thy feet are beautiful! A number more
Of Men like thee with us would make us say,
The Moral of More's fam'd Utopia
Is in New-England! yea, (far greater!) wee
Should think wee Twisse's guess accomplisht see,
When New Jerusalem comes down, the Seat
Of it, the wast America will bee't.
Cambridge! thy Neighbours must congratulate
Thy Fate! Oh! where can thy Triumvirate
Meet with its Mate? A Shephard! Mitchel! then
An Oakes! These Chrysostoms, these golden Men,
Have made thy golden Age! That fate is thine
(To bee blest with the Sun's perpetual Shine)
What Sylvius sais of Rhodes. Sure thou mayst call
Thy Name Capernaum! But oh! the fall
Of that enlightened Place wee'l humbly pray
Dear Lord! Keep Cambridge from it!—
But Quill! where fly'st thou? Let the Reader know
Cambridge some years could this brite Jewel show,
Yet here a Quartane Ague does arrest
The Churches Comfort, & the Countryes Rest.
But this (Praise Mercy) found some Ague-frighter,
57

Hee mends, and his Infirmity grows lighter,
Ev'n that his dear Orestes smil'd, So small
Your Illness, you'd as good have none at all.
Well! the poor Colledge faints! Harvard almost
(An Amnesty cryes'st!) gives up the ghost!
The branches dwindle! But an OAK so near
May cherish them! 'Twas done! The gloomy fear
Of a lost Colledge was dispell'd! The Place,
The Learning, the Discretion, and the Grace
Of that great Charles,

Mr. Charles Chauncey. B. D.

who long since slept & dy'd
Lov'd, and Lamented, worthy Oakes supply'd.
His Nurse he suckles; and the Ocean now
Refunds what th' Earth in Rivers did bestow.
Pro Tempore (a sad Prolepsis) was
For a long time his Title; but just as
Wee had obtain'd a long'd for Alteration,
And fixt him in the Præsident's firm Station,
The wrath of the Eternal wields a blow
At which my Pen is gastred!—
------
But Up!—Lord! wee're undone!—Nay! Up and Try!
Heart! Vent thy grief! Ease Sorrow with a Sigh!
Lett's hear the matter! Write de Tristibus!
Alas! Enough!—Death hath bereaved us!
The Earth was parch't with horrid heat: We fear'd
The blasts of a Vast Comet's flaming Beard.
The dreadful Fire of Heaven inflames the blood
Of our Elijah, carrying him to God.
Innumerable Sudden Deaths abound!
Our OAKES a Sudden blow laid on the ground,
And gives him blessed Capel's wish, which the
Letany prayes 'gainst, To dy Suddenlie.
The Saints hope to have the Lord's Table Spread;
But with astonishment they find him dead
That us'd to break the Bread of Life: O wee
Deprived of our Ministers often bee
At such a Season. Lord, thy Manna low
In our blind Eyes we fear is wont to go!
The Man of God at the first Touch do's feel
[With a Præsage] his call to Heavens weal;
Hee fits himself for his last conflict; Saw
The ghastly King of Terrors Icy claw;
Ready to grapple with him; then he gives

Hinc Illæ Lachrymæ! Hence These Tears!


58

A Look to him who dy'd and ever lives;
The great Redeemer do's disarm the Snake;
And by the Hand his faithful Servant take,
Leading him thorow Death's black Valley, till
Hee brings him in his arms to Zion's Hill.
Fall'n Pillar of the Church! This Thy Translation
Has turn'd our Joyes into this Lamentation!
Sweet Soul! Disdaining any more to trade
With fleshly Organs, that a Prison made,
Thou'rt flown into the World of Souls, and wee
Poor, stupid Mortals lose thy Companie.
Thou join'st in Consort with the Happy gone,
Who (happ'er than Servants of Solomon)
Are standing round the Lamb's illustrious Throne
Conversing with great Isr'el's-Holy-One.
Now could I with good old Grynæus say
“Oh! that will be a bright and gloriose Day,
“When I to that Assembly come; and am
“Gone from a world of guilt, filth, sorrow, shame!

O faelicens Diem! quum ad illud Animarum Concilium proficiscar; et ex hac Turba & Colluvione dif. cedam.


I read how Swan-like Cotton joy'd in Thought,
That unto Dod, and such he should be brought.
How Bullinger deaths grim looks could not fright
Because twould bring him to the Patriarchs Sight.
(Well might it be so! Heathen Socrates
In hopes of Homer, Death undaunted sees.)
Who knows but the Third Heaven may sweeter be
Thou Citizen of it! (dear Oakes!) for thee?
Sure what of Calvin Beza said; and, what
Of thy forerunner Mitchel, Mather wrote,
I'le truly add, Now Oakes is dead, to mee
Life will less sweet, and Death less bitter bee.
Lord! Lett us follow!—
Nay! Then, Good Reader! Thou and I must try
To Tread his Steps! Hee walk't Exemplar'ly!
Plato would have none to be prais'd, but those
Whose Praises profitable wee suppose:
Oh! that I had a ready Writer's Pen,
(If not Briareus hundred Hands!) and then
I might limn forth a Pattern. Ah! his own
Fine Tongue can his own worth Describe alone
That's it I want; and poor I! Shan't I show
Like the man, whom an Hero hired to
59

Forbear his Verses on him!

Cic. pro hic Poetæ. Cicero on behalf of this poet.

Yet a lame
Mephiboshoth will scape a David's blame.
Well! Reader! Wipe thine Eyes! & see the Man
(Almost too small a word!) which Cambridge can
Say, I have lost! In Name a Drusius,
And Nature too! yea a compendious
Both Magazine of worth, and Follower
Of all that ever great and famose were.
A great Soul in a little Body. (Add!
In a small Nutshell Graces Iliad.)
How many Angels on a Needle's point
Can stand, is thought, perhaps, a needles Point:
Oakes Vertues too I'me at a loss to tell:

See the parallel in Mr. Mather's Epistle before a late Sermon of Mr. Oakes.


In short, Hee was New-England's SAMUEL;
And had as many gallant Propertyes
As ere an Oak had Leaves; or Argus Eyes.
A better Christian would a miracle
Be thought! From most he bore away the Bell!
Grace and good Nature were so purely mett
In him, wee saw in Gold a Jewel sett.
His very Name spake Heavenly; and Hee
Vir sui Nominis would alwayes bee.

Urianus quasi [unreadable in original].


For a Converse with God; and holy frame,
A Noah, and an Enoch hee became.
Urian and George are Names æquivalent;
Wee had Saint George, though other Places han't.
Should I say more, like him that would extol
Huge Hercules, my Reader'l on me fall
With such a check; Who does dispraise him? I
Shall say enough, if his Humility
Might be described. Witty Austin meant
This is the First, Second, and Third Ornament,
Of a Right Soul, should be esteem'd. And so
Our Second Moses,

So stiled by Mr. Burroughs.

Humble Dod, cry'd, Know,
Just as Humility mens Grace will bee,
And so much Grace so much Humilitie.
Ah! graciose Oakes, wee saw thee stoop; wee saw
In thee the Moral of good Nature's Law,
That the full Ears of Corn should bend, and grow
Down to the ground: Worth would sit alwayes low.
And for a Gospel Minister, wee had
In him a Pattern for our Tyro's; Sad!
60

Their Head is gone: Who ever knew a greater
Student and Scholar? or beheld a better
Preacher and Præsident? Wee look't on him
As Jerom in our (Hungry) Bethlechem;
A perfect Critic in Philology;
And in Theology a Canaan's Spy.
His Gen'ral Learning had no fewer Parts
Than the Encyclopædia of Arts:
The old Say, Hee that something is in all,

Aliquis in Omnibus, Nullus in Singulæ.


Nothing's in any; Now goes to the wall.
But when the Pulpit had him! there hee spent
Himself as in his onely Element:
And there hee was an Orpheus: Hee'd e'en draw
The Stones, and Trees: Austin cryes, If I saw
Paul in the Pulpit, of my Three Desires
None of the least (to which my Soul aspires)
Would gratify'd and granted bee. Hee might
Have come and seen't, when OAKES gave Cambridge Light.
Oakes an Uncomfortable Preacher was
I must confess! Hee made us cry, Alass!
In sad Despair! Of what? Of ever seeing
A better Preacher while wee have a beeing.
Hee! oh! Hee was, in Doctrine, Life, and all
Angelical, and Evangelical.
A Benedict and Boniface to boot,
Commending of the Tree by noble Fruit.
All said, Our Oakes the Double Power has
Of Boanerges, and of Barnabas:
Hee is a Christian Nestor! Oh! that wee
Might him among us for three Ages see!
But ah! Hee's gone to Sinus Abrahæ.
What shall I say? Never did any spitt
Gall at this Gall-less, Guile-less Dove; nor yet
Did any Envy with a cankred breath
Blast him: It was I'me sure the gen'ral Faith,
Lett Oakes Bee, Say, or Do what e're he wou'd,
If it were OAKES, it must be wise, true, good.
Except the Sect'ryes Hammer might a blow
Or two, receive from Anabaptists, who
Never lov'd any Man, that wrote a Line
Their naught, Church-rending Cause to undermine.
Yett after my Encomiastick Ink
Is all run out, I must conclude (I think)
With a Dicebam, not a Dixi! Yea,
61

Such a course will exceeding proper bee:
The Jews, whene're they build an House, do leave
Some part Imperfect, as a call to grieve
For their destroy'd Jerus'lem! I'le do so!
I do't!—
And now let sable Cambridge broach her Tears!
(They forfeit their own Eyes that don't; for (here's
Occasion sad enough!) Your Sons pray call
All Ichabod; and Daughters, Marah! Fall
Down into Sack-cloth, Dust, and Ashes! (To
Bee senseless Now, Friends, Now! will be to show
A CRIME & BADG

ANAGR.

of Sin and Folly!) Try
Your fruitfulness under the Ministry
Of that kind Pelican, who spent his Blood
To feed you! Dear Saints! Have ye got the Good
You might? And let a Verse too find the Men
Who fly'd a Sermon! Oh! Remember when
Sirs! Your Ezekiel was like unto
A lovely Song of (Been't deaf Adders you)
One with a pleasant Voice! and that could play
Well on an Instrument! And i'n't the Day,
The gloriose Day, to dawn (ah! yet!) wherein
You are drawn from the Egypt-graves of Sin
Compelled to come in? For shame come in!
Nay! Join you all! Strive with a noble Strife,
To publish both in Print (as well as Life)
Your preciose Pastor's Works! Bring them to view
That wee may Honey tast, as well as you.
But, Lord! What has thy Vineyard done, that thou
Command'st the Clouds to rain no more? O shew
Thy favour to thy Candlestick! Thy Rod
Hath almost broke it: Lett a Gift of God,
Or a sincerely Heaven-touch't Israelite
Become a Teacher in thy Peoples sight.
At last I with License Poetical
(Reader! and thy good leave) address to all
The children of thy People! Oh! the Name
Of Urian Oakes, New-England! does proclame
SURE I AN OAK

ANAGR.

was to thee! Feel thy Loss!
Cry, (Why forsaken, Lord!) Under the Cross!
Learn for to prize Survivers! Kings destroy
62

The People that Embassadors annoy.
The Counsil of God's Herald, and thy Friend,
[Bee wise! Consider well thy latter End!]

Mr. OAKES's Elect. Serm.


O lay to heart! Pray to the heavenly Lord
Of th' Harvest, that (according to his Word)
Hee would thrust forth his Labourers: For why
Should all thy Glory go, and Beauty dy
Through thy default?—
—Lord! from they lofty Throne
Look down upon thy Heritage! Lett none
Of all our Breaches bee unhealed! Lett
This dear, poor Land be our Immanuel's yett!
Lett's bee a Goshen still! Restrain the Boar
That makes Incursions! Give us daily more
Of thy All-curing Spirit from on High!
Lett all thy Churches flourish! And supply
The almost Twenty Ones, that thy Just Ire
Has left without Help that their Needs require!
Lett not the Colledge droop, and dy! O Lett
The Fountain run! A Doctor give to it!
Moses's are to th' upper Canaan gone!
Lett Joshua's Succeed them! goes when one
Elijah, raise Elisha's! Pauls become
Dissolv'd! with Christ! Send Tim'thees in their room!
Avert the Omen, that when Teeth apace
Fall out, No new ones should supply their place!
Lord! Lett us Peace on this our Israel see!
And still both Hephsibah, and Beulah bee!
Then will thy People Grace! and Glory! Sing,
And every Wood with Hallelujah's ring.
N. R.
Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona
Multi; sed illachrymabiles
Urgentur ignotiq; longa
Nocte; carent quia Vate sacro.
Hor.
Non ego cuncta meis amplecti Versibus opto.
Virg.
—Ingens laudato Poema:
Exiguum legito!—
Call.
63

Qui legis ista, tuam reprehendo is mea laudes
Omnia, Stultitiam: Si nihil, Invidiam.
Owen.
Non possunt, Lector, multae emendare Lituræ
Versus hos nostros: Una Litura potest.
Martial.

AN ELEGY ON The Much-to-be-deplored DEATH OF That Never-to-be-forgotten PERSON, The Reverend Mr. NATHANAEL COLLINS;

Who after he had been many years a faithful Pastor to the Church at Middletown of Connecticut in New-England, about the Forty third year of his Age Expired; On 28th. 10. moneth 1684.

FUNERAL-TEARS At the Grave of the much Desired And Lamented Mr. NATHANEEL COLLINS, Who changed Death for LIFE, December 28. 1684.

—But shall he unobserved steal away?
Or Israel not afford an hand to lay

Isai. 57. 1.


An Evil-boding Death to heart? no Son
Of All the Prophets when Elijah's gone
Look after him?
64

Forbid this, Heaven! Showr
On a bereaved Clod of Earth a pow'r
To yield a spire of grass

allusion to the poetical fancy of Ajax.

whereon may grow
The Name of COLLINS, help a verse to show
His Vertues, as that Flock acknowledged
Their Doe

Dorcas, Act. 9.39.

when to the Spicy Mountains fled.
Assist mee, thou who hast engag'd the Just
A Memory,

Psa. 112.6.

to whom the precious dust
Of Saints Dissolv'd remains united!—
I SIGH the Fate for which our broached eyes
Spend floods of brine; at which a dire surprise
Of a soul-chilling horrour doth invade
The Soul not stone before; at which are made
In serious minds as many wounds as were
To Caesar

whom the Roman conspirators [followed by several unreadable words].

given. Reader, shake to hear:
The DEATH of COLLINS tis. He dead without
A Paper winding sheet to lay him out!
A Shame. O that Egyptian Odours, and
Embalmers too

Gen. 50.2.

were not at my command!
I want them. But Hyperboles withdraw,
Be gone Licentious Poets. What I saw
On this occasion let some countrey Rymes
That call a Spade a Spade, tell after-Times.
DEPRIV'D of Charrets & of Horsmen too,

all. to 2. King. 2.12.


I on the wings of Contemplation flew;
Into the howling desart thus I went,
The cut-off garden

so some render the Garden of Nuts, Cant. 6.11. in a phrase very accommodable to America.

where our David sent
His sheep to feed and fold, from which he drave
The Rav'nous Tigre-brood, in which he gave
His herds a Rest at noon.

Cant. 1.7.

On Jordans Banks
I meant to sit with Thoughts on this and Thanks.
But there found I an Elect Lady,

some (tho' groundlesly though) suppose a Church intended by that name in 2. Joh. 1.

There
Grov'ling in Ashes, with dishev'led hair,
Smiting her breast, black'd with a mourning dress,
Resembling mother Sion in distress;

all. to the figure thereof in B. K.'s ingenious poem.


Or like a Rachel in a Bethl'em plight,

Mat. 2.18.


But with a Beauty glittering too, that might
The Features show that Judah's preaching King
Much did once in his machless Raptures sing;

viz. the Canticles.


I found her. There amaz'd, into a Tree

all. to such a metamorphosis celebrated in Ovid.


Almost transformed with passion: Sympathie
65

Produced this Enquiry, Who I wonder,
Seems Sorrow's Center, Sorrow's Essence yonder?
Lo, I no sooner had approached near,
Then from above this voice did thunder; Here
Pitty, the Church of Middletown bespeaks
Set in the midst of swoons and sobs and shrieks.
With Bowells full of it I hastned to
The Wet place, asking Why she grieved so;
And had this Answer.
Sir, Ask you this? Are you a Sojourner
Within New-Englands bounds & know not why?
I've lost great COLLINS, man! O that, O there,
From this Tears-Fountain

Hinc illa lacrymæ. Hence these tears.

is my misery.
Immortal COLLINS! what a Charm is in
So dear a Name? 'Tis Honey mixt with gall
To think, I had him, but I miss him; Seen
He was, sad word!

fuimus Troes. We were Trojans.

but so no more be shall.
My love is Talkative: tis fit that I
Thus vent my smother'd Fire. The Rabbins say
That when good old Methusela did dye,
His Wife nine husbands lost in him that day.
Like Looser I will speak: The Lamentation
Over Jerus'lems Woe doth suit me well,
A Widow how is she become!

Lam. 1.1.

Privation
Seems now to be my only Principle.
Once did I prise, I'l now praise what I had.
The box of his Fames Oyntment

Eccles. 7.1.

now shall send
Abroad its Odours. Alexander

from whose corpse 'tis said there went a smell surprizingly fragrant.

dead
Had not the scent which doth from him ascend.
Some Elogyes compose to try their Wits;
The Gout,

praised by Pichennerus.

the Feavour,

praised by Huttenus.

yea & Injustice,

praised by Glaucus.


Folly

praised by Erasmus.

and Poverty

praised by Pierius, all in set poems, or orations.

have in the Fits
Of Ranting Writers had a comeliness.
My Theme, my Humour is not such an one:
Who to prove Cicero not eloquent,
Pen'd Books,

as once a humoursome person did.

who truth & worth for guards disown
Such only count Collins not excellent.
66

Bright COLLINS, Star of the first Magnitude,
Extol him how could I! I sha'n't be chid
If as much time on him my gazes shou'd
Spend, as that Greek

Socrates, who spent 15 year in framing of one Panegyric, one oration.

in's Panegyric did.
O that Apelles were my servant now
To limn this Hero, but his utmost All
Would blush, and draw a vail upon the Brow

as that painter did upon his Minerva's.


Below whose Majesty his skill would fall.
I would that you, my Friend, each drop of Ink
Could fill with Elogyes no fewer then
The little eels

of which I can with my Microscope see incredible hundreds playing about in one drop of water.

that may swim in't: I think
They all should celebrate this Flow'r of men.
I would too that each syllable all round
This Globe with perfum'd Air might fly about;
Or your Stentorophonic Tube

which speaking-Trumpet may be heard a vast way off.

might found
The praise of admirable Collins out.
Death, thou All-biting

all to ye Acrost. of Mors Mordens Omnia Restro Suo. Death devouring everything.

Prodigall, a blow
Of thine hath laid within the ground a plant
Surpassing Cedars. I did hardly know
A spice whose quantity on it was scant.
Good Nature and good Education were
In him conjoyn'd to such an high degree,
As gain'd the Title of that

Tit. Vesp. who was termed, Deliciæ humanis generis. Titus Vespasianus (A.D.39?–81), Roman emperor and general who was termed delight of the human race.

Emperour,
In this rare soul Mankinds delight we see.
Facetious Snow-balls from his candid breast
With early Magic hence would captivate
His near, Familiars, so that he was blest
Who could have leave to be his Intimate.
Hence from his Cradle clothes his neat discretion,
Mounted upon bridled Urbanity,
Before a most obliging Disposition,
Triumphant rode in ev'ry Company.
But Oh the fruits of Heav'nly Graces dew
Upon so rich a soyl! Let Peter bid
His Brethren add one graces pearl unto
The

v. the glorious catalogue 2 Pet. 1.5,7.

rest; The whole heap was in Collins hid.
67

You'd scarce believe the FAITH residing in
This Child of Abraham, the strong Impression
On his heart of Realities unseen,

2. Cor. 4.18.


Of Gospel glories, of things past expression:
How dearest to him his Redeemer; how
With brave Ignatius

whose saying often was, Amor meus est crucifixus. My love has been crucified.

he could warble out
O Christ my Love; how we might e'en allow
A JESUS grav'd

which is grosly and fabulously reported of another.

within his breast no doubt.
His VERTUE took this sister by the hand;
And with her train accompanyed thus,
In vert'ous flights he went—how much beyond
An Aristides;

two glories of the heathen, the one for Justice, the other for Fidelity.

or a Regulus!
For KNOWLEDGE, tho in him poor Harvard lost
One of her tallest sons, one of the best
Souldiers in her Minerva's Camp, my boast
Of higher Wisdom in him i'n't the least.
My Moses, he in Egypts Learning verst

Act. 7.22.


Had more then that; Accomplishments Divine
In exercise of which, while he converst
With Isr'els Jah, to us his face did shine.

Exod. 34.35.


Yare at his GRAMMAR, kenning how and when
To speak: his tongue a

Prov. 15.4.

tree of life, no (dross
Proceeding from this Chrysostom)

golden mouth.

the penn
Of Ready writers like, not barbarous.
How lofty in his RHET'RIC, when with cryes
To the Omnipotent reduc'd to say

as in Exod. 32.10. feriendi licentiam petit a Mose qui fecit Mosen. He who made Moses sought liberty of punishing from Moses.


Let me alone, thereby he scal'd the Skyes,
And with the old

preces et lacrymæ sunt Arma Ecclesiæ. Prayers and tears are the arms of the Church.

Artill'ry got the day.
In the best LOGIC, Oh how Rational!
How able to spy Canaan through! how ready
To baffle a Temptation! and withal
Full of his Oracles sound, solid, steady!
How right was his ARITHMETIC that knew
Wisely to measure his own

Psa. 90.12.

dayes! How right
Was his GEOMETRY, that found the true
Bulk of the earth! a point

and an invisible point no doubt would it be to an humane eye in the starry Heaven, tho it probably contains above Ten Thousand Millions of cubic German leagues.

not worth the sight.
68

In his ASTRONOMY how ripe his eye
Reaching to things beyond the stars! Alwayes
Exact in this no-vain

as some other Philosophy is call'd in Col. 2.8.

PHILOSOPHY,
That in all things he found his Makers

presentem docuit quælibet herba Deum. Any blade of grass shows that God is present.

praise.
Master of all the Arts that shew us what
Tis from each Bad unto each Good to goe;
To all his Knowledge last subjoyning that,

Socrates his Hoc tantum scio, me nihil scire. This only I know, that I know nothing.


All that I know is, that I nothing know.
For TEMPERANCE, he liv'd upon it, hee
Like Hooper spar'd much in his diet, more
In 's speech, but most in Time; the hateful Three
Fly-gods

the Pleasures, and Profits & Honours of the world, become the 3 Belzebubs of it, according to the Distich

Ambitiosus honos et opes et fæda voluptas,
Hæc tria pro trino Numine mundus habet.
Ambitious honor and riches and coarse desire,
These three the earth holds for the three divinities.

o' the' world mean while he car'd not for.
To Meat a

Dan. 1. 12.

Daniel; and a Rechabite

Jer. 35.6.


To Drink; like a John Baptist

Mat. 3.4.

in his Rayment;
His sleep, like David,

Psa. 119.62.

robbing in the Night;
Still putting Nature off with scanty payment.
Abstemious in all things at such a rate,
Some (like Eliza

K. Edw. VI. us'd to call the Princess Elizabeth, his Sister Temperance.

in her Brothers eyes,
Him Brother Temp'rance could denominate.
And Justice caus'd what e'er lookt otherwise.
For PATIENCE whole beds and loads of it
In his soul flourisht. What Affliction meant
He felt as much as most do talk, and yet
Groans might from him, but Grumbles

It was the sentence of a great Saint under great pain, I groan but do not grumble.

ne're be sent.
And under Provocation, 'twas a care
By him maintaind to smile Affronts away.
Not fireing when meer Cock-boats landed are,
Seldom decoy'd from his mild Yea, or Nay.
No Brother of Achilles;

whom Homer so often represents in fumes.

like unto
The Upper Regions free from Tempests; full
Of the doves temper: Able for to go
Over an Alphabet,

as was wont to do the Renowned Roman Emperour.

tho Anger pull.
His GODLINESS steer'd

allusion to Sola fit humanæ pietas cynosura carinæ. Piety alone becomes the constellation of the human ship.

all his motions still:
God had his thrice-hot

Amo te. Domine, plusquam meos, plusquam mea, plusquam me. Bern. I love you Lord, more than my family, more than my possessions, more than myself.

love, his life, his Whole:
Gods Honour was his End, and in the Will
Of God he moulded

all. to Rom. 6.17. gr.

his renewed soul.
69

His sev'rall Turns on a Religious threed
He sought to string: fixing that Motto on
What signal he in both his Callings did,
With much devotion, Lord

as he, Propter te, Domine, propter te. Because of you, Lord, because of you.

for thee alone.
How James-like were his

of whom Ecclesiastical History relates, that his hardned knees wore the Badges of his hard prayers.

Pray'rs, how did the word
Of Life, his heart Christs

as Jerome remarkt of his friend Nepotian.

Library affect!
What God-ward flames did his pure

Anima justi Cælum est. The soul of justice is the sky.

mind afford
Of any Ord'nance dreading a Neglect!
BROTHERLY-KINDNESS did procure the Law
Of Kindness in his

prov. 31.26.

lips, a Denison
Of Philædelphia

which name signifies brotherly love. Heb. 13.1. gr.

in him we saw;
Heir to the soul of the Apostle

of whom tis said that when through age he could do no more, he would give that short Lesson for a long Sermon to his congregation, my Children, love one another.

John.
A Zwinglian entire that ever said

a savory speech recorded of the famous Zwinglius.


Let me see Christ in anyone, I shall
Him with both Armes embrace. Whatever made
Distinctions, this with him removed all.
And CHARITY in him warm Beams extended
To all the Race of Man; Philanthropy
Him like a shaddow every where attended;
COLLINS made up of Love, we us'd to cry.
An Injury seldom resenting more
Than Cranmer or the Martyrologer

Holy Mr. Fox.


Who urn'd his Ashes, of whom tis notour,
Of good, for ill, Turns from them sure you were.
In fine, As the

Seneca.

Philosopher did give
His friend advice, suppose a Cato's eye
On you, and so be wise; when I would live
Uprightly, I'd imagine COLLINS by.
Thus was he for a Christian, and thus he
With Conversation lightned, every Deed
Of his in print a Sermon yeeldeth mee:

Ille pius pastor, quo non prestantior unus, Qui faciendo docet, quæ facienda docet. That pious pastor, whom no one is more distinguished than, who learned by doing, learns what must be done.


But now what as a Minister you'l heed.
Methinks I see how fraught the Pulpit was
Of Grace, of Gravity, of Wisdom, when
With most harmonious notes a Barnabas
He now was, and a Boanerges then:
70

How deep his Sermons were, where Elephants
Might take content, and yet withal how plain,
Suited unto the leather Dublet's Wants.
All in a near unimitable Strain:
What undasht

all. to 2. Cor. 2.17. gr.

wine he gave me: what a Zeal
For me consum'd him: how material
He was in Dispensations aim'd to heal
Distempers in me, yet how Spiritual:
He like an Ox was alwaies labouring
To feed me, but he like an Eagle

all. to those 2 creatures in Rev. 4.7. whereof by the former some will have the Pastor, & by the latter the Teacher of a Church to be meant.

too
Did soar to Pisgah's Top, from thence to bring
Celestial Visions pore-blind us unto.
One is a Doctor most

so Alexander Hales.

Invincible
Another most

so Bradwardine.

Profound, a Third is counted
A Subtil

so Scotus.

one; (Scholastic Records tell)
A Fourth

so Aquinas.

Angelical by none surmounted:
COLLINS was all of this. The noble

thus distinguished in an Epigram of Beza's.

Three
Geneva Crowns, enlightening Calvin, and
The thundring Farel join' auspiciouslie
With shouring Viret, here in one did stand.
For Memory almost a Seneca,

whose tenacious Memory is to all Ages memorable.


For Judgement and Fancy inferior
To few: in Learning rich, and ev'ry way
He was a furnisht Gospel-Orator.
How many

all. to Act 16.14.

Lydian-hearts reputed him
A Claviger,

an excellent Divine, the English of whose Name seems to be Key-carrier.

by him unlocked? To us
For Light giv'n to our House how much Esteem
He had as an

another, whose Name in likelyhood was House-Lamp.

Oecolampadius!
To save poor me and mine, Oh how severe

observing the Motto of the Emperour Severus, which was LABOREMUS. Observing the motto of Roman emperor L. Septimus Severus (A.D. 193–211) which was let us work hard.


His Labours were! how lasting his Renown
Must to my Offspring be, Once (saying) were
Doves eyes within the Locks of

all. to Cant. 4.1. where by those expressions some understand Christian Teachers surrounded with their believing Hearers.

Middletown!
My Neighbourhood shar'd with me too; he gave
Some Spirit unto them: and then his

One of his last Services was that he assisted in a Day of Prayer at New-Haven, immediately on which he sickned.

Haven
He chose: So on the Day

He died on a Sabbath Day about the beginning of the Morning Exercise.

we us'd to have
Heaven from him, from us he flew to Heaven.
71

The Age of Perkins

about 44.

just attaind, he thought
It time to follow him. But Why so fast?
The cause you know that of such things is brought
Belong'd to him, he only grew too fast.

Immodicis brevis est ætas et rara senectus. For the unrestrained a lifetime is brief and old age rare.


More would I say but Heart-corroding Anguish
Layes that check on me, you have lost him now.
Broken with thy big Loss dear Friend, I languish.
Hence would my Tears more than my River flow.
Now in Micaiahs Trance

1. King. 22.17.

I seem to see
For Food on mountains, wandring Shepherdless,
And Shiftless rambling, what belongs to me.
Wast Park of mine that now no Keeper has!
Lord, is my Night come shall Impenitent
Transgressours now continue so? Shall it
Upon my Meeting-House, while men repent,
This and that man born here

allusion to Psal. 87.5.

no more be writ?
Shall a forsaken now Society
Without its Head, its Heart, its Eyes remain?
And like Isaiah's woful Vineyard ly

all. to Isai. 5.


With with'ring Grapes abandon'd by the Rain?
O Ghastly Omens! if Paræus dy
Let Heidleberge look to't. If Austin go
Let Hippo tremble. If Elisha fly

2. King. 15.20. 'Tis one of the Jewish Oracles, Quando Luminaira patiuntur Eclipsin, malum est signum mundo. When the windows suffer an eclipse, it is an evil sign for the world.


After his Master, next year brings a wo.
I fear of both sorts now

Some have observed, that the Death of a faithful Minister in a place where he hath done God much service, is oft attended with a great Mortality among other persons in that place. I. Collins. Elijahs Lamentation, p. 18.

Mortalities,
Of Famines too I fear the

See Amos 8.11.

worst, I fear
The Gallop of no less Calamities
Then can be wrap'd in a pale Comets Hair.
Amidst these hideous Frights perplext, I mourn
With Incohærent Throbs you see. Now tell me
Whether it be not just that thus forlorn
I here bewail this that has late befel me.
SHE said; Her heavy words were hardly out
When, as one planet-struck, a doleful shout
Of the surviving COLLINSes detaind
Me from Replies to what had been complain'd.
72

To fill the Stage there seem'd to throng a croud
Of his Relations to us. First aloud
His Aged Parents with drench'd Hankerchiefs
Saw and had cause thus to proclaim their Griefs:
A Son, our Staff and

A Bird fam'd for its regard to its Dam.

Stork; (said they) A Son,
Our Benjamin, Alas, must he be gone
To his Long-Home before us? Heaven more
May now be Heaven to us than before.
Farewel, thou world of

One of the most splendid Cities wherein, is hence appositely term'd Lutetia.

Dirt; we meekly wait
But for a

Vitam habentes in patientia, Mortem in desiderio. Holding life in resignation, death in desire.

Call too. This deplored: Straight
His Brethren not as a

See Jer. 22.17.

Jehoiakim
But as a

v.2. Sam. I.17.

Jonathan, bemoaned him,
With this, We live to see the Joseph die,
Whom we thought born for our Adversity!
His Widdow then, (the tender Whiting swam
Thro' the Black

all. to the Mare mortuum. Allusion to the dead sea.

sea of Death to us) I came
(Said She) to bear a part with you. But I
Must in deep Silence do't. That ev'ry Sigh
Of mine—O that it Marbles might erect
To him, for lack of whom I'm thus deject.
And then his Orphans, all ensabled add
O could be say—that once a Father had,
A Father whose paternal over-sight
Did make us over happy, whose Delight
Was in our Welfare, whose Behaviours
Still taught us—Mercy! what a loss is our's!
In this Distraction mixing once again
A Consolation-cup;

such the Jews were wont to have at their Funerals.

Thick Mists amain
About us gathering; a Murmur there
Of the blest Shade himself we then might hear.
FOND Mortals; wipe your eyes (said he) pray keep
That liquor for your selves.

all. to Luk. 23.28.

poor Envy 'tis
Which prompts your Threnodies for me. To weep
For my Sake, is but to Ignore my Bliss.
O what a world of smoke of dust of Folly
Am I sayl'd

all. to Phil. 1.23. where to depart, is by some translated to loose Anchor.

from! No sin shall me annoy,
73

And no Temptation more to be unholy
Shall e'er molest me in my Masters JOY.
I have my Ragged mantle dropt; I have
All Vanity and all Vexation

Mors Beatitudinis principium, Laborum meta, peremptoria peccatorum, Aug. Death is the beginning of blessedness, the goal of hardships, the destruction of sins.


Escap'd, my Clay safe kept within a Grave
Preserv'd lies for the Resurrection.
No Cross

Christ & his Cross part at Heavens door, for there's no room for Crosses in Heaven. Rutherf. Epist.

shall ever gall my shoulders more,
From God, correcting my disorders, and
No Club e're strike me, red with ancient Gore,
Still by each Cain

Caini adhuc clavus Abelis sanguine rubens ubique circumfertur. Bucholtz. Thus far the club of Cain red with the blood of Abel was carried around everywhere.

retained in his hand.
I'm got within the Vail, and there I see
The ever-glorious Face of the

The Heaven of Heaven, pourtray'd in Joh. 17.24.

GOD-MAN;
And He with Transports doth convey to me
As much of GOD as entertain I can.
I Know, I Live, I Love; But How? forbear
To be inquisitive: It can't be told
To you; No, tho you all

skil'd in the language which bold conjectures think to be Heavens Dialect.

Hebricians

One versed in Hebrew; a Hebrew scholar.

were:
Nor can shell-vessels

all. to 2 Cor. 4.7. gr.

this things meaning hold.
I find besides my loving Guardians here,
Here the Good Angels that convey'd me thro'
The Divel-haunted-Dungeon-Atmosphere,

the territories whereto the apostate troops of Lucifer seem to be confined, from Eph. 2.2.


To mine annext their Hallelujahs do.
Here, me the Chorus of the glorify'd,
The polisht

all. to 1 Cor. 5.5.

stones, now in the Temple plac't
The twice cloath'd

all. to 2. ibid. where an upper garment of glory is engaged to the souls on which an under garment of grace is wrought with the Eternal Spirits Needlework.

Souls, salute on ev'ry side;
I see Nathaneel

v. Joh. 1.47.

here, I know the rest.
Be glad that I am here, and after hye,
Your selves with diligence, all posting hither,
Precepts and Patterns left, my Counsels eye,
And Copyes, so we shall be soon together.

a thing rationally sung by the German Swan the night before he died.


Souls, follow me. Anon the Stars, the Sands.
The Atoms of the Universe—a Scrol
Like Heaven fill'd with Nines, for cypher stands,
Compar'd to the Long joyes

a line purposely too long for the verse, but too short not [several words in original unreadable] shaddow of ETERNITY.

that over us may roll.
74

A PERIOD this puts to the Tragedy.
He vanisht; They retir'd; confused I
Now quite alone, have nothing else to do,
But to pour out a short Hosannah to
The Worlds Almighty GOVERNOUR to where
On this account now these Petitions come
From lifted Hands, and bended Knees—
Dread Lord,
By whom vast hosts of Beings with a Word
Are made and mov'd: Let they much-hop'd Salvation
Shield us, like Walls from much-fear'd Desolation.
O Save New-Englands Churches; Let them be
Still golden Candlesticks, belov'd by thee,
Still Puritans; Still Iv'ry Pallaces.
Keep up the Quickset Hedge about them; Please
To keep the gladsome Streams of them alive.
Save Middletown, and cause the Place to thrive
Under Fat Clouds still, and that Bochim let
By thy Provision be a Bethel yet.
Save ev'ry soul that reads this Elegy;
Like COLLINS let us live, like COLLINS dy. AMEN.
Sic mihi contingat vivere sicque mori.
Sic optat,
Qui longe sequitur vestigia semper adorans.
Qualis vita, ita.

May it befall me thus to live and thus to die
Thus he desires,
Who always worshipping follows far the footsteps.
Such a life, thus.


An ELEGY Upon the DEATH of Mrs. MARY BROWN; Who Dyed in Travail, (with her Unborn Child;) On Dec. 26. 1703.Ætatis Suæ 35.

Monopolizing HEE's, pretend no more
Of Wit and Worth, to Hoard up all the store.
The Females too grow Wise & Good & Great;
Some such in happy Salem find a Seat.
Beware, my Sex, lest Females Win the Day,
75

And Shame Us with reviv'd Hybristica.
Plutarch, Return to Life, and Write agen,
Of Womens Virtues, to Upbraid the Men.
When Vertuous Women are in Books Enroll'd,
Let our bright MARY's Name and Fate be told.
Of Glorious Women, O Great Hottinger,
In thy brave Catalogue, make Room for her.
America thanks Europe, and does boast
Her sending such a Gem unto our Coast.
Come hither, You that the fair Sex reproach;
Confuted now, no more your Scandals broach.
ONE rescues here the Fame of all the Sex;
And will your Contradicted Envy Vex.
With no Sett-Offs, but Truth in every Line,
We do Delineate our Heroine.
Grammar makes TRUTH, a SHEE; we shall with care
Nothing but very Truth of Her declare.
TRUTH, Thou shalt be my Muse, and first relate
How MARY Shone first in her Virgin-State.
To Learn or Do some Good thing every Day
Was the Prime Study of this Agatha.
Ambitious Early to Enjoy a Mind,
From Earth, and Foggy Ignorance refin'd.
A Bible, not Romance, her Eyes before,
Then daily help'd her Heaven to implore.
Tutors one never more obedient saw;
Their Word, their very Look, She made her Law.
To fill her Soul with high Attainments, Shee
Gladly Out-Labour'd the Industrious Bee.
No Hind Let Loose; but Guarded well, and grave;
Most Goodly Words, yet our Eulalia gave.
Not Confident; Like Damsels which their Chin.
Contrive more than their Tongue, to Bridle in.
Not of the Gadding Tribe; nor could She bear,
So Chast! the least Indecent Thing to hear.
With still a Silent Blush, her Rising Blood
Spoke in her Face, Care to be very Good.
Pale with the Fear of doing ill, and Red
With Modesty, was all the Paint She had.
Go on, dear TRUTH, charge once Truth-Speaking Fame
76

To Tell whose Wife, & What She then became.
BROWN to the Lottery of Worth drew near;
He drew a Prize, a matchless Prize, in Her.
Not Wealth, but Solid Worth, in her he sees;
He see's Rich Vertues, and is charm'd with these.
O Parents, Pity the fond Sons of Men,
And your fair Daughters well adorn for them.
With Useful Knowledge fraight their Tender Souls;
Why should they Empty be, but Noisy Fools?
Teach them the Skill an House to Guide & Feed,
And with Kind Mates and Easy Life to Lead.
Goodness to them, and all Good Humour Show;
The Pious Parents Shap'd their MARY so.
The Wretch that is alone to Mammon Wed,
May chance to find a Satan in the Bed.
She's Rich! That's all they say on her behalf:
Her Gold you Worship, and a Golden Calf.
Wink hard and Wed; a Bag and Baggage too,
In Markets often do together go.
Who by meer Hundreds and by Thousands choose,
A Thousand tis to One, themselves they loose.
The Rigging of the Ship; the Tear & Wear,
Will soon cost more than all She brought with her.
Why should her Dress Ensnare? Tis dearly bought:
Poor Woodcocks that are in a Ribbon caught.
Or why her Dance bewitch? Upon an head
Not like John Baptists, her Light Feet shall tread.
BROWN Steer'd not so; He ask'd, A Vertuous Wife,
The Soul, and Salt, and Joy of Humane Life.
A Vertuous Wife, Heav'n did on BROWN bestow;
So Heav'n Rewards its Favourites below.
A Wife indeed! Which now so few attain,
Some are so; and thou MARY in the Van.
Happy the Women were, and Happy too
The Husbands, if the Sex were more like YOU.
Oh! Would they Carriage from your Conduct learn;
Be Neat; but make their Soul, their main concern.
Her BROWN, how did She Love, & please & prize;
And Saw none but that Covering of her Eyes!
The Persian Law, She would not Alter too,
That Wives give to their Husbands Honour due.
Blame not the Rabbi's now for what they Write,
77

How Heav'n did Adam and Eve, at first Unite.
Two Bodies then if Heav'n in One did frame,
Two Souls here met in One united Flame.
Sir, Tho' you Cloath'd her as you Lov'd her, well,
She would of You, more than her Cloathing tell.
So Philo's Wife, with mean Array Content,
Her Husbands Worth, call'd Her best Ornament.
Had you been Lame, She'd been the Herpine, who
In Arms a Thousand Miles had carried You.
Or had it been your Hap to first Expire,
She had felt more than Portia's Coals of Fire.
When did She ever once your Patience try,
Or make an Head-Ake in the Family!
Yes, Once at Last; She did your Love offend;
T'was by her Death; but never, Sir, till then!
Martyr of Love to You, Lov'd Rachel Dyed;
And what must now dear BENJAMIN betide?
How many means black Death at once to kill?
She felt Two Death's, and YOU a Thousand feel.
BROWN and his Bride with Vertuous Love display
How Christ does Love, and how his Church obey.
Why did'st thou Father Jerom, say, that Strife
Must be Essential to the Married Life?
Here was a pair, the only Strife of whom
Was who should in their Goodness overcome.
Oh come, Tertullian; Teach me to declare,
The Happiness of such an Happy Pair!
Ye Popish Dogs, At Marriage bark no more;
Unclean so Devils burn, and Single Roar.
Marriage, That Honourable Chastity,
Let none but Filthy Antichrist decry.
But tell, fair TRUTH; for thou hast more to tell:
What MARY was; Not, where's a Parallel!
Her Beauty let Agrippa's Pen define:
Call it, A Lovely Ray of Light Divine;
A Soul of Heav'nly Lustre Shining thro'
An Earthly Lanthorn of a Glorious hue.
A Body of a Frame so fine and Rare,
When was there Matter seen to Thought so near?
(So Fair; but not Enslav'd unto the Smoke
Pip'd by the Dames under the Indian Yoke!)
78

But NOYES, except Thou do a Pencil find,
None can Paint out the Beauty of her Mind.
Unbodied Vertue She; The Spangled Sphere
Look'd for her, and such Lustre must be there.
A Patch'd Face could not suit so sound an Heart,
Spotts to the Skin clear Souls do not impart.
Sincere; She Paint abhorr'd; a Jezabel
May Paint, but Meat unto the Doggs she fell.
Prudence the Mother of all Vertues here,
Before She was a Mother came to Her.
The Harmless Dove nothing of Serpent had,
But Prudence for to serve and help her Head.
By the Polestar of Piety She Steer'd;
And no mishaps but those of Sin She fear'd.
When JESUS call'd, His Mary came to Him,
Clasping the Feet that came her to Redeem.
With Tears to Channels of Repentance turn'd,
Faults known to none but Heav'n & Her, She mourn'd.
And yet these Lovely Pearls, her Tears, She thought
Must to her Saviours Cleansing Blood be brought.
The Worlds base Idols, her brave Soul despis'd
And what the World Adores She Sacrific'd.
CHRIST ask'd the Heart of Her for whom He dy'd;
Great LORD, I'm thine! Her conquer'd Heart reply'd.
His Righteousness alone She chose for that
Wherein to Stand before His Judgment Seat:
To that Kind Shepherd, gladly She Resign'd
To Lead and Rule by Grace her Lamb-like Mind.
Her Hands to God oft Lift in fervent Prayer,
(Hands in Redeeming Blood well Whit'ned) were.
When the rare Pastors had their Sermons done,
Her Doing was, the Repetition.
Banquets not in the Hall, but at the Door
She still preferr'd, there for to feed the Poor.
Her old Cloaths, on the Poor, a Neater Shew
She judg'd, they made than on her Self her New.
Ye Writers on the Decalogue, Stand by;
Durham and all the rest, shall Needless ly:
The Life we saw our pious MARY Live,
A Commentary to the Life, did give.
But Oh! the Fourth!—Tell, How She Sabbatiz'd;
And how the Rapt'rous Day She spent and priz'd.
79

The Day of God, which all our other Dayes
As worth Ten Thousand of them all, do praise;
The Day which all Enlightned minds confess,
The Day-break of Eternal Blessedness;
The Day; Incomparable Day; so fair
None among all Times flying Children are:
The Map of Heaven, the Light of Earth, or which
God from Deep Treasures does our Souls Enrich.
She Lov'd the Day, She Lov'd the LORD, of whom
The Day proclaim'd his Rising from the Tomb.
MARY this Day knew what it was to have
Joy in a JESUS Rising from the Grave.
Bright Day, Thou Soul of Piety; we see
All True Religion Lives or Dyes with thee.
My Heroine saw this, and kept the Day;
This was, or None, She saw, to Heav'n the way.
Vain Things Lay by; but with a Zealous Heart,
Now MARY chose and sought the Better part.
So on THIS DAY at last She must Expire,
And to a Sacred Rest with CHRIST Retire.
The Seventh and the Sacred Day, the Dove
Takes for her Flight unto the Ark above.
O Chrysostom, Revoke thy gross Abuse;
How could a Golden Mouth such Dross produce?
A WOMAN, as True Friendships Enemy,
True Evil but Good painted, to decry?
What Mother had the Father op'ning thus?
Or was he but a Terræ Filius?
An Admirable MARY does refute
The Clamour, and strike Ev'ry Satyr mute.
But stay; Bold Quill; Touch not that String too Long
Lest Length may do at Length her Vertue wrong.
Who knew her need no Verse of mine; for they
Know more than my Imperfect Verse can say.
Who knew her not, will vainly think that none
Can say beyond that which by me was known.
My Pen so Silenc'd will by Silence speak
It self to Celebrate her Praise too weak.
Tell only What's her Fate, or, That She's Dead;
Twill be impossible then to proceed.
80

A BIRTH of One, to Both a Death becomes;
A Breathless Mother the Dead Child Entomb's.
Sad Fate! But for another BIRTH we wait:
She and her Infant, will be Twins in That.
With Tears that cannot stop, till then we must
Behold a Diamond Lying in the Dust.

A Lacrymatory: Design'd for the Tears let fall at the Funeral of Mrs. SARAH LEVERET; Who Dy'd 2d. 11 M. 1704,5.

Flow on, Just Tears, and let such Dues be paid:
Tears were at first, for these Occasions made.
Long did I Vex in Vain at Stupid Man,
That e're Men found out Painting, so long Ages ran.
Fain would I Painted to the Life have seen
The Heroines that in past Times have been.
O could we Present that bright SARAH View,
Who Mortals charm'd, and who pleas'd Angels too.
Or that brave MIRIAM, She of whom tis said,
The Israels Daughters in Devotions Led:
Could glorious DEBORAH appear agen,
And to true Glory Quicken Slothful Men:
Could Prayerful Hannah once again be shown,
Prostrate in Prayer's before the Sapphire Throne:
Could Pious MARY with her inward worth,
And all her Piety again come forth:
We'd Love the Painter, and admire the skill;
But tis our Grief, we want that Painting Still.
And courteous Dorcas, we complain of Thee
We can't thy Face wrought with thy Needle see.
But now there is an end of all complaints;
ONE Matron gives a sight of all the Saints.
Our LEV'RET is of all a curious Draught:
Oh! what an one! by what fine Pencil wrought
So on one Cherry-Stone, true Fame avers,
Vienna showes an Hundred Pourtraiters.
81

So Hamborough does of an Agate tell,
Where Europes Princely Faces all do dwell.
The Siamese their Golden Image prize
Whose Price does to Twelve Million Livres rise.
VIRTUE a Nobler Image did Erect
In our Incomparable LEVERET.
Vain Jews, The Palaces no more Divide
Where Holy Women do in Heav'n reside:
Four Præsidents assign to them no more;
Or say, a Fifth's now added to the Four.
She shall be Ours on Earth at least; and we
By this our HULDAH will directed be.
You, Ladies, that were Tutoresses to
The Ancient Sages, did, what she shall do.
‘O VIRGINS worthy of the Zodiack, Love
‘Those Objects first and most, that are Above.
‘Be first Espous'd unto the mighty LORD,
‘On Terms propos'd in his most Sacred Word.
‘Walk not with them whose Folly leads to Hell;
‘By awful Modesty rude Fools repell.
‘Let not Vile Books your blooming years deprave,
‘But Books of Grace let your perusal have.
‘Rather to Churches than to Balls repair;
‘Perfume you Closets too with Daily Prayer.
‘Foul Cards let your Fair Hands throw by with Scorn
‘But Write and Work as for high purpose born.
‘Let pearly Tears (at which lewd wretches scoff)
‘Of Penitence wash your Black Patches off.
Dress well; Flant not too high; nor Change too fast.
Wear what shall speak you Sober, Wise and Chast,
And in a Body clad with comely Dress,
Soul drest with rich Robes of Righteousness.
Thus did our admirable SARAH: Thus
Of Virgin-Grace a mould she left for us.
Her Matchless Merits now prepared her
To be a Match for a great GOVERNOUR.
Him Sarah call'd Her Lord: Himself to please
She sought: And saw none but her Tygranes.
The Colony in her sweet carriage saw
What made in every House a Persian Law.
A Wife so lovely, so discreet and kind;
How Bles'd of God, the Man that shall her find!
82

Rise up, Her Daughters, and with Grace Repeat,
How she did You with constant Wisdom treat.
Do what she did for You; And still Retain
What she gave You of Tincture in the Grain.
O Happy Chickens! [Those we Happy sing;]
Whom such a Dam warms with her Tender Wing.
She must a Widow too Example give
How in a Patient Widow-Hood to live.
Dead her Patricius Twenty years and five,
Deathless did in his moaning Dove Survive.
Her Maker now she did her Husband make:
Such Souls in Him can full contentment take.
With Famous Women let our SARAH claim
For best endowments an Immortal Name.
Hippatia taught of old the Liberal Arts:
But Ours the Art of managing our Hearts.
Eudoxia Glosses on the Bible wrote;
But Ours a Gloss in her pure practice brought.
Rosuida wrote the Lives of worthy Men:
Ours liv'd one Worthy to be wrote by them.
With Zealous Visits to the House of God,
A mansion there she chose for her Abode.
Her Fervent Zeal would overcome the Cold:
No Storms from Coming there could her withold.
Ye, Men of God, Your Funeral-Sermons owe
For Her who Sermons those Regards did show.
You have in Her an Auditory gone,
A Full one t'was, if she were there Alone.
Good Lady, Tell us now that Secret Rare;
Rare like the Stone of the Philosopher:
A Life of Ten Times Seven Years to run.
And all that while to be Reproach'd by None.
None You Reproach'd, But every Person knew
What Good You could, You'd every Person do
There Madam, lay Your Skill: By Goodness tis
We charm fell Serpents, that they cannot hiss.
Till grown for Earth too Good, on Earth she grew
Heav'n claim'd her then: and then to Heav'n she flew.
Luxurious Death; such Pearls to Swallow thus!
Fam'd Cleopatra's Draught was less profuse.
You rash Astronomers, the Stars miscall,
A Dog you style the brightest of them all.
Correct an Error which You find so Great;
83

Your Sirius now shall be a LEVERET.
Else the most Fulgid Lamp, which Heav'n did show
And then took in an Hundred Years ago,
Now She's got there, will once again appear,
And radiant Sit in Cassiopea's Chair.
Lacrymatories, which Reserv'd of old
Tears for the Dead, were Viols (as we're told:)
Our LEVERET is Lost; we'l Weep for her
Tears that shall fill the Tun of Heidelbergh.

On the GRAVES, OF MY Young Brethren,

[Carent quia vate Sacro.]

Because they lack a sacred poet.

Graves! Where in Dust are laid our dearest Hopes!
Pay, Passengers, your Tributary Drops.
Your Tears Allow'd, yea, Hallowed now become,
Since Tears were drop't by JESUS on a Tomb.
Churches, Weep on; & Wounded yield your Tears;
Tears use to flow from hack't New-English Firrs.
Zion, Thy Sons are gone; Tho' men might see
This and that Man, brave Men, were born in thee.
Tell, what they were; Let thy True Trumpet tell
Truth of the Sons of Truth, and how they fell.
Sure, when our Sev'n did to their Seats retire,
Th' Harmonious Nine did not with them expire.
Smooth Numbers first were form'd for Themes like these;
T' immortalize deserving Memories.
First, What they were not, Say; for they were Not
Such as their Mother might account a Blot.
Not such as to the Sacred Priest-hood fly,
Meerly as to a Craft, to Live thereby.
Not, who at Church seem Serious and Demure,
But out of it, no Strictness can Endure.
Not those who dare Jest with Gods awful Word
And Lewdly can Play with the Flaming Sword.
84

Not the Black Folks, where nothing White we know
But what an Open'd Mouth may chance to show.
Not Snuffs, instead of Stars; (the Room, no doubt,
Would Sweeter be, if Such were turned out.)
Not Blind-men, [So the Talmuds reckon them!]
Who Dark themselves, hold Lights to other men.
Not Lads, whom for their Levity alone
The Punning Tribe, De Tribu Levi, own.
Not who to Pulpits hop Unfledg'd, and there
Talk twice a Week, and Preach not once a year.
Not those who do the Pious Neighbour Shun,
But to the Wicked Sons of Belial run.
Not those who hate their Work, as Boyes the Rod,
And hate and flout Laborious Men of God.
If such there are; Take, Lord, thy Holy Scourge,
And from such Nusances, thy Temple Purge!
Not such my Sons; by Zion so we're told;
Sons comparable to the Finest Gold.
But, What they were, Fair Lady, canst thou say,
What thy Lost Seven, and not faint away!
For with her Seven Sons, and such as these,
Dy'd the brave Mother of the Maccabees.
Mirrours of Piety they were, and knew
Betimes, how to be Wise and Good and True.
Early the Larks Praise to their Maker Sung;
So Saint Macarius, Old while very Young.
The Towns to which they did their Toyls dispense,
Them their Bright Glory thought, & Strong Defence.
The Tears of their Bereaved Flocks Proclame
More than could Marble Pyramids their Name.
These were N. Englands Pride; But Humbly Show'd
Men might be so, and not themselves be Proud.
Dryden Sayes, Look the Reformation round,
No Treatise of Humility is found.
Dryden, Thou Ly'st; They Write, and more than so.
They Live Humility; they can be low.
Low these were always in their own Esteem,
But the more highly we Esteemed them.
Low-roof'd the Temples, but more Stately than
St. Sophy's, built by Great Justinian,
The Proud might trample on them as on Earth,
85

But glorious Mines of Worth lay underneath.
First they did all to Kiriath-Sepher go;
And then a Church did Heav'n on them bestow.
By Learning first their Lamps were made to Blaze;
And Incense each then on the Altar layes.
The Liberal Arts they knew; but understood
Most Thine, Great Antonine; That, [To be Good.]
And Good to Do, This was their main Delight;
For This they did all Youths vain Pleasure Sleight.
While such rare Youths must Dy, no Lawyers wit
(Not Asgils) can abate Death's Fatal Writ.
Must such see but a Finger of the Span
That is to measure the Frail Life of man!
Yet we'l demand Eternity for them;
And they shall Live too in Eternal Fame.
Reckon, O Jews, your Priestly Blemishes,
Forty above an Hundred, if you please:
A Priest for each of these did lose his call;
But Ours to all appear'd still free from all.
The Power of your fine Loadstones, wondrous Great,
Report, ye Masters of the Cabinet:
Loadstones in weight a Dram; well-Shodden they
Pull up what near Two Hundred Drams will weigh.
Our Potent Loadstones more attractive were;
And more the Sphere of their Activity extended far.
Now, Pancirol, upon my honest Word,
The Lost Sepulchral Lamps, are Now Restor'd.
Our Saints, to whom do Serve as Oyl, our Tears,
Bright Lamps, they glare still in their Sepulchres.
My CLARK was One. And such a Clark as he
Synods of Angels would take Theirs to be.
Faintly to Praise a Youth of such Desert,
Were but to Shoot indeed vile Slanders Dart.
See but his Wasted Flesh; T'was Flaming Zeal
That Melted him: The Flame is burning still.
Methinks I see his Ravish'd Hearers wait
And long to hear still his next Heav'nly Treat.
Look; The Fat Cloud, what Oracles he pours
On Thirsty Souls in most Expedient Showres!
His Preaching much, but more his Practice wrought
A Living Sermon of the Truths he Taught.
86

So all might See the Doctrines which they Heard,
And way to Application fairly clear'd.
Strong were the Charms of that Sinceritie
Which made his Works well with his Words agree.
Painter, Thy Pencils take. Draw first, a Face
Shining, (but by himself not seen) with Grace.
An Heav'n touch'd Eye, where [what of Kens is told]
One might, MY GOD, in Capitals behold.
A Mouth, from whence a Label shall proceed,
And [O LOVE CHRIST] the Motto to be Read.
An Hand still open to relieve the Poor,
And by Dispersing to increase the Store.
Such was my CLARK; so did he Look, and so
Much more than Look, or Speak, so did he Do.
Botanists, Boast your Palm-Tree, whence arise
More than Three Hundred rich Commodities.
Write, Persian Poet, that brave Tree to Praise,
As many Songs as in the year be Dayes.
My CLARK more Vertues had; So must the Tree
Too rich for Earth, to Heav'n transplanted be.
HUBBARD Another. When the Youth they saw,
So Wise, Their Love he challeng'd, & their Awe.
Older Spectators fed their wondring Eyes,
With Love, to see Young Children grow so Wise.
Envy her self grew weary of her Gall,
And gave Consent, he should be Lov'd by all.
The Pastoral of Gregory the Great,
Won't Say how well he fill'd the Pastors Seat.
In Saving Souls his Happy Hours he spent,
And Preach'd Salvation wheresoe're he went.
A Cassius, whom the Hearers did attend,
With constant Fear, that he would make an End.
His Life a Letter, where the World might Spell
Great Basils Morals, and his Death the Seal.
The Graces which were Sparks on Earth below,
To Glorious Flames in Heav'n they now do grow.
Oh! Should a Star drop from the Sky to us,
We should with Reverence admire it thus!
For such a Child of Jacob there Unite
Th' Egyptian Weeping with the Israelite.
So has his After-Beams the Setting Sun;
Tho' he be Set, his Splendor is not gone.
87

Adieu, My CLARK, my HUBBARD, thus Adieu;
A Pair well Parallel'd we had in you.
Grave Plutarch, Hadst thou Liv'd till now, the Pair
Would have Engross'd thy Pen, they Look so fair.
Such Gifts as these, by Heav'n bestow'd on Men,
Must just be Show'n, and then call'd back agen!
Lord, Why so soon, such Fruitful Trees cut down!
No Wood of Such, was on the Altar known.
Trees not cut down, [the Glorious Answer is,]
But all Translated into Paradise.
From the Quick Seizure of the greedy Grave
Her Darling Sons my Country cannot Save.
But, Grave, Thou shalt not so thy Prey consume,
As ever Buried in Oblivions Womb.
Thus Thetis Comforted her Short-Liv'd Son,
Dy Young, Long shalt thou be Admir'd when Dead & Gone.
One of the Pleiades long since withdrew.
And Heav'n but Six, does of the Seven shew.
If all the rest should chance to hide their Face,
My Seven Stars may well Supply their Place.
Now, hold, my Pen; Plato of old would have
But Four Heroick Lines upon a Grave.
Help me, my God, at Work like them to be;
And take their Deaths as Watch-words unto me.

Ex Paulini Panegyrico in Obitum Celsi.

Heu, quid agam? Dubia Pendens Pietate Laboro,
Gratuler an Doleam? Dignus utroque Puer.
Cujus Amor Lacrymas et Amor mihi Gaudia Suadet;
Sed Gaudere Fides, Flere jubet Pietas.
Tam Modicum Patribus, tam dulci e pigmore Fructum
Defleo in Exiguo Temporis esse datum.
Lætor Obisse brevi functum Mortalia Seclo,
Ut cito divinas Consequeretur Opes.

From the Panegyric of Paulinus on the Death of Celsus. The Latin may be translated:

Oh what shall I do? With wavering piety I am troubled considering,
Should I give thanks or grieve? The boy is deserving of both.
Love for him moves me to tears and joy;
But Faith orders me to rejoice, Piety to weep.
So moderate a profit from so sweet a pledge
I bewail in the small extent of time has been given to the fathers.
I rejoice that he, who suffered his mortal trials in a brief lifetime, died.
That he might quickly obtain divine riches.


88

GRATITUDINIS ERGO, An ESSAY on the Memory of my Venerable MASTER; Ezekiel Cheever.

Augusto perstringere Carmine Laudes,
Quas nulla Eloquij vis Celebrare queat.
To bind with an august song praises,
Which no power of eloquence is able to honor.


You that are Men & Thoughts of Manhood know,
Be Just now to the Man that made you so.
Martyred by Scholars the stabb'd Cassian dies.
And falls to cursed Lads a Sacrifice.
Not so my CHEEVER; Not by Scholars slain,
But Prais'd, and Lov'd, and wish'd to Life again.
Almighty Tribe of Well-instructed Youth
Tell what they owe to him, and Tell with Truth.
All the Eight parts of Speech he taught to them
They now Employ to Trumpet his Esteem.
They fill Fames Trumpet, and they spread a Fame
To last till the Last Trumpet drown the same.
Magister pleas'd them well, because 'twas he;
They saw that Bonus did with it agree.
While they said, Amo, they the Hint improve
Him for to make the Object of their Love.
No Concord so Inviolate they knew
As to pay Honours to their Master due.
With Interjections they break off at last,
But, Ah, is all they use, Wo, and, Alas!
We Learnt Prosodia, but with that Design
Our Masters Name should in our Verses shine.
Our Weeping Ovid but instructed us
To write upon his Death, De Tristibus.
Tully we read, but still with this Intent,
That in his praise we might be Eloquent.
Our Stately Virgil made us but Contrive
As our Anchises to keep him Alive,
When Phænix to Achilles was assign'd
A Master, then we thought not Homer blind.
A Phænix, which Oh! might his Ashes shew!
So rare a Thing we thought our Master too.
And if we made a Theme, 'twas with Regret
89

We might not on his Worth show all our Wit.
Go on, ye Grateful Scholars, to proclame
To late Posterity your Masters Name.
Let it as many Languages declare
As on Loretto-Table do appear.
Too much to be by any one exprest:
I'll tell my share, and you shall tell the rest.
Ink is too vile a Liquor; Liquid Gold
Should fill the Pen, by which such things are told.
The book should Amyanthus-Paper be
All writ with Gold, from all corruption free.
A Learned Master of the Languages
Which to Rich Stores of Learning are the Keyes;
He taught us first Good Sense to understand
And put the Golden Keyes into our Hand,
We but for him had been for Learning Dumb,
And had a sort of Turkish Mutes become.
Were Grammar quite Extinct, yet at his Brain
The Candle might have well been lit again.
If Rhet'rick had been stript of all her Pride
She from his Wardrobe might have been Supply'd.
Do but Name CHEEVER, and the Echo straight
Upon that Name, Good Latin, will Repeat.
A Christian Terence, Master of the File
That arms the Curious to Reform their Style.
Now Rome and Athens from their Ashes rise;
See their Platonick Year with vast surprise:
And in our School a Miracle is Wrought;
For the Dead Languages to Life are brought.
His Work he Lov'd: Oh! had we done the same:
Our Play-dayes still to him ungrateful came.
And yet so well our Work adjusted Lay,
We came to Work, as if we came to Play.
Our Lads had been, but for his wondrous Cares,
Boyes of my Lady Mores unquiet Pray'rs.
Sure were it not for such informing Schools,
Our Lat'ran too would soon be fill'd with Owles.
Tis CORLET's pains, & CHEEVER's, we must own,
That thou, New-England, art not Scythia grown.
The Isles of Silly had o're-run this Day
The Continent of our America.
Grammar he taught, which 'twas his work to do:
But he would Hagar have her place to know.
90

The Bible is the Sacred Grammar, where
The Rules of speaking well, contained are.
He taught us Lilly, and he Gospel taught;
And us poor Children to our Saviour brought.
Master of Sentences, he gave us more
Then we in our Sententia had before.
We Learn't Good Things in Tullies Offices;
But we from him Learn't Better things than these.
With Cato's he to us the Higher gave
Lessons of JESUS, that our Souls do save.
We Constru'd Ovid's Metamorphosis,
But on our selves charg'd, not a Change to miss.
Young Austin wept, when he saw Dido dead,
Tho' not a Tear for a Lost Soul he had:
Our Master would not let us be so vain,
But us from Virgil did to David train,
Textors Epistles would not Cloathe our Souls;
Pauls too we heard; we went to School at Pauls.
Syrs, Do you not Remember well the Times,
When us he warn'd against our Youthful Crimes:
What Honey dropt from our old Nestors mouth
When with his Counsels he Reform'd our Youth:
How much he did to make us Wise and Good;
And with what Prayers, his work he did conclude.
Concern'd, that when from him we Learning had,
It might not Armed Wickedness be made!
The Sun shall first the Zodiac forsake,
And Stones unto the Stars their Flight shall make:
First shall the Summer bring large drifts of Snow,
And beauteous Cherries in December grow;
E're of those Charges we Forgetful are
Which we, O man of God, from thee did hear.
Such Tutors to the Little Ones would be
Such that in Flesh we should their Angels see,
Ezekiel should not be the Name of such;
We'd Agathangelus not think too much,
Who Serv'd the School, the Church did not forget,
But Thought, and Pray'd, and often wept for it.
Mighty in Prayer: How did he wield thee, Pray'r!
Thou Reverst Thunder: CHRIST's-Sides-piercing Spear?
Soaring we saw the Birds of Paradise;
So Wing'd by Thee, for Flights beyond the Skies.
How oft we saw him tread the Milky Way,
91

Which to the Glorious Throne of Mercy lay!
Come from the Mount, he shone with ancient Grace.
Awful the Splendor of his Aged Face
Cloath'd in the Good Old Way, his Garb did wage
A War with the Vain Fashions of the Age.
Fearful of nothing more than hateful Sin;
'Twas that from which he laboured all to win,
Zealous; And in Truths Cause ne'r known to trim;
No Neuter Gender there allow'd by him.
Stars but a Thousand did the Ancients know;
On later Globes they Nineteen hundred grow:
Now such a CHEEVER added to the Sphere;
Makes an Addition to the Lustre there.
Mean time America a Wonder saw;
A Youth in Age, forbid by Natures Law.
You that in t'other Hemisphere do dwell,
Do of Old Age your dismal Stories tell.
You tell of Snowy Heads and Rheumy Eyes
And things that make a man himself despise.
You say, a frozen Liquor chills the Veins,
And scarce the Shadow of a Man remains.
Winter of Life, that sapless Age you call,
And of all Maladies the Hospital
The Second Nonage of the Soul; the Brain
Cover'd with Cloud; the Body all in pain.
To weak Old Age, you say, there must belong
A Trembling Palsey both of Limb and Tongue;
Dayes all Decrepit, and a Bending Back,
Propt by a Staff, in Hands that ever Shake.
Nay, Syrs, our CHEEVER shall confute you all,
On whom there did none of these Mischefs fall.
He Liv'd, and to vast Age no Illness knew;
'Till Time's Scythe waiting for him Rusty grew.
He Liv'd and Wrought, His Labour's were Immense;
But ne'er Declin'd to Præter-perfect Tense.
A Blooming Youth in him at Ninety Four
We saw; But, Oh! when such a sight before!
At Wondrous Age he did his Youth resume,
As when the Eagle mew's his Aged plume.
With Faculties of Reason still so bright
And at Good Services so Exquisite
Sure our sound Chiliast, we wondring thought,
To the First Ressurection is not brought!
92

No, He for That was waiting at the Gate
In the Pure Things that fit a Candidate.
He in Good Actions did his Life Employ,
And to make others Good, he made his Joy.
Thus well-appris'd now of the Life to Come,
To Live here was to him a Martyrdom:
Our brave Macrobius Long'd to see the Day
Which others dread, of being Call'd away.
So, Ripe with Age, he does invite the Hook
Which watchful does for its large Harvest look.
Death gently cut the Stalk, and kindly laid
Him, where our God His Granary has made.
Who at New-Haven first began to Teach,
Dying Unshipwreck'd, does White-Haven reach.
At that Fair Haven they all Storms forget;
He there his DAVENPORT with Love does meet.
The Luminous Robe, the Loss whereof with Shame
Our Parents wept, when Naked they became;
Those Lovely Spirits wear it, and therein
Serve God with Priestly Glory, free from Sin.
But in his Paradisian Rest above,
To Us does the Blest Shade retain his Love.
With Rip'ned Thoughts Above concern'd for Us,
We can't but hear him dart his Wishes, thus.
‘TUTORS, Be Strict; But yet be Gentle too:
‘Don't by fierce Cruelties fair Hopes undo.
‘Dream not, that they who are to Learning slow,
‘Will mend by Arguments in Ferro.
‘Who keeps the Golden Fleece, Oh, let him not
‘A Dragon be, tho' he Three Tongues have got.
‘Why can you not to Learning find the way,
‘But thro' the Province of Severia?
‘Twas Moderatus, who taught Origen;
‘A Youth which prov'd one of the Best of men.
‘The Lads with Honour first, and Reason Rule;
‘Blowes are but for the Refractory Fool.
‘But, Oh! First Teach them their Great God to fear;
‘That you like me, with joy may meet them here.
He has said!
Adieu, a little while, Dear Saint, Adieu;
Your Scholar won't be Long, Sir, after you.
In the mean time, with Gratitude I must
Engrave an EPITAPH upon your Dust.
93

'Tis true, Excessive Merits rarely safe:
Such an Excess forfeits an Epitaph.
But if Base men the Rules of Justice break,
The Stones (at least upon the Tombs) will speak.
Et Tumulum facite, et Tumulo superaddite carmen.

And make a sepulchral mound, and add upon the mound a song. (Virgil)

 (Virg. in Daphn.)

EPITAPHIUM. EZEKIEL CHEEVERUS.

Ludimagister:
Primo Neo-portensis;
Deinde, Ipsuicensis;
Postea, Carolotenensis
Postremo, Bostonensis
cujus
Doctrinam ac Virtutem
Nosti, si Sis Nov-Anglus,
Colis, si non Barbarus;
GRAMMATICUS,
a Quo, non pure tantum, sed et pie,
Loqui;
RHETORICUS,
a Quo non tantum Ornate dicere
coram Hominibus,
Sed et Orationes coram Deo fundere
Efficacissimas;
POETA,
a Quo non tantum Carmina pangere,
Sed et
Cælestes Hymnos, Odasq; Angelicas,
canere,
Didicerunt,
Qui discere voluerunt;
LUCERNA,
ad Quam accensa sunt,
Quis queat numerare,
Quot Ecclesiarum Lumina?
94

Qui secum Corpus Theologiæ abstulit,
Peritissimus THEOLOGUS,
Corpus hic suum sibi minus Charum,
deposuit.
Vixit Annos, XCIV.
Docuit, Annos, LXX.
Obijt, A.D. M. DCC. VIII.
Et quod Mori potuit,
HEIC
Expectet Exoptatq:
Primam Sanctorum Ressurectionem
ad
Immortalitatem.
Evuvijs debetur Honos Immortalitatem primam.

The Latin may be translated:

Epitaph Ezekiel Cheever Schoolmaster

First of New-Haven;
Then of Ispwich;
After of Charlestown
Last of Boston
whose
Learning and Virtue
You know, if you be a New Englander,
You honor, if you be not a foreigner;
GRAMMARIAN,
from whom talk is not only pure but
also pious;
RHETORICIAN
from whom speech is elegant
not only to men in public
but he also showers
Most effective speeches on God in public
POET
from whom not only songs are composed
But he also
Sings Celestial hymns and angelic odes,
They learn,
Who wish to learn;
A LAMP
for whom has been kindled
Who can count
How many lights of the Churches?
AND
He carried off the corpus of Theology with him
Most experienced THEOLOGIAN,
He placed his own body less dear to him.
He lived 94 years.
He taught 70 years.
He died in 1708 A.D.
And because he is able to die,
He awaits and desires
The first resurrection of the holy ones
for Immortality.
Honor is owed first Immortality.

EPITAPH

DUMMER, the Shephard Sacrific'd
By Wolves, because the Sheep he Priz'd;
The Orphans Father, Churches Light,
The Love of Heaven, of Hell the Spite;
The Countreyes Gapman, and the Face
That Shone, but Knew it not, with Grace.
DUMMER, a Wise man of the East,
Gone to see JESUS, in His Rest:
Hunted by Divels, but Reliev'd
By Angels, and on High Reciev'd:
The Martyr'd Pelican, who Bled,
Rather than Leave the Saints Unfed,
DUMMER, the Bird of Paradise,
Shot, and Flown thither in a trice;
Methus'la Dead, from whence our Flood,
Threefold of Tears & Fears & Blood;
HERE Left his Ashes, and we see,
Gods Temple thus in Ashes!—
LORD, Hear the Cry of Righteous DUMMERS Wounds,
Under thine Altar; Lord, Rate off those Hounds
95

That Worry thus thy Flocks: And let the Bones
Of thine ELISHA, over whom our Moans
Are Sigh'd, Inspire the Life of Zeal into
The Rest, that have a Work, Like His to Do.

The Excellent WIGGLESWORTH, Remembred by some Good Tokens.

HIS Pen did once Meat from the Eater fetch;
And now he's gone beyond the Eaters reach.
His Body, once so Thin, was next to None;
From Thence, he's to Unbodied Spirits flown.
Once his rare skill did all Diseases heal;
And he does nothing now uneasy feel.
He to his Paradise is Joyful come;
And waits with Joy to see his Day of Doom.
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