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<DATE>2007-10-26</DATE>
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<NAME>Elspeth Healey</NAME>
<RESP>MURP</RESP>
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<IDG S="marc" R="UM" ID="A85199">
<STC T="W">F65</STC>
<STC T="T">669.f.14[70]</STC>
<BIBNO T="umi">99869983</BIBNO>
<VID>163057</VID>
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<TEXT LANG="eng">
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<DIV1 TYPE="poet">
<PB REF="1" MS="y">
<HEAD>AN ELEGY, In Memory of that Famous, Learned, Reverend and Religious Doctor OLDSWORTH, late Chaplain to the ever living Maje&s;ty of CHARLES the MARTYR, and &s;ometime <HI>Vice-Chancellour</HI> to the now dying Univer&s;ity of <HI>Cambridge,</HI> a principall &s;ufferer in Stormy-beaten <HI>Sion,</HI> but a &s;tout maintainer of the purity of the <HI>PROTESTANT PROFESSION.</HI></HEAD>
<LG>
<L>AMong&s;t th' traine of Friends (good Sir) I bring</L>
<L>Religious Anthems, but want breath to &s;ing.</L>
<L>Infu&s;e my Mu&s;e with &s;ome religious fire</L>
<L>Of Thine, that I may blaze, and then expire.</L>
<L>But rather doth it &s;eem to blaze in wet,</L>
<L>Then with an ardent heat, for <HI>Old&s;worth</HI>'s &s;et.</L>
<L>Then who can hope to build for him a &s;hrine,</L>
<L>Or &s;peak him dead in Ver&s;e? but in the Cri&s;talline</L>
<L>Of every eye he is intomb'd, each teare</L>
<L>Like &s;taved torches wait upon his bier.</L>
<L>Then, what need I attend thy Reverend hear&s;e</L>
<L>With <HI>Elegies,</HI> when eyes drop balme and ver&s;e?</L>
<L>But lea&s;t the heat of griefe be drown'd in wet,</L>
<L>Here's my Sun dyall (though the Sun be &s;et).</L>
<L>Then bu&s;ie grief, let's pa&s;&s;e upon Parole</L>
<L>To Regi&s;ter his worth in ver&s;e; Controle</L>
<L>No more my &s;en&s;es: under the notion,</L>
<L>His worth is be&s;t known in corruption.</L>
<L>What though his worth hath built his worth a Shrine?</L>
<L>His worthine&s;&s;e may be interr'd in mine.</L>
<L>Who knows not? but day nights a tapers light,</L>
<L>And the Meridian ju&s;tles night from &s;ight.</L>
<L>Th' enameld floor in which the gold doth lye,</L>
<L>Is rather wa&s;te, then grace to it's purity.</L>
<L>What need a Diamond lu&s;tre have a foil?</L>
<L>Or <HI>Old&s;worth</HI> lines, to &s;hew he was divine,</L>
<L>Let a skill'd Lapidary ope the tombe</L>
<L>Of a rich Diamond, and a wombe</L>
<L>Of rare production &s;ummons every &s;en&s;e</L>
<L>To aid its lu&s;tre in a rich defence.</L>
<L>Then grac'd, not wa&s;t, when divers &s;tones are plac'd</L>
<L>In golden quarryes, as if from thence rac'd.</L>
<L>How can the world truly pen thee divine,</L>
<L>When thy bright beames to us through crannies &s;hine,</L>
<L>As if thy graces could compri&s;ed bee,</L>
<L>In &s;uch a roome, where thou art layd to be?</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>I love the Limner which can draw the man,</L>
<L>With each proportion, in a ten-inch &s;pan:</L>
<L>But I di&s;like the lyar, when his talk</L>
<L>Un&s;hapes the &s;hape by &s;aying it can walk.</L>
<L>Some of thy worth, &s;weet Soul, let me impart,</L>
<L>For &s;oul dumb &s;en&s;e, to &s;hew more what thou art.</L>
<L>Selected Gemms all thy &s;et graces were,</L>
<L>Of grace and goodne&s;&s;e. O forbear, forbear.</L>
<L>To promulgate! impiety 'twould be:</L>
<L>That thou &s;hould&s;t dye, and none ask what was he?</L>
<L>What tongue can an&s;wer give for &s;uch a lo&s;&s;e?</L>
<L>But words would lo&s;e them&s;elves in their own choyce.</L>
<L>Wert thou a man morally good, or &s;o,</L>
<L>No other Elegy, but thy du&s;t &s;hould &s;how:</L>
<L>But every &s;oul that knew thy gifts can tell,</L>
<L>Channells mu&s;t change, and the va&s;t center reele</L>
<L>Of every &s;oul, where can they fixed be,</L>
<L>Since doctrine and the Doctour both agree</L>
<L>(I fear) to leave us. Oh may you here be found</L>
<L>In every pulpit! though y'are under ground.</L>
<L>And there my Fancy &s;pies him, while I &s;ee</L>
<L>Him drawn an Angel to Eternitie.</L>
<L>How grave? How &s;weet? How Ro&s;e-like was each look</L>
<L>Of his? as if his Saviour in his book</L>
<L>H'ad met with face to face, and not by faith,</L>
<L>The promi&s;e promi&s;'d glorified he hath.</L>
<L>Still more reviving life &s;prang in each cheeke,</L>
<L>Whil&s;t nearer to his text through's prayer he would breake,</L>
<L>And when concluded his, he would rejoyce,</L>
<L>And &s;ound his makers prai&s;e with cheerfull voice</L>
<L>In Chri&s;ts own prayer: that done, he would begin</L>
<L>Again to chime his lips, not heard but &s;eene,</L>
<L>Then taking up his bible by the &s;trings,</L>
<L>Hee'd turne the leaves as if hee'd &s;pread Chri&s;ts wings:</L>
<L>Under which he, and tho&s;e that did beleive,</L>
<L>The comforts there contained might receive</L>
<L>A <HI>Paul,</HI> A <HI>Mo&s;es,</HI> and <HI>Elias,</HI> three,</L>
<L>Zealou&s;ly one, and &s;o divine was hee.</L>
<L>Emphatically would be pre&s;&s;e a point,</L>
<L>As if his &s;en&s;es mov'd were out of joynt,</L>
<L>Which in his hearers &s;uch impre&s;&s;e did take,</L>
<L>As if all &s;en&s;es did their place for&s;ake,</L>
<L>And center in the eye. There every eare</L>
<L>Was turn'd into the &s;ight, whil&s;t looks did heare.</L>
<L>His lips had ki&s;&s;'d the God of Love, for jarres</L>
<L>Were &s;weetly reconcil'd, though with his tears.</L>
<L>Oh pious &s;oule! melodious are tho&s;e plea&s;ures,</L>
<L>Which are con&s;train'd with uncon&s;trained mea&s;ures.</L>
<L>His birth took part with wit, each age grac'd hee,</L>
<L>As if his cradle had been his library.</L>
<L>The Church (when pre&s;ent hee) lackt not a head,</L>
<L>The State confe&s;t that he in Court was bred.</L>
<L>A Pa&s;tor, Citizen, dwelt among&s;t many,</L>
<L>Yet of their factions favour'd he not any.</L>
<L>Free in di&s;cour&s;e, morall, as well divine:</L>
<L>Who knew thy worth? mu&s;t know all worth was thine.</L>
<L>Not like &s;un-dyalls, when the Sun is gone,</L>
<L>Can &s;how no more of day, 's if day were done:</L>
<L>But like the Diall of the day, the Sun</L>
<L>That po&s;ts through this, or that Meridian.</L>
<L>Each Climate to his <HI>Genius</HI> was as fit,</L>
<L>As if he had the univer&s;all wit;</L>
<L>That call'd him to the Court, where every one,</L>
<L>Like a Court-diall ca&s;t reflection,</L>
<L>So u&s;efull in the fortunes of each Peer</L>
<L>Were &s;hadows ca&s;t, hee'd &s;hape a &s;ub&s;tance clear.</L>
<L>In all the &s;olitudes of the decea&s;ed King,</L>
<L>No going to Chappel, but when he rung in.</L>
<L><HI>Old&s;worth</HI> the man, <HI>Old&s;worth</HI> the mouth from whence,</L>
<L>He drew the comfort of &s;oul-influence,</L>
<L>Oh glorious Star! that &s;hin'd in <HI>Charles</HI> his Court,</L>
<L>By which the wi&s;e&s;t <HI>Charles</HI> had beames of comfort,</L>
<L>Though dipt in deepe&s;t depths of wo, yet &s;hind</L>
<L>His teares for pitty, when his tongue declind.</L>
<L>But dimm'd in &s;hining! Left this earthly &s;tate.</L>
<L>Whither? to attend the Martyr to inaugurate.</L>
<L>That's done already, no &s;ooner born again,</L>
<L>But of four Kingdoms was he crown'd a King.</L>
<L>A lane, yee holy Guard! &s;ince he is gone,</L>
<L>To attend heavens Court, glad not with &s;uch connexion;</L>
<L>Since thou art gone, who moans not this his fate?</L>
<L>For Doctors, Dunces; &s;o unfortunate</L>
<L>Each Univer&s;ity! they &s;uffer, by</L>
<L>Pa&s;&s;ion each member, Church by &s;ympathy.</L>
<L>Ble&s;t is that man, who when he liv'd, was lov'd,</L>
<L>And mi&s;t with &s;ighs, when from earths center mov'd.</L>
<L>Why moves this Bell? what means this dole&s;ome knell?</L>
<L>Tolling out tones, as if it bad farewell</L>
<L>To &s;ome one parting hence? why rings it out?</L>
<L><HI>Old&s;worth</HI> is dead, then faces turn about.</L>
<L>Who could be confident of this? but goes,</L>
<L>Whil'&s;t on the way, the pavement fre&s;h he &s;trows</L>
<L>With pearly &s;howers of tears, and being come,</L>
<L>The Bel'<HI>s</HI> the man, whil&s;t that the man's &s;truck dumb.</L>
<L>In louder &s;troaks it tels the world the News</L>
<L>Whom tis heaven gaines, and whom the earth doth lo&s;e.</L>
<L>Departing hence, each party rings a knell,</L>
<L>In the dome&s;tick Steeples where they dwell;</L>
<L>The difference none, their metals melt away</L>
<L>Like mine; and I contemplate what they &s;ay.</L>
<L>Since thou art dead (oh reveverend Gho&s;t) I bring</L>
<L>A Pillow &s;tuft with down of Angels wing</L>
<L>To re&s;t thy &s;leepie head on; for its fit,</L>
<L>Re&s;t &s;hould it now, which could not re&s;t for wit,</L>
<L>Then in the Man&s;ion of thy du&s;t Ile now</L>
<L>Here take my leave (Sir): But Heaven allow</L>
<L>My hearts expan&s;ion to contemplate, what</L>
<L>Thou art, I am &s;atisfied in knowing not:</L>
<L>Or what 'tis where thou art. I know not what</L>
<L>I know in knowing not, Thy place is that.</L>
</LG>
<CLOSER><SIGNED>W. F.</SIGNED></CLOSER>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
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