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<DATE>2008-10-05</DATE>
<RESPSTMT>
<NAME>Mona Logarbo</NAME>
<RESP>MURP</RESP>
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<ITEM>Proofed and reviewed as part of batch B080830.pdcc.</ITEM>
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<EEBO>
<IDG S="marc" R="UM" ID="B03192">
<STC T="W">E382</STC>
<BIBNO T="umi">99890125</BIBNO>
<VID>182629</VID>
</IDG>
<TEXT LANG="eng">
<BODY>
<DIV1 TYPE="elegy">
<PB REF="1"><!-- PDF PAGE 13 -->
<HEAD>AN ELEGY On the DEATH of Sir JOSEPH SHELDON, LATE <HI>Lord Mayor of</HI> LONDON.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>SPight of the mo&s;t Capricious Critticks Rage,</L>
<L>Spight of my Self, my Follies, or my Age;</L>
<LG>
<L>Though young in Years, yet by his Bounty ble&s;t,</L>
<L>For my Eternal Quiet and my Re&s;t,</L>
<L>I mu&s;t unload the Burthen from my Brea&s;t:</L>
</LG>
<L>This mighty Gratitude that &s;hakes my Soul,</L>
<L>And mu&s;t be thus expre&s;s'd, though ne'r &s;o dull:</L>
<L>For Oh! who can &s;uch matchle&s;s Goodne&s;s &s;ee,</L>
<L>Snatch'd from us by an early De&s;tiny!</L>
<L>Was't not enough, O Heaven! Grave <HI>Sheldon</HI> fell!</L>
<L>Mu&s;t our Grief be without a parallel!</L>
<L>Mu&s;t that whole <HI>Race</HI> be &s;natched from the Earth!</L>
<L>And make of <HI>Goodne&s;s</HI> &s;uch a Cruel Dearth?</L>
<L>As with young Infants, we ob&s;erve, 'tis &s;till</L>
<L>That others in their early Wit excell;</L>
<L>Mark'd with that Heavenly Sign we know mu&s;t fall,</L>
<L>And &s;till expect th' Unwelcome Funeral;</L>
<L>Until at la&s;t, pliant to Fate, it bends,</L>
<L>And ripe for Joys Un&s;peakable a&s;cends.</L>
<L>So <HI>He</HI> who mo&s;t in Goodne&s;s did excell,</L>
<L>Like to ripe Fruit, <HI>too good to la&s;t,</HI> He fell:</L>
<L>Sure we could ne'r have bourn His <HI>Uncles</HI> Fall,</L>
<L>Had not <HI>He</HI> then &s;urviv'd his Funeral:</L>
<L>As when the Univer&s;al <HI>Phoenix</HI> Dyes,</L>
<L>A young One &s;till does from the A&s;hes ri&s;e:</L>
<L>So the Twelve Patriarchs, when <HI>Jacob</HI> Dy'd,</L>
<L>Alone on <HI>Jo&s;eph</HI> all their Hopes rely'd:</L>
<L>'Tis he, and only he, mu&s;t rai&s;e their Name,</L>
<L>And &s;natch from time their almo&s;t &s;inking Fame;</L>
<L>'Tis he mu&s;t mollifie th' <HI>Aegyptians</HI> Pride,</L>
<L>That they may &s;afely in that Court abide:</L>
<L>'Tis he mu&s;t &s;ave them by his powerful Word</L>
<L>From the &s;harp Famine, or the &s;harper Sword:</L>
<L>That they did hope; All that our <HI>Jo&s;eph</HI> did,</L>
<L>But now from ours, he grows the City's Head:</L>
<L>But now behold him, &s;ee his chearful Eye</L>
<L>Not Clouded with a &s;urley Gravity,</L>
<L>But with Maje&s;tick Mode&s;ty and Grace,</L>
<L>Promi&s;ing mighty Goodne&s;s in his Face.</L>
<L>But if &s;uch Beauty outwardly we find,</L>
<L>Who can de&s;cribe the Beauty of his Mind?</L>
<L>That innate Vertue which none e're could Paint,</L>
<L>Which made him even upon Earth a Saint.</L>
<LG>
<L>No Wonder <HI>London,</HI> once &s;o famous grown,</L>
<L>Daily decrea&s;es from its to&s;t <HI>Renown,</HI></L>
<L>And to its former <HI>Chaos</HI> does &s;ink down.</L>
</LG>
<L>Did not one mighty <HI>Prop</HI> uphold its State,</L>
<L>We &s;oon alas! &s;hould &s;ee it bend to fate:</L>
<L>And when the Pillar of a Stately Frame</L>
<L>Falls, though 'tis Regi&s;tred i'th Book of Fame,</L>
<L>The mighty Edifice mu&s;t &s;urely fall,</L>
<L>And Univer&s;al <HI>Ruine</HI> drown'd it all;</L>
<L>But &s;till the Fame &s;urvives, and &s;o will <HI>His,</HI></L>
<L>His Deeds have Built a Monument of Prai&s;e.</L>
<L>O to behold &s;uch Clu&s;ters at his Gate</L>
<L>Of poor weak Souls, that did his <HI>Bounty</HI> wait,</L>
<L>And ne'r in vain; for each had &s;ure his &s;hare</L>
<L>Both of his Charity, his Love and Care:</L>
<L>Nor did he proudly his large Gifts be&s;tow,</L>
<L>But with Humility and Di&s;tance too.</L>
<L>In's Countries good his time he did employ,</L>
<L>How to pre&s;erve the <HI>Good,</HI> or <HI>Bad</HI> de&s;troy.</L>
<L>His Noble Ju&s;tice equal <HI>Ballance</HI> gave,</L>
<L>Nor could the proud Mans Cau&s;e out-way his &s;lave:</L>
<L>Not large in promi&s;es, as mo&s;t are now,</L>
<L>Nor &s;aying ought but what he meant to do.</L>
<LG>
<L>In Fea&s;t or Pomps, Noble, and yet not proud,</L>
<L>With a great, not a groveling, mind endow'd,</L>
<L>To his Equals free, to his Inferiors good.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>A Father to the <HI>Orphan,</HI> to the <HI>Wife</HI></L>
<L>If rob'd of her lov'd Husband, a <HI>Relief,</HI></L>
<L>A Noble Pattern of a Chri&s;tians <HI>Life.</HI></L>
</LG>
<L>But hold <HI>Melpomeny,</HI> and cea&s;e to prai&s;e,</L>
<L>Lea&s;t thou turn'&s;t Pagan and an Idol rai&s;e.</L>
<L>But Oh! forgive me now, if I have been</L>
<L><HI>By</HI> my Compas&s;ion &s;ooth'd into a Sin.</L>
<L>And now to Summon all to the Great End,</L>
<L>He was a <HI>Faithful</HI> Subject, <HI>Faithful</HI> Friend.</L>
</LG>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="epitaph">
<HEAD>An <HI>EPITAPH.</HI></HEAD>
<LG>
<L>REader <HI>look down and</HI> Weep <HI>to &s;ee</HI></L>
<L>Death <HI>Triumphing in Victory:</HI></L>
<L><HI>Who&s;e</HI> Greedy Maw <HI>has here Devour'd</HI></L>
<L><HI>That which</HI> Alive <HI>we all Ador'd.</HI></L>
<L><HI>Not</HI> all <HI>our</HI> Wi&s;hes, all <HI>our</HI> Prai&s;e</L>
<L><HI>Cou'd add One</HI> Minute <HI>to his Days.</HI></L>
<L><HI>Then &s;ince</HI> His Lo&s;s <HI>&s;o much</HI> We <HI>Moan,</HI></L>
<L>Let Us <HI>but think the</HI> Ca&s;e <HI>our own:</HI></L>
<L><HI>Follow</HI> His Steps, <HI>and we &s;hall &s;ee</HI></L>
<L><HI>Our</HI> Sheldon <HI>Crown'd with Immortality.</HI></L>
</LG>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
<BACK>
<DIV1 TYPE="colophon">
<P>London, <HI>Printed</HI> for <HI>T. Haly,</HI> in the Year, 1681.</P>
</DIV1>
</BACK>
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