VI. UPON THE DEATH OF THE MOST DESIRED MR HERRYS. DEATH, what dost? O, hold thy blow, Death, thou must not here be cruel, This is he, in whose rare frame And meant to leave his precious feature Virtue wears him next her heart. 5 IO 15 That his should fade, while thine is green? 20 His swelling glories, Auster spied him, 40 And with the rush of one rude blast, To blot the newly-blossom'd light. But were the rose's blush so rare, 45 50 55 Were the Morning's smile so fair, As is he, nor cloud, nor wind, But would be courteous, would be kind. Spare him Death, ah! spare him then, 60 Spare the sweetest among men : 65 Of his monumental rest. Safe, thou dark home of the dead, Keep him close, close in thine arms, VII. AN EPITAPH UPON MR ASHTON, A CON- THE modest front of this small floor, Than many a braver marble can; Here lies a truly honest man. One whose conscience was a thing, Those to the eye, than to the ear. 70 75 5 IO His prayers took their price and strength, 15 He was a Protestant at home, Not only in despite of Rome. He loved his Father; yet his zeal 20 Death's Lecture and Funeral of a Gentleman. 69 To th' Church he did allow her dress, True Beauty, to true Holiness. Peace, which he loved in life, did lend When Age and Death call'd for the score, 25 No surfeits were to reckon for. Death tore not-therefore-but sans strife Gently untwined his thread of life. What remains then, but that thou Write these lines, Reader, in thy brow, 30 Burn in thy imitation bright. So while these lines can but bequeath A life perhaps unto his death; His better Epitaph shall be, His life still kept alive in thee. 35 VIII. DEATH'S LECTURE AND THE FUNERAL OF A YOUNG GENTLEMAN. DEAR relics of a dislodged soul, whose lack A summons worthy of thy funeral. Come then, Youth, Beauty, Blood! all ye soft powers, Whose silken flatteries swell a few fond hours Into a false eternity. Come man ; Hyperbolized nothing! know thy span; Take thine own measure here, down, down, and bow Huge emptiness! contract thy bulk; and shrink Lower and lower yet; till thy lean size Call Heaven to look on thee with narrow eyes. 15 Thy neighbourhood to Nothing! Proud looks, and lofty eyelids, here put on 20 Yourselves in your unfeign'd reflection; Here, gallant ladies! this unpartial glass These death-seal'd lips are they dare give the lie (Through all your painting) shows you your true face. To the loud boasts of poor Mortality; 25 These curtain'd windows, this retired eye Out-stares the lids of large-look'd Tyranny. This posture is the brave one, this that lies Thus low, stands up (methinks) thus, and defies The World. All-daring dust and ashes! only you 30 IX. AN EPITAPH UPON A YOUNG MARRIED Dead and Buried TOGETHER. To these, whom Death again did wed, 5 |