Suffolks Tears, Part 15
Obſequies to the Memory of Sir Nath. Barnardiſton, Kt.
GIve leave (my Friends) unto this ſable Herſe,
To offer up a Tributary Verſe:
Even ſuch, as love and ſorrow ſhall ſuggeſt:
Sorrow ne'er made good Poet, Love the beſt.
O! how much rather, if th'all ordering hand
Of Providence Divine (which none withſtand)
Had ſo diſpos'd, I would have brought this day
My ſalutary vows; but now the way
To joy's ſhut up: The ſcene which whylome we
Thought Comick, now ends in a Tragedy.
Where were yee Galen and Hippocrates?
Thou Paracelſus, who didſt vainly pleaſe
Thy ſelf, to boaſt with thine Elixar's art
To make a man immortal? could'ſt that part
Have acted here, or ſome years luſters more,
Have added to his lives leaſe? on this ſcore,
Like loyal Romans for Auguſtus, we
A during ſtatue to thy memory
Would have erected; grav'd thy name in Braſs,
Laſting to ages glory: But (alas!)
Nor Themiſon, nor Aeſculapius,
Machaon thou, nor Podalirius,
'Mongſt the Galenick Nation, though you be
Cheif Doctors, conld you bring a remedy
To ſuperſede this fate: That hand that gave
This wound (Achilles like) could onelyonly ſave:
Then which no other weapon-ſalve, I know,
Nor univerſal medicine here below.
He's therefore gone, and we alive to ſee,
The Monument of our mortality,
His ſacred reliques; and remember what
He was in's life, and ſtudy to be that.
But is there any that will undertake,
To write his copy; I fear his hand will ſhake,
Or's Penſil's dull, or ſome fault in his eyes,
That he'l indent deform'd obliquities.
Yet his clear eye, and ſteady hand ne'er drew,
But ſtrait lines from the center, for he knew
And learn'd from ſuch a maſter, who alone
Could guide the hand and hearts poſition.
And ſo he guided was, that few are ſeen
On this worlds Theater, or er'ſt have been
Equal proficients with him in this art,
This heavenly art of living well; which part
He much adorn'd, and 'twas his greateſt grace,
And worth's embelliſhment in ſuch a place,
As God had ſet him, to be good as great;
Goodneſs and greatneſs, both well here did meet
In him. How ſoon began! for in his prime
He choſe (not like luxurious youth) his time
To ſpend in th'ages wanton revellings;
But ſought that merchandize, which onelyonly brings
That great advantage (after all his care
And travel) now poſſeſs'd, without all fear
Of looſing: he by firm indenture bound
Himſelf to God, not for years; for he found
They might expire, and's Fathers legacy
Was more then this poor worlds annuity.
Therefore in graces tenure, humbly he
Caſt anchor unto all eternity.
And now his torn, and weather-beaten bark
With the worlds ſtorms and tempeſts, like the ark
Puts int' a quiet harbor, even as that
Reſted upon the Mountain Ararat.
He left this world i'th' ſtorm by Land and Sea,
Yet he a calm and ſweet tranquillity
Found in himſelf; as one that ſwom to Land,
Having ſcap'd ſhipwrack, doth i'th' Harbor ſtand
Safe and ſecure; yet viewing with ſad eyes
The Monuments of Neptunes cruelties:
Or he whoſe ſhip from ſome far Countrey bound,
Laden with Gold and Spice, at length hath found
The wiſhed Port, prayes that his Friends may ſee,
The like returns advantage; ſo did he,
Having receiv'd his lading home ſecure,
Prayes God, the States and Churches to enſure.
But whil'ſt we minde his gain, we value not
Our loſs, nor can: The Saints indeed have got
One that will bear a part with them, whil'ſt we
Are left to ſing a doleful Elegie.
To mourn, becomes us well; here needs no art
To paint a tear, that comes not from the heart:
Or that we hire ſome ancient praefica'es
To howl their well-diſſembled nania's.
For ſuch ſad Sables (Sorrows Livery)
Well may they hold a ſemblance to the eye,
Of ſome thing which we ſee; but for the reſt
Behinde the Curtain, Cannot be expreſt.
So did that Artiſt when he came to draw
The Parents grief, for Iphigenia,
Caſt o'er a veil, (the reſt within made good
By an Apoſiopeſis underſtood)
Then draw the Curtain here (my Muſe) and tell,
The World thou can'ſt with no lines parallel,
Their grief, whoſe honor 'twas once to have had,
A Wife, or childes relation here: So ſad
Appears the Scene, There's none that bears apart
A mourning robe, without a mourning heart.
Yet once again (thou Cypreſs tree)
Let me now pluck a branch from thee;
Bitter conſtraint, and ſaddeſt wo,
(Alas) compels me ſo to do.
Thou wont'ſt not to receive a call
To every vulgar funeral.
We'll therefore not impropriate
Thy cuſtom, ſince 'tis our ſad fate
To looſe a Heroe of that worth,
As nature rarely bringeth forth.
Mourn then, for on this woful Beer
Lies one, that hath not left his Peer.
For whom the Heavens (as if too long,
They had expected him among
His Fellow Saints) at laſt have ſent
Now to compleat their Parl'ament.
Saxa ruunt Mauſoli inviſa, ruunt que Coloſsi
Mole ſua; & ſi quae porrò Monumenta vetuſtas
Condidit, illa abolevit edax; vel quicquid Apelles
Pinxerit, ant ſi quid Lyſippus duxerit olim,
Apparent nuſquàm (ne ſubſiſtente ruinâ.)
At meliora tibi pietas Monumenta locavit,
Quippe fides tua clara (aevo rariſsima noſtro)
Te petrae inſeruit. Titulo te poſſe carere
Ergone Marmoreo? licet aut componere parvis
Maxima? Nam que Choro coeleſti aſcriptus iniquum
Ut remeare velis diviſis mente Britannis.
Qui tamen, (et ſi nos tot blandimenta nepotes
Chara reliquiſti) ſuperes ubi nulla cupido
Invadet redeundi, non ſi populuſve ſenatus
Antiquum ad meritum que locum revocare poteſſet.
Conſociare tuis, te ſuaviloquentior uſquàm
Nec fuerat dum tu fueras, nec amantior ullus
Qui potuit. Quoties dextram (Venerande) benignam
Tu mihi, quàm gratos amplexus ſaepe dediſti,
Nulli ementitos? verus monitor que fidelis
Idque frequens mihi; cultor eras quia tu neque parens
Numinis atque alios mecum ſuadere ſolebas.
Oh quoties & quae nobis memoranda locutus
Digna velut clavo maneant infixa trabali?
Nam neque tu quenquam vano ſermone morari,
Pejorem ſolitus coram aut demittere triſtem.
Quos vultus, quales vidi candore micantes!
Atque oculos? mihi quos ſpectare (heu non licet ultra.)
At nunquam? Oh nunquam noſtras reſonabit ad aures
Vox antiqua ſonos modulans mihi quàm bene notos:
Nam mihi nunc ſuperas heu diſſociabilis; oras
Lenta nimis vela impellent ſuspiria noſtra
Haſce iterum infidas, ut fruſtrà referre conemur.
Aſt ego quando quidem nobis te fata tulerunt,
O quàm te memorem, & memorans ſuspiria …undam,
Dum maeſtus reddam ſolennia vota Sepulchro.
Joh. Clopton. Gent▪