A Prayer-Song, Elegy
On the death of that worthy ingenious GENTLEMAN, John Ayſhford Eſq; Who departed this life, May 19. … 54.
ANd art thou dead? nor can Religion raiſe
Thy body as immortal as thy praiſe?
Neither can quick'ning Vertue, as a ſigne
Thou lov'dſt her, chuſe thy body for her ſhrine?
My grief 's too dull; I 'd in a ſerious plea
'Twixt Grief and Reaſon, melt into a Sea.
Come, in a weeping cloud let 's mix our tears,
Till they through his drop, as through Riſpah's herſe;
And as Romes Emperour by a remote
Kinde of exceſs, made ſhips in wine to float;
Let 's make our friends cheſt ſwim in pious Brine,
And riot more in tears, then he in wine.
Could after-ages know thee, with what flaſhes
Of love and praiſe would Wit adore thy aſhes!
How would they for thy ſacred duſt explore,
As greedily as ſome for golden Ore!
How would they ſeek thy bones, (as ſome of old
Did Scanderbeg 's) t' enamel them in gold!
All in remembrance that the time was, when
Thou liv'dſt the Jewel and delight of men.
Youth could not wiſh ſociety more ſweet,
Nor graver age, more ſolid and diſcreet:
As fervent in Religion as any,
Yet knew to difference 'twixt Zeal and Zany.
A Gentleman, yet learned; rich, yet free,
Not out of luſt, but liberality.
Poor Truth hath loſt a ſhoulder of ſupport,
And innocence an arm for to retort
Her injuries: the poor, the lame, the dim,
Have loſt a hand, a foot, an eye in him.
What can I more? w' have loſt, by this remove,
A head of counſel, and a heart of love.
Reader, didſt know how worth? I need not borrow
Terms to perſwade thee, then, to raiſe thy ſorrow:
But if thou knew'ſt him not, or liv'dſt remote,
I'm ſure th' haſt cauſe to weep thou knew'ſt him not.
Sic flevit Daniel Cudmore.
FINIS.
End of the text · Daniel Cudmore, A Prayer-Song (1655)