Moses Death, Poem – Poems
To the Dear Memory of my Friend, Mr. Ed. Bright.
IF a large heart, open, and unconfin'd,
Free as the Air, it lately breath'd; a minde
Worthy of God, and brave friends that durſt be
Good, in this age, and ſcorn hypocriſie.
If to ſpeak ſo i'th Pulpit, that from thence
Atheiſts might learn to think Religion, ſenſe:
The vertuous ſo inſpir'd, as ſtill to bee
Made more in love with vertue, and with Thee:
(Rare Preacher! where the times are ſo perplext
To ſee the Sermon oft confute the Text.)
If good men's wiſhes, Phyſick's noble cares,
If Heav'n importun'd with early pray'rs:
If flouriſhing years, which now ſo far had run,
To bee a juſt Meridian for their Sun:
If all theſe might have kept thee! that dark Fate
That too ſoon clos'd thine eyes, had then come late;
Late, as the ſlow-pac'd motion of that year,
Late, to the moſt long-liv'd, that wiſht thee here;
Late, as thine own requeſts; that ask'd a truce,
Not for thy ſelf, but for thy Maſter's uſe.
Late, as the time, when beſt friend's might deſire
To ſee thee full of day's, and God, expire.
Thou now had'ſt liv'd, and preach'd, and our tears bin,
Not for the Preacher ſhed, but for our ſin
Awaken'd at his Sermon's: Then O why!
So ſoon, ſhould what deſerv'd whole ages, dye?
Muſt great mind's, like New Stars, but look about,
Bee wondred at a little, and go out?
Yet we're ſecure, that their eternal light,
Removes not from its being, but our ſight.
To ſpend it's glory's in ſome better place,
Where no dark exhalation hides it's face.
But let's weep leiſurely, and think for what,
Retail our ſigh's, Item to this, and that
Vertue, a tear, deliberately view
Him in his Pulpit, when quick lightning flew
About men's ears, and their ſteel'd ſouls did melt
Within'um; or agen, as when hee dealt
A thunder through the Church all in a fright,
Thunder, would make Caligula look white:
Or when—but tear's diſtract theſe objects ſo
(As numerous refractions uſe to do)
That they dam up themſelves, and hinder more,
Being thus at once, both their own ſea and ſhore:
And ſo 'tis fit; let trifling ſubjects throw
Our griefs into ſoft Number's, make them flow
Uninterrupted in one even ſtream,
A motion as unworthy as the Theam;
For Thee our ſorrows tumult ſhall confeſs,
It is more full, and high by ſeeming leſs.
Aſcend brave ſpirit! in thy robe of light,
Thy Flame is more illuſtrious through this Night
Of grief beheld by us, who can no more
But weep, and what thou now enjoy'ſt, adore.
And for you Sir! whoſe pious labour muſt
Hallow the Urn, that receives this duſt;
Whilſt his fair Name moves in your paper-bark
On flood's of tears, like Noah in his A…k;
Of't may wee meet, and for that Name ſo dear,
Whilſt living, on it's Aſhes drop a tear.
Will. Croone, Fell. of Em. Coll.
ELEGIES
On the much lamented death of Mr. EDVVARD BRIGHT, his ſincerely honoured Friend.
DEar Soul (too dear for earth) are thy bones lay'd
With common duſt, and numbred with the dead?
Thou dead! who haſt ſo often with thy breath
Blaſted life's fatal Foes, Sin, Hell, and Death.
Thou! who didſt erſt mens hearts with flagrant words,
As lightnings through the ſcabbards melts the ſwords,
And by thy skill in Chymiſtry Divine,
Turnd'ſt courſer mettals into current coin
For Heavens Kingdome; ſuch as neither ruſt,
Nor earth corrupts: What! Art thou turn'd to duſt?
Is the ſalt melted, and the moyſture dry'd?
The Conqueror vanquiſh't, and the Chymiſt try'd
In his own furnace, and to aſhes turn'd?
Hath Divine heat the Microcoſme burn'd?
Yet thus wee ſee ſharp ſwords ſoon cut the ſheath,
The pureſt flame aſpires and vaniſheth.
The fineſt China mettal's broken ſoon,
The Nightingal's ſweet pipe's ſoon out of tune.
Houſes of beſt prepar'd, and pureſt clay,
Oft totter, fall, and moulder in a day.
Nor may wee wonder (when let looſe to fight
The Elements begun to try their right,
And for dominion ſtrove; the little world,
Being with wars into confuſion hurl'd)
That then thy peaceful ſoul ſtirr'd up its might
To quit the Kingdome which diſclaim'd her right:
And juſt incenſed rage awak'd thy minde
To make a way out where it could not finde:
As a bold Lion, when hee meets his foes,
Laſhes his ſides, and roars, then ſtoutly goes:
Through hot'ſt encounters ſtreight unto his den,
That there hee may repoſe in peace agen:
So (like Petars) thy ſoul made gates to flye,
That op't the paſſage to felicity.
And at ſuch gates who would not venture in,
When though hee loſe his life hee's ſure to win.
But you Phyſitians who are wont to boaſt,
Y'are Natures helps; why quel'd you not the hoſt
Of Rebels here, and caus'd the civil war
Of inmate enemies to ceaſe? what, are
Your Potions, Clyſters, and your letting blood,
Only to ſave the bad, and kill the good?
Or to the grave did you his body give,
'Cauſe his deſign was that your ſouls might live?
Vaniſh vain thoughts, here neither care nor skill
Was wanting, nothing but his Makers will.
When God ſaith no, Phyſick ſhall lend no aid,
Who firſt hath done his work, ſhall firſt bee paid.
An Epitaph for his Tomb.
HEre ly's a Saint; the poor mans purſe,
Of babes in Chriſt the tender Nurſe;
The Sick mans ſalve, the blinde mans eye,
Of troubled hearts the eaſe and joy.
Zeals ſacrifice, Faiths Herbenger,
His Saviours wiſe Ambaſſador.
His paſsion's Maſter, and the Lord
Of's time, and every thought and word.
Whoſe bones and aſhes pawn'd remain
In Chriſt Church here, until again
The world diſſolve by the ſame fire
That calcin'd him; but then entire:
Both ſoul and body ſhall unite,
And with the Lamb ſtand cloath'd in white
With Saints and Angels there to tell
The prayſes of Emmanuel.
J. Illingworth, Co.Em.Soc.S.
On the Death of his highly valued, and much beloved Friend, Mr. Edward Bright.
VVHen grief makes Poets, and untimely death
Makes room for tears; Sure then a barren heath
Can yeeld a Flower or two, to deck a Hearſe,
The drieſt fancy can weep out a verſe;
And leave the Reader to determine why
Such ill-ſcann'd, courſe-ſpun, ſhriveld Poetry
Appears in Print; 'tis not becauſe the name,
Worth, Learning, Piety, well-bottom'd fame
Of our Dear Friend with God, need ſuch Divine
To ſhew him to the world; ſuch foggy Vapours
Do rather intercept Bright's beams, alas!
I bleed afreſh to name him, cannot paſs
It o're without a ſigh —
— Now mee thinks I could wink
This vain world into nothing; call't a ſink
Of emptineſs; nothing betwixt two diſhes,
Embroyder'd lyes; womens and childrens wiſhes.Herb. Poems.
Yet why ſo paſsionate? Is it ſo ſtrange,
That friends ſhould ſhake hands here, that duſt ſhould change?
That ſmoak (yet ſuch is man) ſhould diſappear?
That ſtars ſhould twinckle in the Hemiſphere?
I'le play no more the childe, but curb my paſſion,
I'le dry mine eyes, and henceforth learn this leſſon;
To dote no more on friends; I ſee a Roſe
If held too faſt, can prick mee in the cloſe.
R. Perrot.
An Epitaph.
ZEal without Faction, charity
Free from vain glory, piety
Not ſoild with ſordid affectation
Religion void of innovation,
An able head, an honeſt heart
A down right man in every part,
Lyes here intomb'd, a burning light,
Spent in the Temple: Now good night.
R. Perrot. Sid. Suſſ. Col.
ΘΡΗΝΩΔΙΑ. Upon the Death of E. B. M. A. Fellow of Emanuel Colledge Cambridge, and Paſtor of Chriſts-Church, London.
1
HOw! Bright dead too! Ah let m'lone!
Think you, a ſigh, or groan,
Or blubber'd eyes,
For him juſt obſequies?
Ah! tell me not, the greateſt Urne,
Hath but a hearſe,
Scutchion, and verſe,
And gets but one poor month to mourn.
2
Oh that I had Timanthes art! who drew
The Giants Thumb to ſhew
How might bee gueſt
The greatneſs of the reſt!
For who can Bright-at-length ſet forth?
Though all the nine
Adore his ſhine,
Vails are beſt comments on great worth.)
3
I'de quickly ſhew, no need to let
One word ſound griefs retreat;
But ah my ſpan
'S too ſhort for th'leaſt of him!
So great! ſo good! ſo learn'd was hee!
My words want weight,
To take his height;
Tears his beſt Epitaph will bee.
4
Know you him not? go then and ſpye
Within his Tombe, there eye,
How his green head
Was the gray-Fathers bed.
Then's mouth, where Greek and Hebrew plaid,
About his tongue,
Whither did throng,
Chalde…, and Syrick there to trade.
5
In's rumbling bowels, you may trace
Whole troops of Lumbards race,
Which conquer'd ſtand,
Great Sir, at thy command;
Strong his Supporters were, you'l ſee
The liberal Arts
Did play their parts,
Nor in a Science lame was hee.
6
His heart you'l finde all ſcor'd with lines,
Out of our own divines;
And now at laſt
Entred on Baxters reſt.
And, as Ignatius had, ſo there
Within (I'm told)
Is writ in gold,
The Creed, Commandements, and Lords Prayer.
7
But griefs are ſoon fordable that have
Their …ides, or needs a grave
To make them ſpring;
Give mee the offering
Of ſorrow when retir'd: Th…n ſee,
This done, you part,
Then will each heart,
Keep time with Nicke, and mee.
Joſ. Hill.
In Obitum Mri. Bright, Col. Eman. Socii:
QUid tantum egregias animis, quid debit a c…lo,
Pectora, terreno querimur defunct a ve…islo:
An, quia nos retinent inviſo care… clanſtra
Corporis, & miſerae ſervant erguſt…ila vitae;
Ergone Divinis animis, coelo que locandis,
In partriam prohibemus iter? Ergo optima fata
Impia ſacrilego deflemus turba dolore?
Proh ſancta impietas! ſuſpiria prerſus iniqua,
Aequatamen! lachrymae que ipſapi… are propha…i
Sed noſtras lugere vices, mata noſtra quer…s
Flere licet: non illum adeo vixiffe do… … oft,
Quam quod nos ultra dimiſſo vivim…is ipſo.
Eheu! ſidere as quae tanta penurlo J…des
Invaſit? ſic nempe vacant caeleſ…ia Regua.
Ut Terrae invideant? illine tamra…a pi…
Ut capita abripiant? ingens jactura relict…
O nimium delecte De… quem poſtulat Aether
Ante diem! & fati dignum melioris, amiea
Vis rapuit Coeli, geſtit que ornate triumphis!
Ergo ageter felix, terrenâ mole ſolute,
… Ch…, ſuper aſtra …
Perge triumphali currus educere pompâ
Non qualem in Terris … mentis
Tot curis ambire ſolent, non quam ſibi plauſu
Captat ab obſtropero miſeranda ſuperhia vulg…;
Sed te vera manent, … cupeſſ…
Aurea ſidereis decorand… …hioulu fortis.
Gul. Leigh. A. M.C.C.S.
In Obitum Magiſtri Bright M. A. Nuperi Tutoris mei Chariſsimi.
SOlve parentales ritus, & justa repend…,
Juſto funde…us ca…i…a…ſa part,
Intima cui pietus, quae ſu… fr… decora,
Sincer… cordi…g… que promus erat:
Quo fervor, ca… que ammi, diſcordia …rs,
Tynd… d…f…re… …,
Non vacat ign…us Genis, qui m…era plura,
Qua totum poſc… …;
Nec ſatis eſt lucer…dien…, …,
Contentus mini… nocte Britannus erat.
Dum que alio luce… vibrus, arde… …,
(Ut pell…c… pictoribus …bras)
Heu! oleum citiu… perlit, in …:
Sin oleum perdas, niloper… periit;
Sed tibi long aq…is f…ſſ…, forti que triu…bus,
Sementi que gravi…ſ… ….
Splen ridere facit, …, ſed…ad …
Deſcondit morbus, ſp…en que d…er… fa…it.
Caetera dam ſolvit, qu… dibit, maſt… camana,
Solvitur in luctus. —
Rob. Alfounder. M. A. Col. Em. Soc.
In Eundem:
A Writ of eaſe ſo ſoon, and doſt thou turn
Thy vocal Pulpit to thy ſilent Urne?
No ſooner watch-man, but with ſleep oppreſt?
Thou went'ſt not there to labour, but to reſt.
Wee often finde that plants upon remove,
By their new welcome thrive, and fruitful prove:
But thou tranſplanted ſoon decayeſt; wee fee
Death with his Spade and Mattock fells the Tree.
No, 'tis remov'd: this Tree of Knowledge is
But hence tranſplanted into Paradiſe.
If any wonder at thy ſhorter day,
That night treads on the heels of noon; wee'l ſay
Thou rann'ſt the faſter to have wonne ſo ſoon,
Thou wroughtſt the harder, to have done by noon.
Such Lamps as are not niggards of their light,
Soon ſpend their Oyle, and bid the world good night.
Wee'l not compute thy time by daies and years,
But by thy labours, then thine age appears
Double: let actions bee the Sands that run,
And then thy glaſs runs long, when much is done
But fate, what makes thee hard to us? alas:
Thou needs not ſhake or break the Pulpit Glaſſe.
Is this thy cunning there to ſend the ſtone,
Where it may hit a multitude in one?
Are Pulpits Butts, becauſe they ſtand ſo high?
Preachers the marks, at which thou letteſt flye?
And is the Lawrel that was counted free
Now ſooner ſtruck, than any other tree?
Wee ſee; when ſentence is pronounc'd by fate
Then Beneficium Cleri's out of date.
On the Death of his very dear Friend Mr. Edward Bright Fellow of Emmanuel Colledge in Cambridge.
O Death, I cannot skill thy arts
How thou could'ſt by thy power win,
And by thy Method kill that man
That's dead unto the world and ſin.
It ſeems it is not hard to put to flight
That ſoul that's fledg'd for it's eternal light.
Sure wee are miſtaken, hee but ſleeps,
Or if you rather call him dead,
I'me ſure you mean no more but this,
That hee's unto his kindred fled.
Then let us dreſs ourſelves againſt hee come,
Who ſhall bee ſent to call us alſo home.
So may wee meet and joyn in one
Wreath'd in an everlaſting love,
Breathing our joyful praiſe to him
Who only wrought us this remove.
For ſo wee ſee rejoycings in a Quire
Redoubled, where all meet, and all conſpire.
This may ſuffice then, here lies one
Whoſe life was upright, and whoſe end
Was like his life: But yet wee weep
Becauſe bereav'd of ſuch a friend.
That man whoſe life was juſt, example rare,
Shall never need a verſe, nor want a tear.
Rich. Kidder, A. M. Fel. of Emmanuel Coll.
Upon the frequent Death of Miniſters, divers young; of Mr. Brights in particular, and the manner of it.
HOw is't the ſpan of life ſo little ſhowes,
Sith th'hand that meaſures it no ſhorter grows?
The grants of life in Character are writ;
Death findes ſome fault with Time; and now thinks: fit
To date its ſtrokes after the modern stile;
Anticipating Natures debt a while:
All Times proportions, wee by ſem briefs rate;
Into th'imperfect mood are ſhrunk of late.
The vital ſhadow doth too nimbly haſte,
And th' famous Temple-clocks go much too faſt.
Sure God's incenſt, wee treat with ſuch delay,
Hee takes Ambaſſadours ſo ſoon away;
Or his revenewes don't to th' ſumme amount,
Hee calls ſo many Stewards to account.
Or 'tis to ſcreen his Seens eyes from fire,
By Deaths thick ſhade, hee's kindling in his ire.
Th' Promethean Games more ſacred now revive,
Where Lights run races, and ſo ardent ſtrive,
Which ſhall bee firſt kiſt out by that pure Sun,
To whom their divine flames as tribute run.
'Mongſt which our Brights extinct; the reaſon why
My thoughts are tinctur'd with this mourning dye;
And put on black, teaching my hand to wear
This Elegie, griefs Phylactery here.
All lives are lines drawn to the point of Death,
Of which ſome upward tend, ſome end beneath;
Some long, ſome ſhort▪ ſome crooked, ſome more ſtraight;
This centred line was ſhorter, cauſe 'twas right
A line made up of points; emphatick light;
A ſprightly ray reflected out of ſight▪
But in ſome deeper waters broken firſt,
Or through a duskie cloud Meanders …h…ſt.
A ſilver thread u…t wined at the end;
Coin of diviue impreſſe, but with a bend.
A Theam which reconciles integrity
With a diſ-jointed judgement: where wee ſee
In lifes laſt page, Reaſons errata caſt;
A Chaos to another world prefac't.
A twiſt of night and day; a polar guide
Or fiery Pillar, but with a dark ſide.
A living Sermon, but of one uſe lame;
Gods Image ſeen inverſt; a vigrous flame,
Panting with often aſſaies to aſſoil
It ſelf with dimneſs, charg'd by groſſer oile;
Deaths penumbra his ſetting Sun 'ore caſt,
While vapours raiſ'd did reaſons twilight haſte.
His tongue then rang his ſenſes funeral,
Which was the Curfeu that to reſt did call.
Thoſe jarring ſounds ſo harſh to tender ears,
Were but while hee was tuning for the ſphears;
His ſouls Reveile ſtruck at the dawn of glee;
The Prolegom'na of eternity.
Whoſe ſpeech ſometimes yet flow'd in nobler ſort,
Like ſpirits rectifi'd in a retort.
His heavenly Maſter laid his hand on's head,
And turn'd him round to manumit him dead.
A ſacrifice to God his body meant
Hee to conſume a fire, a feaver ſent.
Hee was an interlined Text, whereon
Heavens beſtow'd a gloſs, the world needs none,
(Hee was not ſo obſcure) to hint his fame,
Whom to commend's to comment on a name,
With Glow-worms, that is writ with beams; or teach
B' our breath a Star to ſhine; or light to bleach.
This pen ſhall only be the Tube to ſet
His luſtre this ſhort draught on Paper ſet;
Zeal gave his words their accent, piety
Figur'd his life, grace't with ſimplicity:
Whom faithfulneſs advance't to richer caſe,
Being call'd from Chriſt-Church to a better place;
Which countermands our tears, bids joyful bee,
Hee's gone from Chriſt Church, but to Trinity.
John Reyner. M. A. Em. Col.
In Obitum Edvardi Bright, Col. Eman… Socii.
NIl opus eſſe Deo (quis uti ſaepius ipſe
Dignatur) ſtudios hominum, nil arte, manu que
Auxiliatrici, quicquid diſcernit agendum,
Nos tua (ſed quantum deflenda) Vir optime, fata
Immatura docent, quo non iuſtructior alter
Extitit interpres divina mentis, & alma
Pandere ſumma pot is myſteria religionis.
Qui tam flexanimi Suadâ, nervo que potentis
Eloquii, traheres mortalia pectora, ſacra
Leg is in obſequium: rigidas impellere mentes
Doctus, & artifici dextra formare ſequaces.
Nempe hoc illud erat, captiva ſcientia rebus
Caeter a divinis aderat, rati… que modeſtè
Ancillabatur fidei, prudentia zelo
Temperieni dabat, & coeleſti plenus amore
Humanas miſerente vices tibi Spiritus intus
Ardebat flammis non luce carentibus; inſtar
Lampadis heu nimium, radiis & lumine donec
Impertis alios, oleum vitale liqueſcit.
Haec quoties animum ſubeunt, geminata recurſat
Maeſtitia, & (veluti lani… praeſente cadaver
Caede recente madens ebullit ſanguine) vulnus
Triſte recrudeſcit, dolet immedicable vulnus.
Nos imprudentes, numeris qui ſtringere paucis
Quaerimus, & luctus pedibus metirier arct is
Immenſos, remur que animos eludere tandem
Carmine poſſe brevi tanti moment a doloris.
T. L.
In Exequiis Edoardi Bright, nuper Collegii Emmanuelis Socii.
QUis dabit ut liquidas oculi vertantur in und as,
Et fluat in madidis lachryma multa genis?
Sic tua perpetu… deflerem funera rivo,
Non requies flendi, non modus ullus erit.
Sed mens obſtupuit nimio perculſa dolore,
Pectora continuo deriguere gelu.
Sic oli…s Niobe evaſit monument a doloris,
Dum ſua defleret pignora chara nimis.
Sed quoniam in verſus rigidus dolor ire recuſat
Impatiens numeri nec mea muſa valet
Nune faciles proferre m…des; ſuſpiria ſaltem,
Singultuſ que mei ſigua doloris erunt.
Dum micat aeternam cunctis …ſtendere vitan…
Ex Orco rev…cans, ipſe Edoardus obit.
Ah Mors crudelis, nulla que inviſior umbra!
Debuit hoc ſaltem non licuiſſe tibi.
B. D. A. B. E. C.
Ad chariſſimi Fratris manes alloquium.
A Pagite qua nimis Inbenter credulum
Animum feffellerunt ſatis temeraria
Dogmata; mihi que spem didêrunt (ah cito
Ad irritum caſuram) amica pectora
Nunquam ſuos nexus fideles ſolvere:
Has nempe noſtr as molis incolas pigrae
Se dividi nunquam manu craſſa pati,
Acutioriſ que ingeni ludere aciem.
Animae ecce dimidium mea de perdidi,
Et ego ſuperſtes vivo tanto vulneri
Pars altera infelix, fugis dulciſſimum
Poctus? breviſ que conjugi te panites
Nostri? ergo cur l…t… parum co…i… …,
Et Pegaſei… …endis avolans gradu?
Caros per amplexus, ſinuſ que egote precor
Blandos, & olim quae fuerunt dulcia
Colloquia, tot fratèrni …moris pignora,
Reſpice, pedem ſiſte, retro tandem fer gradum,
Parumper expectatus ipſe ero comes:
Eadem ſupremo lux mihi cibi que ſit.
Sed abiit. Heus! cur aure ſurdâ iro ſimul…!
Viam reflecte, oro, nec a me me trah…
Durus nimis: jam en jam paratus ſum ſequi;
Socium tuae me ſortis & fati accipe
Tecum: mane donec. — ſed in caſſum proces
Fuſae valebant nihil, ad …ftra viam t…nes,
Cognata que impigro impetu lumina petit.
Coeliſ que terriſ que anima dilecta merito,
Vale; ſed hunc gemitum infim… de pec…ore
Audi pri…s. Viſa eſt ad haec remiſſa v…x:
Lachrymas inaenes pone (ait) queſtus t…os
Comprime. Venit (nee erit diu) venit die…
Iſte tibi, qu… arctè gremia complicabimus,
Poſitâ que grandi corporum peripherià
Noſtra (mihi quam laetus is dies erit)
Animas duas punct… unico miſcebimus. G. Bright.
Col. Samel. Soc.