Elegy Upon the Death of Reverend Thomas Shepherd, Elegy
AN ELEGIE Upon that Reverend, Learned, Eminently Pious, and Singularly Accompliſhed Divine, my ever Honoured BROTHER Mr. THOMAS SHEPARD, The late Faithful and Worthy Teacher of the Church of Chriſt at Charlſtown in New-England.
Who finiſhed his Courſe on Earth, and went to receive his Crown, December 22. 1677. In the 43d Year of his Age.
(1)
OH! that I were a Poet now in grain!
How would I invocate the Muſes all
To deign their preſence, lend their flowing Vein,
And help to grace dear Shepard's Funeral!
How would I paint our griefs, and ſuccours borrow
From Art and Fancy, to limn out our ſorrow!
(2)
Now could I wiſh (if wiſhing would obtain)
The ſprightli'eſt Efforts of Poetick Rage,
To vent my Grieſs, make others feel my pain,
For this loſs of the Glory of our Age.
Here is a ſubject for the loftieſt Verſe
That ever waited on the braveſt Hearſe.
[3]
And could my Pen ingeniouſly diſtill
The pureſt Spirits of a ſparkling wit
In rare conceits, the quinteſſence of skill
In Elegiack Strains; none like to it:
I ſhould think all too little to condole
The fatal loſs (to us) of ſuch a Soul▪
[4]
Could I take higheſt Flights of Fancy, foar
Aloſt; If Wits Monopoly were mine:
All would be much too low, too light, too poor,
To pay due tribute to this great Divine▪
Ah! Wit avails not, when th'Heart's like to break,
Great griefs are Tongue▪ti'ed, when the leſſer ſpeak.
[5]
Away looſe rein'd Careers of Poetry,
The celebrated Siſters may be gone;
We need no Mourning Womens Elegy,
No forc'd, affected, artificial Tone▪
Great and good Shepard's Dead! Ah! this alone
Will ſet our eyes abroach, diſſolve a ſtone▪
[6]
Poetick Raptures are of no eſteem,
Daring Hyperboles have here no place,
Luxuriant Wits on ſuch a copious Theme,
Would ſhame themſelves, and bluſh to ſhew their face
Here's worth enough to overmatch the skill
Of the moſt ſtately Poet Laureat's Quill.
[7]
Exube'rant Fancies uſeleſs here I deem,
Tranſcendent vertue ſcorns feign'd Elogies:
He that gives Shepard half his due, may ſeem,
If Strangers hear it, to Hyperbolize.
Let him that can, tell what his vertues were,
And ſay, this Star mov'd in no common Sphere.
[8]
Here need no Spices, Odours, curious Arts,
No skill of Egypt, to embalm the Name
Of ſuch a Worthy: let men ſpeak their hearts,
They'l ſay, He merits an Immortal Fame.
When Shepard is forgot, all muſt conclude,
Th… is prodigious ingratitude.
[9]
But live he ſhall in many a gratefull Breaſt,
VVhere he hath rear'd himſelf a Monument,
A Monument more ſtately than the beſt,
On which Immenſeſt Treaſures have been ſpent.
Could you but into th'Hearts of thouſands peep▪
There would you read his Name engraven deep.
[10]
Oh! that my head were VVaters, and mine Eyes▪
A flowing Spring of Tears, ſtill iſſuing forth
In ſtreams of bitterneſs, to ſolemnize
The Obits of this Man of matchleſs worth!
Next to the Tears our ſins do need and crave▪
I would beſtow my Tears on Shepards Grave.
(11)
Not that he needs our Tears: for he hath dropt
His meaſure full; not one Tear more ſhall fall
Into God's Bottle from his eyes; Death ſtopt
That water-courſe, his ſorrows ending all▪
He Fears, he Cares, he Sighs, he Weeps no more:
Hee's paſt all ſtorms, Arriv'd at th'wiſhed Shoar.
[12]
Dear Shepard could we reach ſo high a ſtrain
Of pure Seraphick l…ve, as to deveſt
Our ſelves, and love, of ſelf-r…ſp…cts, thy gain
Would joy us, though it croſs our intereſt.
Then would we ſilence all complaints with this,
Our Deareſt Friend is doubtleſs g…ne to Bliſs.
(13)
Ah! but the Leſſon's hard, thus to deny
Our own dear ſelves, to part with ſuch a Loan
Of Heaven (in time of ſuch peceſſity)
And love thy comforts better than our own.
Then let us moan our loſs, adjourn our glee,
Till we come thither to rejoice with thee.
[14]
As when ſome formidable Comets blaze,
As when Portentous Prodigies appear,
Poor Mortals with amazement ſtand and gaze,
With hearts aff…ighted, and with trembling fear:
So are we all amazed at this blow,
Sadly portending ſome approaching woe.
[15]
We ſhall not ſummon bold Aſtrologers,
To tell us what the Stars ſay in the caſe,
(Thoſe Couſin-Germans to black Conjurers)
We have a ſacred Oracle that ſays,
When th'Righteous periſh, men of mercy go,
It is a ſure preſage of coming wo.
[16]
He was (ah woful word! to ſay he was)
Our wreſtling Iſrael, ſecond unto none,
The man that ſtood i'th g…p, to keep the paſs,
To ſtop the Troops of Judgements …uſhing on.
This Man the honour had to hold the hand
Of an incenſed God againſt our Land.
[17]
When ſuch a Pillar's faln (Oh ſuch an one!)
When ſuch a glorious, ſhining Light's put▪out,
When Chariot and Horſemen thus are gone;
Well may we fear ſome Downfal, Darkneſs, Rout.
When ſuch a Bank's broke down, there's fad occaſion
To wail, and dread ſome grievous Inundation.
[18]
What! muſt we with our God, and Glory part?
Lord! Is thy Treaty with New-England come
Thus to an end? And is War in thy Heart?
That this Ambaſſ…dour is called home.
So Earthly Gods (Kings) when they War intend,
Call home their Miniſters, and Treaties end.
[19]
Oh for the Raptures, Tranſports, Inſpirations
Of Iſrael's Singers, when his Jon'athan's Fall
So tun'd his mourning Harp! what Lamentations
Then would I make for Shepards Funerall
How truly can I ſay, as well as He?
My Deareſt Brother I'am diſtreſſ'd for thee.
[20]
How Lovely, Worthy, Peerleſs, in my view?
How Precious, Pleaſan… haſt thou been to me?
How Learn…, Prud…nt, Pious, Grave, and True?
And what a …ful Friend? who like to thee?
Mine Eye's deſire is vaniſh'd: who can tell
Where lives my deareſt Shepard's Parallel?
[21]
'Tis ſtrange to think: but we may well believe,
That not a few of different Perſwaſions
From this great Worthy, do now truly grieve
I'th Mourning croud, and joyn their Lamentations.
Such Powers Magnetick had He to draw to Him
The very Hearts, and Souls, of all that knew Him▪
[22]
Art, Nature, Grace, in Him were all combin'd
To ſhew the World a matchleſs Paragon:
In whom of Radiant Virtues no leſs ſhin'd,
Than a whole Conſtellation: but hee's gone!
Hee's gone alas! Down in the Duſt muſt ly
As much of this rare Perſon as could dy.
[23]
If to have ſolid Judgement, Pregnant Parts,
A piercing Wit, and comprehenſive Brain;
If to have gone the Round of all the Arts,
Immunity from Deaths Arreſt would gain,
Shepard would have been Death-proof, and ſecure
From that All conquering Hand, J'm very ſure.
[24]
If Holy Life, and Deeds of Charity,
If Grace illuſtrious, and Virtue tri'ed,
If modeſt Carriage, rare Humility,
Could have brib'd Death, good Shepard had not di'ed.
Oh! but inexorable Death attacks
The beſt Men, and promiſcu'ous havock makes.
[25]
Come tell me, Criticks, have you ever known
Such Zeal, ſo temper'd well with moderation?
Such Prudence, and ſuch Inno'cence met in one?
Such Parts, ſo little Pride and Oſtentation?
Let Momus carp, and Envy do her worſt,
And ſwell with Spleen and Rancour till ſhe burſt.
[26]
To be deſcended well, doth that commend?
Can Sons their Fathers Glory call their own?
Our Shepard juſtly might to this pretend,
(His Bleſſed Father was of high Renown,
Both England: ſpeak him great, admire his Name)
But his own perſ[onal worth's a better claim.
[27]
Great was the Father, once a glorious Light
Among us, Famous to an high Degree:
Great was this Son: indeed (to do him right)
As Great and Good (to ſay no more) as He.
A double portion of his Fathers Spirit
Did this (his Eldeſt) Son, through Grace, inherit.
[28]
His Look commanded Reverence and Awe,
Though Mild and Amiable, not Auſtere:
Well Humour▪d was He (as I ever ſaw▪)
And rul'd by Love and Wiſdome, more than Fear▪
The Muſes, and the Graces too, conſpir'd
To ſet forth this Rare Piece, to be admir'd.
[29]
He govern'd well the Tongue (that buſie thing,
Unruly, Lawleſs and Pragmatical)
Gravely Reſerv'd, in Speech not laviſhing,
Neither too ſparing, nor too liberal.
His Words were few, well ſeaſon'd, wiſely weigh'd▪
And in his Tongue the Law of kindneſs ſway'd.
[30]
Learned he was beyond the common Size▪
Befriended much by Nature in his Wit,
And Temper, (Sweet, Sedate, Ingenious, Wiſe)
And (which crown'd all) he was Heav'ens Favourite▪
On whom the God of all Grace did command,
And …how'… down Bleſſings with a lib'eral hand.
[31]
Wiſe He, not wily, was; Grave, not Moroſe;
Not ſtiffe, but ſteady; Seri'ous, but not Sowre;
Concern'd for all, as if he had no Foes;
(Strange if he had!) and would not waſt an Hour.
Thoughtful and Active for the common good:
And yet his own place wiſely underſtood.
[32]
Nothing could make him ſtray from Duty; Death
Was not ſo frightful to him, as Omiſſion
Of Miniſterial work; he fear'd no breath
Infecti'ous, i'th' diſcharge of his Commiſſion.
Rather than run from's work, he choſe to dy,
Boldly to run on Death, than duty fly.
[33]
(Cruel Diſeaſe! that didſt (like High-way-men)
Aſſault the honeſt Trav'eller in his way,
And rob dear Shepard of his life (Ah!) then,
When he was on the Road, where Duty lay.
Forbear, bold Pen! 'twas God that took him thus,
To give him great Reward, and puniſh us.)
[34]
Zealous in God's cauſe, but meek in his own;
Modeſt of Nature, bold as any Lion,
Where Conſc▪ience was concern'd: and there were none
More conſtant Mourners for afflicted Sion:
So gene'ral was his care for th▪Chu…ches all,
His Spirit ſeemed Apoſtolical.
[35]
Large was his Heart, to ſpend without regret,
Rejoycing to do good: not like thoſe Moles
That root i'th' Earth, or roam abroad, to get
All for themſelves (thoſe ſorry, narrow Souls!)
But He, like th'Sun (i'th' Center, as ſome ſay)
Diffus'd his Rayes of Goodneſs every way.
[36]
He breath'd Love, and purſu'd Peace in his day,
As if his Soul were made of Harmony:
Scarce ever more of Goodneſs crouded lay
In ſuch a piece of frail Mortality.
Sure Father Wilſons genuine Son was he,
New-England's Paul had ſuch a Timothy.
[37]
No Slave to th'Worlds grand Idols; but he flew
At Fairer Quarries, without ſtooping down
To Sublunary prey: his great Soul knew
Ambition none, but of the Heave'nly Crown.
Now he hath won it, and ſhall wear't with Honour,
Adoring Grace, and God in Chriſt, the Donour.
[38]
A Friend to Truth, a conſtant Foe to Errour,
Pow'erful i'th' Pulpit, and ſweet in converſe,
To weak ones gentle, to th'Profane a Terrour.
Who can his vertues, and good works rehearſe?
The Scripture Biſhops-Character read o're,
Say this was Shepards: what need I ſay more?
[39]
I ſay no more: let them that can declare
His rich and rare endowments, paint this Sun,
With all its …azling Rayes: But I deſpair,
Hopeleſs by any hand to ſee it done.
They that can Shepards goodneſs well diſplay,
Muſt be as good as he: But who are they?
[40]
See where our Siſter Charlſtown ſits and Means!
Poor Widowed Chaarlſtown! all in Duſt, in Tears!
Mark how ſhe wrings her hands! hear how ſhe gro…!
See how ſhe weeps! what ſorrow like to hers!
Charlſtown, that might for joy compare of late
With all about her, now looks deſolate.
[41]
As you have ſeen ſome Pale, Wan, Ghaſtly look,
When griſly Death, that will not be ſaid nay,
Hath ſeiz'd all for it ſelf, Poſſeſſion took,
And turn'd the Soul out of its houſe of Clay:
So Viſag'd is poor Charlſtown at this day;
Shepard, her very Soul, is torn away.
[42]
Cambridge groans under this ſo heavy croſs,
And Sympathizes with her Siſter dear;
Re…ews her Griefs af…eſh for her old loſs
Of her own Shepard, sad drops many a Tear.
Cambridge and Charlstown now joint Mourners are,
And this tremendous loſs between them ſhare.
End of the text · Urian Oakes, Elegy Upon the Death of Reverend Thomas Shepherd (1677)