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Broadside entitled 'An Elegy'
On the much to be Lamented Death,
COME thou my mournful Muse to his great Name.
Doubly inscribe that thence the purer Flame.
To Heaven so offered may more greatful rise,
The grosser parts be wood for the Sacrifice.
Doubles the grief that's in the Nation spread.
Since he whom Edinburgh did Love is Dead
For every Tear that with our Eye's most shed,
Even on a Languishing a Sickly Bed,
They will into a Stream amongst us turn,
And every on will have just cause to mourn,
For who can cease to shed a thousand Tears,
Whilest he is dead and Edinburgh's loss appears,
Tho' in the grave or in the mounted Sky,
What ever Mansions doth his Dust Survie,
Still on our Hearts he shall for ever live,
We indispos'd he did always relive.
When bussie Cares did oft oppress our Mind.
He was the only Comfort we did find,
In his good Medicines we found Repose,
For they with pleasant sweets did us Dispose,
But now he's gone Death's rapt him from our Sight
And cruely Rob'd us of our only Right,
He though no Surgeon yet did understand,
His Bussiness in what he took in Hand,
How Nimbly he his Patients did Survey,
Twice, Thrice and sometimes oftener in a Day.
To every one that call'd him he with Speed
Did run, to the Poor a helper in their need,
Who can unconquer'd Death withstand ?
A furrowed brow old Age at Hand.
For Death a little after this we all must feel.
It's so Decreed by the Fatal wheel,
And all the numerous Ofspring of the Earth,
That always feed on her who gave them Birth,
Must every one it's birth it's Funeral,
The Womb and Tome being alike to all,
To Dust they must return their Breath resign,
Thus being Heavens highest great Design.
Probable date published:
1721- shelfmark: Ry.III.c.36(110)