AN ELEGY ON MR. THOMAS GOUGE. To Mr. ARTHUR SHALLET, Merchant. Worthy Sir, HE fubject of the following elegy was high in THE your esteem, and enjoyed a large share of your affections. Scarce doth his memory need the affistance of the Muse to make it perpetual; but when she can at once pay her honours to the venerable dead, and by this address acknowledge the favours fhe has received from the living, it is a double pleasure to, Who died Jan. 8th, 1699-1700. YE virgin fouls, whofe sweet complaint Could teach Euphrates * not to flow, Could Sion's ruin fo divinely paint, Array'd in beauty and in woe : Awake, ye virgin fouls, to mourn, And with your tuneful forrows dress a prophet's urn. *Pfal. 137. Lament, i. 2, 3. O could O could my lips or flowing eyes But imitate fuch charming grief, I'd teach the feas, and teach the skies, Wailings, and fobs, and fympathies, Nor fhould the ftones or rocks be deaf; Rocks fhall have eyes, and ftones have ears, While Gouge's death is mourn'd in melody and tears. Heaven was impatient of our crimes, And fent his minifter of death To fcourge the bold rebellion of the times, Then took a difmal aim, and brought great Gouge to duft. Great Gouge to duft! how doleful is the found! No vulgar mortal dy'd When he refign'd his breath. The Mufe that mourns a nation's fall, Should wait at Gouge's funeral, Should mingle majesty and groans, Such as the fings to finking thrones, And in deep founding numbers tell, How Sion trembled, when this pillar fell, Sion grows weak, and England poor, The reverend man let all things mourn; And order'd to be born. His foul was of th' angelic frame, The fame ingredients, and the mould the fame, How would he mount, how would he fly Tow'rd the celestial coaft! With what amazing swiftness foar Till earth's dark ball was feen no more, And all its mountains loft! Scarce could the Mufe purfue him with her fight: But, angels, you can tell, For oft you meet his wonderous flight, And knew the ftranger well; Say, how he past the radiant fpheres. And vifited your happy feats, And trac'd the well-known turnings of the golden ftreets, And walk'd among the stars. Tell Tell how he climb'd the everlasting hills Surveying all the realms above, Borne on a ftrong-wing'd faith, and on the fiery wheels Of an immortal love. 'Twas there he took a glorious fight Of the inheritance of faints in light, And read their title in their Saviour's right. The new creation's frame. The glories of his power, and glories of his grace: Of thofe celeftial facred things, In that majeftic face. That face did all his gazing powers employ, With most profound abasement and exalted joy, He ftood adoring by; The volume open'd to his eye, And fweet intelligence he held With all his fhining kindred of the sky. Ye feraphs that furround the throne, Tell how his name was through the palace known, Speak Speak it aloud, let half the nation hear, Where the old blafphemers dwell, To taint the purest dust, and blot the whitest fame! Till flander die with you. “We saw him, said th' ethereal throng, "We faw his warm devotions rife, "We heard the fervour of his cries, ❝ And mix'd his praises with our fong: "We knew the fecret flights of his retiring hours, 'Nightly he wak'd his inward powers, Young Ifrael rofe to wrestle with his God, "And with unconquer'd force fcal'd the celestial towers, "To reach the bleffing down for thofe that fought his "blood. "Oft we beheld the thunderer's hand "Rais'd high to crush the factious foe; "As oft we faw the rolling vengeance stand "Doubtful t' obey the dread command, "While his afcending prayer upheld the falling blow." Draw the paft fcenes of thy delight, My Mufe, and bring the wondrous man to fight. *Though he was fo great and good a man, he did not escape cenfure. Place |