Norfolk drollery, or, A compleat collection of the newest songs, jovial poems, and catches, &c. by the author, M. Stevenson.

An ELEGY upon Sir Joseph Payne, sometimes Major and Col∣lonel of the Train'd Bands of the City of Norwich, who dyed in Harvest.

SO falls a shock in season; Heaven we see, Has begun Harvest then as well as we: Not without rain too, though in deep laments, Our Eyes out-vie the melting Elements. Yet weep not; Joseph is but sent before ye, The Grave his Aegypt is, the Heavens his Glory. Such was his just, and generous behaviour, Got him the Peoples love and Princes favour. To the Kings hand he owes his great renown: But still the merit of it to his own. He was till Nature's oyl decay'd, a Lamp That did enlighten both the Court and Camp. Whilst like the Orbs commanding from a far, He that our Pilot was, is now our Star. Which though by many sphears divided hence, Govern•• this City still by influence.

The solemn pomp that did attend his Herse, Lookt, as if death and tryumph had converse. They parly, and deliberate of dying, With lighted Matches, and with colours flying. As if his Soul of honour ever tender, In spight of death, wou'd upon terms surrender, And bravely brav'd it out, till like Ostend, Nothing remain'd, but Rubbish to defend. With folded armes the men at armes marcht on As from the Victory of Absolon. The stand of Pikes their lofty heads did hide, And Swords like Bandaliers hung a to-fide. Muskets are charg'd, recoil from off their Rests, And Funeral-fire knocks at the Souldiers breasts. At last they roar it out as thither led, Like the last Trumpet to awake the dead. Whilst every Volly as it rends and raves, Forestals an Earthquake and presents them graves. To Charity the way he nobly led, And dy'd to let us see she was not dead. But what his bounty, with the highest, ranks, It was not known till it could know no thanks. That empty puff of praise he car'd not for, The Benefactor is God's Creditor. Before the Famin, Joseph layes up Corn; And milk provided is for Babes unborn. Just thus the God of Charity began, First he made ready meat, and then made Man.

Pure Eleemosyne thus to contrive, Like providence to keep the World alive. Mammon well laid out, mony wisely given: Like Forein Bills paid at first fight in heaven. What can I further add? here in a word, Lyes the Comptroller of the Gown, & Sword.