The compleat scholler; or, A relation of the life, and latter-end especially, of Caleb Vernon who dyed in the Lord on the 29th of the ninth month, 1665. Aged twelve years and six months. Commending to youth the most excellent knowledge of Christ Jesus the Lord.

An ELEGY.

CALEB! Ah peerless Caleb, art thou dead? No, no thou art not, but thy soul is fled To Heaven, thy better part shall never dye But shall survive, yes and thy memory Shall ever live; and though thy life expire, Yet shal all those that knew thee, thee admire, And honour thy remembrance. Worthy youth Whose chiefest love was Piety and Truth; Who tho so young and tender, yet didst chase Away the thoughts of sin, and didst embrace Sincerity, and with an upright heart Didst Gods Commands, to chuse the better part. A second Timothy I well may stile thee, Of which true title none can ere beguile thee: Which thou deserv'st, and hast an ample share In his perfections, although so rare. I'th Scriptures from a child he knowledg had, And stuck close to the good, shuning the bad;

Even so didst thou, whose chief & sole delight Was for to serve the Lord thy God, in spight Of all the opposition which was made By Satans instruments, to make to fade Thy hot love t'wards thy Lord, & fervent zeal Unto good works, which no vain thing could steal. He in the graces of his Parents dear, Enjoy'd a very large and ample share. So thou the virtues of thy Father, and Thy gracious mother, at the second hand Deriv'st: A rare example he did prove, Others for to provoke his God to love. So thou a holy pattern didst appear, Although so young, while that thou livest here. And though th'art dead, thy soul doth sore on high Death wher's thy sting? Grave wher's thy victory? Caleb! blest Child! the Victory is thine, Who like an other Sun in Heaven dost shine. O Child, belov'd of God, admir'd of men, For all thy virtues and thy graces! when Shall we again thy like behold, whose Spirit A beautious Crown of Glory dost inherit. O wonder of our iron age! wh'ast left, Something of which the world can't be bereft Let us lament our losse, whilst he above Sings holy praises to the God of Love.

W. D.