Poems, by J.D. VVith elegies on the authors death

An hymne to the Saints, and to Marquesse Hamylton.

VVHither that soule which now comes up to you Fill any former ranke or make a new, Whither it take a name nam'd there before, Or be a name it selfe, and order more Then was in heaven till now; (for may not hee Bee so? if every severall Angell bee A kind alone;) What ever order grow Greater by him in heaven, wee doe not so; One of your orders growes by his accesse; But, by his losse grow all our orders lesse; The name of Father, Master, Friend, the name Of Subject and of Prince, in one are lame; Faire mirth is dampt, and conversation black, The household widdow'd, and the garter slack; The Chappell wants an eare, Councell a tongue; Story, a theame; and Musicke lacks a song; Blest order that hath him, the losse of him Gangred all Orders here; all lost a limbe. Never made body such hast to confesse What a soule was; All former comelinesse▪

Fled, in a minute, when the soule was gone, And, having lost that beauty, would have none, So fell our Monasteries, in one instant growne Not to lesse houses, but, to heapes of stone; So sent this body that faire forme it wore, Unto the spheare of formes, and doth (before His soule shall fill up his sepulchrall stone,) Anticipate a Resurrection; For, as in his fame, now, his soule is here, So, in the forme thereof his bodie's there; And if, faire soule, not with first Innocents Thy station be, but with the Paenitents, (And, who shall dare to aske then when I am Dy'd scarlet in the blood of that pure Lambe, Whether that colour, which is scarlet then, Were black or white before in eyes of men?) When thou rememb'rest what sins thou didst finde Amongst those many friends now left behinde, And seest such sinners as they are, with thee Got thither by repentance, Let it bee Thy wish to wish all there, to wish them cleane; Wish him a David, her a Magdalen.