AN ELEGY On the DEATH of the REVEREND Doctor JOHN GOAD, Late Master of MERCHANT TAYLORS-School, London, Who Departed this Life the 28th. of October, 1689.
CAN then a Father of our Israel die,
And none step forth to sound an Elegy?
No Son of all the Prophets bring a Verse,
T' Adorn the Holy, Venerable, Herse.
Not one of those, whose All to him is due;
Who from his Cistern Sacred Waters drew:
Of those, whose Oracles are now so sought,
Who at this Great Gamaliel's Feet were Taught.
Yet none is found to Offer at his Shrine,
But I!— And I— but this poor Mite of mine!
'Tis all, I may— yet this I'd rather do,
Than prove Forgetful and Ungrateful too.
Tho' small the Offering; tho' but weak and faint;
Great the Devotion is; more Great the Saint.
Hail! Sacred Manes! Once a Foyl to Vice,
Now a fair Scyon set in Paradice!
There Happy Thou Eternal Joys dost find:
But We unhappy, whom Thou'st left behind.
Unhappy We, depriv'd of Strength and Head;
Our Chariot and our Horses hence are fled;
And Vertu's in Despair, now GOAD is Dead.
GOAD's Loyalty in
Egyptian.
Pharian Darkness shin'd,Nor could State-Tempests shake his Constant Mind.
Th' OXONIAN
St. John Baptist's Colledge Oxon.
Baptist gave him all his StoreOf Learning; yet from him received more.
Fair Flocks of Chosen Youth, whose Rip'ning Years,
Took Happy Culture from his Tutoring Cares.
Nor doth the GRANTIAN Muse less Glory owe
To Heads, whose Seeds of Wisdom GOAD did Sow.
Long since Fair Isis and the Goodly Came
Bemoan'd their Loss; when they were told by Fame,
What Envious Fate remov'd him from the
Merchant: Taylors-School. &c.
Place;Whence still he us'd to send a Learned Race,
That joyntly did both Came and Isis Grace.
Had they but us'd less Cruelty, and Rage,
Secur'd his Quiet, and sustain'd his Age,
That without Want he might have look'd for Fate;
Their Sin and Shame had not been then so Great.
But who can Fathom the Eternal Mind,
Or the deep Counsels of th' Almighty find?
Ev'n He, whose Charity was Match'd by none,
Was now by Charity Her Self undone!
For surely he had heap'd up no small Store,
Had he but— Liberally sustain'd the Poor:
But this Great Man Magnificently— Brave,—
Nought for his own Support, but Hope would save,
Like
Alex. M. on his Expedition into Asia, distributed all his Patrimony among his Friends, saying, he left Hope for himself.
Philip's Son: The rest he freely gave.—Surely the Comforts of his Soul were Great;
And Vast the Bliss, he gained after Fate:
For small Rewards of Charity he found
On this side Heaven: But sure his Faith is Crown'd
With full Fruition now.— There Raptures flow;
There Plenty doth in full Abundance grow;
There endless, boundless Joys his Soul Embrace,
And Bliss shines bright before th' Almighty's Face.
Go, Blessed Saint, enjoy that Peace above,
That Candid Spirit and that Strifeless Love,
Which thy Calm Soul foretasted here below,
And Griev'd and Sigh'd; that all Men did not so.
Harmless thy Days, blameless thy Life did pass;
Learning and Piety thy Pleasure was;
The Languages from thy Wise Lips did flow;
And Heaven's High Secrets thy vast Mind did know:
Air, Earth, Seas, Fire, thy Wisdom did Define;
And Fates Dark Revolutions could Divine.
Yet he was Meek and Humble and Content;
Little suffic'd, where Heavenly Things were meant:
Nought here he sought, nor did his Hope lye here;
Upward he aim'd; He'd laid his Treasure there.
Learn hence, base Worldlings! That so doat on Dross;
What seems your Gain, was unto him but Loss:
He laid aside the Heavy, Golden, Load;
Then flew to Heaven; where now's his blest Aboad;
Learn hence, base Worldlings!-think on Glorious GOAD.
MEMENTO MORI
LONDON: Printed Anno Domini 1689.
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