An elegy in commemoration of the Right Worshipful Sir William Scroggs, late lord chief justice of His Majesties Court of Kings-Bench, who departed this life, the 25th of this instant October. 1683. 1683 Approx. 5 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). B03141 15613369 Wing E351 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[137] ESTC R36159 99890163 ocm99890163 182621

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B03141) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 182621) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A4:1[137]) An elegy in commemoration of the Right Worshipful Sir William Scroggs, late lord chief justice of His Majesties Court of Kings-Bench, who departed this life, the 25th of this instant October. 1683. 1 sheet ([1] p.). Printed by J. Grantham, London: : in the year, MDCLXXXIII. [1683] Verse: "Thou pleasing muse, who late did'st gay appear ..." Imperfect: stained, affecting text and imprint. Reproduction of original in the British Library.

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 eng Scroggs, William, -- Sir, 1623?-1683 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century. 2008-05 Assigned for keying and markup 2008-08 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-10 Sampled and proofread 2008-10 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
AN ELEGY In Commemoration of the Right Worſhipful Sir WILLIAM SCROGGS, Late Lord Chief Juſtice of His MAJESTIES Court of KINGS-BENCH, who departed this Life, the 25th of this Inſtant October. 1683.

29. Octob. 1663

Thou pleaſing Muſe, who late did'ſt gay appear Gaudy as Spring, and with thy Songs did'ſt chear My well pleas'd thoughts, now like to Sable night Aray thy ſelf, diſrob'd of all thy light; With Cyprus bind thy Brows; this mournful Theam Admits no Day, Grief here is too extream To be obſerv'd by vulgar prying Eyes, Who know not in true Greif to Sympathize. This noble Sorrow is unfeign'd. True Love In Mercinary numbers ſcorns to move, But ſtill keeps Harmony with that above. He's gone. The Brave amongſt the Great lies low; True Tyrant Death, who will no pity ſhow, Snatch'd him from hence: at leaſt his better part Which ſhines above, bright as his great deſert. In Heaven he Triumphs, whilſt on Earth his Name Is Breath'd aloud by the ſtrong blaſt of fame; The Man who truly Loyal durſt to be, When Torrent Faction rag'd to that degree, That once again it puſh'd at Monarchy: Who Atlas like, did help ſuſtain the weight Of Leaning Empire, when the wheel of fate Almoſt flew from it's Axle, and a fear Poſſeſs'd ſome Men, Heav'n did neglect it's care; Even then his great unbias'd Soul ſtood firm; No fear of Danger, nor no threats could charm His moving Orb e're to run Retrogade, His Princes Int'reſt, his cheif care was made; He fear'd no frowns, in vain Temptations were, Uprightneſs ſtill did all his Actions ſquare; In publick and in private, Juſtice ſhin'd In more uprightneſs n'er before inſhrin'd: In vain aſperſions were, like Chriſtal He Caſt of the ſtains of unjuſt obliquy. The banded party, which in Treaſon ſet, Was by his Prudence countermin'd; the fret Of Monarchy, the rude Anarchial rout, Who ſought to bring their black deſigns about, Quel'd by that awful power deriv'd from him Who wears the Britiſh Empires Diadem. In haughty pride they durſt no more appear, But in cloſe Corners, hiſſing loud, they rear Their Heads, impolitick, until at laſt, That Venom that would fain three Kindgoms blaſt Was on the ground in vain at Random caſt. The Laws great Oracle in him is ſet, Center'd in him both Law and Reaſon met. Precedents juſtly pois'd had ſtill due place, And due Proportion rul'd in every Caſe. Orphans and Widdows tears who were oppreſt, Never departed from him unredreſt. The Proud and Rich, who thought 'twas in their Power The Scales of Juſtice, with a Golden ſhowr, To turn with eaſe, found her pois'd Ballance right, Not to be alter'd, nor by Gold or Might. Retir'd from buſineſs, ſtill his mind was bent T'improve that Talant his Creator lent, And make it plain appear, in each degree, He was the Pattern of Humility. Then let his Memory for ever live; Times ſelf to that can n'er a period give; The Gowns chief boaſt to after times he'l be, Ages to come ſhall read his Hiſtory; And ſtrive to Copy his deſerved praiſe, Thinking him worthy of Immortal Bays,
EPITAPH. Beneath this Marble, how can it be ſaid Immortal Scroggs, a Man ſo juſt is laid? 'Tis but his duſt, Reader, ſuppoſe no more, The reſt's in Heaven, 'tis there lay'd up in ſtore, Till with loud ſounds the Trumpet wakes the dead, And riſing duſt is with freſh Beauty clad, Then ſhall he live above the Worlds renown, And wear for ever Virtues ſhining Crown. FINIS.

LONDON: Printed by J. Grantham, in the Year, MDCLXXXIII.