AN ELEGY Upon the much lamented Death of the most Reverend Divine HENRY WILKINSON, D. D. Late CANNON of CHRIST-CHƲRCH in OXFORD; and since Preacher of the Gospel in London, who dyed the 5th of June, 1675.
LEt's haste to Jordan's banks, from whence not far,
Elijah (mounted in his fiery Carr
Drawn by swift Seraphime) doth cut his way
Through Airy Fiery Regions, without stay
At the Olympick houses; till he comes
Unto the Pearly Gates, and A [...]re Rooms
Prepared for him by the King of Kings,
Where to the Lamb he Hallelujah sings.
But let's come down again to Jordan's brook,
And while he climbs, on our Elijah look:
And when our sorrows want a briny Tear,
Our Eyes may now take in fresh water there:
Let them upon a Sea of Tears hoyse sail,
And let them leak, and drown too; let a gale
Of Sighs fill our Soul's wings, and make them soare
After this Saint, unto his Heavenly shore.
Methinks I hear the Quire of Angels cry,
Welcom blest Soul unto our company
Innumerable; Just Spirits, (every one
Made perfect,) cry, Make room for Wilkinson.
Ash, Bridge, Pearce, Caryl, Whitaker, and Strong,
Vines, Venning, Calamy, and Love (among
The Martyrs) Jenaway, congratulate
Their Benjamin, approching Heaven's gate.
Methinks I see them circling round the Throne,
Spectators, while Jehovah's hand doth crown
This Victor with triumphant bayes of Glory,
Ensur'd to him on Earth in Scripture-story.
Doth not his Treble Soul Heaven's Quire advance,
By adding a new Song, whil'st with a glance
He takes a prospect of his acted Scene;
On this World's Theatre, his Soul agen
Re-acts, and Comments on his ended dayes,
(To us a Text) and now admires the rayes
Of Grace, Truth, Wisdom, Goodness, Power, and Love,
Commenced here, there perfected by Jove.
The time is ended of the dark Eclipse,
Now, now, he clearly sees th' Apocalyps,
One minute now, of Knowledge gives him more
In Mysteries, than scores of years before.
But where now am I gone! return my Muse,
Come view his life, his Enochisme peruse.
Hath he not for his Lord spent, and been spent?
Come see in every place his Monument.
Oxford! Produce thy high priz'd Pearls, thy Gold,
(Such as the Indies, Guiny, never told)
Which from Heaven's Factory, our Merchant brought
And found for thee before 'twas by thee sought.
Athens should not have Ship'd him from her Port,
Nor the Cathedral from that Royal Fort,
Which he so stoutly Mann'd, against th' attack
Of Romish Monsters while he drave them back.
London! Doth not thy Walls yet Eccho from
His Trumpet? Hath not his Alarum come
Into thy Soul? Doth not this Aaron's Bell
Yet ring within thy Ears? Let Spittles Cell
Bear witness of his warning piece; he fir'd
Upon our Lusts, which guilt and wrath acquir'd.
Can we forget his winged Soul, that went
After, when his loud cries to Heaven were sent?
As if he long'd to know what Heaven decreed,
That he the News might bring to Jacob's Seed.
Cannot the Watch-Towers where th' Prophet stood,
Bear witness of that over flowing flood
Of wrath (from the Apocalyps of John
By him foretold) to come on Albion?
How did his working Heart, in every word
Breathe out itself? How did the Spirit's Sword
(Brandished in his skilful hand) help on
Sin, Satan's, Death's last Execution?
He Preach'd, as if immediately from God
He came; he Pray'd as if in's presence stood.
A David's Zeal, a Moses Meekness, Job's
Still Patience, his Lord Christ Royal robes
Of Holiness, did splendidly array
This glorious Saint, sit for his Wedding day;
What shall I say! him shall I dare to call
Henry the First for his Memorial.