[...]
AN ELEGIE VPON THE DEATH OF THAT WORTHY HOVSE-KEEPER, VVILLIAM SMITH, Of Crissing-Temple in the County of Essex, Esquire, who dyed the eleventh day of February, 1630. aged 74. yeeres.
London Printed by G. P. 1631.
An Elegie upon the death of that worthy housekeeper William Smith of Crissing-Temple in the County of Essex Esquire, who dyed the 11. day of February 1630. aged 74. yeeres.
LEt low deserts be rais'd by flattering verse,
Thy worth abundantly adornes thy Herse,
And brings thee with high honor from the wombe,
To swim in poore mens teares into thy Tombe;
To them unkinde, onely in this, to dye,
And leave them in their deepest misery.
Oh miserable Poore! whose foule offence,
And great ingratitude; heavens influence
Stopt first, and barren made the earth in seed,
Which strengthen should thine heart with daily bread:
Now with thy sinnes t'increase thy penalty,
God takes thy never failing Granary:
Not that I blame the poore, the rich to spare,
We all must guilty pleade at Heavens high barre;
God lets us live to see our sinnes just doome,
And takes away the just from th'ill to come.
If to doe good, and to abstaine from ill,
Be as in heaven, on earth to doe Gods will,
And the whole law fulfild, is God above,
And next thy neighbour, as thy selfe, to love,
All this did he, for whom I bleede these teares,
Whose vertues farre out numbered his yeeres;
And (witnesse men and Angels) in good deeds,
Not houres, but minutes of his life, exceeds.
That of the dead's a blessed commendation,
Which to the living serves for imitation;
Yet future times may thinke, if they this see,
I write not what he was, but ought to bee,
A faire Idea for applause and glory,
And not a true essentiall living story.
Well of a Temple had his house the name,
For like a Temple he did use the same,
The morning and the evening sacrifice,
Never omitted in the comeliest wise,
And that which in these daies is wondrous rare,
The Governors two living Temples were,
And labour'd to have all, that on them wayted,
As they themselves were truly consecrated.
As older, more Religious he grew,
Making a conscience ay to pay his due
To Gods owne Tribe, whom he so honoured,
As watchmen over us set in Gods stead;
Like good old Abraham, most joyfull, when
He Angels entertain'd in shapes of men.
Thus was he to his God: his conversation
With men, was no lesse worthy observation,
Even from the Throne to him that low doth grind
At mill, he loyall, faithfull was, and kind:
In his relation to his Soveraigne,
Although his outward presence was but plaine,
His actions were most noble, just and wise,
Conducing to the highest enterprise,
Yet to state-secrets he would not intrude,
Nor foment factions of the multitude;
The question whether, hard was to debate,
He honour'd more his King, or lov'd the state.
He alwaies did in highest favour stand
With greatest Lords, and Rulers of the Land,
With whom he was familiar as their host,
And where he once gain'd favour never lost.
To friends, and neighbours evermore most deare,
Where he so equally himselfe did beare,
All strife and quarrels he in peace did end.
The orphanes father, and the widdowes friend,
With whom they trust their states in confidence
Of good improvement by his diligence.
To his inferiours alwaies so was hee,
As our Superiours wee would wish to bee:
Friendly to all and loving: To the poore
So bountifull, as if God sent him store
And plenty, it amongst them to dispence,
And to releeve their pressing indigence.
Thus he abroad: How in his family?
Oh now my numbers turne all Elegie!
And first his dearest Turtles losse bemoane,
Who after fifty yeeres is left alone,
Ever to her most gentle, loving, wise,
And never as the weaker, did despise;
But as both were one body, mind and heart,
Both liv'd, and lov'd, and never bed did part;
So kindly drawing in this loving yoke,
One would have wisht it never might have broke,
Or that we had some fruit of such a paire,
But's lot to chuse was, not beget his heire:
Whom under him like to himselfe he bred;
But I the living praise not, but the dead:
Yet this faire heritage, as oft it fares
With other heires, cannot dry up his teares.
I boldly say they farre preferd his health,
Before th'inheriting of all his wealth.
You of his owne blood and affinity,
Your burthen beare in this sad melody:
Was he not as a father to you all?
On whom, unasked, he let large blessings fall.
And you his servants! ah that once you were,
And are not still, had he not greater care
Of your preferment, than your service due?
And though he many kept, yet had few new:
Before your outward mourning doth begin,
I see your hearts for sorrow bleede within,
All act our parts in this sad Elegie,
The Poore's the Chorus of the Tragedy.
As for my selfe, I need no Fathers urne,
Nor dead sonnes bones to move my muse to mourne,
Hearts griefe will most abundantly indite,
If I my sorrowes for my losses write.
Oh! I have lost a sweete familiar,
A friend, a father, and a Counsellor,
Whose Actions all, like precepts of the wise,
Directed mee true vertues exercise.
One above all; I never heard he utter'd
Least ill of them, that falsely 'gainst him mutter'd,
Although (as 'twas with Christ) foulem-outh'd detraction
Basely traduc'd the best of all his action;
Heavens schoole him taught to love his enemies,
And retribute rewards for injuries:
Graces are like high staires, Humility
The Basis, This sure is the Summity,
To which none can ascend but by the rest,
And many stepps there are to make man blest:
Easier heavens starres, than all his Graces tell,
Never was such a Smith in Israel.
Like living spring whose streames are never dry,
But more you draw, doth fresher still supply,
Such was his inexhausted liberality,
His minde unlimitted for hospitality:
And to leave nothing that he might fulfill,
He left large Legacies by his last will,
For to sustaine the needy hungry poore,
And feed them at his grave, as at his doore.
Like Tree close planted by the Rivers side,
He flourished
Aetatis 74.
long, and fruitfull did abide,Even to his last; his leaves all fresh and greene,
His body sound, and no decaying seene;
All faire and wide his goodly armes dispread,
And all that came neere to him sheltered;
Vntill the Lord chiefe owner of the ground,
Finding him living Timber, good and sound,
Bid cut him downe to be exalted higher,
Preserving all for Timber, none for fire:
That as he long on earth continued,
To be a dead materiall Temples head,
He might be of heavens immateriall,
A living Pillar never more to fall.
Wherefore let us not be disanimated,
As without hope, he is but hence translated,
Whither, if wee will doe, as he hath done,
Wee in good time with joy to him shall come.
Meane while heere his briefe Character is told,
As wee in little Globes the heavens behold.
The Epitaph.
NOble by Birth, in Fortunes Favours Low,
Thrift, by Gods blessing, made all plenty flow
Within my Gates, yet I my heire left more,
Than any of mine Ancestors before.
In Spirituall husbandry, let all men know
This Rule: They plenty reape that plenty sow;
And Talents are improv'd more by well spending,
Than Vsurers can, increase their Coine by lending.
No Titles I affected, my desire
Was sole by Grace and Goodnesse to aspire,
To Heaven from whence I came: Time all to light
Will bring: and give mee after Death my Right.
FINIS.