







 
   
     
       
         To the memory of the Right Honourable Thomas Lord Napier who died in France, Anno Dom. 1686. A funeral elegie. / N. Paterson.
         Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688.
      
       
         
           1686
        
      
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         B04939
         Wing P704
         ESTC R181529
         51784601
         ocm 51784601
         175010
         
           
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             To the memory of the Right Honourable Thomas Lord Napier who died in France, Anno Dom. 1686. A funeral elegie. / N. Paterson.
             Paterson, Ninian, d. 1688.
          
           1 sheet ([1] p.)
           
             s.n.,
             [Edinburgh :
             1686]
          
           
             Caption title.
             End of verse in Latin.
             Place and date of publication suggested by Wing (2nd ed.).
             Reproduction of original in: National Library of Scotland.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Napier, Thomas Nicolson, -- Lord, 1669-1686 -- Death and burial -- Poetry.
           Elegiac poetry, Scottish -- Early works to 1800.
           Broadsides -- Scotland -- 17th century
        
      
    
     
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           To
           the
           Memory
           of
           the
           Right
           Honourable
           THOMAS
           LORD
           NAPIER
           Who
           died
           in
           FRANCE
           ,
           Anno
           
             DOM.
             1686.
          
           
        
         
           A
           Funeral
           ELEGIE
           .
        
         
           WHO
           without
           pale
           Amazement
           ponder
           can
        
         
           The
           Dissolution
           of
           the
           Frame
           of
           Man
           ?
        
         
           Heavens
           Master-piece
           ,
           in
           whom
           the
           ETERNAL
           drew
        
         
           His
           Portracture
           ,
           for
           ravisht
           Earth
           to
           view
           ,
        
         
           That
           Heavenly
           ,
           and
           Immortal
           sparks
           ,
           might
           sway
           .
        
         
           The
           Monarchie
           of
           brittle
           Clods
           of
           Clay
           :
        
         
           Whose
           twisted
           Chains
           compos'd
           of
           Love
           ,
           and
           Wonder
           ,
        
         
           Dissolves
           like
           Ice
           ,
           like
           Glass
           does
           brake
           assunder
           ;
        
         
           So
           that
           each
           Man
           of
           Low
           or
           High
           Degree
           ,
        
         
           When
           weighed
           is
           lighter
           found
           than
           Vanitie
           .
        
         
           So
           swists
           this
           span
           of
           Frailtie
           ,
           Life
           ,
           We
           know
        
         
           Eagles
           compared
           ,
           are
           supposed
           slow
           :
        
         
           Posts
           on
           the
           Earth
           ,
           Ships
           on
           the
           Sea
           ,
           the
           Wind
           ,
        
         
           Motion
           it self
           is
           hovering
           left
           behind
           ;
        
         
           These
           to
           our
           Faith
           (
           the
           Souls
           enlightned
           Eye
           )
        
         
           Scriptures
           makes
           Emblems
           of
           Mortalitie
           .
        
         
           And
           by
           dear-bought
           Experience
           ,
           it
           appears
        
         
           Youth's
           downs
           may
           fall
           ,
           as
           well
           as
           grizlie
           Hairs
           .
        
         
           The
           Patient
           ,
           and
           Phycisian
           ,
           strong
           and
           Weak
           ,
        
         
           To
           Death
           the
           King
           and
           Beggar
           are
           alike
           :
        
         
           If
           sins
           add
           fewel
           to
           the
           fire
           of
           Hell
           ,
        
         
           Thrice
           happie
           he
           in
           Youth
           that
           dieth
           well
           .
        
         
           Then
           onely
           NAPIER
           ,
           Thee
           We
           must
           confess
        
         
           Plac'd
           in
           the
           Zenith
           of
           all
           Happiness
           :
        
         
           To
           whose
           Nativity
           the
           Fates
           did
           owe
        
         
           All
           Glories
           ,
           smiling
           Fortune
           can
           bestow
           .
        
         
           A
           Birth
           ,
           blest
           with
           such
           Honours
           ,
           Vertues
           ,
           Parts
           ,
        
         
           That
           Court
           ,
           or
           Countrey
           can
           boast
           for
           their
           Arts
           :
        
         
           A
           Name
           ,
           all
           Albion
           over
           (
           it
           is
           clear
           )
        
         
           For
           Learning
           ,
           Valour
           ,
           Prudence
           had
           no
           PIER
           .
        
         
           Hence
           they
           ,
           and
           onely
           they
           ,
           possest
           that
           Name
           ,
        
         
           As
           a
           just
           Donative
           of
           Glorious
           Fame
           ;
        
         
           Which
           still
           from
           Age
           to
           Age
           no
           Limits
           knew
           ,
        
         
           Till
           Glories
           crescent
           to
           a
           Circle
           grew
           ;
        
         
           Which
           passing
           the
           Worlds
           bounds
           could
           bounded
           be
        
         
           By
           nothing
           now
           ,
           but
           vast
           Eternitie
           .
        
         
           Scarce
           four
           and
           twenty
           times
           the
           posting
           Sun
           ,
        
         
           Through
           his
           Coelestial
           Inns
           ,
           the
           signs
           ,
           had
           run
        
         
           Till
           Heavens
           great
           Privy
           Council
           (
           ruthless
           fates
           )
        
         
           Above
           the
           Saphir
           Rafters
           him
           translates
           :
        
         
           Where
           he
           pure
           Vertues
           Pleasures
           might
           obtain
           ,
        
         
           Who
           only
           here
           ,
           had
           tasted
           of
           their
           pain
           .
        
         
           Whose
           comely
           Person
           to
           our
           ravisht
           Eye
        
         
           Vi'd
           only
           with
           his
           Soul
           for
           Beautie
           :
        
         
           Yet
           handsomness
           was
           but
           the
           outward
           Shrin
        
         
           To
           vail
           the
           Glorious
           Saint
           was
           lodged
           therein
           ;
        
         
           His
           Judgement
           was
           so
           clear
           ,
           it
           knew
           no
           night
           ,
        
         
           His
           Apprehension
           active
           as
           the
           Light
           ;
        
         
           Whose
           Vigour
           could
           Discover
           and
           Discern
        
         
           The
           deepest
           Mysteries
           ,
           frail
           Man
           can
           learn.
        
         
           That
           had
           he
           liv'd
           ,
           with
           that
           same
           Approbation
           ,
        
         
           H
           'had
           write
           a
           Comment
           on
           the
           Revelation
           ,
        
         
           As
           that
           great
           miracle
           his
           Grand-syre
           did
           ,
        
         
           Admir'd
           by
           all
           alive
           ,
           ador'd
           when
           dead
           .
        
         
           Such
           was
           this
           Noble
           Lord
           ,
           where
           ever
           known
           ,
        
         
           Amazing
           Strangers
           ,
           loved
           of
           his
           own
           .
        
         
           At
           Home
           ,
           Abroad
           ,
           his
           Vertues
           prov'd
           his
           Name
           ,
        
         
           H
           'had
           NA
           PIER
           in
           the
           Deserts
           of
           Fame
           ;
        
         
           Yet
           his
           short
           Time
           deny'd
           to
           tell
           Us
           what
           ,
        
         
           Leaving
           Eternity
           to
           open
           that
           ;
        
         
           Onely
           deserv'd
           such
           Trophies
           :
           at
           his
           Urn
        
         
           That
           France
           and
           Brittain
           both
           at
           once
           do
           mourn
           .
        
         
           
             N.
             Paterson
             .
          
        
         
           
             
               Foelix
               qui
               portum
               subiit
               ,
               in
               quem
               si
               quis
               intra
               primos
               annos
               delatus
               est
               ,
               non
               magis
               queri
               debet
               ,
               quam
               qui
               cito
               navigavit
               ;
            
             
               Seneca
               .
            
          
           
             
               
                 TOlle
                 caput
                 luctu
                 mersum
                 ,
                 quando
                 omnia
                 functa
              
            
             
               
                 Aut
                 moritura
                 vides
                 ;
                 obeunt
                 noctesque
                 diesque
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 Astraque
                 ,
                 nec
                 solidis
                 prodest
                 sua
                 machina
                 terris
              
            
             
               
                 Ortum
                 qnicquid
                 babes
                 finem
                 timet
                 :
                 ibimus
                 omnes
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 Ibimus
                 ;
                 immensis
                 urnam
                 quatit
                 AEACVS
                 umbris
                 .
              
            
             
               
                 Ast
                 hic
                 quem
                 gemimus
                 ,
                 foelix
                 ;
                 non
                 ille
                 rogavit
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 Non
                 timuit
                 meruitve
                 mori
                 ;
                 nos
                 anxia
                 plebes
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 Nos
                 miseri
                 ,
                 quibus
                 unde
                 dies
                 suprema
                 ,
                 quis
                 aevi
              
            
             
               
                 Exitus
                 incertum
                 :
                 sed
                 &
                 hic
                 jam
                 numine
                 plenus
                 ,
              
            
             
               
                 Et
                 dubios
                 casus
                 ,
                 &
                 caecae
                 lubrica
                 vitae
              
            
             
               
                 Effugit
                 immunis
                 fati
              
               :
               Christique
               beatus
            
             
               
                 Dulcibus
                 alloquiis
                 &
                 vivis
                 vultibus
                 ardet
                 .
              
            
             
               Statius
               Evangelizans
               .
            
          
        
      
    
     
  

