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         Heath, James, 1629-1664.
      
       
         
           1662
        
      
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         B03626
         Wing H1324
         Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[57]
         99885191
         ocm99885191
         182542
         
           
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             An elegy upon the most lamented death of the right reverend Dr. John Gauden late lord bishop of Worcester; who deceased on Friday, September 19th. 1662. in Worcester.
             Heath, James, 1629-1664.
          
           1 sheet ([1] p.).
           
             Printed for W. Gilbertson at the Bible in Giltspur-street without Newgate,
             London, :
             1662
          
           
             Signed: James Heath.
             Verse: "Now deaths decrees seem'd to be out of date ..."
             Reproduction of original in the British Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Gauden, John, 1605-1662 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800.
           Elegiac poetry, English -- 17th century.
        
      
    
     
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           AN
           ELEGY
           UPON
           THE
           MOST
           LAMENTED
           DEATH
           Of
           the
           RIGHT
           REVEREND
           D
           R.
           JOHN
           CAUDEN
           Late
           LORD
           BISHOP
           of
           WORCESTER
           ;
           Who
           Deceased
           on
           
             
               Friday
               ,
               September
            
             19
             th
             .
             1662.
             
          
           in
           Worcester
           .
        
         
           
             NOw
             Deaths
             Decrees
             seem'd
             to
             be
             out
             of
             date
             ;
          
           
             But
             mark
             the
             spleen
             of
             Vnregarded
             Fate
             ;
          
           
             No
             Learned
             Funerall
             had
             infam'd
             the
             Year
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             was
             the
             State
             yet
             pensiv'd
             with
             a
             Tear
             ,
          
           
             The
             throng
             of
             Coarses
             bid
             us
             only
             see
          
           
             And
             Transiently
             view
             Mortality
             ;
          
           
             But
             this
             most
             sorrowed
             Herse
             commands
             us
             Weep
             ,
          
           
             And
             sumd-up
             Grief
             as
             His
             Memoriall
             keep
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             the
             swollen
             Confluents
             of
             our
             Eyes
             ,
          
           
             Loves
             Universall
             Tribute
             to
             Comprize
             .
          
        
         
           
             Here
             shall
             the
             different
             Opinions
             meet
             ,
          
           
             And
             their
             divided
             streams
             each
             other
             greet
             :
          
           
             Here
             shall
             the
             Murmuring
             Floods
             in
             Grief
             Conform
             ,
          
           
             And
             their
             
               sad
               passions
               raise
            
             without
             a
             storm
             :
          
           
             While
             to
             the
             Ocean
             of
             his
             Fame
             they
             run
             ,
          
           
             Not
             minding
             whence
             their
             Rivulets
             begun
             ;
          
           
             For
             in
             this
             Ceremony
             all
             Unite
             ,
          
           
             And
             joyne
             Devotions
             in
             his
             Funerall
             Rite
             :
          
           
             Mixing
             their
             Sighs
             and
             Prayers
             in
             concent
             ,
          
           
             And
             tax
             the
             Parcae
             not
             the
             Parliament
             .
          
        
         
           
             But
             let
             us
             parentate
             who
             know
             to
             mourn
          
           
             The
             Churches
             sorrow
             in
             this
             Prelates
             Urn.
          
           
             And
             is
             our
             Father
             ,
             our
             Restorer
             dead
             ?
          
           
             who
             'l
             Peace
             begin
             ,
             or
             mediate
             in
             his
             stead
             ?
          
           
             On
             whose
             blest
             
               Lips
               3
               Gasping
            
             Realms
             did
             wait
             :
          
           
             And
             from
             his
             Oracle
             did
             receive
             their
             Fate
             ;
          
           
             He
             hath
             resign'd
             the
             Life
             he
             onely
             breath'd
          
           
             The
             Vse
             to
             us
             was
             long
             before
             bequeath'd
             .
          
        
         
           
             He
             that
             the
             
               Perplext
               discords
            
             of
             our
             peace
             ,
          
           
             With
             his
             Harmonious
             Unison
             did
             cease
             ;
          
           
             He
             that
             the
             Gangreen
             of
             the
             State
             did
             cure
             ,
             
          
           
             First
             made
             it
             willing
             ,
             able
             then
             t'
             endure
             ;
          
           
             Open'd
             the
             Splendour
             of
             the
             Dawning
             day
             ,
          
           
             And
             like
             the
             Baptist
             first
             prepar'd
             the
             way
             :
          
           
             Him
             
               Orpheus
               ,
               Galen
            
             ,
             Prayers
             could
             not
             save
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             free
             the
             Captive
             from
             the
             Conquering
             Grave
             :
          
           
             Time
             was
             Obliged
             ;
             't
             was
             in
             vain
             to
             sue
             ,
          
           
             Blest
             Restitution
             ,
             thy
             
               First
               Fruits
            
             were
             Due
             .
          
           
             For
             th'
             heavenly
             powers
             when
             they
             held
             their
             hand
          
           
             And
             crost
             their
             Arms
             at
             Rebels
             bold
             command
             ;
          
           
             (
             When
             the
             Defencelesse
             Sword
             had
             lost
             it's
             Edge
             ,
          
           
             Against
             that
             scaly
             
               Monster
               Priviledge
            
             ;
          
           
             When
             its
             continuall
             Renascent
             strength
             ,
          
           
             Gainst
             single
             Loyalty
             prevail'd
             at
             length
             ;
             )
          
           
             Proud
             with
             this
             Champion
             did
             the
             HOST
             defie
             ,
          
           
             (
             Conviction's
             greater
             far
             then
             Victory
             )
          
           
             And
             having
             prov'd
             him
             to
             the
             wisht
             event
             ,
          
           
             Withdrew
             the
             Hero
             to
             his
             Heavenly
             Tent.
             
          
        
         
           
             Adieu
             great
             Chrysostome
             ,
             our
             Danaan
             showrs
             ,
          
           
             Shall
             ever
             water
             thy
             Sepulchrall
             flowr's
             ,
          
           
             So
             
               Heaven
               PLANTS
            
             thee
             in
             a
             Diocesse
             ,
          
           
             By
             thy
             TRANSLATION
             to
             eternall
             Blisse
             .
          
        
         
           
             JAMES
             HEATH
             .
          
        
      
    
     
       
         
           LONDON
           ,
           Printed
           for
           
             W.
             Gilbertson
          
           at
           the
           Bible
           in
           Giltspur-street
           without
           Newgate
           ,
           1662.
           
        
      
       
         Notes, typically marginal, from the original text
         
           Notes for div B03626-e10
           
             Medicastri
             ,
             a
             Sermon
             preached
             before
             the
             L
             General
             Monke
             and
             th●
             Lord
             Mayor
             ,
             &c.
             
          
        
      
    
  

