AN ELEGIE ON THE DEATH OF RICHARD CLERKE by ABRAHAM COWLEY

IT was decreed by stedfast Destinie,
(The World from Chaos turn'd) that all should Die.
He who durst fearlesse passe black Acheron
And dangers of th' infernal Region,
Leading Hell's triple Porter captivate,
Was overcome himselfe, by conquering Fate.
The Roman TULLIE'S pleasing Eloquence,
Which in the Eares did lock up every Sence
Of the rapt hearer; his mellifluous breath
Could not at all charme unremorsefull Death,
Nor SOLON, so by Greece admir'd, could save
Himselfe, with all his Wisedome, from the Graue.
Stern Fate brought MARO to his Funerall flame,
And would have ended in that fire his Fame:
Burning those lofty Lines, which now shall be
Time's conquerors, and out-last Eternitie.
Even so lov'd CLERKE from Death no scape could find
Though arm'd with great ALCIDES' valiant mind.
Hee was adorn'd in yeares, though farre more young,
With learned CICERO'S, or a sweeter Tongue,
And could dead VIRGIL heare his lofty strain,
Hee would condemne his owne to fire againe.
His youth a SOLON'S Wisdome did presage,
Had envious Time but given him SOLON'S age.
And all that in our Ancestors hath bin
Of any Vertue, earth now lost in him.
Who would not therefore now if Learning's friend,
Bewayle his fatall and vntimely end:
Who hath such hard, such unrelenting Eyes,
As not to weepe when so much Vertue dyes?
The God of Poets doth in darknesse shrowd
His glorious face, and weepes behind a Cloud.
The dolefull Muses thinking now to write
Sad Elegies, their teares confound their sight:
But him to Elisyum's lasting Ioyes they bring,
Where winged Angels his sad Requiems sing.

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