EPICEDIA: OR, FVNERAL VERSES Upon the much Lamented Death of that most Loyal Subject, and Religious Gentleman, M r. HMPHREY COLLES of Cates-lade, Who departed this Life Nov. 15▪ and was Solemnly inter'd Nov. 18. Anno Salutis. 1661. & Aetatis suae. 77.
DEATH is no wonder, since tis unto all
A Common Lot, to Rich, Poor, great, and small.
This cruel Serjeant, At the Princes gate
Knocks; And the Plow-mans door, at the same rate.
No sooner Lacheseis, our thred of life,
Hath spun; but
Atropos, with her keen knife
Cuts it asunder: All before the Floud,
(Those long-liv'd Fathers) Death at length withstood:
Adam, Seth, Enosh, who liv'd here below
So many years, were subject to deaths blow.
Methusalah, who liv'd the long'st of all
The Patriarchs, packt hence when she did call.
No wonder then (since yield to fate we must)!
This hearty, chearful
Cole's now turnd to dust.
No wonder then, Death with her fiery flashes
Hath burnt this lively coale, quite unto ashes.
But is he dead? Sure nay, no good man dies;
But like the Day's Sun, only sets to rise.
The cloud of Death's already over-blown,
To Heaven (her Native Soyl) his Soul is flown.
Where his Redeemer lives, with him to Raign,
Millions of Angels waiting on the Train.
Sure worser thoughts of him we cannot have,
Who used all good means, his soul to save.
Gods Ordinance and House he did frequent,
To hear the Word, with chearfulnesse he went.
Heard Sermons with great reverence, and then,
He by his practice, prcach't them o're again.
His private, good Devotions, rather were
Those to the eye, then only to the ear.
His prayers took their vigour, and their strength,
Not from their loudness, nor yet from their length.
His inoffencive conscience, was a thing
Which troubled neither Church, nor yet his King.
He was an honest Protestant at home,
In despight of
Phanaticks, and of
Rome.
To his Religion, his resolved mind
Still did adhere; near changed with the wind.
Peace which he loved in his-life, did lend▪
Her helping hand, to bring him to his end.
When Age and Death, both came to end all strife,
These gently did untwyne his thred of life.
Now let's commit him to his Rest▪ Sleep on
Thou Loyal Subject, till the night be gone.
Sleep on, untill th' Eternal morrow dawn;
Then those Caelestial Courtains will be drawn.
Then shalt thou be partaker of that light,
Whose Glorious day shall never set in night.
Ita deslet obitum suum.
M. H. Amicus sui observantissimus.
Omnes una manet nox, & calcanda semel via lethi.
Hor. l. 1. Carm. Ode. 28.
Pallida mors, aequo pulsat pede, pauperum tabernas. Regumque turres,
Hor. Ode. 4.
Ʋt jam triste mori est, sic dulce resurgere: Christus
In vitâ, nobis fit, quoque morte, lucrum.
In terris labor est; requies sed suavis in urnâ.
In summo venient, gaudia summa; die.