On Dr. Brown's Death
I.
Alas will nothing do,
Nothing arrest the arm of Death
Must learning, sence, nay virtue too,
Must these or. real blessings go
like all things else beneath?
Must these best guifts while here yey shine
Like ye great Stagyrites stars in solid spheres
A common power wth. worthless meteors share
To guild the orbs they're in?
Yes now we find it so since he is gone
In whom enough of goodness shone
T'adorn an age, a second Sodom save
but not himself from the devouring grave
He's gone & that prodigious store
Of piety wch. here he bore
Sat on him onely like the Summers pride
Which crown'd ye ancients victims 'ere they dy'd
II.
He's gon far far on high
Born on ye wings of virtue to his skye
for sure this world was lesse yn. t'other, his,
So much he courted that, so little this,
Besides had he been hers ye earth had mourn'd his loss
In dreadfull heavings & unwonted flows
But silently he stole away
Like some celestial ray
Wch. plays awhile upon ye wings of day
Then soft retiring off ye Air
Do's without troubling nature disappear.
III.
Sure (but avert ye omen fate)
Sure a decay of learning's state,
Is now just now a pressing on
Wn. thus her great good pillar tumbles down
Wn. the light's gone wch. show'd us to advance
Thro ye Ægyptian night of ignorance
For why, why mayn't we fear
'Twill ye same course wth. nature run?
Wch. when ye generall dissolution's near,
Shall see a genuine night Ecclypse her sun.
How well, how too too well does death,
The cause of ignorance maintain,
Robbing her rivalls leader of his breath,
To fix his Tyrant sisters reign.
How too, too well he mocks or. blooming joys
& him & all or. hopes destroys
Him of the tree of life depriving thus
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poem by Thomas Parnell
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