An elegie on the death of the Right Honourable Iohn Warner, late Lord Mayor of London. Rich, Jeremiah, d. 1660? This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A91771 of text R211042 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.13[38]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 5 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A91771 Wing R1341 Thomason 669.f.13[38] ESTC R211042 99869778 99869778 162934 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A91771) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 162934) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f13[38]) An elegie on the death of the Right Honourable Iohn Warner, late Lord Mayor of London. Rich, Jeremiah, d. 1660? 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [London : 1648] Signed at end: Ieremiah Rich. Fecit. Imprint from Wing. Verse - "The sweetest, fairest, and the best of flowers,". Annotation on Thomason copy: "Nouemb: 13 1648". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Warner, John, -- Sir, d. 1648 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Elegiac poetry, English. A91771 R211042 (Thomason 669.f.13[38]). civilwar no An elegie on the death of the Right Honourable Iohn Warner, late Lord Mayor of London. Rich, Jeremiah 1648 829 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2007-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-07 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-08 Pip Willcox Sampled and proofread 2007-08 Pip Willcox Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion AN ELEGIE On the death of the Right Honourable IOHN WARNER , Late Lord Mayor of LONDON . THe sweetest , fairest , and the best of flowers , Lose their choise rarity in a few run hours : The wandring , glorious stars , when night is done Go down , and vail their bodies to the Sun : And when great Phoebus riseth in a flame To view the throne of darknesse , and proclaim Joy to all drowzy Mortals , and doth say , Rise slumbering Man , arise , and welcome day . The Moon ashamed of her pale face , doth shrowd Her , in the bosom of some darkened cloud : And thus among earths Lamplets , there is one This day gone down , and left our darkened throne ; A glorious Star indeed , whose shining name Was blown by Honour , and the breath of Fame : His heart was faithfull , vertuous , and his face Was drest with greatnesse , goodnesse , truth , and grace : Vertue and wisdom taught him what to do , To unite all by love , and Justice too His lips , the lips of knowledge , in his eye Sate both humility , and Majesty ; There was high Honour , yet fidelity , There brightnesse sate in vertues bravery . He sate in Honours Chair untill the last , In spite of Envy , or her nine dayes blast : His house was here on earth , his heart above , He lived in loyalty , and died in love . Oh , had he shined still , his Orient light Might make us blush to see our oversight ! But he is gone : Times hour-glass being run , This Star went down to meet the morning Sun . Thus vain is earthly pomp , the flourishing Crown Of earthly royalty , death trampleth down . Thus is our wealth but want , our flower fades , Our light is darkness , and our sun-shine shades . Thus is our Honour lost ; thus like a Theam Is earth , and Dignity is but a dream . Thus is our glory grass , our bravery breath , Our light is darkness , and our life is death : And if they promise more , they do but lie , 'T is but a dream ; go earth , lie down and die : Go earth , lie down and die , go see The gallant confines of eternity : Go to Elyzium , go to Paradise , Where all the ancient Heroes live in bliss . Go dwell in endless glory , till thou tire Times swift foot-race , for time cannot expire Thy lasting joy : go live above thy name , That rides on lofty wings of flying fame . Earth is too base to dwell on , go and pass Those streets of Gold , like to transparent glass , And shining glittering pearl , whereon each Gate Is built : go kiss the Lamb emaculate , Go put on robes of glory , go and be Swallowed with endless immortality . There is no Sun , nor Moon , no clouds , nor rain , No frowns , nor fortunes , nor corrupted gain ; No curious gardens , nor no costly fare , No stately buildings , nor no worldly care ; Nor no ridiculous smiles , no jests , nor play , No recreation , nor no holy-day ; No drinking , cursing , swearing , nor abuse , No sin , no shame , no sorrow , nor excuse ; No slavery , guile , nor slander , nor sedition , No cozening fraud , nor goggle-ey'd suspition ; No rape , no theft , no murder , nor no fear , Dwels in high glory , though they wander here : But high unmeasured joy , and amity , And love , and peace , and vertues rarity , And Pearls , and Onix , and the Jasper stones , And Palms , and Crowns , and Kingly royall thrones ; And ravisht Allelujahs , which the brest Of Angels warble in eternall rest . Go earth , lie down and die ; and to thy trust , Oh earth , we recommend his Honoured dust To lie and slumber , till his agedeyes Shall wake from deaths dark lullabies : Untill the trumpet sounds , and heaven shall say , Rise from the dead all Mortals , come away : And if thy Monument shall leave his trust , And turn to ashes like thy mouldring dust , Thy fame that cannot die , shall be A Monument in the worlds memory . Alas , and is this all that earth can do ? A way vain glory , go , be intombed too . Ieremiah Rich. Fecit .