MEMENTO MORI:   outline of tombstone including emblems of Death which surrounds text  
AN ELEGY, On the much Lamented Death of His Grace, the DUKE of Beauford, Who Departed this Life, at His Seat at Badminton in Gloucester shire, on Sunday the 21st of January, 1700. Being near the 70 Year of His Age.  

MEMENTO MORI::   decorative border with emblems of Death  

BID Mirth adive, and cheerful Harmony,  
And with me Tune a doleful Elegy:  
A Star is Fallen, an Orb does Disapear,  
Was once the Glory, of our Hemisphre;  
Sad News is Herd, and Dismal Tidings Spread!  
Alas! Alas! Great Beauford he is Dead:  
You little think what Prize, fate has Engrosst,  
Or what ourselves, or what the World has lost,  
His Pious Duchess Mournfully does stand,  
In silent Anguish, and uplifted Hand:  
His Son, and Grandson, sadly do Lament,  
And hardly know which way their Grief to Vent;  
His Daughters three, great Ladies of Renown,  
Are much Perplexed with Grief and Dismal Moan,  
Only they've round them Virtue for their Guard,  
And makes that Easy, which we think so Hard;  
Design, and Strife, were Strangers to his Heart,  
●ut Peace and Truth, and that were never Apart.  
Anger might Knock, but there no Entrance found,  
It durst not Tread that Path, 'twas Holy Ground:  
His Temper was to Piety so True,  
Not his whole Life. one Rapied Motion knew,  
Like a Smooth Stream it did untroubled Roul,  
Clear as His Eyes, and Even as His Soul:  
Through Traitor's Swords, and Plots contrived in Hell,  
Through Inmate Friends, that Pray and yet Rebel;  
Beauford, undaunted has like Gidion passed,  
Preferring Faith and Honour to the last;  
Nay what's, a Rarity, we find in few,  
He was both Pious, and a Soldier too:  
Too soon this mighty Loss is Understood,  
We know the Value, when we lost the Good:  
His Loyal Care to Serve his Prince did tend,  
A Faithful Subject, counsellor and Friend;  
' Toth' Royal Line when Faction high did Rise,  
His Arms gave Succour and his Heart Advise,  
So once to Saul, did the great Prophet do,  
Good Counsel gave, and Fought his Battles too.  
Henceforth Vile Age, thy ill spent Time Redeem,  
Grow Good, and let Great Beauford be thy Theme;  
In taking Him, Fate leaves us Poor and Bare,  
This mighty Worth is more than we can Spare;  
For common Losses, common Tears we shower;  
But his great Merit will command much more:  
For this great Loss we ought to have Regard,  
The Loyal and the brave are seldom Spared:  
In Props of Virtue, we are not so Rich,  
But such a Pillar gone, will make a breach;  
Crowds may drop off, like Hair of no Esteem,  
But when one Hero goes we lose a Limb;  
Great Ormond's Duke, in Sable Robes appears,  
With his famed Duchess, who abounds in Tears;  
And none knows when their mighty Sorrow ends,  
Who lost the best of Fathers, and of Friends:  
Their Noble House, and Ancient Family,  
Are Dressed in Sorrow's saddest Livery;  
His high born Kindred round about the Nation,  
Appear in Mourning, on this sad Occasion:  
But look on further and observe the Poor,  
And Needy, that in Number's Crowds the Door,  
Such as he Clothed; and those as long he Fed,  
He grieved to see a Man that wanted bread:  
His very Foes, who did his worth Envy,  
If they were Poor, he freely did Employ:  
So much he Loved to keep at Work the Poor,  
He'd pull Down Wall's though just built up before;  
About his House, no Idle Persons Lurk,  
He took such Care to set them all to Work;  
And none without their Wages went away,  
He scorned to Robb the poor Man of his Pay:  
But to our Sorrow, this Relief is Given,  
Our Loss on Earth, has Gained a Friend in Heaven.    

EPITAPH.  

Under this Pile the great Duke Beauford lies,  
Whose Death has Caused many Weeping Eyes;  
His Noble Friends with Tears make sad Complaint,  
At their great Loss, tho' Heaven has gained a Saint:  
Where he's Rewarded for his Deeds below,  
With blessings there, to high for Earth to know:  
His Fame on Earth ought still to be Enrolled,  
Not in black Ink; but Shining Leaves of Gold.    

LONDON, Printed by J. Wilkins, near Fleetstreet, 1700.