AN ELEGY, [SACRED] To the immortal MEMORY of that most Renowned, Religious, Prudent, and Victorious Commander, HENRY IRETON, Late Lord Deputy of IRELAND, &c.  

There let the Thunder roll then! And the air  
In startling summons to the World, declare  
Heavn's righteous wrath! And be the growing Fate  
Of Grief more great, 'cause inarticulate!  
'Twas not unknown, his early thoughts did take  
So much of glory, that he kept awake  
Honour and Justice, and revived Fame  
Bedrid, and speechIess but for ireton's Name;  
'Twas He, whose courage warmed her, when he stood  
The English Shield, and through a crimson Flood  
To Freedom Marched; when Death was only seen  
In showers of Bullets to come storming in,  
Untaught to cease, till Victory did rest  
Her weary wings upon his plumed Crest,  
The strength and safety to this State he brought,  
The many towns he won, the Fields he fought  
Shall best express him, and sound always forth  
The Height and Heat of his unequalled Worth,  
And, making good his Tears with salter Brine,  
The fiercer Shanon with the Thames shall join:  
Ireland by wary Mariners eschewed  
As Saints do Altars drenched in human blood,  
By Him finds new Observance, and His Hand  
Began the way, to expiate that Land;  
So sure were all the counsels which he gave,  
As none but IRETON could sad IRELAND save,  
And yet the Land so wild, the air so ill,  
That nought but IRELAND could our IRETON kill.  
What Art can reach his verve, to set down  
With how much Courage he put off the Gown  
To unsheathe his sword, when, like a Lion, he  
Fought to restore the English liberty?  
And still though active, yet no 〈◊〉 Fate  
Could tax his Sword as undeliberate;  
For so discreet a Valour did command  
His wars, that, He being present, Fate might stand,  
Or pass unknown, and we almost might be  
Secure, to say, That Providence was He;  
But Truth and safe divinity hath taught  
To give a check to th●● profaner thought;  
For GOD was always with him, He aright,  
Did guide his Heart, and taught his Hands to fight,  
So that in all his wars there did appear  
No fight of wrong, nor any sense of fear;  
But in a perfect harmony 'twas shown,  
The Saint and soldier could be both in one;  
And his brave Army did so strictly live,  
After the great Examples he did give,  
That foreign Nations might with wonder see  
How well Religion did with arms agree;  
And now those war's expiring, and the high  
And joyful sound of Union drawing nigh,  
After he Truth and Freedom did restore  
To Earth, He, finding he could do no more,  
To heaven ascended: where He first is seen  
Next to his God, an armed Cherubin.    

HIS EPITAPH.  

Why weep you here? and take this Stone to be  
In vain the Prison of eternity?  
Let your translated piety and Love,  
Look high and joyful on the rooms above,  
In those great IRETON lives, the heaven's enshrine,  
And court his glorious soul, which now doth shine  
More bright by Death: Yet weep! for yet this tomb  
Holds nature's chiefest Treasurer: would you come,  
And all Perfections in one Volume see,  
Here every Dust would make a history,  
Which he that looks on, and not spares a groan,  
Adds but more marble to His burial-stone.   
FINIS.   

LONDON, Printed by J.C. and T.W. 1652. 30.