MEMENTO MORI   outline of tombstone including emblems of Death which surrounds text  
AN ELEGY Upon the Death of the Right Honourable Sir JOHN SHORTER, Knight, LORD MAYOR of the City of LONDON, who departed this Life September the 4th. 1688.  

LAment! Lament! and drain your watery Eyes!  
Let not whole Oceans of false Tears suffice!  

Shut up your Doors; hang Mourning on your Walls:  
When Death does strike, the greatest Hero falls;  
All must obey, when the Commander calls.   

The Just and Good Death's Warrant must obey;  
He'll not be bribed one Minutes time to stay;  
None can withstand, when summoned hence away.   
Go mourn! go mourn! and, as your strength grows stronger,  
Th' more mournful be, 'cause SHORTER lived no LONGER.  
Let his Praetorian Dust not ever lie  
I'th' Grave forgot without an Elegy;  
For HE, who was so Just, and so well given,  
Without all doubt He's soared up to Heaven:  
His Deeds will make him ever be Renowned,  
Whenas His Body's laid within the Ground,  

And lift His Soul above the reach of Hate,  
And place it in such an ever-happy State,  
That never will be subject unto Fate.   
Tho' Death has struck Him, and has made him yield,  
Yet He has conquered, and has won the Field.  
Death could not hurt His Soul, That's too sublime:  
His Heart did always with his Tongue keep time.  
If aught could he saved Him, sure He had not died,  
For all good means to save His Life was tried.  

And, Oh! He's gone! He is no more! the Skill  
Of all Physicians could not help His Ill,  
Because it was the Great Jehovah's Will.   

His Life was Shorter than we did desire:  
Yet let's be patiented, for He's mounted higher,  
To sing Praises in the Blessed Choir   
Of holy Angels; and we may see plain,  
What was Our Loss, proved His Eternal Gain:  
His Earthly Pains they now do end therefore,  
And He will live in Bliss for evermore.  
His Charity was great, the Poor He loved;  
Whenas They cried, He was with Pity moved.  
He was a Friend to all, He hated none:  
(Ah! now, alas! I weep to think He's gone)  

His Enemies he loved, and those that sought  
To ruin him, and bring him unto nought,  
He never for them had an evil thought.   
He always took the Scripture for his Guide;  
He served his GOD, his Country too befide:  
Loyal to's Prince, and true unto his Trust,  
In nothing ever was he found unjust:  
He loved his Neighbour as Himself, and none  
Of such as needed but he looked upon.  
The Fatherless he gave to, and their Cause  
He did maintain by the Almighty's Laws:  
The Widow he Defended, and Relieved,  
And in his sight the Orphan never grieved.  
The Cause he knew not he pitied, and  
Unto the Poor he never shut his hand.  
And, to give brave SHORTER but his due,  
He served GOD, and was to all Men true:  
He's now in Heaven, gone for to receive  
The Just Reward for them which do believe.    

EPITAPH.  

REader, Behold! here Noble SHORTER lies,  
Whose Soul is mounted now above the Skies:  
Death did with Speed and Rage destroy him,  
Because we were not worthy to enjoy him:  
Then drop a Tear upon his silent Tomb,  
That he so quickly did receive his Doom.  
Here lies his Dust (therefore be ruled by me,  
And stir him not, lest thy Life Shorter be:)  
And here he'll rise out of his Tomb undressed,  
For to receive the Sentence, Come, ye Blessed.    

WITH ALLOWANCE.   

LONDON, Printed by D. Mallet, next Door to the Sign of the Star between Fleet-bridge and Bridewell-bridge. 1688. 179