A PINDARIC POEM, CONSECRATED To the Memory of his much Honoured Friend, WILLIAM FOX Esquire.  
WHO DIED Of the Fatal small Pox April 22, 1680. In the 19th. Year of his Age. Dedicated to his most afflicted Parents the Right Honourable Sir Stephen Fox Knight, one of the Lords Commissioners of the Treasury, Clerk of the Green Cloth, etc. and his most Virtuous Lady.  

AH Sir! they told me he was Dead,  
To prepared Joys, and endless Glories Fled.  
Oh my Prophetic Fears!  
The pointed news like Lightning pierced my Ears,  
Too great to be relieved with Cries and Tears.  
It quickly ran through every Part,  
It licked up Life in all my Veins,  
It shot new Tortures and new Pains,  
And like cold Death surprised my trembling Heart.  
At length my struggling Griefs their silence Broke,  
And in their Pangs with great submission Spoke.  
Ah how dark to Humane Seize,  
Are the mysterious ways of Providence!  
Why should ill Man wast long, and pleasant Lives?  
Enjoy their Friends, their Children, and their Wives?  
Who cause the Widows Groans, and Orphans Tears,  
And live to count their Vices, with their Years.  
Whilst the young Man, his great Creator's Praise,  
Famed for ripe Virtues in his greener Days,  
By Strangers much caressed, and much Admired,  
Much loved by all his Friends, but more Desired,  
Like some fair Flower soon Withers, and Decays  
Amongst ten thousand Weeds, which thrive, but Yield  
No Profit to the Master of the Field.  
Though by the Bed the Pious Mother Rears,  
Her pensive Soul upon the Wings of Prayers,  
That gentle Heaven would grant him a Reprieve,  
Alas in vain she rends the Skies,  
No Prayers, nor Tears can Life Retrieve,  
For the good Youth grasps her dear Hand, and Dies.   

[2]  
How secretly Heaven manages Mankind!  
And out of kindness keeps is Blind.  
In all its penal Laws,  
It gives th' Effect, but veils the mighty Cause.  
'tis hard, but punished Man must not complain,  
Or if he does 'tis but in Vain,  
For struggling doth but closer draw the Chain.  
Hence 'tis more easy, as 'tis Good,  
In the sharp Torments of our Flesh, and Blood,  
To bear the strokes with Patience, and to Trust  
Those Dispensations, though obscure, yet Just.  
Ah Madam, let me first my pardon Crave,  
Before I bring you to his Grave,  
And on the hallowed Tomb Express,  
The Figure of your once great Happiness.  
Then let your Grief find Ease, and some Content,  
To think your Son died Young, and Innocent.   

[3]  
Indeed he did afford a lovely Sc●ne.  
Here, pleasant Fields adorned with cheerful Green,  
And early Flowers olliged the Eye,  
With Nature's primitive Simpicity.  
There, Artificial Currents did appear,  
With Music running, and wi●h deepness Clear.  
Which being cut with greatest Art, and Toil,  
Did beautify the View, and fatten all the Soil.  
From these fair Streams, the fruitful Trees that Grew  
Upon the smiling Barks, renew  
Their cheerful strength, and as the Waters pass,  
Rejoice to see themselves within the liquid Glass.  
A Rich fair Hill did ●●and hard by,  
Climbed up with ease by him, though very High,  
From whose large Top, he might as 'ttwere from Home,  
Take a true Scheme of life to come.  
Honours though distant seemed ●o be at Hand  
Within his reach, and ready at Command.  
Beneath this Hill was drawn a Valley Low,  
There the freshest Virtues Grow,  
Humility and Condescension too.  
'Tis there Mankind takes most Delight,  
And best from it observes the Mountain's Height.   

[4]  
But whilst our Eyes were Blest  
With this kind Prospect Cruel Fate  
Demonstrated this Truth, that small Content  
Aught to be placed in humane State.  
For lo! the Calm and Glorious day was Spent  
And the bright Sun soon hurried to the West.  
Ah Fatal sight! within my View,  
The Croaking Raven to the Forest Flew,  
And after him the Screeching Owl,  
With the Foreboding Jay,  
Pitched on the Top of the unlucky Yew.  
Whilst underneath the Ravenous Wolf did Howl,  
Desirous of its Prey,  
Glad to behold the Conquest of the Day.  
Now horrid Night came Marching up apace,  
And with black fumes infected all the Place.  
How quickly all things changed, seemed Flat, and Dead,  
In Hast each Form retired, each Beauty Fled,  
And the delightful Landscape Vanished.  
Then Groans, and Shrieks were heard, and Showers of Rain  
Descending fiercely down, Washed all the Neighbouring Plain.   

[5]  
'twas a sad change! And as my Grief's are True,  
Pray Madam let me weep with You.  
If I forget Thee, my much Honoured Friend,  
Till life worn out shall reach it's desired End.  
Oh! may not real Friend of Mine,  
So much my worldly good Design,  
As thou didst freely Vow to be,  
A faithful profitable Friend to Me.  
For which kind promise Dear, and Generous Youth,  
As I am sure thy words were born of Truth  
So I will gratefully remember Thee;  
Often with Silent steps I'll come,  
To vent my Grief at thy sad Tomb,  
Thy Bodies second Womb:  
But chief on that Lamentable Day,  
When thy chaste Soul made haste away,  
I will my Melancholy Sonnets Sing,  
And scatter there my Flowery Offering▪  
Thy Grave like Thee shall imitate the Spring.  
On thy beloved Relics I will Strew,  
The blushing Rose, and Violet Blew;  
Thee Hyacinth, and thee Narcissus Too.  
For once he was more sweet, and fresh than You.   

[6]  
As for thy Soul 'tis now at Re●t,  
Happy with Saints, with Angels Blest;  
Freed by thy new Immortal Birth,  
From that allay of our Contagious Earth.  
Safe from the world, and ●●l its Snares,  
From its light joys, and hea●y cares,  
From painted Sepulchers, and Gilded Pills,  
From Smooth beginnings, and their f●al Ills.  
Nay Heaven was kind to call Thee h●me so Soon,  
And lodge thee in thy Inn before 'twas Noon.  
Else hadst thou ventured on thy dangerous Way,  
In a long Journey, and the heat of Da●,  
Though thou as yet wert very cool and Pure;  
Yet who on earth can be Secure?  
Perhaps some Malady had seized thy S●ul,  
Perhaps had pitted it and made it Foul  
Or else some Thief joining himself to Thee,  
Under pretence of Fatal Company,  
Perhaps had lead thy better sense astray,  
And made at last thy Innocence a Prey.   

[7]  
But now henceforth for ever Young,  
Ever Powerful, ever Strong,  
Ever Virtuous, and secure of Bliss,  
With such Companions as thy Brother Daphnis is.  
Daphnis, than whom none is more Gay, or bright,  
Amongst the fair Inhabitants of Light,  
The Joyful Daphnis clap●▪ d his Wings, and Said,  
But spoke it with a Smile,  
Brother 'tis well, our Parents call us Dead,  
And that you stayed behind so short a While.  
Like me on Earth you dwelled without its Crimes,  
But Heaven in mercy took you Home,  
To rescue you from Sins of Present Times,  
And from the Punishmen of those to Come.  
Here we enjoy Eternal Health,  
Eternal peace Eternal Wealth.  
Hither our Parents every Day make Hast,  
And Hither all good Friends on Earth shall come at Last.   

[8]  
Ah ye Blessed Immortal Pare!  
Most blessed because ye dwell together there.  
Look down, and if you c●n, with Pity, Know  
The wretched state of Morals here below.  
Behold how every Age does run,  
Driven by peculiar Vice to be undone,  
Headlong into it own Confusion.  
This Youngman gives his heart to lose Desires,  
And burns it up to Dross, in lawless Fires.  
That, with his Wine power out his precious Day,  
Drown's his Estate, and wishes Health away.  
Ambition grants Man's middle Age no Rest,  
The Viper always gnaws his Ulcered Breast;  
For a false fame, he will his soul Ensnare,  
Come short of Heaven, for Castles in the Air.  
But miserable Old age catches Hold,  
On the loved Canvas, to ado●e its Gold.  
On useless Wealth the brooding Miser lies,  
Turned into native Earth, before he Dies.  
Therefore the longer Man advances Age;  
He does but change his Vice, and tread another Stage.  
Hence old, and conscious Sinners fear to die,  
For gross Souls clogged with Earth, can never Fly.  
Or their short wings grow weary, and can't move  
To the high Palace of the Pu●e Above,  
But flutter in the lower Regions of the Sky.   
L. MAIDWELL.