ME ◆ MENTO MORI   decorative border with imbedded images associated with death  
TO THE MEMORY Of the Right Reverend Father in God, JOHN, Lord Bishop of Oxford, and Dean of Christ-Church.  
A Pindaric Ode.  

1.  
TOO Rigid, too severe,  
Th' unalterable Laws of Fate appear,  
That not one Sublunary thing is free;  
Kings even like Beggars must obey,  
And bowing down before Death's Majesty,  
Own him a Monarch Mightier far than they.  
Right Reverend, Learned, Wise, and Just,  
Are glorious Epithets indeed for Dust;  
But cannot change the Black Decree,  
Or move Remorse in too unreasonable Destiny.  
Not a whole Flood of Pious Orphan's Tears;  
Myriad of Sighs, and earnest Prayers,  
The Poor's Affliction, and the Church's Cares,  
Nor His Tormentor's stock of Skill,  
Could alter Fates determined stubborn Will.   

2.  
It's pity, is it not?  
It's fit indeed that worthless We  
Should take the common Lot;  
But Prophets, and (Good FELL) so Great as Thee,  
Should never Die.  
Oh Scandalous Mortality!  
That even the second Stagyrite, even Wise Thou,  
〈◊〉 among Dull Plebeians bow;  
And mixed with Fools, shouldst undistinguished lie:  
When the long Toil of Thy good Work was done,  
When Thy most Glorious Race was Run,  
Why didst Thou Travel on the common Road?  
Why didst not then Elijah's Chariot take,  
In Fire and Clouds a wondrous Journey make,  
Through th' Adamantine Gate, to th' Throne of God?  
For since so much like Him Thou liv'dst, why then  
Didst Thou (but Thou wast Meek) submit to Die like Men?   

3.  
Tell me Grave Sages (but I am too blame;  
Ye cannot do't, tho' intimate with Fame;  
Ye cannot in Time's Memory tell)  
When one more Just, more Wise, more Meek, more Noble, fell?  
'Twas wonderful to see,  
With what unconquered Spirit he  
Bore His Distempers Rage;  
As if in that Extremity,  
(Besides th' Oppression of unactive Age)  
He had from Misery been free.  
Oh fortitude of Soul! nor stopped in there;  
For when the Prince of Terrors did appear,  
Undaunted still he lay,  
And did his Summons courteously Obey;  
Thought it not hard to bend,  
But entertained the Tyrant as a Friend.   

4.  
Thus Joyful of its wished-for Liberty,  
His Soul (that glorious Eagle) flew;  
Active and Strong (for well the way he knew)  
To th' everlasting Seat of Bliss;  
Where (so he Taught) Eternity of Glory is.  
There among Saints He Crowned sits,  
Saints, some of which His good Example made;  
And among Spirits Divine such Estimation gets,  
As (while He lived on Earth) to him the Zealous paid.  
And still with us His Sacred Memory  
Shall quicken Souls to Piety;  
For Prophets in their Graves still the great work pursue,  
As good Elisha's Bones could Wonders do.   

5.  
Of what I've done, I'm conscious now,  
And to Thy Sacred Dust with reverence bow;  
I cannot mount on such a lofty Wing,  
Thy Apotheosis to Sing;  
My Numbers will but ill Thy Hearse become;  
When all the Sweet, the Skilful Choristers are dumb,  
A far more decent Honour they do show,  
In awful Silence o'er Thy Tomb,  
Than I at best could hope to do;  
Who wait so late upon Thy Urn;  
And in an Artless Muse's Language Mourn?  
I should Profane, should I presume to raise  
Poetic Obelisks of Praise;  
Fame's Noble Basis thou thyself hast laid,  
Without a Mercenary Poet's aid:  
For of Thy exemplary Charity,  
Such Living Monuments there be,  
As Ages yet Unborn shall tell,  
If they but hear the single Name of FELL;  
'Tis a compendious, glorious Chronicle.   

EPITAPH.  
Vrna tenet cineres, animam Deus, inclyta fama Conservat nomen, quid periisse putes?  
Rob. Midgley.    

Licenced Decemb. 24th. 1686.