In Trepidus mea Fata sequor  Plovell fecit  depiction of execution by beheading, on scaffold surrounded by soldiers AN elegy UPON The most PIOUS and EMINENT, Doctor JOHN HEWITT.  

I.  
NAture and Reason both do plainly show,  
After an Ebb we must expect a Flow:  
Our late Experience makes this maxim good,  
A Flood of Tears succeeds an Ebb of Blood.  
HEWITT's departure makes a Tempest rise,  
His ebbing Body left us flowing Eyes.   

II.  
Come then, my Muse, let's labour to distil  
Through the Limbeck of my mourning Quill  
Such hearty Tears, that truly may invite  
A Zealot to a perfect appetite  
Of Love and Pity; and let those that never  
Knew how to weep, now learn to weep for ever.   

III.  
But stay, my Genius, will these captious Times  
Endure the touch of our Elegious rhymes  
Without a prejudice? Be therefore wise;  
This Age has reaching Ears, and searching Eyes:  
If thou offend'st, my Muse, be sure to borrow  
The privilege to charge it on thy sorrow.   

IV.  
Since he is dead, report it thou, my Muse,  
Unto the World as Grief, and not as News.  
Hark how Religion sighs, the Pulpit groans,  
And Tears run trickling down the senseless stones!  
That Church which was all Ears, is now turned Eyes,  
The Mother weeps, and all her Children cries.   

V.  
Does Rachel mourn? Oh blame her not, for she  
Has lost her Darling in his Infancy!  
She looks upon it as a signal Cross,  
But knows that he has gained by her loss.  
She grieves, and hopes her griefs are understood,  
Her Children that sucked Milk, may now suck Blood.   

VI.  
But hark! there's something whispers in my ear,  
A Famine in Religion now grows near,  
Her zeal-parched Corn hangs down its drooping head,  
And turns to dirt, which might have proved good Bread.  
How sad it is, that Children must not eat:  
Religion will find mouths, but where's the Meat?   

VII.  
Ah sanguine days! When such tall Cedars fall,  
Danger draws near, and threatens Shrubs and all.  
The senseless axe, that nothing understood,  
Cut off his Life, and died itself in Blood.  
When Troy was burnt, the neighbouring Towns did stand  
Expecting then their doom was near at hand.   

VIII.  
'Twas He, whose careful Zeal, and zealous Care  
Was always labouring duly to prepare  
Religious Viands, that his Flock might be  
Not pampered, but well fed with Charity:  
But now, Ah now, he's willingly retired  
Where he'll be blessed, as he was here admired!   

Ix..  
Blessed Soul! Since thy unhappy-happy Fate  
Hath so soon made thee more than fortunate,  
I will surcease my grief, and only shed  
Some real drops, only because thou'rt dead.  
'Tis Nature, not Religion, makes us weep:  
Manners forbids a noise whilst friends do sleep.   

X.  
No more, my Muse, it is enough we know  
He is transplanted from this World below  
Unto a glorious Mansion, in whose choir  
There is no fear of Plots, nor thoughts of Fire.  
That Court of Justice periods all his strife,  
And gives what here he lost; I mean, New Life.   
FINIS.