AN elegy upon the Death of the Right honourable, most Noble, Worthily-Renowned, and truly Valiant Lord, ROBERT, Earl of ESSEX & Ewe, &c. His Excellency, late Lord general of all the Forces raised by the Parliament of England in defence of the Protestant Religion. Who departed the 14th day of September, 1646.  

The first elegy.  
CEase great Surveyer of this glorious Ball,  
To shine; you twinkling Constellations all,  
Stand in your spheres, as if you all were fixed,  
And framed to make all human Mortals vexed;  
Restrain your light; do not one glimpse bestow  
For our delight, sad mourners here below:  
You were created in celestial kinds  
To glad the mirthful and solatious minds  
Who, rapt as 'twere, and ravished with your glories,  
Might therein walk, and shun disastrous stories:  
But lo! your comforts useless now, we mourn,  
You need not more, your heavenly Tapers burn  
But be as we are; all beclouded over  
With Sable Mantles; and do not discover  
Your Orbs a while, but let us live alone  
Dark as the nightowls, sadly to bemoan  
Our so much loss; and having wept a time,  
Give light again; to let us know our crime  
Of gu●lt, whereby we greatly did provoke  
Your high Creator, thus to strike this stroke  
Against the State; whose standing did consist  
As much in him, as could in one be wished:  
Our admired ESSEX, who still aimed at  
The height of Honour; yet immaculate.  
But ah! He's changed, then let us cast our eyes  
To do their duties at his Obsequies:  
alas! what duties can our eyes perform?  
Nothing but weep, as 'twere, a Winter storm  
Of such continuance, as with watery floods  
The Earth may swell, and swallow up the Clouds.  
Could those sad tears, in sorrow we would weep,  
And shed, till such an inundation deep  
Did flow so far, as till a new deluge  
Should threat our ruin, yet we would not grudge  
Once to regain so great a good as this,  
(Pardon the passion of my partial wish)  
Whose worth the virtuous, and the very bad,  
Bemoan (now loft) because, they living, had  
A patron to their virtue; and the worst  
Were won by his example; thus both lost;  
But now O! march you multitude of Mourners,  
seal up this jewel, wast all your waxen burners  
About his Tomb; and take no Trophies hence,  
This is the last, and least, due recompense  
Can be performed; O! happy then, that Ark  
Where lies enshrined, such goodness in the dark.  
Farewell, brave Lord, in vain our suits we sue,  
Soul rest in peace; To thee once more adieu.   

The second elegy by the same author.  
Reader, the reverend duty which I owe  
To this great haeroes, I would have thee know,  
Moves me to write, though some more learned hand  
Will try this task, and in my room will stand  
To state the Case; lest I Eclipse the light  
Of his great glory, and impair that right  
Due to his worth; yet let me add one Verse  
Upon his Dolefull, though adorned Hearse;  
Whose boundless virtues, ornaments of Fame,  
Befits the Gods to gloss on such a theme.  
Religious Patron, peerless, Pious peer,  
Affections loadstone lies inshryned here;  
Highest in honour, bounty, zeal, and love,  
Whose rare Perfections (in a sphere above  
My rural pen) were placed; who did transcend  
Nature its limits in Courage; had no end  
In all those parts and attributes of grace  
Could be conferred from Heaven on Human Race,  
Whose loss all Nations ought lament and mourn,  
And pour out Seas of tears about his urn;  
By nature Noble, unblemished, and renowned,  
Unparalleled for prudence; most profound;  
Religion, Valour, Fortune, Faith and Wit,  
All were combined; Here was a pattern fit;  
A matchless mind, magnanimous and just,  
True, Constant, upright in his highest Trust;  
Beloved of all, whole goodness did reflect  
Upon the best; and had so strong effect  
(By influence infused from above)  
Upon the bad, they could not choose but love.  
The gods conveyed by their supernal power  
All worth to him; yet vanquished in an hour  
He was by Fate; though all the force which Mars  
Did make, could not subdue him in the Wars.  
His acts did add, unto his nation's honour,  
His rare exploits did prosper so, he won-her  
More steadfast faith, more upright truth and peace,  
As never can be cancelled in no race.  
Time shall expire, and all in it shall rot,  
But his brave Name shall never be forgot,  
Whose so raised fame and excellencies shall  
Survive the world, yea and its Worthies all.  
In brief, what Age might speak so proud a word,  
So good a Man, and yet so great a Lord?  
William Mercer.    

London Printed by I. C. 1646.