An elegy upon the Earl of ESSEX'S funeral.  

ANd are these all the rites that must be done,  
Thrice Noble Essex, England's Champion:  
Some men, some walls, some horses put in black,  
With the throng scrambling for sweetmeats and Sack,  
A gaudy Herald, and a velvet hearse,  
A tattered Anagram with grievous verse,  
And a sad Sermon to conclude withal,  
Shall this be styled great Essex's funeral?  
Niggardly Nation, be ashamed of th●ods,  
Less valour among Heathen made men Gods,  
Should such a general have dy'd in Rome,  
He must have had an Altar▪ not a tomb,  
And there instead of youthful Elegies,  
Grave Senators had offered sacrifice  
To divine Devereux: o for a vote  
(Ye Lords and Commons ye are bound to do't)  
A vote that who is seen to smile this year,  
A vote, that who so brings not in a tear,  
Shall be adjudged Malignant: It were wise  
T'erect an Office in the people's eyes  
For issuing forth a constant sum of tears;  
There's no way else to pay him his arrears.  
And when we have drein'd this Ages eyes quite dry,  
Let him be wept the next▪ in History,  
Which if Posterity shall dare to doubt,  
Than Gloucester's whispering walls shall speak him out:  
And so his funeral shall not be done,  
Till he return i' th' Resurrection.   
J. W