depiction of Skull AN ELEGY, On the Death of the Reverend, Learned. and Pious William Bell, D.D. Vicar of S. Sepulchers; who Died July the 19th, 1683.  

WHAT Bell is that? I fear it will be Said,  
England's no Ringing Island, Bell is Dead.  
Grave Oxford's Fell, and Lincoln's Mighty T—  
Chester, and Brave Ely, and Sarum;  
Are somewhat out of Tune (I fear) to see  
Bell cast anew, to take his full Degree.  
Sorrow each Breast, Silence each Tongue hath ceased,  
Since the Bell Told, that, Doctor Bell's Deceased.  
In Silence Grieve, since Silent now he is,  
Who when he Spoke, all Silent would be. 'Tis  
A Tacite mournful Text, the Winding Sheet,  
Makes Poets Sigh; Verses give up your Feet,  
" Who ever Sobbed in Numbers? Can a Groan  
" Be Quavered out by soft Division?  
If then our Loss be rightly understood,  
No News, our Land should Weep into a Flood:  
Yet Boards your Aid; for here's a Choice Theme,  
Your Wits can never Jump to the Extreme:  
But in Defect; no Praise is Excessive,  
On Excellencies most Superlative,  
Reader, I Pray, let not your Virgin Faith,  
Scorn to Submit, to what your Poet Saith;  
Without Hyperbole; who knew him, ken  
He was a Pattern of all Excellence,  
So Excellent, that even to Express,  
His Excellencies seems to make them less.  
A Mighty Loyalist, and Truth's Defendant,  
Of Papists and Sectaries, a sweet Opponent:  
Panduct of all Knowledge; for no Prelate  
More Learned, or more Profound, or any Legate,  
Or any Pope, Jesuit, Cardinal:  
In Fine, more Learned, more Critical than all.  
" Knowledge and Zeal in him so Sweetly-met,  
" His Pulpit seemed a Second Oliver.  
" Where from his Lips he would deliver Things,  
" As though some Seraphims had clasped his Wings.  
" His painful Sermons were so neatly dressed,  
" As if an Anthem were in Prose expressed.  
His Words were Pat & Smooth, & yielding much  
Of Nectar and Ambrosia, they were such  
As would allure Angels, at any Rate,  
To be his Auditors (if possible) Fate,  
Made him a Tenant of a longer Date,  
Than those ill Husband's 〈◊〉 so Live, (we see,)  
As to neglect to Die, and Die to be.  
Unfit to Live again; he Lived to Die,  
And Died to Live unto Eternity.  
Whose Conscience, both to God and Man,  
Was equal inoffensive, and the Span  
Of whose unspotted Life deserves to Be  
Preserved in Mind by his Posterity,  
Blessed Soul departed, if to any one  
O' th' Saints above to Thee I'd Pray alone.  
And in my Calendar I'd place thy Fall  
And make thy Dying-day Canonical.  
" Thy Ghost inspires our Muse, what Spirit Ran  
" In Thee before, Lives now in every Man.  
Yet can no Muse express how thou art Blest  
With Saints above. Let Angels speak the Rest.    

The EPITAPH.  

The Vicar of S. Sepulchers Lieth  
Within this Sepulchre; who Craveth  
His Name, the Bells will that declare,  
To tell his Worth, who able are,  
But He himself? Yet all can tell,  
The Doctor lived (and died) so well.    

London, Printed by T. Moor, & J. Ashburne, for Joseph Roberts, at the Bible in Fleet-Lane, 1683.