AN ELEGY To the Memory of the Right Hovorable THOMAS Earl of OSSORY, Who departed this Life, July the 30th. 1680.  

LEt no man our officious haste condemn,  
that we the loss of so much worth proclaim  
Want of his service soon had made it known,  
And we are sure but just, the loss to own.  
Since he is dead, there is no other way,  
Our Gratitude for his Deserts to pay.  
In his Distemper every Man took part,  
For he had sure a share in every Heart.  
To every honest Man, most dear before,  
But by the unhappy loss endeared much more;  
For 'tis a natural Vice with mankind born,  
That still the Good which we possess, we scorn.  
Never allowing Virtue past esteem,  
Till the Grave snatch what we can ne'er redeem.  
Yet soon as we the mighty loss sustain,  
We pray, admire, and wish for it in vain;  
How would we value it, if we had'tagain.  
Just such was every English man's concern,  
When of his Life they did the danger learn.  
Well might they love him; one so just and good,  
Much greater by his Virtues, than his Blood.  
Who justly still ambitioned a good Name,  
Yet loved his Country, more than he loved Fame.  
No fear of Death could e'er his Courage stay,  
Wherever dangerous Honour led the way;  
For this he left his Ease and plenty still.  
His natural Valour high improved by Skill.  
Hardened by danger, and by constant pain.  
His Country's Good, his great, nay only Gain.  
For that such wonders he in Fight has wrought,  
For that at Land and Sea so often Fought.  
Those different Forms of War he made his own,  
And know both better, than most men do one.  
In this our British World our God of War,  
Great in his Martial-Acts, but greater far  
In his untainted and firm Loyalty.  
His constant and oft proved Fidelity  
What to his Prince, what to the People due,  
His honest Mind and searching Judgement knew.  
And what he knew, He still to Act reduced  
Hating mere notions that were ne'er of Use.  
Betwixr these two so equally he moved,  
That he by both was equally beloved.  
A rare Example of a Worthy Lord,  
His princes Favour have, and Country's Word.  
And to his great and everlasting pralse,  
Even in these surly dark designing days;  
These Times when most try openly their Skill  
In making Parties, He was honest still.  
By feigned Affronts ne'er his Duty led,  
Base Faction for to Countenance or Head  
Oh that our Lords would their lost time Redeem,  
And not so much admire, as Copy him!  
Be good like Him, if they do like him be Great,  
And be his Peers in Virtue as in State.  
He whose great Worth all did so justly own,  
That Rivals in his Honour▪ he had none.  
To all as their deserts were, He was kind,  
Still with right Judgement and unbiast Mind;  
Great without Vanity, and without ends Just,  
Humble tho honoured, faithful when in Trust.  
The dangerous fruits of too great Praises He  
Knew well, and to decline them till was free  
The new distraction presently he knew,  
Love without Fear, Praise without Envy drew;  
The Country▪ Soldier, Soldier's Father too.  
Should we all reckon, we should ne'er give over,  
But to Crown these and many Virtues more.  
His Love to our Religion still was great,  
Which he professed not as a Trick of State.  
Lest he should Favour, or an Office want,  
His Life as well as Faith was Protestant.  
His Theme is boundless, who his praises sings,  
Tho best of Servants to the best of Kings.  
So after Years of pains and dangers past,  
In Heaven deservedly he Rests at last.  
Muse here let's end, and wish for time to come,  
We ne'er want Oss●ri's, nor like him be dumb.   By a tru● Lover of his Vertu●s. 
FINIS.