To the Memory of the Right Honourable THOMAS LORD NAPIER Who died in FRANCE, Anno DOM. 1686.  
A Funeral ELEGY.  
WHO without pale Amazement ponder can  
The Dissolution of the Frame of Man?  
Heaven's Masterpiece, in whom the ETERNAL drew  
His Portraiture, for ravished Earth to view,  
That Heavenly, and Immortal sparks, might sway.  
The Monarchy of brittle Clods of Clay:  
Whose twisted Chains composed of Love, and Wonder,  
Dissolves like Ice, like Glass does brake asunder;  
So that each Man of Low or High Degree,  
When weighed is lighter found than Vanity.  
So swists this span of Frailty, Life, We know  
Eagles compared, are supposed slow:  
Posts on the Earth, Ships on the Sea, the Wind,  
Motion itself is hover left behind;  
These to our Faith (the Souls enlightened Eye)  
Scriptures makes Emblems of Mortality.  
And by dearbought Experience, it appears  
Youth's downs may fall, as well as grizlie Hairs.  
The Patient, and Phycisian, strong and Weak,  
To Death the King and Beggar are alike:  
If sins add fuel to the fire of Hell,  
Thrice happy he in Youth that dieth well.  
Then only NAPIER, Thee We must confess  
Placed in the Zenith of all Happiness:  
To whose Nativity the Fates did owe  
All Glories, smiling Fortune can bestow.  
A Birth, blest with such Honours, Virtues, Parts,  
That Court, or Country can boast for their Arts:  
A Name, all Albion over (it is clear)  
For Learning, Valour, Prudence had no PIER.  
Hence they, and only they, possessed that Name,  
As a just Donative of Glorious Fame;  
Which still from Age to Age no Limits knew,  
Till Glories crescent to a Circle grew;  
Which passing the World's bounds could bounded be  
By nothing now, but vast Eternity.  
Scarce four and twenty times the posting Sun,  
Through his Celestial Inns, the signs, had run  
Till Heavens great Privy Council (ruthless fates)  
Above the Saphir Rafters him translates:  
Where he pure Virtue's Pleasures might obtain,  
Who only here, had tasted of their pain.  
Whose comely Person to our ravished Eye  
Vied only with his Soul for Beauty:  
Yet handsomeness was but the outward Shrin  
To veil the Glorious Saint was lodged therein;  
His Judgement was so clear, it knew no night,  
His Apprehension active as the Light;  
Whose Vigour could Discover and Discern  
The deepest Mysteries, frail Man can learn.  
That had he lived, with that same Approbation,  
H'had writ a Comment on the Revelation,  
As that great miracle his Grandsire did,  
Admired by all alive, adored when dead.  
Such was this Noble Lord, where ever known,  
Amazing Strangers, loved of his own.  
At Home, Abroad, his Virtues proved his Name,  
H'had NA PIER in the Deserts of Fame;  
Yet his short Time denied to tell Us what,  
Leaving Eternity to open that;  
Only deserved such Trophies: at his Urn  
That France and Britain both at once do mourn.  
N. Paterson.  
Foelix qui portum subiit, in quem si quis intra primos annos delatus est, non magis queri debet, quam qui cito navigavit;  Seneca. 
TOlle caput luctu mersum, quando omnia functa  
Aut moritura vides; obeunt noctesque diesque,  
Astraque, nec solidis prodest sua machina terris  
Ortum qnicquid babes finem timet: ibimus omnes,  
Ibimus; immensis urnam quatit AEACUS umbris.  
Ast hic quem gemimus, foelix; non ille rogavit,  
Non timuit meruitve mori; nos anxia plebes,  
Nos miseri, quibus unde dies suprema, quis aevi  
Exitus incertum: sed & hic jam numine plenus,  
Et dubios casus, & caecae lubrica vitae  
Effugit immunis fati: Christique beatus  
Dulcibus alloquiis & vivis vultibus ardet.  Statius Evangelizans.