AN ELEGY WITH AN ACCROSTICK And an Epitaph On the Death of that Laborious Servant and Minister of CHRIST; Mr. James Janeway; who departed this Life and put on Imortality; the 16th Day of March 1673/4.  

M●rs ommibus Commune est.  
An Elegy.  

AH! Whither, whither, into what Abyss  
Of Sorrow, and unfatomed Grief, is this  
In which my troubled Soul is plunged? what Seas  
Of terror causing (what strange) thoughts are these?  
What ai●es my Heart, that thus with fear it quakes?  
What? have the Furies with their hissing Snakes,  
And flaming Torches, left their Dark abodes?  
What! hath Black Dis, and the Infernal Gods,  
Let lose those Hellish Fiends, confined to lie  
In that Infernal place Eternally?  
Ah? No: great JANEWAY'S dead: whose name even struck  
Such fear, that (named) the Throne o● darkness shaken?  
Th' Infernal Legions trembled at his Name,  
More than th' Dice Charms, Thessalian Witcke● frame.  
Their Great Antig'nist, who so oft assailed  
Their Power, and (spite of all their spites) prevailed,  
He who so often did retake the prey,  
Which else those Cursed Fiends had born away,  
Now's Dead: But FAME (loath to divulge his death.)  
Refused to give her Trump its wont Breath:  
She decked herself in Sable Weeds: Then took  
A ruthful Gesture, and a Mounrnful look;  
And with great Grief (Tears bursting out,) did show  
That he was Dead (alas! by far too true):  
Which when those Damned Spirits heard, they all  
With joy (if joys in Hell,) kept Festival:  
They joy to think that he from whom they fled,  
And were so oft o'ercome by, now is Dead.   

He was— But Oh! that some Celestial one  
Would tell me what! till than I can't make known.  
CALLIOPE, and all the Learned NINE  
(Nay though with Great HYPERION they combine,)  
Cannot sufficiently Sing forth his praise,  
Unless Divine Assistance time my Lays  
I shall but Blot, and Blur, (and not Indite)  
His worth: then Lord, inspire my Pen to Writ!  
But why digress I thus? he's known so well,  
That who, or what he was, I need not tell:  
His Learning, Labour, Gifts, and Graces, show  
His worth (which in his want we dearly Rue):  
His Life confirmed his Motto still to be,  
HOLY, and BLAMELESS in the highest Degree:  
Such was his Death: he could Triumph, and Sing  
Grave w●ere's thy Victory! Death where's thy Sting?  
He was a Burning and a shining Light  
(In this so wicked Age) to judge aright  
Unto that place of Bliss, t' which now he's gone,  
(Except true followers) now he'll live with none.  
A Star a Famous star which did appear  
With such great Glory in our Hemisphere  
Is fallen: know ye not, (ye know full well,)  
A Great Man's fallen this day in Israel?  
I would, I wish (and therein I'd bear part)  
That JANEWAY were engraved on every Heart:  
When (else) our Hearts would sin, they would forbear  
For shame when as they find his Name writ there.   

Ah! Cruel DEATH, could thy impartial Dart  
Be Levelled at, and pierce good JANEWAYS, Heart?  
Had he been one to whom the Glass of LIME  
Had run Three 〈◊〉 'twere less; but in the prime  
And Flower of all his Days! Ah, Cruel DEATH.  
Then, to deprive him often Life, and Breath;  
And Launch him-forth in to Eternity!   
Virtus Post, fueri vivet.  

Was he so fair and tempting to thine Eye,  
That thou didst long, and take? or was't that he  
In this respect made like to Christ might be?  
Or, were't solic'ted by the Powers below,  
(Who feared Subversion, and an overthrow)?  
No, 'twas not Fate, or any other Power:  
But God's Decree, that caused that fatal hour.  
And wherefore Lord (when as the Harvest's large,)  
Remov'st thou those, who'd faithful in their charge?  
When faithful Labourers are so scarce, then will  
Their Nunber lessen, and diminish still?  
When Canaies' out so fast, so fast decay,  
'Tis a sad Omen, God will take away  
His Golden Candlestick from us, and give  
It those, who will more answerably live.  
And art thou gone SWEET SOUL! hast thou forsook  
Thy Earthly House of Clay? he could not brook  
Those daring sins, which every where are found  
In all Relations, and Degrees t' abound;  
For when he saw't, with holy Zeal he hurled  
Contempt on this, and fled to th' other World.   

And could he die, and yet no blazing Star,  
Or Comet (usually portending War,)  
Presage his Death? Ah! no: alas! alas!  
The great decrease of worthies, that, that was  
A certain sign: which seen, he would no more  
Stay here behind's (Companions gone before).  
Alas! alas! and shall he now depart  
Without the sighs, and sobs, of every heart?  
Oh! that mine Eyes had power to draw up  
All, and each Spring, into my Brain! and sup  
Th' Ocean into my Breast, that't might supply  
Perpetual moisture to my weeping Eye.  
Come, Widows, Orphans, all who'd in distress;  
Let this be th' Object, here your Grief express.  
And you (
* Mr. Nat. Vincent.  Dear Friend,) who had so large a share  
Of his Affections, and of every Prayer,  
'Twixt whom the Name of Brothti passed: alas  
You shall no more behold him as he was:  
You shall no more on Earth, behold, or see,  
His Heavenly face: and therefore now with me,  
And with this Troop of Mourners, bear a part,  
To weep and Mourn with an unfeigned Heart.  
Let's weep whole Flood's of Tears, that may surround  
His Tomb; and keep th' impure from holy Ground:  
Then Metamorphose them to Crystal pure,  
And grave his Fame for ever to endure.  
And you his Hearers weep, Oh! weep full fast;  
Now use your Tears, this day may be your last.  
He spent his Strength and Life for you: Oh! then  
In Tears, strive to retaliate it again.  
Come, come, be liberal for God observes:  
And in ordained Bottles, there preserves  
Them as the Tokens of your tender Love  
To, and esteem of him: by Grief you'll prove  
Your Love was real: Weep, and do not grudge,  
God sees your Grief: and thereby will you judge.    

An Accrostick.  
It is a Truth, Ripe Fruit is soonest pulled down:  
And 'tis like Truth, he ripe, received his Crown.  
Much pains, much fear●s, much care he here expressed:  
Eternally he now enjoyeth Rest,  
Sorrow and 〈…〉 doth stay.  
In Heaven all's joy: no Night, ensues his day.  
All Earthly things do change: are transitory:  
No change is incident to heavens Glory.  
E'er we're aware, our Thread of Life (being spun)  
Whilst we're secure is cut, or Life is done.  
And now (from heaven.) his Voice this seems to be  
You all must die: prepare to follow me.   

An EPITAPH.  
WHat is't (Spectator) thou wouldst see, or know  
Who's here Interred? Alas! I dare not show  
Wouldst know his Name? why, no unhallowed ea●…  
Must hear it named: avaunt then, come not near  
You who'd Profane: but you whose Gentle Eye  
Can weep at will; know, JANEWAY here doth lie:  
Here Lies his Body: But, his Soul's at Rest,  
In Glorious Glory, not to be expressed.   

To his Late Wife, but now sorrowful Widow.  
YOur Lost is great. 'Tis true: but 'tis much le●…  
That (though a Widow) you're not husbandless;  
(The God of Heaven, and Earth's, Espoused to you)  
Lessen your Grief: for why, Behold, all do  
Lament your Loss in theirs: Look how their Eyes  
Pay back Tear-Tribute to his Obsequies!  
Ah! cease those floods of tears: though Death doth sever  
Yourself, and him; yet know, 'tis not for ever:  
For when, that, nought shall of this all remain,  
You'll meet in Bliss, and never part again.  S. R. Aetatis Suae, 45.  

NOx Erat et nigra velaverat omnia veste  
Herebam Nexis tecam ego brachietis,  
Membraqque lanqui duto reparabam fassa sapore  
Cum steti● ante oculos Pallid us ille meos  
Scire velu quid agam? vivo modo, simodo vivit  
P●nano ●ners, animae Corpus inare suae,  
Sed 〈◊〉 ingratas cev vivi Ducimus auras  
Er 〈◊〉 evan●mem languida vita moram;  
San●tu● sed JANEWAY castae Pietatis mago  
Pramia sudorum quos habet ante tenet.  
Es 〈◊〉 supremae te●●get consinia metae  
Hic Dixis Merti cur mihi tarda venis?  
Nunc ubi seradies fatalem v●x erat horam  
Quae solvat vin c'lis te quoqque corporeis  
Laetus in Elysa mecum spatiabore ripa  
Qua Lauri vitreas lucus inu●brat aquas.  
FINIS.    

LONDON, Printed for Thomas Cockeril. 〈…〉