I Creep and tremble ere I come to pay  
My pious Offering to Thy hallowed Clay:  
Nor can the slender Tribute of my Verse  
Be Ornament sufficient to Thy Hearse:  
Only the Honour that I own Thy Name  
Gives my Muse breath, and yields my Fancy flame.  
Juxon! Ha, what of Him? is dead: You lie,  
Sordid Report, 'gainst Truth and Memory.  
Can He that was the Subject of all Pens,  
The Laws, the Prophets, and the best of men's,  
Be said to Die? How gross is the Mistake?  
Banish those Mists of Error, and awake  
Your Sluggish Reason: He that not long since  
Clothed the Church in its primitive Innocence,  
And gave a Life to every Child she had,  
Cherished the Good, and did convert the Bad,  
Had all His Learning wrapped in Purity  
Of Doctrine, and His Life Sincerity;  
Can He be said to Die? Base Envy, No:  
He lives, though none of Thine would have it so.  
He that the Sacred Hand of Majesty  
Did stamp for good, can He be said to Die?  
He that hath seen the worst that Death could do  
Without a Shrink, as did His Sovereign too.  
His Virtues were His Refuge and His Guard,  
That were against all Dangers still prepared.  
Of such it may be said, Death only can  
Touch at the Carcase, but not reach the Man.  
He that was with Temptations roundly set,  
Yet proved His Princes untouched Cabinet:  
The Jewels there enclosed were never known  
Till blessed CHARLES the Heir did claim his own.  
Oh happy Prince in such a faithful Peer,  
Send You more such: but there are few, I fear.  
He that in time of danger stood unmoved,  
Firm as a Rock, and constant where He loved,  
Whom nothing could corrupt or draw aside  
From th' Principles for which his Master died;  
Can He be dead? What doth that word imply?  
Be not deceived, the Righteous cannot die.  
And though the Clergy may Lament and Weep,  
Yet They do know the Saints are said to Sleep.  
Forbear your Griefs then, spend not Tears in vain,  
He's gone where none can call Him back again;  
Where you must follow if you live as well;  
If not, take t'other Road, and then farewell.  
He lay but Leidger here to manage things  
Of great Concernment for the King of Kings;  
And now is summoned to His Home, to do  
Business of State You yet can't reach unto.  
But Lambeth mourns, and (now) to me appears  
An Inundated Town o'er-flown with Tears,  
Salt, and Corroding, as Griefs Limbeck can  
Distil them down the Cheeks of every Man;  
As though their Griefs were so intemperate grown,  
They would comply both with the Month & Moon.  
Away with your ungrateful Sorrow, know  
The Knowledge that You have He did bestow;  
And such Provision He hath left by's Care,  
Of godly Ministers You need not fear.  
And more to comfort You, know He is gone  
To put the Robe of Resurrection on;  
And be a Witness to appease the Blood  
Of Strafford, Laud, and Charles the Just and Good,  
Featly and Hewyt, Vowel, and the rest,  
And there with Them to live among the BLESSED.