AN ELEGY ON WHITEHALL.  

WEEP all ye Mortals who have Tears to spare  
You that have none, continue as you are:  
But if you can't your usual Temper keep,  
You, if you please, may Laugh at those that Weep  
But Reader, thou may'st justly ask me why,  
Or wherefore, I would have you Laugh or Cry:  

I'll tell thee then, if know the truth you must,  
Alas! alas! Whitehall's Consumed to Dust,  
In Earthly things, Ah! Who would put their trust?    

Tho' I confess, if I may be so bold,  
To tell to you, what I have oft been told,  
'Twas but a wicked Structure whilst it stood,  
I always thought 'twould never come to Good.   

Most, I believe, will my Opinion hold,  
Like some good Wives, 'twas Ugly, and 'twas Old.  

Some think it was a Palace of Renown,  
But I must say (with reverence to the Crown)  
It never looked truly Noble till 'twas down.   

As scattered Ruins most delightful be,  
In whose Disorder we more Beauty see,  
Than can be found in Regularity.    

Before 'twas Burnt, it Unregarded stood,  
A shapeless, homely Pile of Brick and Wood  
But when the fatal Flames had boar it down,  
'Twas Gaized at, and Admired by all the Town.   

Alas 'tis gone! And all that does remain,  
Is to Rebuild it Finer up again;  
Which Politicians say will be the sequel,  
So Laugh, or Cry, to me the matter's equal.    

LONDON Printed for John Harris 1698.