The Holy Sister's Lamentation: AN ELEGY To the Pious Memory of Mr. Henry C— nish, A late Presbyterian Teacher in Bisiter in Oxfordshire, who died December the 18th, 1698. COrnish is Dead!— And thus a Bis'ter Muse ( Who best can speak his Character) doth choose To pay a Mournful Tribute to his hearse, And raise a Monument to him in Verse. Ah Holy Soul! Thy Glass at last is run, With Tears we saw Thee dwindle to thy Urn; Thy Zeal was boiling for our Blessed Cause, Which made thy Spirit strive with Human Laws, And kept thee staunch from worshipping at Church, Rather than leave thy Servants in the lurch; Orders thou hadst from Bishop, and didst swear, To keep thy solemn Vows should be thy care; But those thou soon didst find too straight for thee, Whose mind was always fixed on Liberty. Which made thee Preach that Pergury's no Crime, When we can serve the Cause at any time: And tho' a Puling Saint thee Weaver call, Tom Weaver Poet laureate, to Mr. Cornish Anno 1654. And Sneaking Hypocrite; yet this never shall Prevail with Saints thy Memory to hate, Or e'er thy Barn-Divinity out-date; Tho' Dead, thou liv'st among us as before, Whilst all thy Doings stand upon our Score; We seem to see thy The Ghost said often to appear in the Barn. Face, so pale and thin, Which checks our Hearts, which are too prove to Sin, Whilst Tr— ton's warming Spirit doth supply Thy wonted Place, with wondrous Energy; Who pricks us to the Heart until we feel His hidden Man within, as strong as steel: What tho' the Sober, well-lung'd Rector of D in Bucks. Olive— He, Who bellow'd at thy late Solemnity, Did tell young Men, they must not hope to see The Age of such a Holy Man as thee? Cornish, a Man of God!— Yet we will pray, Tr— ton the Plump, the Brisk, the Gay, May live thy Age— Long may thy Paths be trod By him, and all the Off-spring of John Dod. AN EPITAPH. Under this Pew, Ligs the Head of a Crew; May the Bells hither Chime, The rest in due time. LONDON, Printed for the Author in B— r,