IN MEMORY OF L. COLL. CLEAVELAND.  

I 'M doubtful whom first to invite, to share  
In what my Griess and heavy Sorrows are.  
Mars, or the Muses; both received a Wound  
That dismal day Great Cleaveland sell to Ground;  
Who e're love Learning, must his Fall deplore;  
For in his Brain was comprehended more  
Philosophy, Divinity and Law,  
Than of his Years this Age in one Man saw.  
I justly may then call the poring Tribe,  
That in the Courts of Great apollo' bide;  
To join with me, and to Lament in Verse  
And pour a shower of Tears upon his Hearse:  
Oh! fruitless Tears, for they cannot return  
This Worthy Hero from his Mournful Urne:  
Mournful to us, to him a sweet Repose  
For's Mortal part: While as his Soul with those  
Who are redeemed, sweet Hallelujahs Sings;  
And 'mongst those crwoned Heads Triumphs and Reigns,  
In the next place, my sad and grieved Heart  
Calls greatest Sword-men here to take a part:  
And tho' ye're more acquaint with Blood than Tears;  
Yet when this sad distressing Sight appears,  
Brave Cleaveland's Corps laid in a Darksome Grave,  
Dry Eyes, tied Tongues, or whole Hearts can you have?  
He's gone, who Valour could the Valiant teach:  
He's gone, who's Conduct was of no mean reach.  
( But if he sell by Craft, or Treachery;  
When he's turned Dust his precious Blood shall cry;)  
He's gone preferred his Honour to his Breath;  
He's gone prized Life, yet never feared Death.  
He's gone, whose Art in using Tempered Steel,  
Has made his Foes seek safety from their Heel.  
No Mortals Name I will bid you A●ore,  
But such a loss, ye surely should Deplore;  
And grieve he's gone: It is but now and then  
This barren Earth, produceth such rare Men.  
Great Cleaveland, when thy Soul from Earth took  
Thou proved it true, Saints can both Pray and Fight.  
And gave the lie to their reproachful Words,  
Say Praying Men can make no use of Swords.  
And as thy Life to Enemies was Pain,  
As Samson's Death, so thine may prove their Bane:  
From many Eyes, thy Fall a Salt Shower drew;  
But God still Lives. blessed Soul we bid Adieu.   

EPITAPH.  

Grace, Learning, Valour centred in one  
adorned that Dust lies here below this ston:  
Because on Earth his Equals were but few,  
His Soul took Wing and early Heaven-ward flew;  
That he might shun Earth's Folly, Stains and Care,  
And with His Mates Sing hallelujahs there.