AN Elegiac Tribute to the Sacred Dust of the Reverend and Worthy Mr. SEABORN COTTON Pastor of the Church of Christ at HAMPTON in New-England: who was discharged from his Work and Office, to be admitted into Heaven, April 20th 1686.  

AMong the weeping wailing Mourners drove,  
I come to show my weakness, yet my love.  
I shan't I can't refrain when Grief bids speak,  
And Sorrow forces: I choose to seem weak  
Rather than stupid; and not for to show  
What he deserves and what my Fancies owe  
Unto his Horse, which wants no Verse, to whom  
A Diapason of each Muse's Moan  
Is a due Tribute. Yet Griefs passions spent  
Are cased when broached, cured when they have vent.  
If tears & fears, or Moans & Groans were verse,  
How would I, could I, should I grace the Hearse  
Of this vast soul; of which th' unworthy earth  
Was never so much as honoured with the Birth.  
The grandest birth are Amphurite had:  
To rock his Cradle Angels they were glad.  
By Winds & Waves, & prosperous … s before  
Heaven sent by Sea this heaven-born soul to shore  
Whose Worth who●● Works, whost Life and well-spent Days  
I need to imitate but not to praise  
I ever hated flattering of the dead.  
(Without all fraud) it may, must, shall be said  
He was a Gemm, Joy, Jewel, Head and Hand,  
Light, Life, Stay, Staff, & Oracle of our Land.  
Hard things he eased, obscure he brought to Sight,  
Feet to the lame he was: to Blind a Light.  
Ears ' to the deaf. Strength to the feeble Knee.  
A Mouth to dumb. A Church's eye was he.  
Hands to the helpless ones. Stay to the Weak.  
The ●aint he cheered: to wicked swords he'd speak.  
An heart to heartless. A Souls guide, to keep  
And fright off wolves & wicked from Christ's sheep.  
He dr●v & drove, wooed, warned with all his might  
men's souls, by love, by fear, by force, by Fright.  
Never had Body such a Soul within  
Vice-hater, and a Thunderbolt to Sin?  
Oh how he studied, prea●h●, teached, practised too!  
His w●rds, works, ●ight & life together grew.  
A Mi●●ur and a Masterpiece of Art.  
His h … was full of Light, of Grace his heart.  
He did not seek the Church's Goods but Good:  
'Twas them not theirs he sought. O what a brood  
His sed'lous care, love, labour, bred, fed, raised!  
What earth does hid, in heaven will be praised.  
Modest, mild, meek was he. A gracious grave  
Pattern and Patron. Souls to strive to save  
He m●de his work his wages. Souls to gain  
He ne'er grudged time, labour, life, strength or pai●  
To make souls start, smart, feel to heal, he spared  
No cost, no means: let Heaven regard, reward.  
One while he'd draw, than thunder, yet anon  
He'd bring to calm souls an Anodynon.  
scarce second to an Angel was his Tongue  
〈◊〉 wonder how he tarried here so long,  
When fitted for the Angel's company;  
(That high, that holy, heavenly Hierarchy)  
That he wasn't housed before, but left to slay  
Till ominous sins did fright this Saint away.  
Well may the earth grow waste when heaven grows full  
The world may well grow bad when God does call  
And choose & sift the good from bad. Lord bore  
A while, and fetch not till we can such spare.  
What ere thou take, don't take our spiritual bread,  
F●om which our eyes have light, our souls are fed.  
've lost a Guild midst sinful sullen times,  
Which are uneven, and won't stand in Rhymes;  
●ho in home feuds kept an unblased heart  
●hich steady stood; ne'er failed, ne'er fell nor, ●…art.  
harmless himself demeaned without Offence:  
chewing great Wisdom, yet great Innocence.  
In his last Sermons Raptures, Ecstasies  
Did him transport unto the azure Skies.  
〈◊〉 heard good Authors say that then were near him,  
That Angels might come down & crowd to hear him.   

That Worthies leave us to our Overthrow,  
●hese are bad Symptoms of a future Blow.  
inexorable Death and Heavens Frown  
●●uff out our Lights, Pillars, Posts, Props cut down.  
●ur happy Hap, Hope hopeful, Help, Joy, Crown  
Death's fatal blow (in him) at once cut down.  
What to the COTTONs Stock N-England owes  
Earth cannot tell: in Heaven we shall know  
When souls come there. The mean while I may say,  
We may talk of our debts, tho' we can't pay.  
Tho' earth has Cossined up most of the studs,  
●est be the Heavens we have yet some buds  
〈◊〉 the same Stock. Heaven's waters make them shoot  
●●d show the world they came of COTTONs Root.  
●●d save our souls, Thy Frowns, our Fears remove,  
●●rn away Wrath and Rods, and give us Love.   Moestus composuit et posuit 
Edward Tompson.  
— Fretum vitae gaudente carina  
tranavit— tutum tenet anchora portu●  
Nunc hilaris Ventos ridet tumidasque 〈◊〉