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DRy upyour tears, there's enough fhed by you, And we muft pay our fhare o f Sorrows too. It is no private lofs when fuch men fall, The VVorld’s concern’d, and Grief is general. But though o f our Misfortune wc complain, T o him it is injurious and vain. For fince we know his rich Integrity, Ilisreal Sweetnefs, and full Harmony j How free his heart and houfe were to his Friends, W hom he oblig’d without Defign or Ends; How univerfal was his courtefie, How clear a Soul, how even, and how high; How much hefcorn’d difguife or meaner Arts, But with a native Honour conquer’d Hearts i W c muft conclude he was a Treafure lent, Soon weary of this fordid Tenement. The Age and W orld deferv’d him not, and he Was kindly fnatch’d from future Mifery. W e can fcarce fay he’s Dead, but gone to reft, And left a Monument in ev’ry breaft. For you to grieve then in this fad excefs, Is not to fpeak your Love, but make it lefs. A noble Soul no Friendfhip will admit, But what’s Eternal and Divine asit. The Soul is hid in mortal flefh we know, And all its weaknefies muft undergo, T ill .by degrees it does fhine forth at length, And gathers Beauty, Purity, and Strength .* But never yet doth this Immortal Ray Put on full fplendour till it put off Clay : So Infant Love is in the worthieft breaft

By Senfe and Paflion fetter’d and oppreft j But by degrees it grows ftill more refin’d, And fcorning clogs, only concerns the mind. Now as the Soul you lov'd is here fetfree From its material gröfs capacity; Your Love fhould follow him now he is gone, And quitting Paflion, put Pcrfeäion on. Such Love as this will its own good deny, If its dear O bjeft have Felicity. And fince we cannot his great Lofs Reprieve, Let’s notlofeyou in whom he ftill doth Live. For while you are by Grief fccluded thus, It doth appear your Funeral to us.