& tis too true alass! we find, he's gonn, <br />Virtue from earth a second time is flown, <br />She onely then with her two sisters flew, <br />But now since he, what ere were good withdrew; <br />Uncertain where to fix, in him they lost their seat, <br />& had But Heaven as a sure retreat. <br />He Held ye scales when Justice Hand did shake: <br />When He, youd think that wisdomes self did speak. <br />He was with Honour blest, with Honesty, & praise, <br />ev'n Blest with all we could desire but dayes: <br />& those were much too few, for he is gon <br />(Not for himself but for ye world) too soon. <br />In him we found, & with him buried lies <br />What ever poets gave their deity's, <br />Joves Brow, Minervas learning, Hermes tongue <br />Apollo's wisdom, yeares, & his still seeming young; <br />The same sweet temper he to all did shew, <br />& as his face his mind no wrinkle knew. <br />He when with foes opprest was still ye same, <br />Pittying forgave, & smiling overcame. <br />this glorious sunn, like Heavens, was o're cast <br />By enymies, as that By clouds opprest, <br />That keepes his lookes compos'd, & this his breast. <br />Both do in glory sett, as both in glory reign, <br />But this for ever, that to rise again. <br />Perfections here as to their centre flowd, <br />He was tho great, yet farr from being proud. <br />Was gentle, liberall, & tho modest free, <br />Gold has allay, nay ev'ry thing but he. <br />yet is he tak'n away snatcht hence by heaven <br />as if it seemd to envy what 't had given. <br />But when we've such a loss— <br />How can ye planetts shine ye cloudes not melt to rain <br />But ev'ry thing their wonted course retain. <br />Heav'n in our sorrow cannot have a share <br />We've lost a god on earth 't has got a saint a starr<br /><br />Thomas Parnell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-sr-charles-porter-the-chancellours-death/
