IDENTILIN$$  F146HH4|Sorrow|Huntington HM 198(I)|pp.88-89
146.HH4.0HE  Elegy 8 [88]
146.HH4.001  Sorrow, who to this House scarce knew the way
146.HH4.002  is, oh, Heire of itt, our all is his prey
146.HH4.003  this strang chance claims strang wonder, & to us
146.HH4.004  nothing can be soe strange as to weepe thus
146.HH4.005  tis well his life lou'd-speaking workes deserue
146.HH4.006  and giue praise too, our cold toung could not serue
146.HH4.007  tis well he kept tears from our Eyes before
146.HH4.008  that to fill this deepe ill he might haue store
146.HH4.009  oh, if A sweet Briar climbs up by A Tree
146.HH4.010  if to A Parradice that transplanted bee
146.HH4.011  or fel'd or burnt for holly sacrafice
146.HH4.012  yet that must wither w:%5ch%6 by itt did rise
146.HH4.013  soe wee for him dead, though no family
146.HH4.014  ere rig'd A Soule for Heauens discouery
146.HH4.015  with whome aduenturers may boldly dare
146.HH4.016  uenture their states with him in Joy to share
146.HH4.017  wee louse what all frends loue, him, he gaines, now
146.HH4.018  but life for death, w%5ch%6 worst foes would allowe
146.HH4 019  if he could haue foes, in whose practise grew
146.HH4.020  all vertue, whose names subtell scholmen knew
146.HH4.021  what ease can hope that wee should see him begett
146.HH4.022  when wee must Dye first, and cannott dye yett
146.HH4.023  his Children are his Pictures, oh, they bee
146.HH4.024  Pictures of him dead, sencles, cold as hee
146.HH4.025  heer need no marble Tombe since he is gone
146.HH4.026  he (and aboute him) his are turn'd to stone
146.HH4.0SS  om
146.HH4.0$$  Lines 25 & 26 ind.