IDENTILIN$$  F146C08|Sorrow|CUL Leconfield MS|ff.27v-28
146.C08.0HE  Elegie 8%5th%6./ [27v]
146.C08.001  Sorrowe, whoe to this house skarce knew the waye
146.C08.002  Is, Oh, heire of itt, Our all, is his praye.
146.C08.003  This strange chaunce, claimes strange wonder, and to vs.
146.C08.004  Nothing can bee so strange, as to weepe thus.
146.C08.005  Tis well, his lifes lowd speaking, works deserue,
146.C08.006  And giue praise to, our cold tongues could not sterue. [CW:Tis]
146.C08.007  Tis well, he kept teares, from our eyes before, [28]
146.C08.008  That to fitt this deepe ill, wee might haue store.
146.C08.009  Oh, if a sweet bryar, clymbe vp by a tree,
146.C08.010  Yf to a Paradice, that transplanted bee,
146.C08.011  Or pill'd, and burnt for holie sacrifice,
146.C08.012  Yett that must wither, w%5ch%6 by itt did rise,
146.C08.013  As wee for him dead:  Though no famelie
146.C08.014  Ere riggd a soule, for heauens discouerie.
146.C08.015  W%5th%6 whome more venturers, more boldlie dare
146.C08.016  Venter theire states; w%5th%6 him in ioy to share.
146.C08.017  Wee loose what all freinds lou'd, Him, he gaines now
146.C08.018  Butt life by death, w%5ch%6 worst foes would allowe.
146.C08.019  Yf hee cold haue foes, in whose practice grewe
146.C08.020  All virtues, whose names subtile schoolmen knewe.
146.C08.021  What ease, can hope that wee shall see him, begett,
146.C08.022  When wee must dye first, and cannot dye yett.
146.C08.023  His children are his pictures, oh they bee
146.C08.024  Pictures of him dead, senceles, colde as hee.
146.C08.025  Heere needs no marble stone, since he is gone,
146.C08.026  He and about him, his, are turn'd to stone. [CW:Elegie.]
146.C08.0SS  om
146.C08.0$$