To the Memory of Colonel Edward Cooke

'Tis Vertue which alone supports the whole,
For without that the World's without a Soul;
Most certain, then, as it grows faint and weak,
Th' eternal Chain decays, at last must break:
When great Cooke fell, the jarring Links did twang,
And Nature sigh'd as if she felt the pang;
Nor is it strange; For Vertue was his guide,
And scarce before so much e're with a votary dy'd,
In War he was nurs't up, Arms his delight,
Courted in Peace, and as much shun'd in fight:
Death he had seen in various shapes, but none
Cou'd move him to be fearful of his own:
Nor did old Age abate the martial Flame;
'Twas always great, and always was the same.
His Charity did equally extend
To cherish the distress'd, and serve his Friend.
When he did good (and who his Life surveys
Will find he did delight in't all his dayes)
'Twas for the sake of good, and not for praise.
Restless Ambition ne'r his thought employ'd;
Peace and Conteet he sought, and those enjoy'd.
Merit he priz'd though 'twere in rags enshrin'd;
He look't not on the Person but the Mind.
His Judgment was unbyast, clear and strong,
His Conversation pleasant, gay and young:
But then his Mirth was still from Folly free;
Take all profane from Wit, and that was he.
And as when Tygers range the Woods for prey,
And chance to meet a Lyon in their way,
Streight they forget their rage, and learn t' obey;
So Atheous Men, though they blasphem'd before,
Aw'd with his Presence, their vain talk forbore:
For Piety was still his constant Guest,
And found its safest refuge in his Breast.
Such was his Life — and now his Death we'll shew,
His Death, the greater wonder of the two!
For when the fatal pangs were drawing on,
And the last Sands were eager to be gone;
When all his Friends lay drown'd in tears of grief,
Wishing, alas! but hopeless of relief;
Ev'n he alone his Change with Patience bore,
Like all the Changes of his Life before:
No labouring sound, no murmuring groan exprest,
But dy'd as weary Pilgrims go to rest.
O Pity, pity, some more able Quill
Had not adorn'd this Theme with greater skill;
That Fame to late Posterity might tell,
Few Men can live, but fewer dy so well.