Shall I take what a Prologue Homer hath1
Let me Relate the Heavenly Powers Wrath?
Or shall I rather join with Jeremiah,
And o'er our great and good Josiah sigh,
O that my Head were waters, and mine Eyes
A fountain were, that Hadadrimmon's Cries
Might bubble from me! O that Day and Night
For the Slain of my People weep I might!
Ah! why delay I? Reader, step with me,
And what is for thee on Grief's Table see
Memoria Prateritorum is
The Dish I call thee to: Come taste of this.
Oaks was! Ah! miserable word! But what
He was, Let Never, Never be forgot.
Believe me once, It were a worthy thing
Of's Life and Worth a large Account to bring
To public View, for general Benefit.
I would essay (with Leave, Good Reader) it,
So far as feet will carry me, but know it
From first to last, Crief never made good Poet.2
He that lashed with a Rod could versify,
Attained, and could pretend far more than!
⟨p. 4⟩Short was thy Life! Sweet Saint! & quickly run
Thy Race! Thy Work was, oh! how quickly done!
Thy Days were (David's measure) but a Span;
Five Tens of Years rolled since the Life began.
Thus I remember a Greek Poet Rhymes,
They whom God Loves are wont to die betimes.
Thus Whitaker, Perkins, Preston, Men of Note,
Ay! many such, Never to fifty got.
And thus (Rachel New-England!) many Seers
Have left us in the acme of their Years.
Good Soul! Thy Jesus who did for thee die,
In Heaven longed for thy Company.
And let thy Life be measured by thy Deeds,3
Not by thy Tears; Thy Age strait nothing needs.
Divert, My Pen! Run through the Zodiac
Of Oaks his Life: And cause I knowledge lack
Of most Occurrents, let me now and then
Snatch at a Passage worthy of a Pen.
Our Mother England, even a Village there
(Fuller, insert it!) did this Worthy bear.
Over the Ocean in his Infancy
His Friends with him into New-England fly:
Here, while a lad, almost a miracle
(As I have heard his Aged Father tell)
Saved him from drowning in a River: He
Would (guess) a Miracle and Moses be.
Now did Sweet Nature in him so appear
A Gentlewoman once cried out, If ere
Good Nature could bring unto Heaven, then
Those wings would thither carry Urian.
⟨p. 5⟩Prompt Parts, and early Piety now made
Men say of him, what once observers said
Of great John Baptist, and of Ambrose too,
To what an one will this strange Infant grow?
Her Light and Cup did happy Harvard give
Unto him; and from her he did receive
His Two Degrees:
Shall I take what a Prologue Homer hath1
Lett mee Relate the Heavenly Powers Wrath?
Or shall I rather join with Jeremie,
And o're our great and good Josiah sigh,
O that my Head were waters, and mine Eyes
A fountain were, that Hadadrimmon's Cryes
Might bubble from mee! O that Day and Night
For the Slain of my People weep I might!
Ah! why delay I? Reader, step with mee,
And what is for thee on Grief's Table see
Memoria Prateritorum is
The Dish I call thee to: Come taste of this.
Oakes vvas! Ah! miserable word! But what
Hee vvas, Let Never, Never be forgot.
Beleeve mee once, It were a worthy thing
Of's Life and Worth a large Account to bring
To publick View, for general Benefit.
I would essay (with Leave, Good Reader) it,
So far as feet will carry mee, but know it
From first to last, Crief never made good Poet.2
Hee that lasht with a Rod could versify,
Attain'd, and could pretend far more than!
⟨p. 4⟩Short was thy Life! Sweet Saint! & quickly run
Thy Race! Thy Work was, oh! how quickly done!
Thy Dayes were (David's measure) but a Span;
Five Tens of Years roll'd since the Life began.
Thus I remember a Greek Poet Rhimes,
They whom God Loves are wont to dy betimes.
Thus Whit'ker, Perkins, Preston, Men of Note,
Ay! many such, Never to fifty got.
And thus (Rachel New-England!) many Seers
Have left us in the akme of their Years.
Good Soul! Thy Jesus who did for thee dy,
In Heaven longed for thy Company.
And let thy Life be measur'd by thy Deeds,3
Not by thy Tears; Thy Age strait nothing needs.
Divert, My Pen! Run through the Zodiac
Of Oakes his Life: And cause I knowledge lack
Of most Occurrents, let mee now and then
Snatch at a Passage worthy of a Pen.
Our Mother England, ev'n a Village there
(Fuller, insert it!) did this Worthy bear.
Over the Ocean in his Infancy
His Friends with him into New-England fly:
Here, while a lad, almost a miracle
(As I have heard his Aged Father tell)
Sav'd him from drowning in a River: Hee
Would (guess) a Miracle and Moses bee.
Now did Sweet Nature in him so appear
A Gentlewoman once cry'd out, If ere
Good Nature could bring unto Heaven, then
Those wings would thither carry Urian.
⟨p. 5⟩Prompt Parts, and early Piety now made
Men say of him, what once observers said
Of great John Baptist, and of Ambrose too,
To what an one will this strange Infant grow?
Her Light and Cup did happy Harvard give
Unto him; and from her he did receive
His Two Degrees:
- 1[…], &c.〈…〉, &c.
- 2Ovid
- 3Non Annis, sed Fa••is vivunt mortales.
