AN ELEGY ON THE Reverend Mr. Tho. Gouge. TO Mr. Arthur Shallett Merchant. TO THE MEMORY OF THE Reverend Mr. Tho. Gouge, Who Died January 8. 1699 / 1700. I. YE Virgin Souls, whose Sweet Complaint Could teach Euphrates not to flow, Could Sion's Ruine so Divinely Paint Array'd in Beauty and in Woe; Awake, ye Virgin Souls, to mourn, And with your Tuneful Sorrows dress a Prophet's Urn. O could my Lips, or Flowing Eyes But imitate such Charming Grief, I'de teach the Seas, and teach the Skies Wailings, and Sobs, and Sympathies, Nor should the Stones, or Rocks be deaf; Rocks shall have Eyes, and Stones have Ears, While GOUGE's Death is Mourn'd in Melody and Tears. II. Heaven was impatient of our Crimes, And sent his Minister of Death To Scourge the bold Rebellion of the Times, And to demand our Prophet's Breath; He came commission'd for the Fates Of Awful MEAD, and Charming BATES, There he essay'd the Vengeance first, Then took a dismal Aim and brought great GOUGE to Dust. III. Great GOUGE to Dust! How Doleful is the Sound? How vast the Stroke is? And how wide the Wound? Yes, 'tis a vast uncommon Death, Yes, 'tis a Wound unmeasurably wide; No Vulgar Mortal Dy'd When he resign'd his Breath. The Muse that Mourns a Nations Fall Shou'd wait at GOVGE's Funeral, Should mingle Majesty and Groans Such as she Sings to sinking Thrones, And in deep-sounding Numbers tell How Sion trembled when this Pillar fell. Sion grows Weak, and England Poor, Nature her self with all her Store Can furnish such a Pomp for Death no more. IV. The Reverend Man let all things mourn; Sure he was some Aethereal Mind, Fated in Flesh to be confin'd, And order'd to be Born. His Soul was of th' Angelick frame, The same Ingredients, and the Mould the same, When the Creator makes a Minister of Flame; He was all form'd of Heavenly Things, Mortals, believe what my Urania Sings, For she has seen him rise upon his Flamy Wings. V. How would he mount, how would he fly, Up thro' the Ocean of the Sky Tow'rd the Coelestial Coast! With what amazing swiftness soar Till Earth's dark Ball was seen no more And all its Mountains lost. Scarce could the Muse pursue him with her Sight, But, Angels, you can tell, For oft you met his Wondrous Flight, And knew the Stranger well; Say, how he past the radiant Spheres And visited your happy Seats, And trac'd the well known Turnings of the Golden Streets, And walk'd among the Stars. VI. Tell how he climb'd the Everlasting Hills Surveying all the Realms above, Born on a Strong-wing'd Faith, and on the Fiery Wheels Of an Immortal Love. 'Twas there he took a glorious Sight Of the Inheritance of Saints in Light, And read their Title in their Saviour's Right. How oft the humble Scholar came, And to your Songs he rais'd his Ears To learn the Unutterable Name, To view the Eternal Base that bears The New Creations Frame. The Countenance of God he saw Full of Mercy, full of Awe, The Glories of his Power, and Glories of his Grace: There he beheld the Wondrous Springs Of those Eternal Sacred Things The Peaceful Gospel and the Fiery Law In that Majestic Face. That Face that all his Gazing Powers employ With most profound Abasement and exalted Joy. The Rolls of Fate were half unseal'd, He stood adoring by; The Volumes open'd to his Eye, And sweet Intelligence he held With all his shining Kindred of the Sky. VII. Ye Seraphs that surround the Throne, Tell how his Name was thro' the Pallace known, How warm his Zeal was, and how like your own: Speak it aloud, let half the Nation hear, And bold Blasphemers shrink and fear: Impudent Tongues, to blast a Prophet's Name! The Poison sure was fetch'd from Hell Where the old Blasphemers dwell, To taint the purest Dust, and blot the whitest Fame. Impudent Tongues! You should be darted thro', Nail'd to your own Black Mouths, and lie Useless and Dead till Slander die, Till Slander die with you. VIII. "We saw him, say th' Ethereal Throng, " We saw his warm Devotions rise, "We heard the fervour of his Cries, " And mixt his Praises with our Song: "We knew the secret Flights of his retiring Hours, " Nightly he wak'd his inward Powers, "Young Israel rose to Wrestle with his God, " And with unconquer'd Force scal'd the Coelestial Towers "To reach the Blessing down for those that sought his Blood. " Oft we beheld the Thunderer's Hand "Rais'd high to crush the Factious Foe; " As oft we saw the rolling Vengeance stand "Doubtful t' obey the dread Command, " While his ascending Pray'r witheld the falling Blow. IX. Draw the past Scenes of thy Delight My Muse, and bring the Wondrous Man to Sight. Place him surrounded as he stood With Pious Crowds, while from his Tongue A Stream of Harmony ran soft along, And every Ear drank in the flowing Good: Softly it ran its Silver Way, Till warm Devotion rais'd the Current strong; Then fervid Zeal on the sweet Deluge rode, Life, Love, and Glory, Grace, and Joy Divinely roll'd promiscuous on the Torrent-Flood, And bore our Raptur'd Sense away, and Thoughts and Souls to God. O might we dwell for ever there! No more return to breath this grosser Air, This Atmosphere of Sin, Calamity, and Care. X. But Heavenly Scenes soon leave the Sight While we belong to Clay, Passions of Terror and Delight Demand alternate Sway. Behold the Man whose awful Voice Could well proclaim the Fiery Law, Kindle the Flames that Moses saw, And swell the Trumpets Warlike noise. He stands, the Herald of the Threatning Skies, Lo, on his Reverend Brow the Frowns Divinely rise, All Sinai's Thunder on his Tongue, and Lightning in his Eyes. Round the high Roof the Cursès flew Distinguishing each guilty Head, Far from th' unequal War the Atheist fled, His Kindled Arrows still pursue, His Arrows strike the Atheist thro', And fix him down to Dread. The Marble Heart groans with an inward Wound: Blaspheming Souls of harden'd Steel Shriek out amaz'd at the new Pangs they feel, And dread the Eccho's of the Sound. The Lofty Wretch Arm'd and Array'd In gaudy Pride sinks down his Impious Head, Plunges in dark Despair, and mingles with the Dead. XI. Now Muse assume a softer Strain, Now sooth the Sinners Raging Smart, Borrow of GOVGE the wondrous Art To calm the Surging Conscience, and asswage the Pain. He from a Bleeding God derives Life for the Souls that Guilt had slain, And strait the dying Rebel lives, The Dead arise again. The opening Skies almost obey His powerful Song, a Heavenly Ray Awakes Despair to Light, and sheds a cheerful Day. His wondrous Voice rolls back the Spheres, Recalls the Scenes of Ancient Years To make the Saviour known; Sweetly the flying Charmer roves Thro' all his Labours and his Loves, The Anguish of his Cross, and Triumphs of his Throne. XII. Hark, he invites our Feet to try The steep ascent of Calvary, And sets the fatal Tree before our Eye: See here Coelestial Sorrow reigns; Rude Nails and ragged Thorns lay by Ting'd with the Crimson of Redeeming Veins. In wondrous Words he sung the Vital Flood Where all our Sins were drown'd, Words fit to heal and fit to wound, Sharp as the Spear, and Balmy as the Blood. In his Discourse Divine Afresh the Purple Fountain flow'd, Our falling Tears kept Sympathetick Time And trickled to the Ground, While every Accent gave a doleful Sound, Sad as the breaking Heart-strings of th' Expiring God. XIII. Down to the Mansions of the Dead With trembling Joy our Souls are lead, The Captives of his Tongue; There the dear Prince of Light reclines his Head Darkness and Shades among. With pleasing Horror we survey The Caverns of the Tomb, Where the Belov'd Redeemer lay And shed a sweet Persume. Hark, the Old Earthquake roars again In GOUGE's Voice, and breaks the Chain Of heavy Death, and tears the Tombs; The Rising God! he comes, he comes, With Throngs of waking Saints, a long triumphing Train. XIV. See the bright Squadrons of the Sky, Downward on Wings of Joy and Hast they fly, Meet their returning Sovereign and attend him high. A shining Carr the Conqueror fills Form'd of a Golden Cloud; Slowly the Pomp rolls up the Azure Hills, Old Satan foams and yells aloud, And gnaws th' Eternal Brass that binds him to the Wheels. The opening Gates of Bliss receive their King, The Father-God Smiles on his Son, Pays him the Honours he has won, The lofty Thrones adore, and little Cherubs Sing. Behold him on his Native Throne, Glory sits fast upon his Head; Dress't in new Light and Beamy Robes His Hand rolls on the Seasons and the shining Globes, And sways the living Worlds and Regions of the Dead. XV. GOUGE was his Envoy to this Realm below, Vast was the Trust, and great his Skill, Bright the Credentials he could show, And Thousands own'd the Seal. His Hallowed Lips could well impart The Grace, the Promise, and Command: He knew the Pity of EMMANUEL's Heart, And Terrors of JEHOVAH's Hand. How did our Souls start out to hear The Embassies of Love he bore, While every Ear in Rapture hung Upon the Charming Wonders of his Tongue. Lifes busie Cares a Sacred Silence bound, Attention stood with all her Powers, With fixed Eyes and Awe profound, Chain'd to the Pleasure of the Sound, Nor knew the flying Hours. XVI. But Oh! my everlasting Grief! Heaven has recall'd his Envoy from our Eyes, Hence Deluges of Sorrow rise, Nor hope th' Impossible Relief. Ye Remnants of the Sacred Tribe Who feel the Loss, come share the Smart, And mix your Groans with mine: Where is the Tongue that can describe Infinite Things with Equal Art, Or Language so Divine? Our Passions want the Heavenly Flame, Almighty Love Breaths faintly in our Songs, And Awful Threatnings languish on our Tongues; HOWE is a Great, but single Name. Amidst the Crowd he stands alone; Stands yet, but with his Starry Pinions on, Dress't for the Flight and ready to be gone: Eternal God, command his Stay, Stretch the dear Months of his Delay; O we could wish his Age were one Immortal Day! But when the Flaming Chariot's come And shining Guards t' attend thy Prophet Home, Amidst a thousand Weeping Eyes Send an Elisha down, a Soul of Equal Size, Or burn the Worthless Globe, and take us to the Skies.