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| Goe from a body,'at this sepulcher been, |
| And, issuing from the sheet, this body seen, |
| He would have justly thought this body a soule, |
| If, not of any man, yet of the whole. |
|
| Desunt cætera. |
|
| An hymne to the Saints, and to Marquesse Hamylton. |
|
| Whither that soule which now comes up to you |
| Fill any former ranke or make a new, |
| Whither it take a name nam'd there before, |
| Or be a name it selfe, and order more |
| Then was in heaven till now; (for may not hee |
| Bee so? if every severall Angell bee |
| A kind alone;) What ever order grow |
| Greater by him in heaven, wee doe not so; |
| One of your orders growes by his accesse; |
| But, by his losse grow all our orders lesse; |
| The name of Father, Master, Friend, the name |
| Of Subject and of Prince, in one are lame; |
| Faire mirth is dampt, and conversation black, |
| The household widdow'd, and the garter slack; |
| The Chappell wants an eare, Councell a tongue; |
| Story, a theame; and Musicke lacks a song; |
| Blest order that hath him, the losse of him |
| Gangred all Orders here; all lost a limbe. |
| Never made body such hast to confesse |
| What a soule was; All former comelinesse
|
[CW: Fled,] |