Now that the public sorrow doth subside, And those slight tears which custom springs are dried; While all the rich and outside mourners pass Home from thy dust, to empty their own glass; I--who the throng affect not, nor their state-- Steal to thy grave undress'd, to meditate On our sad loss, accompanied by none, An obscure mourner that would weep alone. So, when the world's great luminary sets, Some scarce known star into the zenith gets, Twinkles and curls, a weak but willing spark, As glow-worms here do glitter in the dark. Yet, since the dimmest flame that kindles there An humble love unto the light doth bear, And true devotion from an hermit's cell Will Heav'n's kind King as soon reach and as well, As that which from rich shrines and altars flies, Led by ascending incense to the skies: 'Tis no malicious rudeness, if the might Of love makes dark things wait upon the bright, And from my sad retirements calls me forth, The just recorder of thy death and worth. Long didst thou live--if length be measured by The tedious reign of our calamity-- And counter to all storms and changes still Kept'st the same temper, and the selfsame will. Though trials came as duly as the day, And in such mists, that none could see his way, Yet thee I found still virtuous, and saw The sun give clouds, and Charles give both the law. When private interest did all hearts bend, And wild dissents the public peace did rend, Thou, neither won, nor worn, wert still thyself, Not aw'd by force, nor basely brib'd with pelf. What the insuperable stream of times Did dash thee with, those suff'rings were, not crimes. So the bright sun eclipses bears; and we, Because then passive, blame him not. Should he For enforc'd shades, and the moon's ruder veil Much nearer us than him, be judg'd to fail? Who traduce thee, so err. As poisons by Correction are made antidotes, so thy Just soul did turn ev'n hurtful things to good, Us'd bad laws so they drew not tears, nor blood. Heav'n was thy aim, and thy great, rare design Was not to lord it here, but there to shine. Earth nothing had, could tempt thee. All that e'er Thou pray'd'st for here was peace, and glory there. For though thy course in Time's long progress fell On a sad age, when war and open'd hell Licens'd all arts and sects, and made it free To thrive by fraud, and blood, and blasphemy: Yet thou thy just inheritance didst by No sacrilege, nor pillage multiply. No rapine swell'd thy state, no bribes, nor fees, Our new oppressors' best annuities. Such clean pure hands hadst thou! and for thy heart, Man's secret region, and his noblest part; Since I was privy to't, and had the key Of that fair room, where thy bright spirit lay, I must affirm it did as much surpass