He afterwards went over into _Ireland_, where he became Secretary to the Reverend _James Usher_, Arch-bishop of _Armagh_: one suitable to his disposition, having a Genius byassed to Devotion; Here at leisure times did he exercise himself in those ravishing delights of Poetry, but (alwaies with the _Psalmist_) his _heart was inditing a good matter_; these in time produced those excellent works of his, _viz._ his Histories of _Jonas_, _Esther_, _Job_, and _Sampson_; his _Sions Songs_ and _Sions Elegies_, also his _Euchyridion_, all of them of such a heavenly strain, as if he had drank of _Jordan_ instead of _Helicon_, and slept on Mount _Olivet_ for his _Pernassus_. He had also other excursions into the delightful walks of Poetry, namely, his _Argulus_ and _Parthenia_, a Science (as he himself saith) taken out of Sir _Philip Sidney's_ Orchard, likewise his _Epigrams_, _Shepherds Oracles_, Elegies on several persons, his _Hierogliphicks_, but especially his _Emblems_, wherein he hath _Out-Alciated Alcialus_ himself. There hath been also acted a Comedy of his called, _The Virgin Widdow_, which passed with no ordinary applause. But afterwards the Rebellion breaking forth in _Ireland_ (where his losses were very great) he was forced to come over; and being a true Loyalist to his Soveraign, was again plundred of his Estate here, but what he took most to heart (for as for his other losses he practiced the patience of _Job_ he had described) was his being plundred of his Books, and some rare Manuscripts which he intended for the Press, the loss of which, as it is thought, facilitated his death, which happned about the year of our Lord, 1643. to whose memory one dedicated these lines by way of Epitaph. To them that understand themselves so well, As what, and who lies here, to ask, I'll tell, What I conceive Envy dare not deny, Far both from falshood, and from flattery. Here drawn to Land by Death, doth lie A Vessel fitter for the Skie, Than _Jason's Argo_, though in _Greece_ They say, it brought the Golden Fleece. The skilful Pilot steered it so, Hither and thither, too and fro. Through all the Seas of Poverty, Whether they far or near do lie, And fraught it so with all the wealth Of wit and learning, not by stealth, Or privacy, but perchance got That this whole lower World could not Richer Commodities, or more Afford to add unto his store. To Heaven then with an intent Of new Discoveries, he went And left his Vessel here to rest, Till his return shall make it blest. The Bill of Lading he that looks To know, may find it in his Books. * * * * * Mr. _PHINEAS FLETCHER_.