An Elegy on the Death of the Honourable Nicholas Lowe, Esq: Memor esto brevis Ae

What means this Mourning, Ladies, has Death led.
Your Brother Captive to his Earthly Bed?
Is Lowe to Nature's chilly Womb returned,
[Who ca]utiously the fatal Summons shun'd?
[And V]ery rarely moisten would his Clay
[For F]ear he should a final Visit pay
[To t]he opacous Mansions of the Dead,
[By] Worms, vile Reptiles, be devouréd.
[He]re Kings and Beggars lie, the Gulph have shot,
[Toge]ther blended in the general Lot;
[Ming]le their Dust, and into Ashes turn;
[Distin]guish'd only by a gilded Urn,
[The m]arble Tomb erected o'er their Pile,
[Who] sway'd the Sceptre of Great Britain's Isle.
[Victo]rious DEATH, all are alike to Thee,
[The] tender Saplin and the Almond Tree;
[Whe]n FATE commands thou levellst with the Ground,
[The] pointed Dart gave Lowe his mortal Wound.
[No h]uman Art can brittle Life prolong,
[Our] Days are numbered and we must be gone
[Or soon] or late to whom we do belong.
[As so]on the vigorous Youth as aged Swain,
[Neve]r, ah! never to return again.
[Why] Should we then Lowe's Absence grieve, since all
[Have sha]r'd the Punishment by Adam's Fall
[But A]h! Maecenas, who his Death can bear,
[His] conduct knew, and unconcern'd appear.
[How cou]ld our Agent in his Winding Sheet
[The De]athless Trunk become bound Hand and Feet,
[Oh!] not in Floods of Tears his Exit mourn
[His] Ghost surrender'd with a dying Groan;
[For] if Lowe's Life impartially we scan,
[A cautio]us, sober, charitable Man;
[His Co]nversation innocently free,
[When] Business called him into Company
[Nor P]rone to Vice, or Immorality
[But] tho' none live so just as to be found
[With]out some Fault that may their Conscience wound,
[It ca]n be said, his Character to blast,
[He liv]'d and dy'd a Batchelor at last.

EPITAPH
[Lo] here he lies, wrapt in his winding Sheet,
[A] straea bound his Hands, and DEATH his Feet
And that he might of Happiness partake,
[JEH]OVAH did his soul to Heaven take,
[His Ha]beas Corpus mov'd his Body too,
[And] to this World he bid a long Adieu.
[Excha]nging all its gaudy Pageantry,
[For tha]t blest State of Immortality,
[Which] Saints enjoy to all Eternity.