%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> AN / ELEGY / On the Death of / Sir EDMUND SAUNDERS, / Late Lord Chief Justice of ENGLAND; / Who Dyed on the 19th. of this Instant June, 1683. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1683-1683 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 05/16/2012 32201

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R36076 HOw vain are all the hopes on which we build? / Whate're we sow, 'tis Death still reaps the field: Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 133230 AN / ELEGY / On the Death of / Sir EDMUND SAUNDERS, / Late Lord Chief Justice of ENGLAND; / Who Dyed on the 19th. of this Instant June, 1683. AN ELEGY On the Death of Sir EDMUND SAUNDERS, Late Lord Chief Justice of ENGLAND; Who Dyed on the 19th. of this Instant June, 1683. AN ELEGY On the Death of Sir EDMUND SAUNDERS, Late Lord Chief Justice of ENGLAND; Who Died on the 19th. of this Instant June, 1683. 1683-1683 I. Deacon

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 5/16/2012 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America country/ nation death virtue Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 5/16/2012 3:00:15 PM XBallad Mendoza, Aaron Created XML Version of Ballad 5/16/2012 3:00:15 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/16/2012 3:00:15 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/16/2012 3:00:15 PM Transcriptionist Two Grafals, Michael Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/16/2012 3:00:15 PM Transcriptionist One Wong, Bethany Transcription of ballad manuscript 8/1/2011 Checker Jonathan Forbes Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 5/2/2011 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
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HOw vain are all the hopes on which we build? Whatere we sow, tis Death still reaps the field: Tis by this Tenure Mortals hold their Breath, To give it up when ere tis calld by Death: Our Life is only lent us upon trust, Whether we will or not, we must be just: Heaven has to all appointed soon or late, To undergo the power of cruel Fate: But hark! what sound ist strikes my trembling ear? Saunders is Dead! good Heaven! what ist I hear? Is Saunders Dead that Noble Worthy Man? His Life is done before it scarce began: He was but shown unto the wondring world, When lo into the silent grave hes hurld. Lament, lament, a Learned Judge is gone, The Laws bright Star, that so Divinely shone, To steer the wandring Course of those fond Men, Who thought all Law and Reason dwelt with them. But soon as our Chief Justice was espyd, Their Shifts and Fallacies all sunk and dyd, Like Mists that rise before the Morning Sun, But vanish all ere half his Race is run: Saunders in time, though short, has livd, yet more Then thousands Older, that have been before. Some Men need try but part of their true strength, To lay their Foes before them at their length; Whilst others strive with heavy weight in vain, And came Ignobly off with blushing shame: But Saunders was by Destiny designd, To be the Joy and Honour of Mankind: A General Good was his Unerring aim, Tis that alone which gives Immortal Fame. He did with Prudence first himself advise, And then he taught the Nation to be wise: When he had gaind the Mastery of the Law, For Publique Good he did his Forces draw: To serve his Country was his highest care, For which great end he did so Nobly dare, His Soul not capable of unjust fear.
When in a lower Sphear, how did he move, And gave clear signs what he woud higher prove; Great force of Nature in his parts was seen, Which yet, Refind by Art, more glorious shine. Hard Labour, Industry, and sweating Toyl, Went to compleat this wonder of our Isle; He knew, since the first Man was Cursd, that pain And trouble was the only way to gain True Honour, therefore did his strength imploy, In that which always gives the truest Joy. Kind Providence Rewards industrous Care, But Lazy wishes Heaven will never hear; Let thy Example lead our Young Men on, None knows to what with Study he may come; What soul so stupid, but takes generous Fire, When he but thinks on thee, whom all admire, He feels warm Glory through his Breast inspire His drousie Faculties, and straight does find, Ambition to be like thee, seize his mind. We never can the vastness of our Loss express, Nor in fit Language our sad sorrows dress. All we can say on this great Theam, appears, To be but overflowing of our Tears. Oh that kind Heaven woud shew some better way, How to his Ashes we might Tribute pay. Were all obligd to weep and mourn for him, Who for us all laid out his care and time; May he that shall succeed make up our grief, By his great worth we may receive Relief, And Comfort to our woes, which swell so high, They seem almost from Earth to reach the Sky. His Epitaph. HEre lieth Saunders sacred Dust, While living, was the Nations Trust; Reflect O Reader! on thy state, Consider thou must stoop to Fate; However Brave Thou art, and Great, The silent Grave does for thee wait, And nothing can stern Death Intreat.
Licensed and Entred according to Order: Printed for J. Deacon at the Angel, in Guiltspur street.