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A39168 An Elegy (sacred) to the immortal memory of that most renowned, religious, prudent, and victorious commander, Henry Ireton late lord deputy of Ireland, &c. 1652 (1652) Wing E445A; ESTC R36191 1,147 1

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AN ELEGY SACRED To the Immortall MEMORY of that most Renowned Religious Prudent and Victorious Commander HENRY IRETON Late Lord Deputy of IRELAND c. There let the Thunder rowle then And the Ayre In startling summons to the World declare Heavn's righteous wrath And be the growing Fate Of Grief more great 'cause inarticulate 'T was not unknown his early thoughts did take So much of glory that he kept awake Honour and Justice and revived Fame Bed-rid and speechIess but for IRETONS Name 'T was He whose courage warm'd her when he stood The English Shield and through a crimson Flood To Freedom march'd when Death was onely seen In showrs of Bullets to come storming in Untaught to cease till Victory did rest Her weary wings upon his plumed Crest The strength and safety to this State he brought The many Townes he won the Fields he fought Shall best express him and sound alwayes forth The Height and Heat of his unequall'd Worth And making good his Tears with salter Brine The fiercer Shanon with the Thames shall joyne Ireland by wary Mariners eschew'd As Saints do Altars drench'd in humane bloud By Him finds new Observance and His Hand Began the way to expiate that Land So sure were all the Counsailes which he gave As none but IRETON could sad IRELAND save And yet the Land so wild the Ayre so ill That nought but IRELAND could our IRETON kill What Art can reach his Verue to set down With how much Courage he put off the Gown To unsheath his sword when like a Lion Hee Fought to restore the English LIBERTIE And still though active yet no 〈◊〉 Fate Could tax his Sword as undeliberate For so discreet a Valour did command His Warres that He being present Fate might stand Or pass unknown and we almost might be Secure to say That Providence was He But Truth and safe Divinitie hath taught To give a check to th●● profaner thought For GOD was alwayes with him He aright Did gidde his Heart and taught his Hands to fight So that in all his Warres there did appeare No fight of wrong nor any sense of Feare But in a perfect harmony 't was showne The Saint and Souldier could be both in one And his brave Army did so strictly live After the great Examples he did give That forreign Nations might with wonder see How well Religion did with Armes agree And now those Warres expiring and the high And joyfull sound of Union drawing nigh After he Truth and Freedom did restore To Earth He finding he could do no more To Heav'n ascended where He first is seen Next to his God an armed Cherubin HIS EPITAPH Why weep you here and take this Stone to be In vain the Prison of Eternitie Let your translated Pietie and Love Look high and joyfull on the roomes above In those great IRETON lives the Heav'ns enshrine And court his glorious soul which now doth shine More bright by Death Yet weep for yet this Tombe Holds Natures chiefest Treasurer would you come And all Perfections in one Volume see Here every Dust would make a Historie Which he that looks on and not spares a groan Adds but more marble to His Buriall-Stone FINIS LONDON Printed by J.C. and T.W. 1652. 30.