Classic Poem

Sooner I may some fixed Statue be,
Than prove forgetful of thy death or thee!
Canst thou be gone so quickly? Can a knife
Let out so many Titles and a life?
Now I'le mourn thee! Oh that so huge a pile
Of State should pash thus in so small a while!
Let the rude Genius of the giddy Train,
Brag in a fury that they have stabb'd Spain ,
Austria , and the skipping French : yea, all
Those home-bred Papists that would sell our fall:
Th'Eclipse of two wise Princes judgments: more,
The wast, whereby our Land was still kept poor.
I'le pity yet, at least thy fatal end,
Shot like a Lightning from a violent hand,
Taking thee hence unsumm'd. Thou art to me
The great Example of Mortality.
And when the times to come shall want a Name
To startle Greatnesse, here is BUCKINGHAM
Faln like a Meteor: and 'tis hard to say
Whether it was that went the stranger way,
Thou or the hand that slew thee: thy Estate
Was high, and he was resolute above that.
Yet since I hold of none ingag'd to thee,
Death and that liberty shall make me free.
Thy mists I knew not: if thou hadst a fault,
My charity shall leave it in the Vault,
There for thine own accounting: 'Tis undue
To speak ill of the Dead though it be true.
And this even those that envy'd thee confesse,
Thou hadst a Mind, a flowing Noblenesse,
A Fortune, Friends, and such proportion,
As call for sorrow, to be thus undone.
Yet should I speak the Vulgar, I should boast
Thy bold Assassinate, and wish almost
He were no Christian, that I up might stand,
To praise th'intent of his mis-guided hand.
And sure when all the Patriots in the shade
Shall rank, and their full musters there be made,
He shall sit next to Brutus , and receive
Such Bayes as Heath'nish ignorance can give.
But then the Christian (poising that) shall say,
Though he did good, he did it the wrong way.
They oft decline into the worst of ill,
That act the Peoples wish without Laws will.