AN
ELEGY
On the Death of the
LORD RUSSEL,
Who was Beheaded in
LINCOLNS-INN-Fields,
On Saturday the 21st. of July, 1683.
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WHat Powrs, what Saints, or who shall I invoke
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To Charm the Axe, before the mighty Stroke?
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Gods will not dot; for Man tis vain to Plead,
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What if Caligula should interceed?
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What if I raise great Nero from his Urn?
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Or he that did th Ephesian Temple Burn?
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Can Cataline, Cethegus, Mahomet,
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Judas, or Jack of Leyden, do the Feat?
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Will these evade the Stroke that Fate portends?
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No! these are too much Envious to be Friends.
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Who then, my Lord, shall I invoke for you?
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Will Shaftsbury, Luther, or Jack Calvin do,
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Oats, Bedloe, Prance, Dugdale, Turbervile,
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That, with your help, made Monarchy to reel,
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And like t have turnd it to a Commonweal.
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Nor these, my Lord, cannot these Patriots dot,
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That once had Power to bring all things about,
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And cut off poor old Staffords Head to shoat.
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Then! must the Mercenary Axe proceed,
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Since youve not cheated Ketch, as Essex did;
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For which, perchance, there may Disputes ensue,
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Who was the better Subject of the Two,
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He that d[i]d save Five Pounds, or had his due.
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But these are Feuds I never shall desire,
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Though twas not fairly done to cheat th Esquire;
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I pitty Greatness; not because tis you,
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But from my Nature, and to Greatness due:
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So th Miracle be done, I care not how,
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Whether to Axe or Hal[t]er they do bow,
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My moderate Zeal would any way allow;
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The most Expedient surely best should please,
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That ridds the Nation of her worst Disease;
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Essex showd some remorse, which fain would be
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Mistaken for an ill-shapd Loyalty.
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Would Monmouth, Armstrong, Ferguson, and Gray,
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Reflect as deeply, they would take h[i]s way;
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But who can hope for such a Consequence
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From Natural Fools, and hardned Impudence?
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Those whove raisd their Fortunes by their Prince,
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Livd by the warmth of his kind Influence.
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From Pardons and Indulgence, suckt their Breath,
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And now to seek their Great Preservers Death!
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Inhumane Vipers! pass the Frollick round,
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And save your injurd Prince two thousand pound;
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Or else cum in, who knows but you may find
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An Ignoramus Jury to your mind?
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Such as once savd your dear Achitophel,
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Which then did Authorise you to Rebel.
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David has been too merciful, tis known,
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And may perchance, forgive Young Absalom.
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Now give me leave to call my Fancy in,
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And talk of Russel, where I did begin.
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To what unequal heights didst thou Aspire!
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What was it thou couldst want or couldst Desire?
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Greatness thou hadst, and all the Plumbs of th Earth,
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Only a Crown, that did not fit thy Birth:
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And how seemd that to thee? a Glorious Thing!
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Which thy own Powr did make so Tottering.
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Farewel fond Russell, those may mourn thy fate,
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That hope, like thee, by Treason to be Grea[t].
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Essexs dispairing factious Hand did do,
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What neuter Ketch th Esquire performd for you,
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And what I hope will follow all your Crew.
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