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EBBA 36247

Chetham's Library - Halliwell-Phillipps
Ballad XSLT Template
AN
ELEGY
Upon His late MAJESTY (of Blessed Memory)
King CHARLES the Second.

SO left the World Jerusalems Great Guide,
When He in Peace upon His Pillow Dy'd;
So like Our Realm, all Israel made their Moan,
Even King Solomon upon His Throne.
But could the Tears of all the Princes Save
The Great, Just Hezekiah from His Grave?
Or could OurSighs, or could OurTears Avail?
Or could Our Prayers with Wayward-Death Prevail?
Fame tells (how once) a Mighty-Shield from Heaven
Unto the Great Anchises-Son was Given,
That Shin'd with Oar and Gemms in every Part,
And would not take a Dint from Mortal-Dart;
Like that Bright-Shield, Thy Everlasting-Name
(Engrav'd with Wonders by the Hand of Fame)
Shall Live, and shall Out-last all Strength and Rage
Of Envious-Time, and All-Destroying-Age.
In Thy Blest-Reign, Thou Great-Coelestial-Man!
The Golden-Tree of Union First Began;
Glorious, as that which in Old-Eden Sprang,
When Angels on the Tender Branches Sang;
Under the Shaddow of whose Sacred-Wings
We Sat, and did Admire the Best of KINGS:
Then Loyalty, that was before nearDead,
With Courage Lifted Up its Beautious-Head:
So Mercy came, and on the Waters stood,
After the Deluge of the Roaring-Flood;
Then Peace appear'd, and Broke those Heavy-Chains
With which the Rebel-Gyant Bound her Veins.
My Muse (of all Apollos-Tribe) the Worst,
To Thy Great-Sepulchre comes only First;
Thy God-like-Acts let Abler Pens Paint forth
(In Words, worthDying for, Declare Thy Worth.)

But after All that Art can Here Bestow,
They shall Perfumes upon the Violets strew:
They Guild Refined-Gold with Care and Pain,
And Smooth the Ice, and must at last Complain
Their Fading Lawrels cannot Grace Thy Herse,
For the Great-Tasks too Hard for Humane Verse.
Great is Our Loss, and most Severe Our Fate,
That Such a Life should have so Short a Date:
Well may the Nation Mourn, Concern'd to See
No Pitch of Glory from the Grave is Free.
He that can make Remarks on All that's Rare,
May See how Short, how little Time things share,
That are most Wondrous, Bright, or Good, or Fair.
Were All the Soft and Pearly-Dews Distill'd
Of ev'ry Flower in ev'ry Fragrant Field,
Even All the Sweets that Hibla's-Hives do yield:
In One Broad Mazor had We All the Guns
And Spices that from Rich-Panchaia comes,
The Offerings were (alas!) too Mean and Small
To lay and Prostrate at Thy Funeral.
Although from Us Thou art Remov'd away,
Thy Fame, like Light, shall Shine to Perfect Day:
Thy Way is Gay and Rich in ev'ry part,
Drawn forth by All the Chymick-Angels Art;
And those Blest-Angels which so much Admire
Goodness on Earth, to their Coelestial-Quire
Shall Carry Thy Bright-SOUL upon their Wings,
To make a Present to the KING of KINGS.


FINIS.
Entred according to Order.
LONDON, Printed by J. Millet, MDCLXXXIV/V.

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