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BOOK III.--Sacred lo the Memory of the Dead.
An Epitaph on KING WILLIAM III. On the sudden Death of MRS. MARY
An Elegiac Song sent in a Letter of Who died March 8th, 1701-2.
Condolence to Mr. N. P. Merchant
at Amsterdam. 1 BENEATH these honours of a tomb, I HARK! She bids all her friends adieu: Greatness in humble ruin lies:
Some angel calls her to the spheres ; (How earth confines in narrow room Our eyes the radiant saint pursue
What heroes leave beneath the skies!) Thro' liquid telescopes of tears. ? Preserve, O venerable Pile,
2 Farewel, bright soul, a short farewel, Inviolate thy sacred trust;
Till we shall meet again above To thy cold arms the British isle, In the sweet groves where pleasures Weeping commits her richest dust.
And trees of life bear fruits of love: 3 Ye gentlest ministers of fate, Attend the monarch as he lies,
3 There glory sits on every face, And bid the softest Slumbers wait
There friendship smiles in every eye, With silken cords to bind his eyes.
There shall our tongues relate the
grace 4 Rest his dear sword beneath his head ;
That led us homeward to the sky, Round him his faithful Arms shall
4 O'er all the names of Christ our King stand:
Shall our harmonious voices rove, Fix his bright Ensigns on his bed,
Our harps shallsound from ev'rystring The guards and honours of our land.
The wonders of his bleeding love. 6 Ye Sister-arts of Paint and Verse, 5 Come, sov'reign Lord, dear Saviour, Place Albion fainting by his side,
come, Her groans arising o'er the hearse, Remove these separating days,
And Belgia sinking when he dy'd. Sendthybrightwheels to fetch us home; & High o'er the grave Religion set
That golden hour, how long it stays! In solemn gold; pronounce the ground || How long must we lie ling'ring here, Sacred, to bar unhallow'd feet,
While saints around us take their And plant her guardian virtues round. flight? 7 Fair liberty in sables drest,
Smiling, they quit this dusky sphere,
And mount the hills of heav'nly light. Write his lov'd name upon his urn, ** William,the scourge of tyrants past,
7 Sweet soul, we leave thee to thy rest, And awe of princes yet unborn."
Enjoy thy Jesus and thy God,
Till we, from hands of clay releast, & Sweet Peace his sacred relics keep, Spring out and climb the shining road. With olives blooming round her head,
8 While the dear dust she leaves behind, And stretch her wings across the deep To bless the nations with the shade.
Sleeps in thy bosom, sacred tomb !
Soft be her bed, her slumbers kind, 9 Stand on the pile, immortal Fame,
And all her dreams of joy to come. Broad stars adorn thy brightest robe, Thy thousand voices sound his name EPITAPHIUM Viri Venerabilis In silver accents round the globe.
DOM. N. MATHER, 10 Flatt'ryshall faint beneath the sound,
While noary truth inspires the song; Carmine Lapidario conscriptum. .
Reverendi admodum Viri Il Night and the grave remove your gloom;
NATHANAELIS MATHERI. Darkness becomes the vulgar dead; But glory bids the royal tomb QUOD mori potuit hic subtus depositum Disdain the horrors of a sbade.
[fuit, 12 Glory with all her lamps shall burn,
Si quæris, hospes, quantus & qualis
Fidus enarrabit lapis.
Nomen á familia duxit
Et per utramque Angliam celebri,
Altum & salutare vulnus: Americanem sc. atque Europaam. Vulneratas idem tractare leniter solers, Et hinc quoque in sancti ministerii spem Et medelam adbibere inagis salutarem. eductus
Ex desacate cordis fonte Non fallacem :
Divinis eloquiis affatim scatabant labia, Et hunc utraque novit Anglia Etiam in fainiliari contubernio: Doctem & docentem.
Spirabat ipse undique cælestes suaritates Corpore fuit procero, forma placide ve- Quasi oleo lætitiæ semper recéns delirenda;
(nuerunt bntus, At supra corpus & formam sublime eini- Et semper supra socius;
Indoles, ingenium, atq; eruditio: Gratumque dilectissimi sui Jesu odorem Supra hæc pietas, & (si tas dicere) Quaquaversù & laté diffudit, Supra pietatem modestia,
Dolores tolerans supra fidem, Cæteras enim dotes obumbravit.
Ærumnæque heu quam assiduæ ! Quoties in rebus divinis peragendis Invicto anino, victrice patientia Divinitus afflatæ mentis specimino Varias curarum moles pertulit Præstantjora edidit,
Et in stadio & in meta vitæ : Toties hominem sedulus occuluit
Quam ubi propinquam vidit, Ut solus conspiceretur Deus:
Plerophoria fidei quasi curru alato vectus Volait totus latere, nec potuit;
Properè & exultim attigit. Heu quantum tamen sui nos latet! Natus est in agro Lancastriensi 20° MarEt majorem laudis partem sepulchrale tii, 1630. marmor
Inter Nov-Anglos theologiæ tyrocinia Invito obruit silentio.
fecit. Gratiam Jesu Christi salutiferam Pastorali munere diu Dublinii in liberQuam abundè hausit ipse,aliis propinavit, nià functus, Purutn ab humana fæce.
Tandem (ut semper) providentiam secuVeritatis evangelica decus ingens,
tus clucein, Et ingens propugnaculum.
Cætui fidelium apud Londinenses præConcionator gravis aspectu, gestu, voce;
positus est, Cui nec aderat pompa oratoria, Quos doctrina, precibus, & vita beavit: Nec deerat;
Ab brevi! Flosculos rhetorices supervacaneos fecit Corpore solutus 26° Julii, 1697. Ætat. 67. Reruin dicendarum majestas, & Deus Ecclesiis mærorem, theologis exemplar præsens.
Infandum sui desiderium:
Dum pulvis Christo charus hic dulce Ab inferorum portis toties reportatæ.
dormit Solers ille ferreis impiorum animis in- Expectans stellam matuninam.
To the Reverend MR. JOHN SHOWER,
On the Death of his Daughter Mrs. Annc Warner.
Reverend and dear Sir,
HOW great soever was my sense of vour loss, yet I did not think myself fit to offer any lines of comfort : your own meditations can furnish you with many a delightful truth in the midst of so heavy a sorrow ; for the covenant of grace bas brightness enough in it to gild the most gloomy providence; and to that sweet covenant your soul is no stranger. My own thoughts were much imprest with the tidings of your daughter's death; and though I made many a reflection on the vanity of mankind in its best estate, yet I must acknowledge that my temper leads me most to the pleasant scenes of heaven, and that future world of blessedness. When I recollect the memory of my friends that are dead, I frequently rove into the world of spirits, and search them out there: Thus 1 epilcaroured to trace Mrs. Warner; and these thoughts crowding fast upon me, I set them down for my own entertainment. The verse breaks off abruptly, because I had no design to write a finished elegy; and besides, when I was fallen upon the dark side of death, I had no mind to tarry there. If the lines I have written, be so happy as to entertain you a little, and divert your grief, the time spent in composing them, shall noi be reckoned among my lost hours, and the review will be more pleasing to,
An Elegiac Thought on Mrs. Anne , Perhaps illusions all! Inform me, muse,
Taricr, who died of the Small-pox, Chooses she rather to retire apart"
From earth’s vain scenes, gay visits, graAWAKE, my muse, range the wide world From Hymen's hurrying and tumultuous
of souls, And seek Vernera fled; with upward aim and fears and pangs, fierce pangs that
(wrought her death. Direct thy wings; for she was born from Tell me on what sublimer theme she heaven,
dwells Fulfill'd her visit, and return’d on high.
In contemplation, with unerring clue. The midnight watch of angels that Infinite truth pursuing. (When, my soul patrole
O when shall thy release from cumb'rous The British sky, have notic'd her ascent flesh Near the meridian star; pursue the track Pass the great seal of hear'n? What To the bright confines of immortal day
happy hour And paradise, her home. Say,myUrania, | Shall give thy thoughts a loose to soar (For nothing 'scapes my search, nor and trace can'st thou miss
The intellectual world ? Divine delight! So fair a spirit) say, beneath what shade Vernera's lov'd employ!) Perhaps she Of amarant or cheerful ever-green
sings Shesits,recounting to ber kindred-minds, | To some new golden harp th' almighty Angelic or humane, her mortal toil,
[God, And travels thro'this howling wilderness; The names, the honours of her Savivar: By wbat divine protections she escap'd His cross, his grave, his vict'ry, and his Those deadly snares when youth and Satan leagu'd
Oh could I imitate th' exalted notes, In.coinbination to assail her virtue ; And mortal ears could bear them! (Snares set to murder souls) but heav'n secur'd
Or lies she now before th' eternal The favourite nymph, and taught her throne
Prostrate in humble form, with dep deOr does she seek, or has she found her O'erwhelm'd, and self-abasement at the babe
sight Amongst the infant-nation of the blest, I of the uncover'd godhead face to face And clasp'd it to her soul, to satiate Seraphic crowns pay homage at his feet, there
And her’s amongst thein, not of dimmer The young maternal passion, and absolve ore, The unfulfill'd embrace? Thrice happy Nor set with mcaner gems: But vain child !
ambition, That saw the light, and turn'd its eyes
And emulation vain, and fond conceit, aside
And pride for ever banish'diies the place, From our dim regions to th' eternal sun,
Curst pride, the dress of hell. Tell me And led the parent's way to glory! There
Urania, Thou art for ever her's, with powers en
How her joys heighten, and her golden larg'd
hours For love reciprocal and sweet converse.
Circle in love. O stamp upon my sont
Some blissful image of the fair deceas'd Bebold her ancestors (a pious race) Rang'd in fair order, at her sight rejoice From the dear breathless clay, distressing
To call my passions and my eyes aside And sing her welcome. She along their
I look and mourn and gaze with greedy Gliding salutes them all with honours due Such as are paid in heav'n : And last she Of melancholy fondness: Tears bedewing
finds A mansion fashion'd of distinguish'd
That form so late desir'd, so late belov'i,
Nowloathsomeandunlovely. Basedisease light,
That leagu'd with nature's sharpest pains But vacant: “ This (with sure presage and spoil'd she cries)
So sweet a structure!. The impoisoning Awaits my father; when will he arrive? How long, alas, how long? (Then calis O'erspreads the building wrought with
skill divine, ber mate):
And ruins the rich temple to the dust! Die, thou dear partner of my mortal cares,
Was this the count'nance where the Die, and partake my bliss; we are for
Features of wit and virtue? This the face Ab me! where roves my fancy! What || Where love triumph'd ? and beauty on kind dreams
these cheeks, Croud with sweet violence on my waking As on a throne, beneath her radiant eyes mind!
Was seated to advantage; mild, serene?
Reflecting rosy light! So sits the sun 4 Describe the saint from head to feet, (Fair eye of heav'n!) upon a crimson Make all the lines in just proportion cloud
meet; Near the horizon, and with gentle ray But let her posture be Smileslovelyround thesky, till rising fogs, Filling a chair of high degree; Portending night, with foul and heavy Observe how near it stands to the al. wing
[down mighty seat. Involve the golden star, and sink him Paint the new graces of her eyes; Opprest with darkness.
Fresh in her looks let sprightly youth
arise, On the Death of an aged and honoured And joys unknown below the skies. Relative, Mrs. M. 19. July 13, 1693. Virtue, that lives conceal'd below, I I Know the kindred-mind. 'Tis she,
And to the breast confin'd, 'tis she;
Sits here triumphant on the brow, Among the heav'nly forms I see (free;
And breakswith radiant glories through
The features of the mind.
Express her passion still the same,
But more divinely sweet;
Love has an everlasting flame,
And makes the work complete.
5 Tlc painter muse with glancing eye
Observ'd a manly spirit nigh,
In toilsome slaverythat ethereal guest; " In the fair tablet they shall stand
(opprest the manly mind,
On the superior shore. The pris’ner smil'd to be releast, There now his tuneful breath in sacred She felt her fetters loose, and inounted
songs to her rest.
Employs the European and the Eas
tern tongues. 3 Gaze on, my soul, and let a perfect
(view Paint her idea all anew;
Let th' awful truncheon and the flute, Raze out those melancholy shapes of
The pencil and the well-known lute, [cloud it so.
Powerful numbers, charming wit, That hang around thymemory, and be.
And every art and science meet,
And bring their laurels to his hand, or Come, Fancy, corne, with essences refin'd,
lay them at his feet. With youthful green, and spotless Deep be the tincture, and the colours 6 "Tis done. What beams of glory fall bright
(Rich varnish of immortal art) T'express the beauties of a naked To gild the bright Original! Provide no glooms to forin a shade ;
"Tis done. The muse has now per
form'd her part. All things above of vary'd light are made,
Bring down the piece, Urania, from Nor can the heav'oly piece require a
above, inortal aid.
And let my honour and my love But if the features, too divine,
Dress it with chains of gold to hang Beyond the power of fancy shine,
upon my heart. Conceal th’ inimitable strokes behind
a graceful shrine.
* My grandfather Mr. Thomas Watts had such acquaintance with the mathematics, painting, music, and poesy, &c. as gave him considerable esteem among his contemporaries. He was commander of a ship of war, 1656, and by blowing up of the ship in the Dutch war he was drowned in his youth.
A Funeral Poem on the Death of Thomas Gunston, Esq. Presented to the Right Honourable the Lady Abney, Lady Mayoress of London. MADAM,
JULY, 1701. “ HAD I been a common mourner at the funeral of the dear gentleman deceased, I should bave laboured after more of art in the following composition, to supply the defect of nature, and to feign a sorrow; but the uncommon condescension of his friendship to me, the inward esteer l pay his memory, and the vast and tender sense I have of the loss, make all the methods of art needless, whilst natural grief supplies more than all.
“ I had resolved indeed to lament in sighs and silence, and frequently checked the tou forward muse: but the importunity was not to be resisted; long lines of sorrow flowed in upon me ere I was aware, whilst I took many a solitary walk in the garden adjoining to his seat at Newington; nor could I free myself from the crowd of melancholy ideas. Your ladyship will find throughout the poem, that the fair and unfinished building which he had just raised for himself, gave almost all the turns of mourning to my thoughts; for I pursue no other topics of clegy than what my passion and my senses led me to.
“ The poem rores, as my eyes and grief did, from one part of the fabric to the other: It rises from the foundation, salutes the walls, the doors, and the windows, drops a tear upon the roof, and climbs the turret, that pleasant retreat, where I promised myself many sweet hours of his conversation; there my song wanders amongst the delightful subjects divine and moral, which used to entertain ons happy leisure; and thence descends to the fields and the shady walks, where I so often enjoyed his pleasing discourse; my sorrows diffuse themselves there without a limit; I had quite forgotten all scheme and method of writing, till I correct myself, and rise to the turret again to lament that desolate seat. Now if the critics laugh at the folly of the muse for taking too much notice of the golden bal), let them consider that the meanest thing that belonged to so valuable a person still gave some fresh and doleful reflections : And I transcribe nature without rule, and represent friendship in a mourning dress, abandoned to deepest sorrow, and with a negligence becoming woe unfeigned.
“Had I designed a complete elegy, Madam,on your dearest brother, and intended it for public view, I should have followed the usual forms of poetry, so far, at least, as to spend some pages in the character and praises of the deceased, and thence have taken occasion to call mankind to complain aloud of the universal and unspeakable loss : But I wrote merely for myself as a friend of the dead, and to ease my full soul by breathing out my own complaints; I knew his character and virtues so well, that there was no need to mention them while I talked only with myself; for the image of them was ever present with me, which kept the pain at the heart intense and lively, and my tears flowing with my verse.
“ Perhaps your ladyship will expect some divine thoughts and sacred meditations, mingled with a subject so solemn as this is : Had I formed a design of offering it to your hands, I had composed a more Christian poem; but it was grief purely natural, for a death so surprising, that drew all the strokes of it, and therefore my reflections are chiefly of a moral strain. Such as it is, your ladyship requires a copy of it; but let it not touch your soul too tenderly, nor renew your own mournings. Receive it, Madam, as an offering of love and tears at the tomb of a departed friend, and let it abide with you as a witness of that affectionate respect and honour that I bore him; all which, as your ladyship's most rightful due, both by merit and by succession, is now humbly offered, by,