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cause_n good_a great_a king_n 5,512 5 3.6764 3 true
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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A55251 A poem on the death of the Queen by a gentlewoman of quality. Gentlewoman of quality. 1694 (1694) Wing P2692; ESTC R28446 1,061 5

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A POEM ON THE DEATH OF THE QUEEN By a Gentlewoman of Quality Licensed February 26th 1694-95 LONDON Printed for R. Cumberland at the Angel in St. Paul's Church-Yard and are to be sold by J. Whitlock near Stationers-Hall 1694-95 A POEM GReat Britain now for many Years must Mourn MARIA's Dead the Best that fill'd a Throne Yet thou li'st struck in deepest Lethargie And can'st not yet thy greatest Sorrows see Weep then and let thy Tears for ever run As Exhalations drawn up by the Sun Let every thing within thy Island ly Useless in Silence and stand neglected by Nor let the Day break from on high Put on here her Gaudy Livery But be as Mute and Negligent as we What need be Spring or Summer here That such a Badge of Sorrows wear Or Sun or Moon to give us Light Here wants no Day but a perpetual Night The Pious MARY She is gone on High And Seated in the Heavenly Hierarchy And Weeping Albion now can only raise Monuments to Her Eternal Praise Proud to Record it throughout all the Earth That here this Virtuous Queen first had her Birth No Tongue can tell nor Pen can write the Story Of MARY's Praise of MARY's Everlasting Glory But hold Great Britain yet and be not drown'd in Grief You may Lament but here you 'll find relief Stay then thy Floods of Tears MARIA has left behind A King that 's Great Good Merciful and Kind A Prince that 's Fam'd abroad Belov'd at home Fights for your Cause and values not a Throne Mars in the Field Solomon at Council-Board Mildly sways the Scepter fiercely brandishes the Sword Sticks at no Pains Great Britain to defend Exposing His Royal Person purely for that end But when Proud Lewis to Fetters he can bring He 'll value not to be Albanion's King A Place too narrow for so great a Spirit The VVorld one Empire were not worth his Merit Sent from Above where MARY She is gone Heaven could not spare them both but leaves us one The Procession Ha! What is 't I see what do my Eyes behold An Open Chariot of the purest Gold In which is seated full of Majesty Either some Mighty Princess or some Deity Encompass'd round she is on every side VVith Cherubims and wing'd Angels are her Guide All hush'd in Silence at this glorious Sight Brighter than Day though in the darkest Night Ha! surely yet I Dream or am not well awake Who is 't that doth this Solemn Progress take Assist me Gods and let me quickly know Whether this Glorious Light intends to go What Place is fit this Guest to entertain That has so many Thousands in her Train Leave off vain Man and thou wilt quickly see No Earthly Temple can her Reception be Her Pious Soul to Heaven 's already gone Her Earthly Body's going to a guilded Throne Where Albion now can only make Hecatombs to MARY's ever blessed state And Round the Quire sit and sing Praises to Heaven for our most Gracious King FINIS