Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A63031
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On the sacred memory of our late sovereign, with a congratulation to His Present Majesty written by N. Tate.
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Tate, Nahum, 1652-1715.
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1685
(1685)
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Wing T200; ESTC R129
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1,819
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9
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ON THE SACRED Memory Of Our Late SOVEREIGN WITH A CONGRATULATION TO HIS Present MAJESTY Non deficit Alter Aureus Written by N. Tate LONDON Printed by I. Playford for Henry Playford near the Temple-Church 1685. ON THE SACRED Memory Of Our Late SOVEREIGN WITH A CONGRATULATION TO HIS Present MAJESTY IF yet the Common Lethargy of Grief And Nation 's Apoplex can bear Relief Let now their Art condoling Muses show And teach our Sorrows standing-Tide to flow Not that their sweetest Numbers can redress Or make our Agony of Grief the less Yet to indulge it will some pleasure bring As Nightingals are saddest when they sing But who can make the Nation 's Sorrow known Perish that Bard that can express his own With what Convulsion must we speak the Fate Which yet distracted Looks alone relate How shall we Write or how shall it be Read The King the King Our Royal Master's Dead Weep Albion rend with sighs thy rocky shore A Prince more Sacred thou did'st ne're deplore Though thou hast mourn'd a Martyr-King before O Guardian Seraph CHARLES his Sacred Guide Whether the same that did the Seas divide And wandring Tribes with Miracles supply'd Behold the Close of all thy pious Care The Joy of Nations now Mankind's Despair Thy Charge through Life's prodigious Mazes led With Kings of common Providence lies Dead The Prince of Wonders has resign'd his Breath O Triumph of the Grave O Pomp of Death Let Saints exalted to their starry Seat And Angel-Quires account his Years compleat Perfection they by Intuition know But We must think 'em immature below The outmost Force of humane Art we try Whole Kingdoms Pray'rs to Heav'n for succour fly Yet all in Vain the Royal Life to Save O Pomp of Death O Triumph of the Grave Mourn Albany joyn Albion's doleful Sound 'Till to Hibernian Coasts your Plaints rebound To farthest Lands let groaning Winds relate And rowling Oceans roar their Master's Fate Hast Muses from your blasted Mountains come To stock your selves with Laurels at his Tomb. Unite your Beams in one compleated Verse To flourish on your Royal Patron 's Hearse Wake Britains Horace wake from thy fresh Shroud To tune our Sorrows and instruct the Crowd Our CHARLES his Fame and Fate thy Numbers crave Such Flame as thine methinks should warm the Grave Less streins may well on common Shrines be worn And meaner Muses meaner Theams Adorn May suit some bloody Conquerour's Decease But not the Arbiter of Europe's Peace How well has Asaph's Muse our David stil'd His Form so God-like and His Reign so mild She Sung His Troubles now His latest Breath Let Her record and Constancy in Death With what Heroick Soul though Grief most deep He saw His Speechless Subjects round him weep How tenderly He did bequeath His Flock To the next Shepherd of the Royal Stock Let Her the Princely Brother's Pangs deplore By Blood endear'd by mutual Suffr'ings more Let IAMES his Sorrow add to the Dismay And double the Confusion of the Day Last let Her close Our Dying Monarch's Eyes With which eternal night seem'd to involve our Skies Yet Noon-day Stars attending on His Birth Spoke Him Immortal and a God on Earth His Person and His Virtues spoke Him so For Kings so Just and Mild are Gods below Yet in the cold Embrace of Death He lies Groan Britains yield Him Souls for Sighs weep Tears no more but Eyes Behold the Citizens of some fair Hive How busie while their Ruler is alive How cheerfully their Toil they do pursue From distant Fields bear home the fragrant Dew How to the common Port they all repair Build Tow'rs and breed their young with pious care While with their Colonies their Stores encrease All then is Industry all Wealth and Peace But when their King by any Fate Expires Their Musick ceases and their Labour tires No more they make the flow'ry Sweets their Spoil But in Despair they ruine their own Toil Their Golden Fabricks on the ground are laid And mad Confusion Reigns where Order sway'd How then can We our wonted Peace possess Is our Devotion for our Monarch less Our threatned Ruin Who has then withstood What Chance what Fate or what descending God Behold a Present and auspicious Pow'r Stands forth to turn the Fate of that dark Hour To cheer our Griefs and Order to restore Lest Empire dye and Albion be no more From ev'ry Province grateful Hearts are sent On Him Three suing Nations Eyes are bent Hail hail Your Hero-Prince almost Divine In whom with Valour Justice do's Combine And all the Mercies of the STVART's Line Live Prince of Clemency for ever Live Not All-forgiving CHARLES did more forgive What e're blind Rage in frantick Faction strove All now return and now All find they Love Live Prince of Clemency long condescend To sway those Realms You did so oft Defend While that August and most exalted Shade That Heaven's White-hall has now his Pallace made From those bright Seats sometimes shall not disdain To View the Triumphs of Your God-like Reign Blest Prince by Heav'n and CHARLES Example led So may His Honours double on Your Head The long-liv'd Heir of all His Blessings prove On Earth succeeding to His Subjects Love And to the same kind Angels Care Above FINIS