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death_n die_v king_n prince_n 6,140 5 5.5801 4 false
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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
B03262 An elegy upon His late Majesty (of blessed memory) King Charles the Second. 1685 (1685) Wing E455; Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[24] 969 1

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AN ELEGY Upon His late MAJESTY of Blessed Memory King CHARLES the Second 9. februar 1685 4. 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 Our Sighs or could Our Tears Avail Or could Our Prayers with Wayward Death Prevail Fame tells how once a Mighty-Shield from Heaven Unto the Great Anchise's 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-Caelestial-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 near Dead 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 Apoll's Tribe the Worst To Thy Great-Sepulchre comes only First Thy God-like-Acts let Abler Pens Paint forth In Words worth Dying for Declare Thy Worth But after All that Art can Here Bestow They shall Persumes 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-Task's 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 Grabe 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 Gums 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.