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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A52106 An Oxford elegie, ek thanatou athanasia, or, A fallacy put upon death by our Most Gracious Prince and Soveraign Oliver Lord Protector of England, Scotland, and Ireland, and the dominions belonging thereunto T. M. 1658 (1658) Wing M83A; ESTC R35010 1,630 1

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AN OXFORD ELEGIE ἘΚ ΘΑΝΆΤΟΥ ἈΘΑΝΑΣΊΑ Or a Fallacy put upon Death by our most Gracious Prince and Soveraign OLIVER LORD PROTECTOR of England Scotland and Ireland and the Dominions belonging thereunto Seriùs in coelos utinam rediisset A Mid'st such Sorrow what pen can be dry And drop no tear into an Elegy He that abstains through Numming winter's smart May know his Inck's not frozen but his heart Were paper wanting Press and such supplies I 'de publish forth my grief in sobs and sighs Weep weep my friends and seeing a Cloud is hurl'd To Muffle up with night our Brittish world Let 's open wide the Sluces drench our brain And prove that this our Cloud is full of rain His Highness now lyes under Sagittarus And shall not we sit under moist Aquarius If that our spring fails with the watry store Let 's drop two eyes instead of two tears more The glittering light of Heaven the Sun Hath put his Mourning Cloke and dark Suit on With Foggs and Mists Invelloping his Rayes And drowning ever since our Nights and Days With rainy weepings Heaven doth Simpathize The Sun close mourner keeps within the skies All Creatures seem to say for such a loss For ever England's Arms may bear the Cross And whereas it hath Argent been till now Hence forth convert it to a Sable Hue In Naturalls and Politicks we read What danger 't is to Chop and Change the Head When once our Head begins to ake or swim We find decays and wasts in every limb In such a juncture all our body stands The Crown gives virtue to both leggs and hands So he through every Vain of th' Common-wealth Glided along and temper'd it to health As generall head he influenc'd our hands To Fight and Conquer at his own Commands As for his enemies his Noble Blood So influenc'd their Heels they never stood The Scotish Rout and Dunbarr's famous Fight Wherein there was no Colour left for Flight Witness the Terror carryed in his Name Whilst they for fear made use for wings of Fame Me thinks I read in every Flag a Verse Which all the letters of his name Reherse Those Mottoes which exprest his freely breath Turn now to Epithaph's and speak his death Seeing he our life is dead then let 's dye all To make our Prince a greater Funerall What greater grief What more lamented Urne Then that where Prince and people jointly burn Gather his Ashes gather all his Train No less a Grave will serve then England's plain Sure Oliver that dyed in every place Cannot Intombed be in ten foot space If that be true that dying men stretch out Sure he by now the World Surrounds about What though his Body here contracted lyes The Greatness of his Soul fills up the Skies His Royall Burden would weigh down the Sphear Had He not left his Son an Atlas here If Hercules made Heaven's Supporter groan Sure Cromwell's weight will quickly press it down Shoar up then gracious Sir let it appear That only Cromwell can a Cromwell bear Duke Hamilton and Worc'ster him display The one his head the other lost the day Methinks I hear how Drum and Trumpet sounds And see him dig his way through blood wounds A Paradox to most Peace making Warrs A healing sword and reconciling jarrs He always exercised such skill had he To bring us out of discord harmony Beyond the Line upon the foaming Main He wasted o're Old England to New Spain To Flaunders then he rides Where Austrian John Hath little left besides his Title Don. Had not the Fates him hurried so soon The Triple Crown had fell and Turkish Moon This had Eclipsed been that brought so low His Holinesse had su'd to kiss his Toe But death the Princes and the Peasants fate Cast up his years as lo'th to come too late Shee shook him and as often as shee hit Shee put three Nations in an Ague fit Hee 's gone Hee 's gone Lament lament my verse And drownd thy self in tears upon his Herse And after that Solemnity is done Direct thy feet unto his Princely Son That as he bears the antient CROMWELLS name Hee 'l pillar up the antient CROMWELLS Fame And though his Father and our Father 's gone We still shall boast We are not left alone Your head and hearts as good Your fathers Grace Methinks I see shine brighter in your face Were we not told that RICHARD was your Name No change had been for CROMWELL is the fame Without an Heresie believe we all The souls Traduction Pithagoricall T. M. AE C. Of Oxford 37.