Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
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A54950
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An epistolary poem to John Dryden, Esq. occasion'd by the much lamented death of the Right Honourable James, Earl of Abingdon / by William Pittis ...
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Pittis, William, 1674-1724.
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1699
(1699)
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Wing P2319; ESTC R2510
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10,123
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24
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AN EPISTOLARY POEM TO John Dryden Esq Occasion'd by the much Lamented DEATH OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE Iames Earl of Abingdon By WILLIAM PITTIS Late Fellow of New-College in Oxon. Quanto rectius hoc quam tristi laedere versu Pantolabum scurram Nomentanumque Nepotem Hor. Cadit Ripheus justissimus unus Qui fuit in Teucâ—â—â— servantissimus aequi Aen. Lib. 2. LONDON Printed for H. Walwyn at the Three Leggs in the Poultry over against the Stocks-Market 1699. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE MONTAGUE Earl of ABINGDON Baron NORREYS c. My Lord THO' I could have wish'd that the Gentleman to whom the following Papers are directed had prevented me in the Trouble I am now giving You yet I cannot but lay hold on this Mournful Occasion to acquaint the World what a Share it has in Your Lordship's Loss and what a Concern the Muses should have shewn who have seen it so visible in Your Lordship A general Silence indeed shews the Consternation to be also General our Silence among those whose very Sorrows should speak Silence among Men of a Profession who are not us'd to hold their Peace in Excesses of Ioy or Grief is much more a Crime than an Inadvertency and if I am late in my Offerings to the Memory of the deceas'd Noble Lord Your Lordship's Father it is out of the respect I bear to it having been in hopes some Pen or other of a more establish'd Reputation would have acknowledg'd it self a Debtor tho' it could never discharge the Debt and have made an Attempt towards the Description of those Vertues which no Describer can do that Justice to which They deserve The Vniversity near which He liv'd and the City in which He dy'd had both of 'em Gentlemen who being of Merit Themselves were capable of setting it out in Others and if both had employ'd Themselves in recommending those Vertues to our Practice which are so deserving of our Esteem they had not laid under the Imputation of being idle as well as ungrateful Their Remissness My LORD has added Wings to my Diligence and tho' I am sensible Your Lordship's Father's Character is fall'n into ill hands yet rather than not say something of One who deserves to have so much said of Him I must put in for a Petitioner to Your Lordship and beg Your Acceptance of a Present which has nothing but the Zeal of its Donor to recommend it to Your Lordship's Hands That the Great Man who gives Being to the following Poem by losing His own was Loyal to His PRINCE and Affectionate to His COVNTRY unwearied in His Alms and incessant in His Prayers deserving the Highest Honours from His KING yet retir'd from COVRTS to commune with His GOD are Excellencies worthy of His Muse whom the following Poem is perswading to the Recital of 'em and there will want nothing to add to their Perfection and crown 'em with their due Commendations after I shall have said He was Your Lordship's FATHER For to give Being to a Gentleman who is exercis'd in preserving that of others is as great as if the Noble Lord continued to preserve them Himself and what was reckon'd as a Compliment in the Poet to the greatest of Emperors viz. Nec enim de CAESARIS actis Vllum Majus opus quam quod Pater extitit Hujus may be very applicable to Your Lordship and receiv'd for a Truth But I am running into the Character of a Gentleman who has Merit enough to lose me in it I shall therefore only add my Wishes That Your Lordship may continue the Pursuit of those Paths which Your Lordship's Deceas'd Father has mark'd out for You That Your Lordship's Noble Brothers may still practice those Vertues which They have already given such Specimens of And that Your Lordship may be an Honour to that NAME which has furnish'd us with as many Instances of its being Illustrious as it has Owners is the hearty Prayer of My LORD Your Lordship 's most Humble and most Obedient Servant William Pittis THE PREFACE AS I have no great reason to boast of the Excellencies of the following Poem so the Reader must excuse me if I do not enter into Confessions of its Faults and prevent a great many Gentlemen whose time will lie upon their hands if depriv'd of the Satisfaction of being employ'd in finding them out themselves But I can justly tell them That I have not left so much room for an Animadverter as I did on the Epistle to Mr. Tate on the Taking of Namur and have so far agreed with the Civil Gentleman who past his Censure on the Poems relating to that Subject that if he continues in the same Humour of being hard to be pleas'd he has more reason to be asham'd of it now than he had then In short The Management of this is agreeable to the nature of an Epistle and I have endeavour'd to suit the Majesty of my Subject with a Turn of Verse which tho' it does not come up to it is not servily creeping or affected I have all along continued speaking to the Person it is directed to and have been as careful of running into Excursions as possible Several Expressions are indeed Synonimous and tho' I might have said a great deal more of the Noble Persons whom I have had occasion to speak of I could have wish'd I had said less unless it was more deserving their Acceptance And tho' I am not an Author confirm'd enough to carry my Coppies about to Gentlemen's Chambers in order to pick up Amendments and Corrections as the Practice is now of our most receiv'd Writers yet I must in Iustice to my self and the Gentleman who has favour'd me with its Perusal tell the World it had been much worse had not Mr. Dryden acquainted me with its Faults Nothing indeed was so displeasing to him as what was pleasing to my self viz. this own Commendations and if it pleases the World the Reader has no one to thank but so distinguishing a Iudgment which has occasion'd it I might here lay hold of the Opportunity of returning the Obliging Compliments he sent me by the Person who brought the Papers to him before they were Printed but I may chance to call His Iudgment in question by it which I always counted infallible but in his kind Thoughts of me and therefore refer the Reader to the Poem in order to see whether he 'll be so good-natur'd as to join his Opinion with the Compliment the Gentleman aforesaid has honour'd me with AN EPISTOLARY POEM TO John Dryden Esq Occasion'd by the DEATH OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE Iames Earl of Abingdon WHEN Heroes yield to Sickness and the Grave And pay that Life to Nature Nature gave The Muse attending on their Hearse should wait To mourn the daring Enterprize of Fate And Tears unceasing and her Sighs unfeign'd Should tell what Earth has lost and Heav'n has gain'd But Oh! what Muse what Numbers can disclose Our present Loss and speak our present Woes Ev'n
Isis's Sons and Isis's Sons have lays Deserving Fame and which Desert can praise Silent they stand and with their Harps unstrung Adore that Worth which should ador'd be sung Grief pow'rful Grief prevailing on their Sense Permits them not to sing the Fate 's Offence But Thou Great Bard whose hoary Merits claim The Laureat's Place without the Laureat's Name Whose Learned Brows encircled by the Bays Bespeak their Owner's and their Giver's Praise Thou Dryden should'st our Loss alone relate And Heroes mourn who Heroes canst create Amidst thy Verse the Wife already shines And owes her Vertues what she owes thy Lines Down from above the Saint our Sorrows views And feels a second Heaven in thy Muse Whose Verse as lasting as her Fame shall be While thou shalt live by Her and she by Thee Oh! let the same immortal numbers tell How just the Husband liv'd and how he fell What Vows when living for his Life were made What Floods of Tears at his Decease were paid And since their deathless Vertues were the same Equal in Worth alike should be their Fame But thou withdrawn from us and publick Cares Flatter'st thy Age and feed'st thy growing Years Supine unmov'd regardless of our Crys Thou mind'st not where Thy Noble Patron lies Wrapt in Death's Icy Arms within his Urn Behold Him sleeping and beholding mourn Speechless That Tongue for wholesom Counsels fam'd And without sight those Eyes for Lust unblam'd Bereav'd of Motion are Those Hands which gave Alms to the Needy did the Needy crave Ah! such a Sight and such a Man Divine Does only call for such a Hand as Thine Great is the Task and worthy is Thy Pen The best of Bards should sing the best of Men. Awake arise from Thy Lethargick State Mourn Britain's Loss tho' Britain be ingrate Nor let the sacred Mantuan's Labours be A Ne plus ultra to Thy Fame and Thee Thy Abingdon if once Thy glorious Theme Shall vie with His Marcellus for Esteem Tears in his Eyes and Sorrow in his Heart Shall speak the Reader 's Grief and Writer's Art And tho' this barren Age does not produce A great Augustus to reward Thy Muse Tho' in this Isle no good Octavia reigns And gives Thee Virgil's Praemium for His Strains Yet Dryden for a while forsake Thy Ease And quit Thy Pleasures that Thou more may'st please Apollo calls and ev'ry Muse attends With ev'ry Grace who ev'ry Beauty lends Sweet is Thy Voice as was Thy Subject's Mind And like His Soul Thy Numbers unconfin'd Thy Language easy and Thy flowing Song Soft as a Vale but like a Mountain strong Such Verse as Thine and such alone should dare To charge the Muses with their present Care Thine and the Cause of Wit with speed maintain Least some rude Hand the sacred Work prophane And the Dull Mercinary Rhiming Crew Rob the Deceas'd and Thee of what 's your due Such Fears as these if Duty cannot move And make Thy Labours equal to Thy Love Should hasten forth thy Verse and make it show What Thou Mankind and ev'ry Muse does owe As Abingdon's High Worth exalted shines And gives and takes a Lustre from thy Lines As Eleonora's pious Deeds revive In Him who shar'd Her Praises when alive So the stern Greek whom nothing could perswade To quit the rash Engagements which he made With sullen Looks and Helmet laid aside He sooth'd his Anger and indulg'd his Pride Careless of Fate neglectful of the Call Of Chiefs entreating till Patroclus's Fall Rouz'd by his Death His Martial Soul could bend And lose his whole Resentments in his Friend As to the dusky Field he wing'd his Course With Eyes impatient and redoubled Force And wept him dead in thousands of the Slain Whom living Greece had beg'd his Sword in vain One Friend in Tears that shade could only boast And Grecia gain'd in what Achilles lost But Oh! the Glorious Dead to whom we pay Our present Grief and fruitless Sighs convey He so his Worth demands and Vertues crave Is wept by Thousands who could Thousands save Yonder He lies ah what has Albion done To be thus punish'd in Her Noble Son Round Him his Orphan Children Pensive stand And Sadness reigns and deepest Griefs command Brave Manly Sorrow sits upon their Face And speaks at once their Duty and their Race A Father's Death for Lamentations crys But what that asks a Father's Life denies Their Hearts are acting what their Eyes forbear Remembring what He was and what They are Amidst the rest superlative in Care Erects Himself his Wealth and Honour's Heir To Heav'n He looks for Heav'n alone could take A Soul like His of bright Aetherial make And argues with its Laws and blames those Pow'rs Who suffer'd Fate to thwart His Vows and Ours As His Religion with His Duty strives And He bewails for lost what He revives The Sons describ'd the Brothers next appear And Leeds and Lindsey pensive Sable wear The first the Prop and Atlas of the State Tho' now resign'd the Charge and pompous Weight And who had still could murm'ring Brittains know What grateful Minds to their Protectors owe Bestow'd his Counsels and pursu'd his Toils Had we return'd his Labours with our Smiles But We to do this thankful Nation right Hug the Deliv'rance the Deliv'rer slight And use such odd Acknowledgments as show Not what We take but what the Givers owe. Grant Heav'n the Pilot gone that Albion's Realm May never want His Guidance at her Helm Round Her may no rough Storms or Billows beat To force Him from His Leisure and retreat Tho' much I fear and prescious is the Muse That She shall court that Help we could refuse The last but oh what daring Pen can shew Sorrows like His and paint those Sorrows true In Vertues and in Honour's List the Chief Mournful He stands yet Conq'ror of His Grief His Father's Courage boils within His Veins And o're the Brother's Loss contends and reigns But why alas do I in vain pursue Sorrows like His which fly the Searchers View The Noblest Muse in such Attempts must fail Heroes like Him should grieve behind a Veil Yet cannot I tho' lowly be my Song And whom 't would praise perhaps the Verse may wrong Neglect such Goodness and such Worth forbear Which I ev'n I by His Example share Lindsey A Name to Britain's Subjects known So far from Fraud and yet so near the Throne The Courtier 's Pride without the Courtier 's Arts And great His Post as great are His Deserts Retir'd from all the Pageantry and Pride Of Pallaces in private to reside He flies the Place where specious Ills resort And loves the Monarch tho' he shuns the Court But I too far by Lindsey's Worth am led And in the living Heroe lose the Dead Ah! Sacred Shade from sinful Albion torn Whom we must ever want and ever mourn Whose Life could teach us and whose Death could tell The Comforts and the Ioys of living well He from above our weak Attempts surveys And