AN ODE ON THE DEATH OF THE Earl of Ossory.
I.
VVHat Strains at Pisa, or Ismene's Spring,
The Swan that often sung with tuneful breath,
To his Aeolian Harp, did sing
Of God, of Hero, or of Heaven-born King,
With Verses cheaply purchased by death:
Or rather (since to a pious Hero we,
Just, though late Oblations bring)
What Tears the Muses Prophet Royal shed
On Saul's anointed head,
And thought a Crown poor recompence for a Friend:
When by a power miraculous he
(The power of Faith and Poetry)
Upon the Clouds an Interdict did lay,
And bid Mount Gilboa
To rear his naked Back all parched to the Sky:
Such Numbers Priestesses of fame inspire,
Such Ossory does deserve, such Charles desire;
Such Flanders bloody Plains, and Mons, and British Seas require.
And ye Poetick Candidates of Fame,
If you would build a lasting Name,
This Subject choose; as the dark Womb
Of the old Prophets Vital Tomb
Could Life restore, so Ossory's, Life can give,
And by his Genius many an Age even this dead Verse shall live.
II.
Then tell, ye Heavenly Sisters, ye can tell,
(For we below
In the dark Vale of Hearsay dwell,
And nothing know)
Tell when great Ossory's enlarged Shade
Through Heavens Arch his Triumphant Entry made,
How Noble Brutus ancient Race
(To shew peculiar Worth peculiar Grace)
Rose up and offer'd the first place.
Tell how the Sainted Hero (whom
The pious Tales of Fabulous Rome
Greater to make have almost nothing made)
Embrac'd his Successor; and swear
None worthier did his Mystic Ensignes wear.
The George and Garter.
Tell how the Nymphs that with soft Silver Oars
Ply round th' Ebude's, and cold Mona's Shoars,
Or the Seas Oracle, the Mouth of Thames,
The noble Shanons, or short Liffy's Streams,
Their Guardian did lament, and tear
Their Sea-green Hair,
This second grief to great Pans death th'afflicted Nymphs did hear.
Bid sad Juverne raise a Monument
As Teneriff high, wide as her Isles extent,
Bid her be sure her Title prove,
Lest her pretence as fabulous seem as lying Crete's to Jove.
III.
Nature when first commission'd brisk ad gay,
When the blest Earth saluted new-born Day,
And the Worlds Eye, the youthful Sun,
Ʋnspotted with ill Sights his race did run,
Profuse, in Birds and Flowers her art did show,
She painted then the gawdy Bow:
But most in Man, (whom we her Abstract call)
She of the precious stuff was prodigal:
Her Kings but few removes from Jove, her Princes Hero's all.
But now (so sparingly that seed sh'has sown,
The Soyl spent, or she covetous grown,
Or Vice hath spoil'd the Strain, or Fate
Hath given the World for desperate)
Sh'hath shrunk the short dimensions of a Man,
And to an Inch reduc'd our Span,
A Number, an inglorious Rout,
Faint shadows of our Ancestors, alas! we stack about!
And if by a mighty effort she
Produce to the world one Ossory,
(Like Stars which in our Hemisphere
Gaz'd at, half known, strait disappear)
So late he enters, so soon quits the Stage,
He leaves a Nation desolate, and quite undoes the Age.
IV.
Early young Ossory enter'd Vertues race,
Swiftly began, yet still encreas'd his pace;
And when no other Rival he could find,
Strove with himself, and left himself behind.
With unconfirmed steps t'his Prince he went
Into a noble Banishment,
The Country then of all was excellent.
But sure the Stars and Fortune have
Small influence on the vertuous and the brave;
Ev'n Poison turns to wholesome meat,
By Vertues strong digestive heat.
The more 'gainst Hercules Stepdame Juno strove,
The more she prov'd the mighty Seed of Jove.
The Policy of Tiber and the Arne,
The Courtship of the Seine and Marne.
What solid serious the sage Hebre hath,
And Germany of ancient faith,
With British Gallantry conjoyn'd,
Did in the Chymic Furnace of his Mind
A high Elixir make than each more precious and refin'd.
V.
As when the Annual Chaos, Winter, flies,
Whilst the soft Pleiades do mount the Skies,
And Philomel to Western gales does sing
The Advent of the Heaven-born Spring,
Such joy blest Charles did to his Subjects bring.
Then many a Hero whom no Storms could shake,
Who from his Sufferings did new courage take,
Dissolv'd in the soft Lap of Pleasure lay,
As Ice, the Winters Child, in a warm day
Is by the amorous Sunbeams kiss'd away.
But not so Ossory, christalliz'd his Mind
Fortune adverse did brave, disdan'd her kind.
Not Amoret to the Alcove,
Or Park the conscious Mart of Love,
Not so t' a Princes Cabinet with first light,
Speeds an impeached pale-fac'd Favourite,
As you where honourable danger lay,
And to the Temple of high fame did mark the craggy way.
VI.
Go, thy winged Chariot, quickly Muse, prepare,
Lo, a vast Fleet consumes the Eastern Air;
Her Creature, they great Britains Rights invade;
See what returns for Liberty they've made!
Viperous Brood! but Vipers we do find
Bely'd; Ingratitude's proper to Mankind.
Embarque i'th' Ship where Ossory goes,
To check the Parricidal Foes:
Not as the Grave Venetian takes his way,
With many a Barge, and many a Gondola;
Whilest painted Bucentore in state does move,
And to the Adriatic Maid makes love.
As Jove he comes to th' Theban Dame,
Dreadfully gay with Light'nings pointed flame:
Unhappy they who to his embraces came,
One would have thought t'have heard his Cannon roar,
Aetna were torn from the Trinacrian Shore;
And freed Typhaeus a new War did move
Against the upper and the nether Jove.
The Nereids trembled in their watry Bed,
In the Isles roots they hid their Head,
And (like the Hollanders) agast from their own Guardian fled.
VII.
But narrow is one Element,
Compared to a well form'd Souls extent;
Narrow the starry Firmament.
Fate brings (to keep the balance of the Age)
With Monsters equal Hero's on the Stage:
The Western Sultan powerful grows,
A Torrent, all things overflows;
But Mons in bloody Characters his fatal limits shows
You checkt the Monarch in his swift Career,
Fierce Luxemburg wondred, and learn'd to fear;
Alas! he knew not Ossory was there.
Sad the ripe Harvest of his Fame he yields,
The Harvest of so many bloody Fields.
To merit such a Conquerour long he grew
And gather'd Laurels to be worn by you;
Cursing just Heaven, dropping with bloody sweat
The sad remains withdraws of his Defeat,
And more than all his Victories he valew's this Retreat.
VIII.
Great Excellence oft proves dangerous to a State,
A Comet Vertue that's hung out by Fate,
To it self and others ruine does create.
But silent he, yet active as the Day,
Born to command, yet willing to obey.
Nature to him the happy temper gave,
Curteous he was as prosp'rous Love,
Gentle as Venus gentlest Dove,
In fight beyond a fancied Hero brave.
Thou Virgin Mother-Church, which now dost ride
The swelling Surges of a double Tide,
Safe only because dash'd on either side,
O what a Friend now in thy day
Hath Fate in Ossory snatch'd away!
And ye who holy Friendship do adore,
His Equal you will never see, before
You Ossory shall in Heaven rejoyn, ne're to be parted more.
IX.
Accursed Feaver, Deaths sharp-poisoned Dart,
Accursed Fruit, accursed Earth,
Which to the fatal Tree gave birth;
What Mine of strange confusion have you laid
In the most regular Breast which ere was made!
Those Eyes, from which swift Lightning once did part,
To melt the temper'd Steel, or harder Heart,
Like wasting Meteors now portend
With blood-shot Beams his own approacing end.
The Seat where Honours Records lay,
Where was design'd the fall of Africa,
(Scarce Heavens Decrees more firmly set than they)
Like Parchments in the Fire now shrink away.
Those Purple Waves, which like te Nile
From his undiscover'd Head
Health and fresh Honours on its Soil did shed,
And bid all Egypt smile;
Now with Vaesuvian Waves scorch all their way,
And to the King o'th' Little World a Mortal Tribute pay.
His Heart.
X.
Injustly we do blame the Sovereign Law,
Which all things to their proper place does draw.
Full ripe for Heaven he spurn'd the Earth,
The monumental seat of miscall'd Birth.
No Art, no Violence, can controle
(Though on it Ossa you, and Pelion role)
Th'ascending motion of a Heaven-born Soule.
His Fever like Elias Fiery Carre,
(Whilest the sad Prophets mourn him from afar)
Kindled his Funeral Pile into a Star.
Others may praise the Feats of mortal breath,
But I the opportunity of death.
He saw not popular Fury threat the Stage,
Nor Epidemic Madness seize the Age.
He liv'd not till his Wreaths did grow
Wither'd and pale upon his Brow,
As Pompey and great Scipio.
Few, Heavens choice Favourites, the priviledge have,
To bring their Fame untainted to their Grave.
Who the wild passions knows of human kind,
Fortune and false Mortality
This truth will find,
When wanted most and best belov'd 'tis happiest then to die.
FINIS