A Pindaric ode, sacred to the memory of the Most Reverend Father in God, Dr. William Sancroft once master of Emmanuel College in Cambridge, and late arch-bishop of Canterbury, who departed this life November 24th. 1693. 1694 Approx. 8 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 5 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2011-04 (EEBO-TCP Phase 2). A37235 Wing D40 ESTC R14922 12255644 ocm 12255644 57419

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A37235) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 57419) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 888:11) A Pindaric ode, sacred to the memory of the Most Reverend Father in God, Dr. William Sancroft once master of Emmanuel College in Cambridge, and late arch-bishop of Canterbury, who departed this life November 24th. 1693. J. D. 8 p. Printed by T.B., and are to be sold by Randal Taylor ..., London : 1694. Reproduction of original in Bodleian Library. Assigned by Wing to "J.D.", but perhaps confused with "A pindarique ode: humbly offer'd to the ever-blessed memory of ... Queen Mary" by Samuel Cobb but published under the initials "J.D."

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 eng Sancroft, William, 1617-1693. 2020-09-21 Content of 'availability' element changed when EEBO Phase 2 texts came into the public domain 2009-04 Assigned for keying and markup 2009-05 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2009-07 Sampled and proofread 2009-07 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-09 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

A Pindaric ODE, Sacred to the MEMORY OF The Moſt Reverend Father in GOD, DR. VVilliam Sancroft, Once MASTER of EMMANUEL College IN CAMBRIDGE, AND LATE Arch-BISHOP OF CANTERBURY, Who Departed this LIFE November 24th. 1693.

LONDON, Printed by T.B. and are to be Sold by Randal Taylor, near Stationers-Hall, MDCXCIV.
A Pindaric ODE, Sacred to the MEMORY OF The Moſt Reverend Father in GOD, DR. VVilliam Sancroft, &c. Strophe I. ONce more Vouchſafe, Indulgent Muſe, T' inflame my ſuppliant Breaſt with ſacred Fire; Since now a Task I chuſe, The Nobleſt and the Ableſt to Inſpire, The Saddeſt, yet the Worthieſt, Theme, That e're engag'd our Eyes in Tears to flow, Or e're requir'd a full Caſtalian Stream, To bear the Solemn Pomp of Numerous Woe. Much Grief enchas'd with Joy is to be ſet, An Iv'ry Triumph in Diſpairing Jet; Sadneſs and Pleaſure here muſt Play their Part, With mighty Truths Adorn'd with Wondrous Art. Antiſtrophe I. 'Tis SANCROFT's Venerable Name, Great CANTERBURY's Greater Patriarch, The Nation's Pride and Shame, That now becomes the Muſe's worthy Mark, Thou, Goddeſs, tho' the Mark be high, And far beyond a Mortal's humble Ken, Be ſure to Reach it with a Daring Eye, And lively Touches of a Skilful Pen. And that Succeſs may favour Thee the more, Invoke that Goodneſs, SANCROFT did adore: Call to thine Aid thoſe High Celeſtial Powers, That now have Crown'd Him theirs, who late was Ours. Epod. I. Ah! How the Numbers of his Vertues riſe! Ah! How his Splendors Dazle Mortal Eyes! Ah! How his Rays Engagingly Surprize! What Art ſhall now the various Scenes relate? How ſhall our Zeal the God-like Hero trace, From Freſingfield, his Native Place, Thro' all the Turns of his Maeandrous Fate? EMMANUEL Firſt the hopeful Scholar took, And Smil'd on Him with her Auſpicious Look; She Saw her Image in his Eye expreſt, And at firſt View, The Mighty, Flowing Treaſures knew, The Wealth of his All-comprehending Breaſt. There fix'd in her bright Zodiac long he ſhone, Of Twelve the brighteſt Conſtellation: Till high advanc'd to the Phoebéan Carr, His Beams appear'd more Bright and Darted far. Him Fair EMMANUEL did Create Her Maſter, (as the World miſcals the Name,) Tho' He took on Him but a Servile State, The Grandeur all to his Emmanuel Came: He would be Leſs, that She might riſe more Great. Thence Paul receiv'd his Venerable Head, And He reliev'd the much Diſtreſſed Paul: His Tent He near the bleſt Apoſtle Spread, And Built, and was Himſelf to Him, a Wall. Till, Sheldon falling from the ſacred Throne, To Canterbury's brighter Orb he roſe: Wiſe Charles durſt on his Shoulders ſtrong alone The mighty Bulk of that Vaſt Globe repoſe. Strophe II. But now what Tongue, what Pen, what Art, Can half the Summ of his High Praiſes tell? The Depth of his Wiſe Heart, Religion's ſpring, Learning's unfathom'd Well? The Treaſures of his Wealthy Mind, The Magazines of his well furniſh'd Brain, His Love Diffuſive, Favour unconfin'd, Senſe Quick, as Lightning, Candor Sweet as Rain? Judgment, as piercing, as the Eye of Day; Patience, amidſt injurious Treatments Gay, Humility, like Corn in fertile Vales, And well-fix'd Loyalty, which never fails? Antiſtrophe. II. Witneſs, Bleſt Lambeth, lately Bleſt, When SANCROFT's Preſence cheer'd Her gladſom Heart: Witneſs, his Conſtant Gueſt, The Poor, which ne'r from Him did Empty part. Witneſs the Church, his only Wife, His Friend, his Darling, Dear as Light or Breath: That held her Triumph's equal with his Life, But Loſt Her Crown and Comfort at his Death. Witneſs thoſe Ears, that heard his Wond'rous Senſe, And thoſe his Works; that now freſh Life Commence. Witneſs theſe Times, that could not ſhake his Soul, And Future Times, that will his Fame Enroul. Epod. II. Muſe Change thy Note! This Glorious Orb of Light Is now Eclips'd, and all his Splendors Bright, Sunk in th' Abyſs of Everlaſting Night. EMMANUEL weeps, and Freſingfield is ſad, The Church is Widow'd, Deſtitute the State, Lambeth Deplores her Rigid Fate, And Learning is in Weeds of Sable clad: Our Iſrael is Depriv'd of her Defence, Her Horſe and Chariots now are Raviſh'd hence, And Loyalty and Vertue hence are Fled: Religion's Name Remains, but She's no more the ſame: See, how, alas! She hangs her drooping Head. Farewel, Great Prelate, Laſt and Beſt of all, That e're were veſted with the Sacred Pall: Prince of our Confeſſors Triumphant Crew, Pride of the Crown and of the Mitre too: Thee, SANCROFT, Heaven hath now enrol'd, Secure, and far remov'd from Mortal Cares, Crown'd and Rewarded now Thouſand Fold, For all thy Faith, thy Patience, Love and Prayers, And Stately Walking on Aethereal Mold. We, wretched Souls, low grov'ling on the Ground, Depriv'd of thy Paternal, Paſt'ral Care, T' unequal Times and Chains of Error Bound, Will yet ende'vour our Loſſes to Repair. Still on thy Bright Example We will look, And Learn from thence Things Preſent to Deſpiſe, And Study Heaven in thy Diviner Book, Which doth the Counterpart of Heaven Comprize.
ἘΠΙΤΆΦΙΟΝ ἈΥΤΟ . Α. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Β. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Α. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Α. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
His EPITAPH. α SAY, Virgins, what are You, whoſe Mournful Face Augments the Sadneſs of this Burial Place? β Our Name's Religion, Learning, Charity, Vertue, an Humble Mind and Loyalty. α Who then Lies here? β Sancroft the Good and Wiſe. α Alas! All Worth with Him Entombed lies.
FINIS.