ON THE DEATH Of His GRACE, JAMES, DUKE of ORMOND: A Pindarique ODE.
STANZA I.
HAD not the deathless name of OSSORY
Pow'r to Preserve, as well as to Create,
And over-rule the dulness of my Fate,
A Pen so meanly qualifi'd as mine
Might well this mighty Task decline,
Too ponderous for feeble Me,
Me so obscure, my glorious Theme so bright,
Where all is overpowring Light
Which never can submit to Night.
[Page 4]But sense of deepest Gratitude should comptrol
All the despondencies of a trembling Soul,
And force a modest confidence to inspire
The coldest Breast with an uncommon fire.
Since then, for ought we know
The separated happy Spirits above
Sometimes regard our pious love,
And are not much disturb'd at what we kindly doe:
Let ORMOND'S gentle Ghost look down
Full of kind compassion,
And pity what my Duty prompts me to,
Fain would I pay my Tribute ever due
To his immortal Memory:
But what immortal methods to pursue,
Is understood by very few;
The noblest Bard that ever wore the Bays
Would here fall short in Sorrow, and in Praise.
II.
Our stock of Tears would soon exhausted be
Were every Eye a Sea,
And Grief should swell to Prodigality;
Th' irreparable Loss[?], if duly weigh'd,
Would make Posterity affraid,
For ORMOND in his radiant course has done,
What did amaze, what durst abide the Sun,
And struck with Terror all the envious lookers on:
Whether with extasie we think upon
His goodly Person, or his matchless Mind,
Where shall the most inquisitive mortal find
A more accomplish'd Hero left behind?
As he were sent from Heaven, design'dly Great,
To dote on still, but not presume to imitate:
Or whether with regret we cast an Eye
On his unbounded Liberality,
His unaffected Piety,
Or more than Human Magnanimity
(Vertues inimitable all)
[Page 5]The joyful Beadsman, and the Church will tell
The Story, scarce hereafter credible,
And call his Life one long continu'd Miracle.
III.
Say, all you younger Sons of Honor, say,
You that in peace appear so brisk, and gay,
Is it a little thing to forfeit All
At Loyalties tremendous Call?
And stand with resolution in defence
Of a despis'd calamitous Prince,
To fight against our Stars, and to defie
The last efforts of prosperous Villany,
And when the Hurricane of the State grew high,
To brave the Thunder, and the Lightning scorn,
The beauteous Fabrick into pieces torn;
Imprisonment, and Exile to disdain
For a neglected Sovereign?
Still to espouse a crazy tottering Crown.
This mighty ORMOND was thy Own,
This Glory thou deserv'dst to have,
This bravery thou hast carried with thee to thy Grave.
Let other lesser Great ones live, to try
Thy arduous paths to Fame,
Let them bid fair for Immortality,
And to procure an everlasting name;
And may thy sacred Ashes smile to see
Their vain, their frivolous attempts to rival Mighty Thee.
IV.
O Noble Fortunate old Man!
Tho' thou hadst still liv'd on
Too Nestor's Centuries, thou hadst dy'd too soon;
Too soon alas! For Heav'n could never be
Or weary, or asham'd to find fresh toils for Thee:
What wiser Head, or braver Arm than Thine
Could Heav'n contrive to manage Heav'ns design!
And what Herculean labour is too hard
For such a mind, so well prepar'd!
Ever above the prospect of Regard,
And that unfashionable thing, Reward.
Many have been thy gloomy days,
Yet ever happy hast thou been;
In every state thou merit'dst Praise,
And thou hast never wanted it within.
All after fourscore years, is Grief and Pain,
Those honorably pass'd thou didst resign
Thy Empire over every Heart,
From thine this Scepter never shall depart,
But the Succession evermore remain:
'Twas time for thee to dye, and let a second ORMOND reign.
V.
How shall I mention thy lamented Death,
Thy only blemish, thy Mortality!
For 'tis too much disparagement for thee
To be involv'd in common Destiny,
And like inglorious Men give up thy precious breath.
A fiery Chariot should have snatcht thee hence,
And all the Host of Heav'n conven'd to see
Th' assumption of a Godlike Prince
[Page 7]Into th' ineffable Society:
Half way at least, part of th' immaculate Train
With Palms should have attended Thee,
Thy Harbingers to the triumphant Hierarchy,
Then big with wonder mounted up again.
What can the Tongues of Men or Angels say?
What Boänerges ne'r so loud,
If they would speak of thy prodigious Day,
Of which an Emperour's History would be proud.
Farewel dread Prince,—O might it not be said,
Tho' a desirable Euthanasie
Prepar'd the way for Deifying thee,
ORMOND like other men must die,
For he with a Fatigue of Victory opprest
Laid himself only down to Rest.
FINIS.