Hecatonstichon, or, An elegy upon the much deplored death and solemn funeral of the Right Honourable Charles Earl of Mountrath, president of Connaght, &c., one of the lords justices of Ireland who deceased the 18 of December, anno Dom. 1661. Haukes, Edward. 1662 Approx. 7 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A43085 Wing H1151B ESTC R34935 14911188 ocm 14911188 102875

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A43085) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 102875) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1571:19) Hecatonstichon, or, An elegy upon the much deplored death and solemn funeral of the Right Honourable Charles Earl of Mountrath, president of Connaght, &c., one of the lords justices of Ireland who deceased the 18 of December, anno Dom. 1661. Haukes, Edward. 1 broadside. s.n., [London? : 1662] In verse. Signed at bottom: by Edward Haukes, His Honours domestique chaplain. Imprint suggested by Wing. Reproduction of original in the Harvard University Library.

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 eng Mountrath, Charles Coote, -- Earl of, ca. 1610-1661 -- Poetry. 2007-11 Assigned for keying and markup 2008-01 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-02 Sampled and proofread 2008-02 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-09 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
Hecatonſtichon: OR, An ELEGY upon the much deplored Death, and ſolemn Funeral of the Right Honourable CHARLES Earl of Mountrath, Preſident of Connaght, &c. one of the Lords Juſtices of Ireland. Who deceaſed the 18. of December, Anno Dom. 1661. GReat Alexander judg'd Achille • Bayes More glorious by the learned Homers praiſe; AEneas Deeds had ſlept, had not the Pen Of famous Maro giv'n them Life agen. (Glory Then brave Atchievements gain Triumphant When Wit & Learning do compoſe their Story. See then Mountrath's great Acts ye do record, If yet our Age a Poet can afford: A Trophey He deſerves; if That He miſs, It is our envious Ages ſhame, not His. My Meanneſs to ſuch Merit bids me hold, Yet Duty to His Honour makes me bold Thus to deplore our Loſs, His Funeral, The Iriſh Terrour once, now Feſtival. (Tone, But dare theſe ſavage Monſters change their Who lately (name but COOTE) did houl, O hone? Dare Kernes, Tories, Miſcreants yell or ſing, While Engliſh Ears with Lamentation ring? Dare they once more lift up rebellious Head? Will Wolves be Rampant, now the Lion's dead? Ignoble Souls! This Land cannot be free From Venom, whilſt ſuch Snakes belch Calumny To taint our Hero's Fame; but all in vain, His Worth and Loyalty they cannot ſtain: Theſe Rebels(true)he vanquiſhed with's ſword, But 'twas to pay them Tribute to his Lord: He tam'd by's proweſs this Lernaean Train, To prepare Subjects for his Soveraign: He fears not Iriſh Bogs, Phanatique Snares, Whilſt He his Royal Maſters way prepares. In Him (for ſo frank Nature had devis'd) Valour and Policie's epitomiz'd. To ſerve His King, His Country, and His God, The Engliſh Champion and the Iriſh Rod. All wiſh'd the King reſtor'd, but none could do't Till Scotland found her Monk, & Ireland COOTE. King Charles he mounts His Throne, & like the Darts forth reſplendant rays through Albion.(Sun And that the Iriſh Fog his Beams might clear, In Charls Mountrath, King Charls he did appear. Thus ſhin'd the Glory of our Conſtellation, Charls by Name, and Charls by Deputation. When that theſe Halcyon days he had beheld, Peace joyn'd with Plenty, Adverſaries quell'd, The King inthron'd. Nobility advanc'd, The Commons Liberty, Arts countenanc'd, He ſang his Nunc Dimittis, his vaſt Minde Left Earth in Heaven Eternal Bliſs to finde. Ceaſe then, malignant Tongues, to blaſt his Fame, The Engiſh Intereſt we count his Name. His Name pronounce, like Ziſca's Drum it frights Whole Legions of the Popiſh Proſelytes. But here let worthy Patriots drop a Tear, A grateful Emblem to this worthy Peer. Let Sables be the Faſhion, midnight-dreſs Beſt ſuits with Univerſal Heavineſs. I lately ſaw a wiſe Triumvirate With prudent Counſel ſteer the Ship of State; But when Mountrath untimely left his S • ation, It ſeem'd like Soul and Bodies ſeparation. I ſought his Brothers out, whom while I ſee, I fancie all turn'd Ghoſts by ſympathy. The Citizens at's death, like men poſſeſt, Cry out, Then farewel Engliſh Intereſt: The Inns (as having ſenſe of his hard Fate) Are clad in mourning, while he lies in State. This doleful news when that the Liffj hears, She powereth forth a Flood of Briniſh Tears. The ſerene Heavens too, could finde an Eye To weep at this our Publick Miſery. But in his Family what Tongue can tell What Sighs, what Sobs, what Tears, what Plaints Niobe to Marble's turned: but Oh! ſee (beſel! His choiceſt JEWEL turn'd to Niobe: She was ſo much in Him, that when he dy'd, The Task was hard theſe Lovers to divide. The Children are caſt down, but I cann't ſay Whether for Sickneſs more, or Grief they lay. They live indeed: God heard their Fathers cry, O ſave my Childrens Life, and let me die. His faithful Servants ſo bewail His End, As thoſe that loſt a Maſter and a Friend: Such was my Thought, my Grief, my Malady, Now rudely vented in this ELEGY. Thus fell this peerleſs HERO: Strength is vain: Not by One Wound, but by a Thouſand ſlain. But ſtay! Methinks he marcheth to his Grave As One that ſtill new Victories would have. The Troops of Mourners, with their General, Will enter Heaven, it ſeems, or ſcale the Wall. Heav'n ſuffers violence, he enters ſoon, Prevailing by GOD's Armour not his Own. To Earth he bids adieu; and Heav'n doth gain, To adde a glorious Star to CHARLS his Wain; Where Charls the Martyr, Charls his Noble Sire, And Loyal Saints, make up a Bleſſed Quire. Chriſt-Church His Corps contains, His Soul the His Son his Image, Earth His Memory. (Skie, But we muſt ſtay till Death our paſſage free: Good GOD prepare us for Eternity. By EDWARD HAUKES, His Honours Domeſtique Chaplain.
Inclytus hoſtiles retegit Montrathius artes, Barbara non populos vincula ferre ſinit. Nec faſces ambit, Cape tu Diademata, Caeſar, Dixerat; en tenuis ſufficit Ʋrna mihi. Non aliter Phoebi praceſſit Phoſphorus axem, Obſcurus ſubito, cum facit ille diem. Incipit (heu) CAROLI Regis nece flebilis annus, Et CAROLI Comitis deſinit ille rogo. Anglia non poterit tantam reparare ruinam, Nec poteris damnum, triſtis Iërna, tuum. Hi tamen in Coelis & regno & pace fruentur, Rex, CAROLUS prior eſt, huic Comes, alter crit. Per Eundem.