A Funeral POEM, &c.
AS HEAV'N it Self's on Empire's Axis roll'd,
(For God-Head's but Dominion Uncontroul'd;)
So the Crown'd Head, the Sublunary JOVE,
Does, in his Royal Orb of Glory, move;
With all his Bolts of Fate, in his High Post
Of Sovereign Pow'r, the Weilded Thunder boast.
But, in the Highest tow'ring Flight of KINGS,
'Tis the Great Statesman plumes their Eagles Wings;
They Move the Great MACHINE, He Sets the Springs.
And thus, whilst Pregnant EMPIRE's Labouring Head
With some vast Off-spring Teems; the Statesman's Aid,
To bring the Fair Divine Minerva Forth,
Is call'd the Great Lucina to the Birth.
Wisdom and Counsel! 'Tis their Min'istring Ray,
Those Bright CROWN-Genij, Cheer th' Imperial Sway:
[Page 4]The Harmony of WORLDS is only Theirs;
Empire but Guides, 'tis They that Tune the Spheres:
Counsel, in Church or State, the Warmth, by Whom
Aaron's and Moses's Budding Wands both Bloom:
Thus MONARCHY, what, tho' She Reigns Alone,
'Tis by her Argus-Eyes She Guards her Throne:
Her Lights an Hundred, tho' her Hand's but One.
Of those Rich Lights, Great HALLIFAX shin'd there;
In Powr's whole Constellation, None more Fair:
In Calms or Storms, in every varying Gale,
The Furl'd, the Hoysted, or the Slacken'd Sayl;
The Helm to Manage, or the Mates to Cheer,
No Pilot-Hand cou'd ever Worthier Steer:
TRUST, the Magnetick Load star of his Soul;
And FAITH, and ZEAL, his Needles to the Pole.
The Studied World was his Long Theam, and All
The Politick Movements of the Mighty Ball:
[Page 5]Yes, the Old World He had Fathom'd o're and o're;
Nay, had there been yet Ʋnknown Globes t' explore,
To give that Head, that Reach, those Depths, their Due,
He had stood a Fair Columbus, for the New.
In SENATES, There, with all his Brightest Beams,
Not Michael, to th' Embattl'd Seraphims,
A Mightier Leading CHIEF: Oraculous Sense!
Victorious Right! Amazing Eloquence!
All from that Clearest Organ sweetly Sung:
From that bold ENGLISH CICERO's Silver Tongue,
VVell might Great TRUTH, and Genuine Justice flow;
For He Lookt Ʋpward, when He Talkt Below:
Up to ASTRAEA, Heav'ns translated Pride,
Her Righteous Ballance his Great Standard Guide.
In Redress'd Wrongs, and Succour'd Rights APPEAL,
No Hand, in the Judiciary Scale,
More VVeigh'd and Pois'd, than HALLIFAX alone;
Ev'n Half the Great Tribunal, was his Own.
[Page 6]But, in that more Exalted Patriot-Cause,
The Moulding of those Stamps Imperial, LAWS;
Then, when the whole Divinity of Pow'r,
In her Collective Strength, that Lab'ring Hour,
In her All-wise Consulting Providence,
Sits, some New Fair Creations to Commence;
In that High VVork, for the Great FIAT Fixt,
No Hand like His, the Sovereign ELEMENTS Mixt.
This Fam'd GAMALIEL in the Great State-Schools,
Thus by unerring PRUDENCE Sacred Rules,
No wonder, on that Card'nal Hinge He mov'd;
In Pow'r-Craft Skill'd, that Bold Arts-Master prov'd:
The Great Performing Part He had Study'd thro',
And no less Learnt the Greater Duty too.
The Publick Spirit, and the Active Soul,
More Lively VVarmth, than e're Prometheus stole,
Those Champions both of Earth and Heav'n's Just Right,
Bound by their Great Indenture Tripartite,
[Page 7]Their equally divided FAITH must bring,
Betwixt their GOD, their Country, and their King.
In Pow'r and Trust, thro' his whole Life's long Scene,
Never did Honour wear a Hand more Clean:
He from the Israel Prophet's Copy drew;
The Suppliant Naaman for his Grace might sue.
Distress, 'tis true, his Succour ne'r cou'd lack —
But then her Laded Chariots must go Back.
No Syrian Bribe was on his Shoulders worn;
That Tainted Robe such TRUTH and VIRTUE scorn.
Thus, like the Eden Pair, Why is Truth drawn
A Naked Beauty, in Transparent Lawn?
Yes, 'till her Innocence, for Imp'ious Gold,
That Tempting, False Hesperian Apple, Sold;
'Tis from that Fall, Original Blushes came;
'Twas Then She wanted Fig-Leaves for her Shame.
A Bribe! That most loath'd Thought! Ev'n his whole Roof,
His humblest Menials, that Temptation-Proof,
[Page 8](So Fair their Leading LORD's Example stands)
Oblig'd with Frank Full Hearts, but Empty Hands.
His Favours in that Generous Current run,
As Providence vouchsafes Her Rain and Sun.
His Favours Cheaper ev'n than Heav'n's confer'd:
For, though, like Heav'n, th' Imploring Pray'r He heard;
Yet no Thanksgiving Offerings Return'd:
To His Kind GRACE, no Gumms nor Incense burn'd.
Ay, and 'twas Nobly Brave! What can more high,
Than an Ʋnmercinary Greatness fly?
If ought his Obligations must Defray,
He rather chose that Heav'n, than Man should Pay:
Yes, with a Fair Ambition, Just Disdain,
Scorn'd less than JOVE, his Golden Show'rs shou'd Rain.
And well so High, that Fair Ambition tow'r'd;
For HALLIFAX so Scorn'd, and JOVE so Show'r'd:
Whil'st that vast Affluence Warm'd his Fruitful Soyl,
'Till his Rich Glebe, and Loaded Harvest Pile,
With that Increase, that Milky Canaan flow'd:
Prosperity thus Reap'd, where Virtue Sow'd.
NATURE & FORTUNE, Here, both Rivals join'd,
Which to their darling HALLIFAX, more Kind,
Should heap the Ampler Mass: Nature her more
Refin'd, and Fortune in her Courser Oar.
The World but Smil'd, where Heav'n had Smil'd before.
Great Blessings, when by Greater MERIT shar'd,
(Not Providence's Gift, but her Reward,)
Are all Heav'n's Fairest Blazon, Noblest Pride;
Th' Eternal DISPENSATION Justify'd.
The Righteous Distribution ought no less:
So Great 'tis to Deserve, and then Possess.
Nor in Proud Courts, nor States alone, that Great
Dictator; Ev'n in the DESPOTIC Seat,
In His own narrower Domestic Sway,
His Houshold Sweet Penates deckt so Gay;
To VICE, like Hannibal to Rome, that sworn
Eternal Foe; and VIRTUE's Champion born:
To his own Filial Nursery, so Kind
A FATHER, with those Leading Lights, He shin'd:
The Early Phosphor to their Morning Dawn:
So Fam'd his equally Paternal Care,
T' Instruct the Great, and to Adorn the
His Advice to a Daughter.
Fair.Thus BEAUTY's Toilet spread so all Divine,
Her Cabinet Jems so Furnisht from That MINE;
The Virgin, and the Bridal Coronet,
Were, by Kind HALLIFAX, so richly Set;
VIRTUE and INNOCENCE at that full View,
As ev'n th' Original Eden Lanschape drew:
All her whole Hierarchy of Graces; not
One least Enamell'd Heav'nly Spark forgot;
Each Star in the whole Feminine Renown,
From Cassiopoea's CHAIR, to Ariadne's CROWN.
In the Rich Furniture of that Fair MIND,
Those dazling Intellectual Graces shin'd,
To draw the Love and Homage of Mankind;
Nothing cou'd more than his firm FRIENDSHIP Charm:
Cheerful, as Bridal-Songs; as South-Suns, Warm;
The Solemn Honour of his Plighted Hand,
He stood a more than Second Pylades;
Ʋnshaken, as Immutable DECREES.
But, whilst these vast Perfections I Recount,
The Heights to which those Soaring Glories mount:
My Muse thus rapt into that Cheerful Sphear;
Is This her Wailing Dirge? her Funeral Tear?
For his Sad DEATH, to Draw his Glorious LIFE!
Paint Lights for Shades, and Ecstacies for Grief!
Are These the Melancholy Rites She brings,
Fit Ayrs to Tune the Mournful Theme She sings!
Yes, the True Mourner's in th' Historian Play'd:
What's Present Grief, but Past Delight Display'd?
Counting what once was Ours, we need no more:
To Sum th' Enjoyment, does the Loss Deplore.
Besides, What's all our Sable Cavalcade,
To the Great DEAD, our Darkest Funeral Shade?
Her Glorious Amulet but Cheaply Set:
She finds the Diamond, and We the Jet.
When Learning, Wisdom, Eloquence, Expire,
And the Great SOULS, (Sparks of Celestial Fire)
Back to Their Elemental Sourse Retire:
To such Rich DUST, in vain we Pyramids Rear;
For Mausoloeum's are but Pageants there.
What's a poor Short-liv'd Pile of Crumbling Earth,
A Mould'ring Tomb, t' Apollinary WORTH?
Worth, that so far from such a Narrow Bound,
Spreads a Large Field! Moves th' Ʋniversal Round!
Fills every Tongue! Thus, what no Ʋrn contains,
The World's the Casket to those Great REMAINS.
Nor let Poetick Vanity Rehearse
Her Boasted Dreams, Her Miracles of VERSE:
Think, in some poor Recorded EPITAPH,
That Shallow Page of Brass, or Marble Leaf;
[Page 13]Or, in some more Voluminous Folio Pile,
A Davideis, or Arthur's Sweating Toil,
Some Sacred WORTHY's Deathless Fame t' Enstal;
Rais'd by her Lyres, like the Old Theban Wall.
No; when Great NAMES ne'r Dye; That Work alone,
Is all a Fair Creation of Their Own.
True GLORY Shines by her Own Lighted Beam:
'Tis not the Muse's Song, but Muse's THEAM.
When in Great HALLIFAX, WIT's Pantheon fell,
And Death now husht that Silenc'd ORACLE▪
From Fair Eliza's Hallow'd
Westminster-School.
Helicon-Walls,Methinks, I hear a Fatal Summon calls:
When, lo! the Delphick
Dr. Busby, who Dy'd the same Day.
SEER, that Reverend BardOf Sacred Literature's rich Fount, prepar'd
Th' Expiring HALLIFAX, in Death to wait.—
No less Attendant on his Funeral State,
Fate to that ever Honour'd HEAD cou'd owe:
LEARNING it self must shake, at such a Blow.
But, tho' with all this Mine of Learning stor'd;
He Liv'd, and Dy'd, no Niggard of that Hoard:
Witness His own Long Pious Founded
His Free School Foundations.
Piles,Where Nurtur'd ARTS, by His Auspicious Smiles,
Tune their Young Voices to the Muse's Song,
Nerv'd by his HAND to Books, and Virtue, strong.
Thus, as th' Old Israel Patriarch, to his once
Illustrious Twelve, HE to His Hundred Sons,
His Fruitful CHARITY's Adopted Race,
(With all his Tenderest Diffusive Grace,)
Doals, with a True Paternal Glory crown'd,
His Living and His Dying Blessings round.
Yes, from that Hand, this Scatter'd Bread must fall:
He Furnishes those Numerous Pencils, all
To Copy from His Great Original:
Resolv'd, if possible, Resolv'd t' Inspire,
To this Young Nursery, His Cherisht Choire,
His own Rich Soul, their Transmigrated Fire.
But, why (if 'tis not a too Bold Offence,
To dare Expostu'late with OMNIPOTENCE,)
Why should Prodigious Worth, from th' Orb it warm'd,
Snatch'd from the Soyl it cherisht, Eyes it charm'd,
From its Deserted Charge, unkindly Fly,
Quit th' Earth it Blest, Impoverish Worlds, and Dye?
No, the Kind Heav'ns, in Mercy, to Rebate
That Mighty Loss, the too keen Edge of Fate,
Have circled Virtue in a Fence so High,
As stands so Safe, it knows not how to Die;
But Founds its own Proud Immortality.
For, as some Lofty Cedar, long had stood
The Land-mark of the Plain, and Glory of the Wood;
Till the Dread Voice of Fate, Heav'n's Angry Blast,
The Bolt of the Destroying Thunder cast,
All the tall PRIDE lies Fal'n.—Yet still some Shoot,
Some tender Scyen from the Sacred ROOT,
By' its Nutrimental PARENT-Succours fed
Springs, Growes, Spreads, Flourishes; till th' Uprear'd Head
A Second Pearch for the Fair Bird of JOVE.
So may Great HALLIFAX Himself Survive;
Thus Fall, and thus His Deathless Virtues Live.
LIVE in His Fair SUCCESSION, ever Blest;
Whil'st Honour Builds its own Rich PHAENIX Nest.
FINIS.