Ʋpon the much Lamented Departure of the High and Mighty PRINCE, OLIVER LORD PROTECTOR Of ENGLAND, SCOTLAND and IRELAND, &c.
A FUNERAL ELEGIE.

IS the States Atlas dead, whose strongest Brain
Held it from Ruine, with his might and main?
Could not his Wisdome, Prudence, Prowess, Zeal,
And rich endowments for the Commonweal,
Nor Conqu'ring hand, nor peoples Votes, nor Tears,
Nor Prayers for him to prevent their Fears
Prevail against the stroke of Destiny?
No, 'tis a Statute-Law that all must dye.
Death is impartial, Kings, and Peasants must,
When Death knocks at their doors, lye in the dust
And fate wise Princes seldome so long spares
As common men, their heads are full of cares,
Which is the reason that by most is guest,
Why Joseph younger dyed before the rest.
Scepters and Crowns are oftentimes begirt
With thorny cares that lying in the dirt,
Few men would take them up, did they but know
The thoughts of heart they bring with grief and woe.
So Henry Bullingbrook on his deaths-bed,
Henry the Fifth his Son admonished.
Men oft-times strive for things they know not what,
Which being gain'd, they wish they had them not.
Crowns cannot respite time, nor hinder fate,
But are more likely for to antidate.
This Wise PROTECTOR that is lately dead,
How was He toyl'd with thoughts that fill'd His head
For to preserve from dangers that appear'd
On every side most justly to be fear'd?
Would men lay this to heart I dare profess,
They'd never envy Princes happiness.
They watch when subjects sleep, and counsel take
For publick good, and for the peoples sake.
The People press'd it, and the Parlement
On Him they thought most fit for Government;
And strove to crown Him, but He that refus'd,
And much adoe He had to be excus'd.
Which shew's, that He was loath to undergo
This burthen, but that God would have it so:
Who heard the peoples voice up to the skies,
Sadly complaining for their Liberties.
Reflect on Him departed, whom, in vain,
With Sighs and groans you would call back again.
How did His great Achievements fill His soule,
Almost ubiquitary, to controule,
And rule such multitudes, so divided
In mindes and hearts, hardly to be guided▪
How did His great Employments make Him sad;
Needing more eyes than ever Argus had!
To see in every corner, and descry
Mens private Plots, and hidden Treachery,
Which did retard, and lay'd on Him more load;
Yet could not stop His vast designes abroad.
Let England, Scotland, Ireland speak what Hee
Perform'd, by making One, these Countries Three.
Let France, and Holland, Portugal, and Spain,
Denmark, and Turkie send to us again
A true Report of Victories He got
Where er'e His Armies martch'd, almost where not?
Raising his Trophies not farre from the Line;
Let but Jamaica speak His great designe:
(Hispaniola, by Calumbus found,
Was first intended to be English ground:
But here refus'd; by the King of Castile
Accepted. Gold may yet be gain'd by steil,
Where that the cause is just, but private jarrs
Have often hindred great attempts in warrs.)
The Indies, East and West will say no less;
His Name's Renoun'd with the Antipodes.
Each day brought a new Conquest, Flanders now
In part subdu'd, almost they knew not how:
Dint of his sword Dunkirk no sooner felt,
But all the peoples hearts like Ice did melt.
Nor Pompey, Cesar, great Alexander
Nor great Emperour, the worlds Comander
Prevail'd so farre, counting the time He steer'd
At Helme: yet by this haste 'twas to be fear'd
That these his noble Acts did much portend
Hee hasted drawing near unto his end.
All things did prosper that he undertook:
And if we nearly into causes look;
Hee ner'e attempted any thing, but Cries
And Prayers made way for His Victories:
His Devotion may examples give
To Christian Princes that now do live;
That if they mean to speed, they must implore
Aid from above, and seek to God before.
Thus this Lands Gideon prosper'd alwayes,
And, having settled Peace, ended his dayes.
At such a time, when as most things do stand
In a fair posture, both by Sea and Land,
On the same Day of Thanks, design'd to bee,
For Woster, and Dunbar's great Victorie.
Wee wish that his Successour may excel,
And bee the Sonne of great Jerubbaal.
‘Vivit post FƲNERA VIRTƲS.’
JO. ROW. C. C. C.
FINIS.

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