ON THE DEATH Of the Late Lieutenant General TALMACH, A POEM.
Humbly Dedicated to her GRACE the Dutchess of Lauderdale,
By E. Ward, Gent.
Licensed according to Order.
LONDON, Printed for, and Sold by James Blackwel, at Bernards-Inn-Gate, Holbourn, 1694.
On the Death of the late Lieutenant General TALMACH.
AS sturdy Oak its Tow'ring branches shoot,
Nourish'd by sap drawn from a noble Root,
May, for a time, (by its defensive Arms)
Survive the Dangers of destructive Storms;
Till some chance Thunder, from a Cloud, shall wound
Th' aspiring Plant, and rend it to the ground:
Thus shatter'd, mourn'd it lyes, with Earth laid even,
Whose lofty Boughs once play'd 'twixt us and Heaven.
So fell brave Talmach, from a Stock deriv'd,
Ancient as Laws, within whose bounds he liv'd:
His Ancestors in FAME's Records took place,
Crown'd with high Honours 'mong the Norman Race;
Whose Aid (in that old memorable War)
Taught their great PRINCE to be a Conqueror;
And rais'd him to a Pyramid of Fame,
By brave Attempts they truly Great became,
Bentley
Bentley in Suffolk.
their Seat, and Talmach then their Name.Thus did their Line in streams of Brav'ry run,
Ending in Glory, as their Race begun,
Great their fore-Fathers, great their Warlike Son;
Whose bold undaunted Soul was ever free
To face all Dangers, and dare Destiny:
Thro' clouds of Smoak, where sulph'rous Fames arose
Lighting the Vanquish'd to their last Repose:
Through storms of flying Deaths; he boldly past,
Scorning the Balls from Wars loud Engines cast;
But still press'd on, till he had bravely shown,
What by a Gallant Hero might be done,
And in each Action (hasty to be great)
Show'd Resolution to be Fortunate.
When England (careless doting on her Ease,
Wrap'd up in Riches, Luxurie, and Peace)
Grew negligent and wanton, void of care,
Proving an Enemy to none but War;
Which France observ'd, grew Insolent and Proud,
Rais'd up her head, (who long to us had bow'd)
Casting on, Europe a devouring eye;
Whilst blinded Albion stood regardless by,
Till watchful Providence step'd in between,
Acted her part, and chang'd the frightful Scene:
None then (by the Ʋnited Crowns) was thought
So fit as Talmach, for a brave Exploit,
To strike at France, and dare those threatning Frowns,
Eclips'd the Glories of her Neighbouring Thrones.
In order to Effect the great Design,
Dangerous t'attempt, ignoble to decline,
He hoists up Sail, to the French Coast he Steers;
Urg'd by no Vanity, nor held by Fears;
Mov'd by unbias'd thoughts, he cooly weighs
The little prospect of a great Success,
Resolving (what Repulse so e're was given)
To bravely Act, with confidence in Heaven.
Big with encreasing Hope he should prevail,
He Ploughs the Ocean with a prosp'rous Gale,
And nimbly to the wish'd for shore he run,
Where Life was to be lost, or Conquest won;
His soul enliven'd with a generous thought,
That lasting Glories must be nobly bought,
Made him resolve, when the great Work began,
To Act like something greater than a Man.
Now the whole Fleet, with swelling Sails, were brought
Near to that Shore, for which the Hero sought,
His loud mouth'd Agents roar'd out his Command,
And gave the Signal to prepare for Land;
Whilst ev'ry Soldier fearless of the Grave,
Took up a Resolution to be Brave:
The Active Gen'ral, leaping on the Strand,
First took possession of the promis'd Land,
Where the sly Foe rush'd from an Ambuscade,
From hidden Batt'rys roaring Engines play'd,
Defeating all the projects he had lay'd:
The restless Sea in Mountains did arise,
As if affrighted at the dreadful noise;
Ill boding Clouds in Monstrous shapes appear'd,
A Storm arose.
And hollow Winds, by trembling Sailors heard;
Nature, unhing'd in all things, look'd awry,
To show the Fate of some great Man was nigh:
Surprise and Terrour now their hopes o'er-cast,
Death threatning ev'ry Landed Soldiers last;
Whilst the brave Talmach still undaunted stood,
Fearing the loss of Honour, more than Blood;
Till Providence, by some neglect, gave way
For Envy her Mischievous Pranks to play,
Pressing through Dangers, which he scorn'd to fear,
Met a Destructive Messenger of War,
Which nobly he receiv'd, unmov'd in thought,
Smil'd at the dreadful Message which he brought;
And bleeding Fought, till Nature Strength deny'd,
To show that Courage; he was forc'd to hide,
But still alive was born away with Joy,
As old Anchises through the Flames of Troy,
Down to his Bark, where full of pains he lay,
Tumbling on Surges of an angry Sea;
Where gaping Waves, impatient of their Prey,
Seem'd eager to intomb so Rich a Clay.
Thus through a tossing Tempest was he brought
Back from the fatal Sands, whereon he Fought,
To Plimouth, where his Soul from Cares withdrew,
Shook off her Robes of Earth, and bid adieu;
Leaving behind a Memory so great,
Will bury Monuments, and out-live Fate.
Wisdom, in all his Actions, was his Guide,
Patience his Care, and Worthiness his Pride:
No Enterprise, in War, by him begun,
Was through neglect e're lost, or Rashness won:
No Prince, but his, had such a Friend to trust,
So Truly Ʋaliant, Merciful, and Just,
In Conduct Wise, in Conversation Grave,
Generous in Conquest, and in Battle Brave;
In his Command Good, Affable, and Kind,
Moral in Acts, and of a Noble Mind,
Loyal to's Prince, and to his Countrey Just,
True to his Friend, and Faithful to his Trust:
Whose Memorable Deeds shall Deathless be,
Rise with his Dust, and face Eternity.
FINIS.