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A POEM, [ON THE DEATH OF Our Late Soveraign Lady Queen MARY.]

1 TUn'd to the solemn strains of general Woe,
2 Do thou my Muse thy Pious sorrow show,
3 And let the mighty Consternation prove,
4 That Grief, tho' Cold, as much of Heat may move,
5 As the first Raptures of aspiring Love.
6 Hark! how the dismal Trump of busie Fame
7 Does to the worlds unwilling ears proclaim
8 Our Royal Mistresses lamented Fate,
9 And Deaths proud Triumph or'e the Just, and Great;
10 Not the Dread Call of Heaven at the last Day,
11 When Souls unsentenc'd shou'd for Judgment stay,
12 Cou'd more amazing Terror then infuse,
13 Than Europe shook with, at the wounding News:
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14 Fate by this unexpected loss has shown,
15 The force of Grief before was never known;
16 Ev'n Envy that Injurious Hypocrit:
17 That, at her Virtues Noon, affirm'd it Night,
18 Now blind with gazing on her Lustre lies,
19 And sheds her Praises at her watring Eyes:
20 Her murm'ring Foes, that thought themselves Opprest,
21 Are now in undistinguish Sables Drest:
22 For each Religion did its Faith enjoy,
23 She One defended, but did none destroy,
24 Unless to bring the day destruction be,
25 When Bigotts wander in Obscurity:
26 Thus, tho' to different Paths of Faith w'incline,
27 Yet all Opinions in their Sorrow joyn:
28 So Jarring Rivals, when the Fair one dyes,
29 Like long lov'd friends embrace with weeping Eyes.
30 When Heav'n after the Universal Flood,
31 With new-born Souls th' unpeopled world renew'd,
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32 Her Brighter Spirit sure was kept above
33 As the best Pattern of Immortal Love,
34 Yet, after Thousands of revolving Years,
35 In frailèr flesh th'Imprison'd Soul appears:
36 But, as the Sun, till in the Westen Skies,
37 Lets none behold him with undazl'd Eyes:
38 So here on Earth her Virtues shone so bright,
39 That none cou'd praise 'em, till they saw 'twas Night
40 She's Sett: Nor cou'd this Tedious life endure,
41 (Too long a Penance for a Soul so Pure)
42 Alas! she long'd her first Abode to see,
43 And mourn'd her Absence from Divinity,
44 Grac't with her Fellow-Angels as she went,
45 She rain'd her Virtues from the Firmament,
46 And if a stream of Virtue's found below,
47 It must from her the Boundless Ocean flow.
48 Now tho' the Sea supplies all Streams, that run,
49 Yet that it self is guided by the Moon,
50 So was her brighter Soul by strict Devotion.
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51 So Constantly her Pious Vows she pay'd,
52 So fixt her thoughts, that even in Dreams she Pray'd,
53 So fast her wants her giving God reliev'd,
54 Her Pray'rs were still but thanks for Gifts receiv'd:
55 Her Faith unbounded gave her Reason Law,
56 When this commanded th' other stood in Awe:
57 Religious Discord she might well prevent,
58 For in Example she was Argument.
59 Her Fruitful Soul with Endless Virtue blest
60 With Various Flowers was like a Garden drest,
61 Where Choice stood unresolv'd which Scent was best,
62 Alternate Odours still perfum'd the Air,
63 Occasion was the Season of the Year,
64 Which like the Kind returning Spring reviv'd
65 Each Good that slept; for tho' it slept it liv'd,
66 One Tree there was, which Cold and Frost cou'd bear,
67 The Bay-Devotion flourisht all the Year.
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68 But, as the Fruit alone commends the Tree,
69 So did Her Virtues praise her Piety,
70 Of which the Eldest-born was Charity.
71 And this the Needy to their Comfort knew;
72 For, while She liv'd, They Charitable grew;
73 Heav'n did but lend the Sums it might bestow,
74 And took Receits for all it did allow;
75 For still She Intrest paid to th' Poor below;
76 And if their number did increas'd appear,
77 Sometimes she from her private Wants wou'd spare,
78 And Trusted Heav'n was in Debt to Her.
79 How many Parents have their Children sav'd
80 From threatning Want by her sure Alms reliev'd?
81 What Tribes has she receiv'd from hands unknown,
82 Which She with Joy Adopted, as her own?
83 Methinks I see a Starving Mothers Grief,
84 Strugling 'twixt Nature, and her Babes relief,
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85 Unable to endure the Infants Cry,
86 And yet it need less able to supply,
87 At length she yields to hard Necessity.
88 And must we part (She cry's) my Darling Joy?
89 Must Absence all our Harmless Love destroy?
90 Then sighing Kisses it, and huggs it close,
91 And dreads to part but more her hopes to loose.
92 Resolv'd, at last, she stops her flowing Eyes,
93 And strait to Court unseen the Babe Conveys,
94 Secure of Nourishment she leaves it there,
95 And next day finds it in the Nurses Care.
96 Thus, least hereafter some show'd want Relief,
97 Her Early Pitty was preventative,
98 The Old, who seem'd to pine in Cold Despair,
99 Reviv'd their Hopes, and Crown'd 'em still in her:
100 So when our Saviour the Diseas'd did Cure,
101 He brought from Distant parts the Sick, and Poor,
102 Who, by some Fam'd Physicians Art giv'n ore,
103 Swell'd with new Hopes, now feel their Pains no more.
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104 At least with greater ease their ach endure,
105 Half heal'd by Faith, er'e they can reach the Cure,
106 And as in Tribes the new Beleivers came,
107 The Dumb, the Lunatick, the Blind, and Lame,
108 They Walkt, they Saw they Spoke, and prais'd his Name.
109 Ne're did a Life so short more Good produce,
110 In which each Minute was of Double Use,
111 So soon she Finisht her Appointed task,
112 Her Virtue labour'd more, than Heav'n did ask.
113 That when her hasty Soul arriv'd above,
114 She did their equal Joys, and Wonder move,
115 All knew the Place near Gods Right Hand was Hers;
116 But thought it Vacant yet for several Years.
117 Now tho her Charity did Boundless Reign,
118 Yet not the Poor the Greatest Loss sustain:
119 For She to many a Subsistance left,
120 Tho' of The Foundress, not the Dole Bereft.
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121 Our Grief alas! yet rises in Degree,
122 As those that mourn her do in Quality:
123 Next to the Poor are those of Noble Arts,
124 Which she encourag'd to their best Deserts:
125 Musick, and Poetry, not long agoe,
126 Our Nations Pride, were almost Treason Now,
127 But that they both our Tides of Grief can move,
128 As well as heretofore our Joys, or Love.
129 At Court the Rising Flood of Pious Teares,
130 Yet Greater still, (as does the Loss) appears,
131 Where all like walking Ghosts, in Grief are seen,
132 For a lost Friend, a Mother and a Queen.
133 But oh! the Rapid Force, that sweeps away
134 Great Caesars Quiet, and his Chearful Day!
135 Now! now! my Muse: let loose thy Streams of Woe,
136 Let 'em unbounded, as the Ocean flow,
137 Swell with big Sighs the Raging Tempest high,
138 Then mount, and ore the distant Danger fly,
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139 And in thy Transient view, survey the Soul,
140 Whom all around the Angry Billows rowle,
141 Behold the Shipwreck of our Monarchs Joy,
142 Which Thirsty Death in Fields cou'd ne're Destroy:
143 Thus Mariners the Seas Abroad o're come,
144 Yet sink with all the Fraight in sight of Home.
145 Why! why! Ye Pow'rs must Bleeding Majesty
146 So vast a Wound receive from Destiny?
147 Is't not enough to see a Nation Groan?
148 But must the Loss be doubled on a Throne?
149 Why did ye Gild with such a Glorious Sun
150 His Happy life, and let it set so soon?
151 The light, that slowly dies leaves sight behind:
152 But, when 'tis snatcht away, it strikes us Blind;
153 Without Regret we spare the Absent Day,
154 Resting secure of his Returning Ray;
155 But when for ever he resigns his Light,
156 'Tis worse, than Death to live in such a Night,
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157 In such a Night, who moves is sure to stray,
158 In such a Night our Guide might loose his way,
159 And tho' th' unguarded Flock shou'd quite be lost,
160 The Shepard first is Hurt, and feels the Affliction most,
161 Thus our Great Master in his Grief has shown,
162 He lov'd the life Departed, as his own.
163 In vain, alas! wou'd weak Philosophy
164 Prescribe us Rules to Govern Passions by:
165 For when a Joy of such Important weight
166 Is taken out, Grief turns the Ballance strait,
167 Reason but holds the Scales, and sits to see,
168 The Joy remov'd, if it Proportion be:
169 So tho' each Thought new sorrow shou'd Create,
170 T'wou'd be to what he lost but equal Weight,
171 And what he lost his Griefs alone Relate.
172 For what was Obvious to each Common Eye
173 Declar'd more Virtues did in secret lye
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174 Which from the Darkned world were still conceal'd,
175 And to her Mourning Lord alone reveal'd,
176 Tho' from her Orb she gave Promiscuous Light,
177 Some shortned Raies He kept from Human sight,
178 And only lets our Dazled Fancy Rove,
179 To form the Virtues of her Fruitful Love,
180 Tho' Heav'n no Off-spring from her Bed design'd,
181 But Bad her Live the Phoenix of her Kind
182 Her Love was Fruitful still: for love's i'th Mind.
183 Her Soul was Married to her Monarchs Will,
184 Which he cou'd scarce declare, she wou'd so soon fulfill,
185 Desire of Pleasing, as the Child of Love,
186 They Both, like Tender Parents, did approve,
187 She more of Mothers fondness might express,
188 He seldom sought it, but ne're lov'd it less.
189 Had such a Bride to Solomon been given,
190 He ne're had wander'd for his Amorous Heav'n,
191 Her unexhausted Charms had fixt his Love,
192 Nor cou'd a Change his Happiness improve.
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193 So firm a Union Nature never made,
194 In whom we had the sure Foundation lai'd,
195 Of a most Perfect, and Immortal Bliss,
196 Till Death convinc'd our fancy'd Happiness,
197 Fondly secure of their Eternal Sway.
198 T'our selves we promis'd Everlasting Day:
199 For, while so Bright their Godlike Virtues shone,
200 Abroad His Courage, and Her Care at Home,
201 What cou'd we think of such an Heavenly Pair,
202 But they Immortal as their Actions were
203 For, till one dy'd, we thought that Heaven was here
204 All the poor help weak Reason can afford,
205 To calm the sighs of her afflicted Lord,
206 Is, when each Nation shall the News receive,
207 As they the Loss, so they'll divide the grief:
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208 Nay ev'n in Louis She must Nature stir,
209 If not his Sorrow, yet at least his Fear,
210 He Dreads, that Her's the Fate of France may prove,
211 Knowing her Death our Monarchs Soul does move,
212 Who by this loss secure from Greater Harms,
213 His Foes regardless now may dare to Arms,
214 And having nought, that more his mind can Load,
215 He doubts will Double all his Rage Abroad.
216 Yet hold my Muse, thy wandring Wing retain,
217 A mournful Thought now lures thee back again,
218 When to the Restless Toiles of Horrid War
219 Our King Inexorable shall repair,
220 Whom shall he leave, our Guardian Angel Here?
221 Or, when his Hard-fought Battles he has Won,
222 Where shall be joyful throw his Lawrels down?
223 Whose Grateful Love his Conquests now shall Crown?
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224 Secure of Late we spar'd our Warlike Prince,
225 E're our Domestick safty fled from Hence,
226 Who, while Her Absent Hero led the War,
227 Taught us the Pleasure of Obedience Here.
228 Yet let him go, and safe return with Spoile,
229 Our Greif, alas! prevents a Civil Broil,
230 Whatere's Abroad, at Home it must be Peace,
231 The Woes we feel Rebellion can't redress,
232 We're Crush't to Concord by our Miseries.
233 Look down, Bright Saint from thine AEtherial Seat,
234 And view the Pious Ruins of thy State,
235 Asswage the Torrent of our Monarchs Woe,
236 Which o're his Drowning Reason seems to Flow,
237 Return the Hero's Part that reign'd in Thee,
238 When thou in Smiles didst meet Mortality,
239 Teach him thy Early Fate, like Thee, to bear,
240 Nor let him Woman in his Greifs Appear,
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241 Let Happy Dreams inform his Restless Mind,
242 To what Advantage thou hast life resign'd,
243 Give to his Joyful View thy Crowns of Bliss,
244 And to his Thoughts restore their Wand'ring Peace,
245 While to his Sorrows this Releif is Giv'n,
246 H'as lost a Queen on Earth, and gain'd a Freind in Heav'n.
FINIS.

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Title (in Source Edition): A POEM, [ON THE DEATH OF Our Late Soveraign Lady Queen MARY.]
Author: Colley Cibber
Themes:
Genres: eulogy; heroic couplet

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Source edition

Cibber, Colley, 1671-1757. A poem on the death of our late soveraign lady Queen Mary by C. Cibber. London: Printed for John Whitlock, 1695, pp. 1-15. [6],15p.

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