 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
An Essay upon the Earl of Shaftsbury's Death.
Whenever Tyrants fall, the AirAnd other Elements prepare
To Combat in a Civil-War,
Large Oaks up by the Roots are torn,
The Savage Train
Upon the Forest or the Plain
To a Procession through the Sky are born,
Sulphureous Fire displays
Its baneful Rays,
Then from the hollow Womb
Of some rent Cloud does come
The Blazing Meteor or destructive Stone;
Distant below the Grumbling Wind
Pent up in Earth' a vent would find;
But failing, roars
Like broken Waves upon the Rocky Shores.
135
Those Buildings which did brave the Sky,
Now in an humble posture lye,
While here and there
A subtile Priest and Sooth-sayer
The Fatal Dirges howl.
Thus when the first twelve Cæsars fell,
A Jubilee was kept in Hell;
But when that Heav'n designs, the Brave
Shall quit a Life to fill a Grave,
The Sun turns pale and Courts a Cloud,
From Mortals sight his Grief to shroud,
Shakes from his Face a shower of Rain,
And faintly views the World again.
The Tombs of Ancient Heroes weep,
Hard Marble Tears lets fall:
The Genii, who possess the Deep,
And seem the Islands Fate to keep,
Lament the Funeral.
Silence denotes the greatest Woe,
So Calms precede a Storm,
Deep Waters smoothest are, we know,
And bear the evenest form.
So 'tis when Patriots cease to be,
And hast to Immortality;
Their Noble Souls blest Angels bear
To the Ethereal Palace there,
Mounting upon the ambient Air,
While wounded Atomes press the Ear
Of Mortals, who far distant are.
Hence sudden Grief does seize the Mind,
For good and brave agree;
Each being Moves unto his Kind
By Native Sympathy.
136
The Fabius of the Isle,
A sullen Look the Great o're-spread,
The Common People lookt as dead,
And Nature droopt the while.
Living; Religion, Liberty,
A mighty Fence he stood,
Peers Rights and Subjects Property
None stronglier did maintain than he,
For which Rome sought his Blood.
Deep Politician, English Peer,
That quash't the Power of Rome,
The change of State they brought so near,
In bringing Romish Worship here,
Was by thy Skill o're-thrown:
'Less Heav'n a Miracle design'd
Sure it could never be
One so Gyantick in his Mind,
That soar'd a-pitch 'bove humane kind,
So small a Corps should be.
Time was, the Court admir'd thy Shrine,
And did the Homage pay:
But wisely thou didst Countermine,
And having found the black Design,
Scorn'd the Ignoble way.
Having thus strongly stem'd the Tide,
And set thy Country free:
Thou, Cato like, an Exile prid'st,
'Mongst Enemies belov'd resid'st,
Whilst Good men Envy thee.
And as the Sacred Hebrew Seer
Canaan to view desir'd;
So Heav'n did shew this Noble Peer
The end of Popish Malice here,
Which done, his Soul Expir'd
| Poems on Affairs of State | |