In memory of Our Late Most Gracious Lady, Mary, Queen of Great-Britain, France, and Ireland a poem / by John Phillips. Phillips, John, 1631-1706. 1695 Approx. 10 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 7 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A54763 Wing P2086 ESTC R1621 11876273 ocm 11876273 50258 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A54763) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 50258) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 505:8) In memory of Our Late Most Gracious Lady, Mary, Queen of Great-Britain, France, and Ireland a poem / by John Phillips. Phillips, John, 1631-1706. [2], 10 p. Printed for John Harris ..., London : 1695. Reproduction of original in the University of Illinois (Urbana-Champaign Campus). Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. 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Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Mary -- II, -- Queen of England, 1662-1694 -- Poetry. 2002-09 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2002-10 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2002-11 Judith Siefring Sampled and proofread 2002-11 Judith Siefring Text and markup reviewed and edited 2002-12 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion IN MEMORY Of Our Late Most Gracious Lady , MARY Queen of Great-Britain , France , and Ireland . A POEM , By Mr. IOHN PHILLIPS . LONDON , Printed for Iohn Harris , at the Harrow in the Poultry . MDCXCV . IN MEMORY Of Our Late Most Gracious Lady , MARY Queen of Great-Britain , France , and Ireland . I Would begin , but know not how ; The Subject's Great , tho' vail'd with Sorrow now ; Since Death , that only cou'd , Has lay'd the Illustrious Theam so low . We grant howe're Distinction still in Dust ; For future Ages , as a Sacred Trust , In Veneration to the Grave allow'd , With Sumptuous Mausoleum's hid , it lies ; Yet still the poor unhappy Mortal dyes . Unfortunate Race of proud Mankind ! By an eternal Doom , o're all Impartial , To a few Years of crazy Life confin'd , And only in their primitive Dust Immortal ▪ As if no other way could have been found For Nature's Wheel to have turn'd round . When this same Nature , that in Time's Abyss Long had drowsie lain before , Rouz'd into Action by a greater Power , First warmly brooded o're the Pregnant Mass , And all the World was perfeted in Man , She Step-dame turn'd , and would not Life bequeath , But on strict Terms to have it back again . That was but lent , She cry'd , and streight ordain'd Her grand Plenipotentiary Death , Her Debt with utmost Rigour to demand . Nor Prince nor Peasant spare , said she , No Age or Sex , no Title or Degree . And least the Task should be too great for One , Gave him a Train of numerous Diseases , From which in vain the silly Fugitives run To lonely Rocks , and distant Wildernesses . Death searches every Nook and every Hole From the Antarctic to the Artic Pole , And the magnificent Structure , Body and Mind , First rais'd by Gods in Council join'd , In dreary Darkness lays , tho' we are safely bold , And hope , we shall once more a brighter Light behold . To these harsh Laws subjected fell Great-Britain's QUEEN ; Too good to Dye , had She not mortal been . The Phoenix of Her Age : Thrice happy I 'le , If such another from her Funeral Pile Might have renew'd the Glory of her Throne . Let Ancient Story lasting Altars raise To Chast Zenobia , or Drusilla's Praise ; Drusilla , She who by Augustus side Iove's Themis and his Metis both supply'd ; Let Modern Records tell who loud Encomiums won For single Vertues found distinct in every One ; Here Heav'ns Perfections all in full Resort Kept both a Sacred and a Splendid Court. All center'd in our QUEEN , Earth's Admiration , As many Stars make up one Constellation . She was the Goddess in her towring Sphere , The rest but Demi-Goddesses to Her. The Best of Queens , the Best of Wives , the Best of Friends ; For Friend and Wife , if not reciprocall , The Tye dissolves , and the Relation ends . Thus piously instructed , She , When the Chief Master of the Family , ( A Family no less then Three wide Realms , And yet but one continu'd Houshold all ) Waging Just Wars abroad , exchang'd soft Ease And Conjugal Delights for Martial Toil , To stem th' Invasion that all Europe overwhelms , She , the Indulgent Mistress , all the while , At home kept all in Order , all in Peace ; And the vast Houshold liv'd releas'd from Fear , O'reshadow'd by her Providential Care. While She , from Dover-Cliffs to distant Thule , By One Obeying , Millions learnt to Rule . Like Cynthia thus , the farther from her Sun , She still more brightly and more dazling shon . Had Salem's King , for Wisdom so Renown'd , Been now alive , with all his Glory Crown'd , Excited by her Fame alone , He would have left Iudea's pompous Throne , And to this Wonder of her Sex have pay'd The Visit which to Him Sabaean Princess made . Dost thou not , Nature , now repent Thy Primitive Rigour , and Austere Decree That blinded Fate , and laid that strict Restraint On Death inexorable made by Thee ? Permit Us to accuse thy Conduct , Thou That to Harts and Ravens odly dost allow Long Useless Life ; but to a narrow Span Hast warp'd the Days of the World 's Sov'raign , Man. In this more cruel , and th' unequal Friend Of thy lov'd Darling dire Mortality , That still the Vertuous soonest meet their End. The gaudy Morsels they , cull'd out by Death , His Tast to pamper and perfume his Breath When over-glutted with the vulgar Fry. Yet Heaven is surely their design'd Abode : Could there no other way to Heaven be found , But through the Grave , and Darkness under Ground ? 'T is somewhat hard , if Mortals might complain , And Man be the inferiour World's proud Sovereign , That Nature should his Kingship thus controul , For him to want the poor Prerogative , That Vertue should not always Vice out-live . Soonest ! — and that renews our just Complaints , That Heav'n shou'd be so eager that abounds in Saints . Had she prolong'd her Days , and walk'd with God , Or in a fiery Chariot shun'd the common Road , We never had repin'd To see th' Anointed Union broke : But to be swept away among the Vulgar Croud , That makes us ' wail the fatal Stroke , And want of Heav'ns Exemption , twice so kind , Yet all the while to only Two confin'd . But whether rambles my Enthusiast Muse ? Oh — Grief 's a Phrensie , frequently trranscends Those Bounds which only Rapture can excuse , And oft in vain with Fate and Heav'n contends . Thus argu'd the Chaldean deep and loud , Tho' otherwise for Patience so renown'd , When by the Burthen of his Anguish bow'd . Then Grief retire , thou hast thy Tribute duly paid ; The rest in Annual Rites must be display'd ; For when a Saint like ours to Heaven ascends , Grief stays below , — And only Joy the Seraphim attends . Our Tears on Earth to certain Measures are restrain'd ; For should our long excessive Moans , Like Niobe congeal us into Stones , No Mortal yet e'er saw restor'd What the relentless Grave has once devour'd . Thus Thirty Days — In Moab's Plains by their loud Grief detain'd The Sacred Host of Israel wept When their Divine Commander slept , And God conceal'd Their Captain , and his Friend . — 'T is but Self Int'rest still With grudging Tears to wail Her endless Gain , While only we deplore the Loss our Selves sustain . For now , — Our Saint e're this , in Bright Seraphick State , Has made her publick Entry through the Iaspar Gate , Where she through Walls of vast Transparent Gems , And Starry Lustre into Tresses curl'd , Looks down with Pity on the Wicked World. Vouchsafe a Royal Saint an Apotheosis So just to be allow'd as this . For why should gaudy Superstition claim The Keys of Paradice , And real Sanctity not have the same , Or Greater Privilege to Canonize ? She wore a Crown on Earth ; Who can surmise That she should lose her Crown by going to Heav'n ? Nor would the Question be too closely driv'n , Where the Effects of Prayer to Saints would fall , Should Rome on Hers , we on Our MARY call . Now Towring Muse descend again , And to the cheared World explain Th' Enigma of our Joy and Sorrow Subaltern , So blended , that at once we both Rejoice and Mourn . We thought th' Omnipotent at first provok'd , And our Disaster with Impatience brook'd , Britannia languishing with Arms across To see her Welfare weltring in her Loss . But then , Fresh Joys Arriv'd , Finding Victorious WILLIAM still surviv'd , And to his Peoples Hearts more closely joyn'd , By New Espousals of Address'd Affection . Britannia then , — Acknowledg'd Heav'n less Angry and more Kind , The more she stood in need of Heav'ns Protection . Long may He be , still Arm'd in our Defence , The Care of wakefull Providence . And long may be his Martial Flame The Terrour of proud Bourbon's Hated Name . For Mighty Works , and Wonderfull Events , Heav'n still prepares Heroic Instruments . Him all Men grant the Instrument prepar'd , And by the Gallick Titan only fear'd . Should His Support , by Prudence Fortunate , Once fail the Common Cause , I dread the Fate Of Europe all into Confusion hurl'd , Like the Unbolted Frame of the Dissolving World. But This our Hope , and This our Joy sustains , Tho' MARY's gone , yet WILLIAM still remains . FINIS .