Three poems upon the death of the late usurper Oliver Cromwel written by Mr. Jo. Drydon, Mr. Sprat of Oxford, Mr. Edm. Waller. Dryden, John, 1631-1700. 1682 Approx. 31 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 15 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A36701 Wing D2382 ESTC R9114 11906206 ocm 11906206 50677 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. A36701) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 50677) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 866:15) Three poems upon the death of the late usurper Oliver Cromwel written by Mr. Jo. Drydon, Mr. Sprat of Oxford, Mr. Edm. Waller. Dryden, John, 1631-1700. Sprat, Thomas, 1635-1713. Waller, Edmund, 1606-1687. [2], 26 p. Printed by William Wilson, And reprinted for R. Baldwin, London : 1659 : 1682. Reproduction of original in Huntington 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 Cromwell, Oliver, 1599-1658 -- Poetry. Cromwell, Oliver, 1599-1658 -- Death and burial -- Poetry. 2002-11 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2002-12 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2003-01 Judith Siefring Sampled and proofread 2003-01 Judith Siefring Text and markup reviewed and edited 2003-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion THREE POEMS Upon the Death of the Late USURPER Oliver Cromwel . Written By Mr. IO. DRYDON . By Mr. SPRAT , of Oxford . By Mr. EDM. WALLER . LONDON : Printed by William Wilson , in the Year , 1659. And Reprinted for R. Baldwin , 1682. HEROIQE STANZA'S , On the Late USURPER Oliver Cromwel . Written after his FVNERAL . ANd now 't is time for their Officious hast , Who would before have born him to the Sky , Like eager Romans , e're all Rites were past , Did let too soon the Sacred Eagle fly . ( 2 ) Though our best notes are treason to his fame , Joyn'd with the loud applause of publick voice ; Since Heav'n , what praise we offer to his name , Hath render'd too authentick by its choice : ( 3 ) Though in his praise no Arts can liberal be , Since they whose Muses have the highest flown , Add not to his Immmortal Memory , But do an Act of friendship to their own . ( 4 ) Yet 't is our duty and our interest too , Such Monuments as we can build to raise ; Lest all the World prevent what we should do , And claim a Title in him by their Praise . ( 5 ) How shall I then begin or where conclude , To draw a Fame so truly Circular ? For in a round what order can be shew'd , Where ●ll the parts so equalperfect are ? ( 6 ) His Grandeur he deriv'd from Heaven alone , For he was Great e're Fortune made him so ; And Wars , like mists that rise against the Sun , Made him but greater seem not greater grow . ( 7 ) No borrowed Bays his Temples did adorn , But to our Crown he did fresh Iewels bring , Nor was his Vertue poysoned soon as born With the two early thoughts of being King. ( 8 ) Fortune ( that easie Mistress of the young , But to her ancient servants coy and hard ) Him at that age her favourites rank'd among When she her best-lov'd Pompey did discard . ( 9 ) He , private , mark'd the faults of others sway , And set as Sea marks for himself to shun ; Not like rash Monacrhs who theiry outh betray By Acts their Age too late would wish undone , ( 10 ) And yet Dominion was not his design , We owe that blessing not to him but Heaven , Which to fair Acts unsought Rewards did joyn , Rewnads that less to him than us were given ( 11 ) Our former Cheifs like sticklers of the War. First sought t' inflame the Parties , then to poise ; The qnarrel lov'd , but did the cause abhor , And did not strike to hurt but make a noise . ( 12 ) War our consumption was their gainful trade , VVe inward bled whilst they prolong'd our pain : He fought to end our fighting , and assaid To stanch the Blood by breathing of the vein . ( 13 ) Swift and resistless through the Land he past , Like that bold Greek who did the East subdue ; And made to Battels such Heroick hast As if on wings of Victory he flew ( 14 ) He fought secure of fortune as of fame , Till by new Maps the Island might be shown , Of Conquests which he strew'd where e're he came , Thick as the Galaxy with Stars is sown . ( 15 ) His Palms though under weights they did not stand , Still thriv'd ; no Winter could his Laurels fade ; Heav'n in his Portraict shew'd a VVorkman's hand And drew it perfect yet without a shade . ( 16 ) Peace was the Prize of all his toyls and care , VVhich VVar had banifh't , and did now restore ; Bolognia's VVall thus mounted in the Air , To Seat themselves more surely than before . ( 17 ) Her safty rescued , Ireland to him owes , And Treacherous Scotland to no int'rest true , Yet blest that fate which did his Arms dispose , Her Land to Civilize asto subdue . ( 18 ) Nor was he like those Stars which only shine , When to pale Mariners they storms portend , He had his calmer influence ; and his Mine Did Love and Majesty together blend . ( 19 ) 'T is true his Count'nance did imprint an awe , And naturally all Souls to his did bow ; As Wands of Divination downward draw , And point to Beds where Sov'raign Gold dothgrow . ( 20 ) When past all offerings to Feretrian Iove He Mars desposd , and Arms to Gowns made yield , Successful Councels did him soon approve As fit for close Intrigues , as open field . ( 21 ) To suppliant Holland he vouchsaf'd a Peace , Our once bold Rival in the British Main , Now tamely glad her unjust claim to cease , And buy our Friendship with her Idol gain . ( 22 ) Fame of th' asserted Sea through Europe blown Made France and Spain ambitious of his Love ; Each knew that side must conquer he would own , And for him fiercely as for Empire strove . ( 16 ) No sooner was the French mans cause embrac'd Than the light Mounsire the grave Don outweigh'd , His fortune turn'd the Scale where it was cast , Though Indian Mines were in the other laid . ( 24 ) When absent , yet we conquer'd in his right ; For though some meaner Artist's Skill were shown , In mingling colours , or in placing light , Yet still the fair designment was his own . ( 25 ) For from all tempers he could service draw ; The worth of each with its allay he knew ; And as the Confident of Nature , saw How she Complexions did divide and brew . ( 26 ) Or he their single vertues did survay By intuition in his own large Breast , Where all the rich Ideas of them lay , That were the Rule and measure to the rest . ( 27 ) When such Heroique Vertue Heaven sets out . The Stars like Commons sullenly obey ; Because it drains them when it comes about , And therefore is a Tax they seldom pay . ( 28 ) From this high-spring our foraign Conquests flow , Which yet more glorious triumphs do portend , Since their Commencement to his Arms they owe , If Springs as high as Fountains may ascend . ( 29 ) He made us Freemen of the Continent Whom Nature did like Captives treat before , To nobler prey 's the English Lyon sent , And taught him first in Belgian walks to rore . ( 30 ) That old unquestioned Pirate of the Land , Proud Rome , with dread , the fate of Dunkirk har'd ; And trembling wish't behind more Alpes to stand , Although an Alxander were her guard . ( 31 ) By his command we boldly crost the Line , And bravely sought where Southern Stars arise , We trac'd the far fetch'd Gold unto the Mine , And that which brib'd our Fathers made our prize ( 32 ) Such was our Prince ; yet own'd a Soul above The highest Acts it could produce to show : Thus poor Mechanique Arts in publick move Whilst the deep Secrets beyond practice go . ( 33 ) Nor dy'd he when his ebbing Fame went less , But when fresh Lawrels courted him to live ; He seem'd but to prevent some new success ; As if above what triumphs Earth can give . ( 34 ) His latest Victories still thickest came , As , near the Center , Motion does increase ; Till he press'd down by his own weighty name , Did , like the Vestal , under Spoils decease . ( 35 ) But first the Ocean as a tribute sent That Giant Prince of all her watery Heard , And th' Isle when her Protecting Genius went Upon his Obsequies loud sighs confer'd . ( 36 ) No Civil broyls have since his death arose , But Faction now by habit does obey : And Wars have that respect for his repose , As Winds for Halcyons when they breed at Sea. ( 37 ) His Ashes in a peaceful Urn shall rest , His Name a great example stands to show How strangely high endeavours may be blest , Where Piety and Valour joyntly go . To the Reverend Dr. WILKINS WARDEN OF WADHAM COLLEDGE IN OXFORD . SIR , SEeing you are pleas'd to think fit that these Papers should come into the publick , which were at first design'd to live only in a Desk , or some private friends hands ; I humbly take the boldness to commit them to the Security which your name and protection will give them with the most knowing part of the world . There are two things especially in which they stand in need of your defence . One is , that they fall so infinitely below the full and lofty Genius of that excellent Poet , who made this way of writing free of our Nation : The other , that they are so little proportion'd and equal to the renown of that Prince on whom they were written . Such great Actions and Lives deserving rather to be the Subjects of the Noblest Pens and most Divine Phansies , than of such small beginners and weak essayers in Poetry , as my self . Against these dangerous Prejudices , there remains no other shield than the universal Esteem and Authority , which your judgment and approbation carries with it . The right you have to them , Sir , is not only upon the account of the Relation you had to this great Person ▪ nor of the General favour which all Arts receive from you ; but more peculiarly by reason of that obligation and zeal with which I am bound to dedicate my self to your service . For , having been a long time the object of your care and Indulgence towards the advantage of my studies and fortune , having been moulded , ( as it were ) by your own hands , and form'd under your Government ; not to intitle you to any thing which my meaness produces , would not only be injustice , but sacrilege . So that if there be any thing here tolerably said , and which deserves Pardon , it is yours , Sir , as well as he , who is Your most Devoted and Obliged Servant . TO THE MEMORY Of the Late USURPER Oliver Cromwel Pindarick Odes . ( 1 ) T Is true , Great Name thou art secure From the forgetfulness and Rage Of Death or Envy , or devouring Age. Thou canst the force and teeth of Time endure . Thy Fame , like men , the elder it doth grow , Will of it self turn whiter too Without what needless Art can do ; Will live beyond thy breath , beyond thy Hearse , Though it were never heard or sung in verse . Without our help , thy Memory is safe ; They only want an Epitaph , That does remain alone Alive in an Inscription Remembred only on the Brass or Marble Stone . 'T is all in vain what we for thee can do , All our Roses and Perfumes Will but officious folly shew , And pious Nothings to such mighty Tombs . All our Incence , Gums and Balm Are but unnecessary duties here : The Poets may their spices spare Their costly Numbers and their tuneful feet : That need not be inbalm'd , which of it self is sweet . ( 2 ) We know to praise thee is a dangerous proof Of our Obedience and our Love : For when the Sun and Fire meet , Th' ones extinguish't quite ; And yet the other never is more bright . So they that writ of Thee and joyn Their feeble names With Thine , Their weaker sparks with thy Illustrious light , Will lose themselves in that ambitious thought , And yet no Flame to thee from them be brought . We know , blest Spirit , thy mighty name Wants not Addition of another's Beam ; It 's for our Pens too high and full of Theam . The Muses are made great by thee , not thou by them . Thy Fames eternal Lamp will live And in thy Sacred Urn survive , Without the food or Oyl , which we can give . 'T is true ; but yet our duty calls our Songs Duty Commands our Tongues , Though thou want not our praises , we Are not excus'd for what we owe to thee : For so men from Religion are not freed . But , from the Altars , Cloud must rise , Though Heaven it self doth nothing need ; And though the Gods don't want , an Earthly Sacrifice . ( 3 ) Great life of Wonders , whose each year Full of new Miracles did appear ! Whos 's every Month might be , Alone a Chronicle or a History ! Others great Actions are But thinly scatter'd here and there ; At best , all but one single Star : But thine the Milky way , All one continued light , and undistinguish't day . They throng'd so close , that nought else could be seen Scarce any common Sky did come between What shall I say , or where begin ? Thou mayest in double Shapes be shown ; Or in thy Arms , or in thy Gown . Like Iove sometime with Warlike Thunder , and Sometimes with peaceful Scepter in thy hand , Or in the Field , or on the Throne ; In what thy Head , or what thy Arm hath done . All that thou didst was so resin'd , So full of Substance , and so strongly joyn'd ; So pure , so weighty Gold , That the least grain of it , If fully spread and beat , Would many leaves , and mighty volumes hold . ( 4 ) Before thy name was publish't , and whilst yet Thou only to thy self wert great : Whilst yet thy happy Bud Was not quite seen , or understood ; It then sure signs of future greatness shew'd ; Then thy domestick worth Did tell the World , what it would be When it should fit occasion see , When a full Spring should call it forth . As bodies , in the Dark and Night , Have the same Colours , the same Red and VVhite , As in the open day and Light ; The Sun doth only show That they are bright , not make them so : So whilst , but private Walls did know What we to such a Mighty mind should owe : Then the same vertues did appear Though in a less , and more Contracted Sphear ; As full , though not as large as since they were . And like great Rivers , Fountains , though At first so deep , thou didst not go ; Though then thine was not so inlarg'd a flood Yet when 't was Little , 't was as clear as good . ( 5 ) 'T is true , thou wast not born unto a Crown , The Scepter 's not thy Fathers , but thy own . Thy Purple was not made at once in haste , But after many other colours past , It took the deepest Princely Dye at last . Thou didst begin with lesser Cares And private Thoughts took up thy private Years : Those hands which were ordain'd by Fates To change the World , and alter States , Practic'd , at first , that vast design On meaner things , with equal mind . That Soul , which should so many Scepters sway . To whom so many Kingdoms should obey , Learn'd first to rule in a Domestick way : So Government , it self began From Family , and single Man , Was by the small relations first Of Husband and of Father nurst And from those less beginnings past , To spread it self , o're all the World at last . ( 6 ) But when thy Country ( then almost enthrall'd ) Thy Vertues and thy Courage call'd , When England did thy Arms intreat And t 'had been sin in thee , not to be great ; When every Stream , and every Flood , Was a true vein of Earth , and ran with blood . When unus'd Arms , and unknown War , Fill'd every place , and every Ear ; When the great Storms and dismal Night Did all the Land afright ; ` T was time for thee , to bring forth all our Light. Thou lest'st thy more delightful Peace Thy Private life and better case ; Then down thy Steel and Armor took , Wishing that it still hung upon the hook : When death had got a large Commission out Throwing her Arrows and her Stings about ; Then thou ( as once the healing Serpent rose ) Was 't listed up , not for thy self but us . ( 7 ) Thy Country wounded 't was , and sick before , Thy Wars and Arms did her restore : Thou knew'st where the disease did lye And like the Cure of Simpathy , Thy strong and certain Remedy Unto the Weapon didst apply , Thou didst not draw the Sword , and so Away the Scabbard throw ; As if thy Country shou'd Be the inheritance of Mars and Blood ; But that when the great work was spun War in it self should be undone : That Peace might land again upon the shore Richer and better than before . The Husbandman no Steel should know None but the useful Iron of the Plow ; That bays might creep on every Spear . And though our Sky was over-spread With a destructive Red , 'T was but till thou , our Sun , didst in full light appear . ( 8 ) When Ajax dyed , the Purple Blood That from his Gaping Wounds had flow'd Turn'd into Letters , every Leaf Had on it writ his Epitaph : So from that Crimson Flood Which thou by fate of times wert led Unwillingly to Shed Letters and Learning rose , and were renew'd . Thou fought'st not out of Envy , Hope or Hate , But to refine the Church and State ; And like the Romans , what er'e thou In the Field of Mars didst mow , Was , that a holy Island thence might grow . Thy Wars , as Rivers raised by a Shour Which Welcome louds do pour ; Though they at first may seem To carry all away , with and inraged Stream Yet did not happen , that they might destroy Or the better parts annoy ; But all the filth and Mud to scower And leave behind a Richer Slime , To give a birth to a more happy power . ( 9 ) In Field unconquer'd , and so well Thou didst in Battels , and in Arms excel , That Steelly Arms themselves might be Worn out in War as soon as thee . Success so close upon thy Troops did wait , As if thou first hadst conquered Fate ; As if uncertain Victory Had been first overcome by thee ; As if her wings were clipt and could not flee , Whilst thou didst only serve , Before thou hadst what first thou didst deserve . Others by thee did great things do , Triumph'st thy self and mad'st them Triumph too : Though they above thee did appear , As yet in a more large and higher sphear , Thou the Great Sun , gav'st light to every Star. Thy self an Army wert alone , And mighty Troops contain'dst in one : Thy only Sword did guard the Land Like that which slaming in the Angels hand From Men God's Garden did defend : But yet thy Sword did more than his , Not only guarded , but did make this Land a Paradise . ( 10 ) Thou sought'st not to be high or great , Not for a Scepter or a Krown , Or Ermyne , Purple or the Throne ; But as the Vestal heat Thy Fire was kindled from above alone . Religion putting on thy shield Brought thee Victorious to the Field : Thy Arms like those which ancient Hero's wore VVere given by the God thou didst adore : And all the Swords , thy Armies had Were on an Heavenly Anvil made . Not Int'rest , or any weak desire Of Rule , or Empire , did thy mind inspire : Thy valour like the holy Fire , Which did before the Persian Armies go , Liv'd in the Camp , and yet was sacred too . Thy mighty Sword anticipates VVhat was reserv'd for Heaven , and those blest Seats And makes the Church triumphant here below . ( 11 ) Though Fortune did not hang on thy Sword , And did obey thy mighty word ; Though Fortune for thy side , and thee , Forgot her lov'd Inconstancy ; Amidst thy Arms and Trophies Thou Wert Valiant , and Gentle too ; Wounded'st thy self , when thou didst kill thy Foe . Like Steel , when it much work hath past That which was rough doth shine at last ; Thy Arms by being oftner us'd , did smoother grow ▪ Nor did thy Battels make thee proud or high ; Thy Conquest rais'd the State not thee : Thou overcame'st thy self in every Victory . As when the Sun in a directer line Upon a Polish'd Golden Shield doth shine , The Shield reflects unto the Sun again his Light ; So when the Heavens smil'd on the in Fight , When thy propitious God had lent Success and Victory to thy Tent ; To Heaven again the Victory was sent . ( 12 ) England , till thou didst come , Confin'd her Valour home ; Then onr own Rocks did stand Bounds to our Fame as well as Land ; And were to us as well As to our Enemies unpassible : We were asham'd , at what we read ; And blush't at what our Fathers did ; Because we came so far behind the dead . The British Lyon hung his Main and droopt , To slavery and burthens stoopt , With a degenerate sleep , and Fear Lay in his Den and languish't there ; At whose least voice before A trembling Eccho ran through every Shore , And shook the World at every Rore . Thou his subdued Courage didst restore , Sharpen his Claws , and in his Eyes Mad'st the same dreadful Lightning rise ; Mad'st him again afright the neighbouring Floods His mighty Thunder sound through all the woods . Thou hast our Military Fame redeem'd Which was lost , or Clouded seem'd , Nay more , Heaven did by thee bestow On us at once an Iron Age , and Happy too . ( 13 ) Till thou Command'st , that Azure Chains of Waves Which Nature round about us sent Made us to every Pirate slaves , Was rather burden than an Ornament . Those fields of Sea that washt our shores Were plow'd and reap'd , by other hands than ours . To us the Liquid Mass Which doth about us run As it is to the Sun , Only a Bed to sleep in was . And not , as now , a powerful throne To shake and sway , the World Thereon . Our Princes in their hand a Globe did shew , But not a perfect one Compos'd of Earth and Water too . But thy Command the Floods obey'd ; Thou all the Wilderness of Water sway'd ; Thou didst but only Wed the Sea Not make her equal , but a slave to thee . Neptune himself did bear thy Yoke , Stooped and trembled at thy Stroke : He that ruled all the Main Acknowledg'd thee his Soveraign . And now the Conquer'd Sea doth pay More Tribute to thy Thames ; than that unto the Sea. ( 14 ) Till now our Valour did our selves more hurt ; Our Wounds to other Nations were a sport ; And as the Earth , our Land produced Iron and Steel which should to tear our selves be ( used . Our Strength within it self did break , Like Thundering — Cannons Crack , And kill those that were nere ; While the Enemies secur'd and untouch't were . But now our Trumpets thou hast made to sound Against our Enemies Walls in Foraign-ground , And yet no Eccho back on us returning found . England is now the happy peaceful Isle , And all the World the while Is exercising Arms and Wars With forraign or Intestine Jars . The Torch extinguish't here , we lend to others Oyl , We give to all , yet know our selves no fear , We reach the Flame of ruine and of death Where e're we please Our Swords t'unsheath . hilst we in calm and temperate Regions breath . Like to the Sun , whose heat is hurl'd Through every corner of the World ; Whose Flame through all the Air doth go , And yet the Sun himself the while no fire doth know . ( 15 ) Besides the Glories of thy peace Are not in number , nor in value less ; Thy hand did Cure and close the Scars Of our bloody Civil Wars ; Not only Lanc'd , but heal'd the Wound ; Made us again , as healthy and as sound . When now the Ship was well nigh lost After the Storm upon the Coast , By its Mariners endanger'd most ; When they their Ropes and Helms had left , When the Planks asunder clest , And Floods came roaring in with mighty sound ; Thou a safe Land , and Harbour for us found , And savedst those that would themselves have drown'd . A work which none but Heaven and thee could do , Thou mad'st us happy whe're we would or no : Thy Judgment , Mercy , Temperance so great , As if those Vertues only in thy mind had seat . Thy Piety not only in the Field but Peace , When Heaven seem'd to be wanted least . Thy Temples not like Janu's only were Open in time of VVar : VVhen thou hadst greater cause of fear Religion and the Awe of Heaven possest . All places and all times alike , thy Breast . ( 16 ) Nor didst thou only for thy Age provide , But for the years to come beside , Our after-times , and late posterity Shall pay unto thy Fame , as much as we ; They too , are made by thee . When Fate did call thee to a higher Throne , And when thy Mortal work was done , When Heaven did say it , and thou must be gon : Thou him to bear thy burthen chose , Who might ( if any could ) make us forget thy loss : Nor hadst thou him design'd , Had he not been Not only to thy Blood , but Vertue Kin ; Not only Heir unto thy Throne , but Mind . 'T is He shall perfect all thy Cures And , with as sine a Thread , weave out thy Loom . So , One did bring the Chosen people from Their Slavery and Fears , Led them through their Pathless Road , Guided himself by God , He brought them to the Borders : but a Second hand Did settle and Secure them , in the Promis'd Land. UPON THE LATE STORM , AND DEATH Of the Late USURPER Oliver Cromwel Ensuing the same . By Mr. Waller . WE must resign ; Heav'n His great Soul do's claim In storms as loud , as His Immortal Fame : His dying groans , his last Breath shakes our Isle , And Trees uncut fall for His Funeral Pile , About His palace their broad Roots are tost Into the Air ; So Romulus was lost : New Rome in such a Tempest mis't their King , And from Obeying fell to Worshipping . On Oeta's top thus Hercules lay dead , VVith ruin'd Okes and Pines about him spread : The Poplar too , whose bough he wont to wear On his Victorious Head , lay prostrate there . Those his last fury from the Mountain rent , Our dying Hero , from the Continent , Ravish'd whole Towns ; and Forts from Spaniards rest ▪ As his last Legacy to Britain left . The Ocean which so long our hopes confin'd , Could give no limits to His vaster mind ; Our Bounds inlargement was his latest toyl ; Nor hath he left us Prisoners to our Isle ; Under the Tropick is our language spoke , And part of Flanders hath receiv'd our yoke . From Civil Broils he did us disingage , Found nobler objects for our Martial rage ; And with wise Conduct to his Country show'd Their Ancient way of conquering abroad . Ungrateful then , if we no Tears allow To him that gave us Peace and Empire too . Princes that fear'd him , grieve , concern'd to see No pitch of glory from the Grave is free . Nature her self took notice of his death , And sighing swel'd the Sea with such a breath That to remotest Shores her Billows rold , Th' approaching Fate of her great-Ruler told . FINIS