Three poems upon the death of His late Highnesse Oliver lord protector of England, Scotland, and Ireland written by Mr Edm. Waller, Mr Jo. Dryden, Mr Sprat of Oxford. Upon the late storme and of the death of His Highnesse ensuing the same Waller, Edmund, 1606-1687. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A67351 of text R11197 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing W526). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 32 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 19 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A67351 Wing W526 ESTC R11197 12929335 ocm 12929335 95613 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. A67351) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 95613) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 991:18) Three poems upon the death of His late Highnesse Oliver lord protector of England, Scotland, and Ireland written by Mr Edm. Waller, Mr Jo. Dryden, Mr Sprat of Oxford. Upon the late storme and of the death of His Highnesse ensuing the same Waller, Edmund, 1606-1687. Dryden, John, 1631-1700. Poem upon the death of his late Highness Oliver, Lord Protector of England, Scotland, and Ireland. Sprat, Thomas, 1635-1713. To the happie memory of the most renowned Prince Oliver, Lord Protector. [2], 32 [i.e. 35] p. Printed by William Wilson and are to be sold in Well-Yard neer Little St. Bartholomew's Hospitall, London : 1659. Reproduction of original in Huntington Library. Heroique stanza's consecrated to the glorious memory of his most Serene and Renowned Highnesse Oliver, late Lord Protector of this common-wealth, &c. / [John Dryden] -- To the happie memory of the most renowned Prince, Oliver, Lord Protector, &c. / [Thomas Sprat] -- Upon the late storme and death of His Highnesse ensuing the same / by Mr. Waller. eng Cromwell, Oliver, 1599-1658 -- Poetry. A67351 R11197 (Wing W526). civilwar no Three poems upon the death of his late Highnesse Oliver Lord Protector of England, Scotland, and Ireland. Written by Mr Edm. Waller. Mr Jo. Waller, Edmund 1659 5141 6 0 0 0 0 0 12 C The rate of 12 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2002-10 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2002-12 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2003-01 Emma (Leeson) Huber Sampled and proofread 2003-01 Emma (Leeson) Huber Text and markup reviewed and edited 2003-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion THREE POEMS Upon the Death of his late HIGHNESSE OLIVER LORD PROTECTOR OF England , Scotland , and Ireland . Written By Mr EDM. WALLER . Mr IO. DRYDEN . Mr SPRAT , of Oxford . LONDON , Printed by William Wilson , and are to be sold in Well-yard neer Little St. Bartholomew's Hospitall . 1659. Heroique Stanza's , Consecrated to the Glorious Memory of his most Serene and Renowned Highnesse OLIVER Late LORD PROTECTOR of this Common-Wealth , &c. Written after the Celebration of his Funerall . ANd now 't is time ; for their Officious haste , Who would before have born him to the sky , Like eager Romans ere 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 publique 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 liberall be , Since they whose muses have the highest flown Add not to his immortall Memorie , 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 claime 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 all the parts so equall perfect are ? 6. His Grandeur he deriv'd from Heav'n alone , For he was great e're Fortune made him so ; And Warr's like mists that rise against the Sunne Made him but greater seem , not greater grow . 7. No borrow'd Bay's his Temples did adorne , But to our Crown he did fresh Iewells bring , Nor was his Vertue poyson'd soon as born With the too early thoughts of being King . ( 8 ) Fortune ( that easie Mistresse of the young But to her auncient servants coy and hard ) Him at that age her favorites 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-mark's for himself to shun ; Not like rash Monarch's who their youth betray By Acts their Age too late would wish undone . 10. And yet Dominion was not his Designe , We owe that blessing not to him but Heaven , Which to faire Acts unsought rewards did joyn , Rewards that lesse to him than us were given . 11. Our former Cheifs like sticklers of the Warre First sought t' inflame the Parties , then to poise ; The quarrell lov'd , but did the cause abhorre , And did not strike to hurt but make a noise . 12 Warre our consumption was their gainfull trade , We 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 resistlesse through the Land he past Like that bold Greek who did the East subdue ; And made to battails such Heroick haste 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 starr's is sown . 15. His Palmes though under weights they did not stand , Still thriv'd ; no Winter could his Laurells fade ; Heav'n in his Portraict shew'd a Workman's hand And drew it perfect yet without a shade . 16. Peace was the Prize of all his toyles and care , Which Warre had banisht and did now restore ; Bolognia's wall thus mounted in the Ayre To seat themselves more surely then before . 17. Her safety rescu'd Ireland to him owes And Treacherous Seotland to no int'rest true , Yet blest that fate which did his Armes dispose Her Land to Civilize as to subdue . 18. Nor was he like those starr's which only shine When to pale Mariner they stormes 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 fouls to his did bow ; As Wands of Divination downward draw And point to Beds where Sov'raign Gold doth grow . 20. When past all Offerings to Feretrian Iove He Mars depos'd , and Arms to Gowns made yield , Successefull Councells did him soon approve As fit for close Intrigues , as open field . 21. To suppliant Holland he vouchsaf'd a peace Our once bold Rivall in the British Main Now tamely glad her unjust claime to cease , And buy our Friendship with her Idoll gaine . 22. Fame of th'asserted Sea through Europe blown Made France and Spaine ambitious of his Love ; Each knew that side must conquer he would own And for him fiercely as for Empire strove . 23. No sooner was the French man's cause embrac'd Than the leight Mounsire the grave Don outwaigh'd , His fortune turn'd the Scale where it was cast , Though Indian Mines were in the other layd . 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 faire Designment was his own . 25. For from all tempers he could service draw , The worth of each with its alloy 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 brest , Where all the rich Idea's of them lay , That were the rule and measure to the rest . 27. When such Heröique Vertue Heav'n sets our , The Starrs like Commons sullenly obey ; Because it draines them when it comes about , And therefore is a taxe they seldome pay . 28. From this high-spring our forraign-Conquests flow Which yet more glorious triumphs do portend , Since their Commencement to his Armes they owe , If Springs as high as Fountaines 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 unquestion'd 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 Alexander were her guard . 31. By his command we boldly crost the Line And bravely fought where Southern Starrs arise , We trac'd the farre-fetchd 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 publique moove Whilst the deep Secrets beyond practice goe . 33. Nor dy'd he when his ebbing Fame went lesse , But when fresh Lawrells courted him to live ; He seem'd but to prevent some new successe ; As if above what triumphs Earth could give . 34. His latest Victories still thickest came As , neer the Center , Motion does increase ; Till he , pres'd down by his own weighty name , Did , like the Vestall , under spoyles decease . 35. But first the Ocean as a tribute sent That Gyant Prince of all her watery Heard And th' Isle when her Protecting Genius went Upon his Obsequies loud sighs confer'd . 36. No Civill broyles have since his death arose , But Faction now by Habit does obey : And Warrs have that respect for his repose , As Winds for Halcyons when they breed at Sea . 37. His Ashes in a peacefull Urne shall rest , His Name a great example stands to show How strangely high endeavours may be blest , Where Piety and valour joyntly goe . 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 Publique , which were at first designd to live only in a Desk , or some private friends hands ; I humbly take the Boldnesse 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 equall to the Renown of that Prince on whom they were written . Such great Actions and Lives deserving rather to bee the subjects of the noblest Pens and most divine Phansies , than of such small beginners and weake essayers in Poetry , as myselfe . Against these dangerous Prejudices , there remains no other shield than the universall Esteem and Authority , which your judgement and approbation carries with it . The right you have to them , Sir , is not only upon the account of the Relation on you had to this great Person , nor of the generall favour which all Arts receive from you ; but more peculiarly by reason of that obligation & zeal with which I am bound to dedicate my selfe 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 meanesse 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 You most Devoted and obliged Servant . TO THE HAPPIE MEMORY of the most Renowned Prince , OLIVER LORD PROTECTOR , &c. Pindarick Ode . 1. T Is true , Great name , thou art secure From the forgetfulnesse and Rage Of Death or Envie , or devouring age . Thou canst the force and teeth of Time endure ; Thy Fame , like Men , the elder it doth grow , Will of it selfe turn whiter too Without what needlesse 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 Brasse or Marble Stone . T is all i● vain wh●t we fo● thee can doe , All our Roses and Perfumes Will but officious folly shew , And pious Nothings to such mighty Tombes All our Incense Gumms and Balm Are but unnecessary duties here : The Poets may their Spices spare Their costly Numbers and their Tunefull feet : That need not be Imbalm'd , which of it selfe 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'one 's extinguish't quite ; And yet the other , never is more bright . So they that write 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 , bles't 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 Fame 's eternall Lamp will live And in thy Sacred Urne survive , Without the food or Oyle , 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 nor excus'd fo● what we owe to t●ee For so men from Religion are not freed . But , from the Altars , Cloud must rise , Though Heaven it selfe doth nothing need ; And though the Gods do'nt want , an Earthly Sacrifice . 3. Great life of Wonders , whose each year Full of new Miracles did appear ! Whose every Moneth 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 Starr : But thine the Milkie 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 mayst in double Shapes be shown ; Or in thy Armes , or in thy Gown . Like Jove sometime with Warlick Thunder , and Sometimes with peacefull Scepter in thy hand , Or in the Field , or on the Throne ; In what thy Head , or what thy Arme hath done . All that thou didst was so refin'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 beatt , 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 bee When it should fit occasion see , When a full Spring should call it forth . As bodyes , in the Dark and Night , Have the same Colours , the same Red and White , 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 lesse , 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 goe ; Though then thine was not so inlarg'd a flood Yet when 't was Little , 't was as cleer as good . 5. 'T is true , thou wast not born unto a Crown , Thy 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 , Practiz'd , at first , that vast design On meaner things , with equal mind . That Soul , which should so many Scepters sway To whom so many Kingdomes should obay , 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 lesse 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 Armes intreat And t'had been sinne 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 Armes , and unknown War , Fill'd every place , and every Eare ; When the great stormes and dismal Night Did all the Land afright ; 'T was time for thee , to bring forth all our Light . Thou left'st thy more delightfull peace Thy Private life and better ease ; Then down thy Steel and Armour took , Wishing that it stil 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 lifted up , not for thy self , but us . 7. Thy Country wounded 't was , and sick before , Thy Wars and Armes did her restore : Thou knew'st where the disease did lye And , like the Cure of Sympathy , 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 ●●ou'd Be the Inheritance of Mars and bloud ; But that when the great work was spunne War in it self should be undone : That peace might land again upon the shoare Richer and better than before . The husbandman no Steel should know None but the usefull Iron of the Plow ; That bayes might Creep on every Spear . And though our Skie 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 Leafe Had on it writ , his Epitaph : So from that Crimson Flood Which thou by fate of times were 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 e're thou In the Field of Mars didst mow , Was , that a holy Island thence might grow . Thy Wars , as Rivers raised by a Shoure Which Welcome Clouds do poure ; Though they at first may seem To carry all away , with an 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 . And make new fruits arise , in their appoynted time . 9. In Field unconquer'd , and so well Thou didst in battails , and in armes excell , That Steelly Armes themselves might be Worn out in Warre , as soon as thee . Successe so closse upon thy Troops did waite , 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 sphere Thou the Great Sun , gav'st light to every Starre . Thy self an Army wert alone And mighty Troops contain'dst in one : Thy only Sword did guard the Land Like that , which flaming in the angel's 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 Paradice . 10. Thou sought'st not to be high or great , Not for a Scepter or a Crown , 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 armes like those which antient Hero's wore Were given by the God thou didst adore : And all the Swords , thy Armies had Were on an Heavenly anvill 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 What was reserv'd for Heaven , & those blest Seats And makes the Church triumphant here below . 11. Though Fortune did hang on thy Sword , And did obey thy mighty word ; Though Fortune for thy side , and thee , Forgot her lov'd Inconstancy ; Amidst thy Armes and Trophies Thou Wert Valiant , and Gentle too ; Woundedst thy selfe , 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 Battails make thee proud or high ; Thy Conquest rais'd the State , not thee : Thou overcam'st thy selfe , in every Victorie . As when the Sunne , 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 thee in Fight , When thy propitious God had lent Successe and Victory to thy Tent ; To Heaven again the Victory was sent . 12. England , till thou didst come , Confin'd her valour home ; Then our own Rocks did stand Bounds to our Fame , as well as Land ; And were t us , as well As to Our Enemies , unpassable : We were asham'd , at what we readd ; And blusht , at what Our Fathers did ; Because we came so farre behind the dead . The Brittish 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 Shoare , And shook the World at every Roare . Thou his subdued Courage didst restore Sharpen'dst his Clawes , and in his Eyes Mad'st the same dreadfull 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 once 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 Chaines of Waves Which Nature round about us sent Made us to every Pyrat slaves , Was rather burthen , then an Ornament . Those fields of Sea that washt our Shores Were plowgh'd and reap'd , by other hands then ours . To us the Liquid Masse Which doth about us run As it is to the Sunne , Only a bed to sleep in , was . And not , as now , a powerfull Throne To shake and sway , the World there on . 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 Wildernesse of Water sway'd ; Thou didst but only Wed the Sea Not make her equall , but a slave to thee . Neptune himselfe did bear thy Yoke , Stooped and Trembled at thy Stroke : He that ruled all the Maine Acknowledg'd thee , his Soveragne . And now the Conquered Sea doth pay More Tribute to thy Thames ; then 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 teare ourselves . be used . Our Strength within it selfe did breake , Lkie Thundering Cannons-Crack , And kill those that were neer ; While th'Enemies , secure and untouch't were . But now Our Trumpets thou hast made to sound Against our Enemies walls in Forraign-ground , And yet no Eccho back on us returning found . England is now the happy peacefull Isle , And all the World the while Is exercising Armes and Warrs With Forrain or Intestine Jarrs . The Torch extinguish't here , we lend to others Oyle ; We give to all , yet know our selves no feare , We reach the Flame of ruine and of death Where ere we please Our Swords t' unsheathe . VVhilst we in calm & temperate Regions breathe : Like to the Sunne , whose heat is hurl'd Through every corner of the VVorld ; VVhose Flame through all the aire 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 lesse ; Thy hand did Cure and close the Scarrs Of our bloody Civill Warrs ; Not only Lanc'd , but heal'd the Wound ; Made us again , as healthy and as sound . When now the Ship was welnigh lost After the Storme upon the Coast , By its best Mariners endanger'd most ; When they their Ropes and Helms had left When the Plancks asunder cleft , And Floods came roaring in with mighty sound ; Thou a safe Land , and Harbour for us found , And saved'st those that would themselves have drown'd . A work which none but Heaven & thee could do Thou mad'st us happie 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 seeemd to be wanted least . Thy Temples not like Ianu's only were Open in time of warr : When thou hadst greater cause of feare 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 yeares to come , beside Our after-times , and late posterity Shall pay unto thy Fame , as much as we . They too , are happy made by thee . When Fate did call thee to a higher Throne , And when thy Mortall 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 losse : Nor hadst thou Him design'd , Had he not bin Not only to thy blood , but vertue Kinn ; Not only heire unto thy Throne , but Minde . T is He shall perfect all thy Cures And , with as fine a Thread , weave out thy Loom . So , One did bring the Chosen people from Their Slavery and Feares , Led them through their Pathlesse Road , Guided himselfe 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 STORME AND DEATH OF HIS HIGHNESSE Ensuing the same . By Mr. Waller . WE must resigne ; Heav'n His great Sold do's claim In storms as loud , as His Immortall Fame ; His dying groanes , his last Breath shakes our Isle , And Trees uncutt fall for His Funerall Pile , About His Pallace their broad roots are tost Into the aire ; So Romulus was lost : New Rome in such a Tempest mis't her King , And from Obeying fell to Worshipping . On Oeta's top thus Hercules lay dead With ruin'd Okes , and Pines about him spread ; The Poplar too , whose bough he woont to wear On his Victorious head , lay prostrate there . Those his last fury from the Mountain rent , Our dying-Hero , from the Continent , Ravish't whole Towns ; and Forts , from Spaniards rest , As his last Legacy , to Brittain lest . The Ocean which so long our hopes confin'd Could give no limits to His vaster mind ; Our Bounds inlargment was his latest toyle ; 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 Civill Broyls he did us disingage , Found nobler objects for our Martiall rage ; And with wise Conduct to his Country show'd Their ancient way of conquering abroad : Ungratefull 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 selfe took notice of His death , And sighing swel'd the Sea , with such a breath That to remotest shores her Billows rold , Th' approching Fate of her great-Ruler told . FINIS .