ELEGY On the Unfortunate, though Glorious Deaths, of that most Noble Prince, and Famous General FREDERICK Duke of Schomberg, And the Reverend and Truly Valiant Dr. GEORGE WALKER;  
Who were both unhappily Slain at the Battle of Duleeke, near Dublin in IRELAND, which was Fought on the First of this instant July.  

WHen mighty Fate the World designs to shake,  
A Havoc of the Brave she stills does make,  
Whom War ne'er shook, nor Danger could control,  
Take, Envying Heaven, from Earth his fleeting Soul,  
Who in all Dangers tried, has Death outdared,  
When in his dreadful Shapes he most appeared:  
Great SCONBERG in disastrous Battle died,  
Sunk not by Foes, but Fraud, Fate had denied;  
The Scourge of France and Ireland, such a Fall  
His Glory on their Infamy doth call.  
Sinister practice gives the Bold his Grave,  
Basely in Arms himself he ne'er would save;  
He could not in so just a Cause be tame,  
Who, Salamander-like, still lived in Flame.  
Go, mighty Duke, thy Praise shall still be sung,  
Where Soldiers to express thy Fame have Tongue:  
Immortal thou shalt be through Earth's vast round,  
And Fame in Cannon roar thy Worth shall sound;  
The breathing Flame shall usher in thy Praise,  
Thy name shall live whilst Earth shall want her Days.  
In Peals of Thunder thy loud Praise we'll sing,  
True to thy Trust, and Loyal to thy King:  
But if our Sins overtook thee in the Flight  
To Glories Summit, and in devious night.  
Set thy bright Star; repent not, but look down  
From Mansions of eternal Bliss, no frown  
In such a Cause thy happy Spirit can give,  
Since our victorious King does conquering live,  
Wheree'er the British Glory shall extend,  
Thy name, Great Schonberg, never shall have end;  
Thy Fame is precious; and we here would stay,  
But that another Hearse calls us away,  
To mourn the Funeral of the mighty Dead,  
Whose Name and Fame through all the World is spread:  
Oh mighty Name, where in the Skies shall I  
Lace thee, and give thee Immortality:  
Like great Alcides in Oetean Fire,  
Burning in War's bright Flame the Name is higher:  
When all the puzzled Nation stood confused,  
Thy serious Wisdom the whole Scene perused:  
The sinking Nation thy right hand upheld,  
And all the Dagons near the Ark were quelled:  
True Son of Thunder, thy Levitick Fire  
Made bold Intruders from thy Arms retire:  
The Gospel with both Swords thou didst maintain,  
And all Opposer's Stratagems were vain:  
Great Boanerges, though below you lie  
Murdered by Fraud and Popish Cruelty,  
'Tis but a preparation to more Bliss,  
To Crown your Loyalty with Happiness.  
Repine not Blessed Shade, thy Fame's secure,  
And shall whilst Earth, whilst Seas and Air endure:  
Late drooping Ireland, in her Rolls of Fame,  
Great WALKER ever shall Record thy Name;  
Great SCHONBERG Links thee to a Lasting Chain,  
And in Degree with his thou shalt remain:  
The Foe no Boast can have in such brave Deaths,  
So dearly bought with many Thousand Breathes:  
The daring Frenchmen in their bold Essay  
Shut up their Eyes, dire War does them convey  
From their dear Hopes of Gain, a Sacrifice;  
The Flower of all the Popish Army Flies,  
And in the ruin Famed Tyrconnel lies.  
To noble Valour, that ne'er Spot could slain,  
Such Blood whole Nations may lament in vain,  
But ne'er the hasty Fates recall again.    

Epitaph on His Grace the Duke of Schomberg.  
UNder this Marble lies no common Dust;  
The Mars in War we to this Pile intrust;  
The mighty Schonberg who all danger tried,  
For true Religion, and a good Cause died.   

Epitaph on the Reverend Mr. Walker, late Governor of .  
GO mighty Levite to Triumph above;  
Thou to the Sacred Cause hast showed thy Love,  
Dying for that thy bold Arms did maintain,  
The Royal Favours were unto dropped in vain.  
We Mourn, but can't recall the mighty Slain.   
FINIS.  

London: Printed for T. Clark in Little Britain. 208.