Mausolæum, a funeral poem on our late gracious sovereign Queen Mary of blessed memory by N. Tate ... Tate, Nahum, 1652-1715. 1695 Approx. 27 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 12 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A62974 Wing T194 ESTC R186 11940730 ocm 11940730 51273 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. A62974) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 51273) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 516:22) Mausolæum, a funeral poem on our late gracious sovereign Queen Mary of blessed memory by N. Tate ... Tate, Nahum, 1652-1715. [3], 19, [1] p. Printed for B. Aylmer ..., and W. Rogers ..., and R. Baldwin ..., London : 1695. First edition. Advertisement: p. [1] at end. 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 Mary -- II, -- Queen of England, 1662-1694 -- Poetry. 2002-02 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2002-02 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2002-03 TCP Staff (Michigan) Sampled and proofread 2002-03 John Latta Text and markup reviewed and edited 2002-04 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion MAUSOLAEUM : A Funeral POEM On our late Gracious Sovereign QUEEN MARY , Of Blessed Memory . By N. TATE , Servant to His Majesty . LONDON : Printed for B. Aylmer , at the Three Pigeons against the Royal-Exchange in Cornhill . And W. Rogers , at the Sun against St. Dunstan's Church in Fleet-street . And R. Baldwin , near the Oxford-Arms in Warwick-Lane . 1695. MAUSOLAEUM . A Funeral Poem On Our Late Gracious Sovereign Queen MARY , Of Blessed Memory . TO Solitude , but such as ne er inspir'd One Tuneful Thought , a pensive Bard retir'd . Stretcht as He lay , and lean'd his drooping Head Against a jetting Cliff , the Earth his Bed , MARIA's Fate and Fame , from distant Plains He heard resounded by melodious Swains . He blest their powerful Raptures , that could warm The Tomb's cold Mansion , and make Sorrow oharm . While , Sweetly sad , their Accents strike the Skies , He only with distracted Sighs replies . His Groans awak'd the Mid-night Raven's Knell E'er balmy Slumber on his Temples fell ; When long-absented Morpheus interpos'd To charm his Sorrow , and This SCENE disclos'd . Thrice did the God his drowzy Wand extend , And thrice invok'd the Vision to ascend ; The Signal was obey'd — from side to side The Vale , her flinty Arms unfolding wide , In Prospect brings the Sacred * Dome , renown'd For British Monarch's there Entomb'd and Crown'd : Whose Guardian-Care , when thither they return , Is there rewarded with a peaceful Urn ; Where now that safe Repose their Ashes have , Which they , when living , to their Subjects gave . Thus was the Visionary Fabrick rear'd , Whose Portalls ( while harmonious Sounds are heard ) Did leisurely the shining Quire disclose , As once the solemn Stage at Athens rose ; While breaking Clouds a glorious Scene display'd , Where Gods and Goddesses the Circle made . A Mausolaean Pile erected high , Threatning the Temple's Roof , as That the Sky ; With Starry Lamps and Banners blazing round , In all the Pageantry of Death is crown'd . For ah ! with flatt'ring Pride and Triumph vain , You Pyramids the dazling Pomp sustain ; While High in State your glitt'ring Trophies Rise , Low , at your Basis , Britain's Glory lies . Nor Sleep those blest Remains in Dead of Night , Watcht only by unactive Tapers Light , For thronging Seraphs , from Coelestial Bow'rs , Descend to strew the Royal Hearse with Flow'rs ; Whose Fragrance heav'nly Balm distilling meets , Together blending their Ambrosial Sweets : What Sov'reign Odour from that Mixture springs , Fann'd and Sublim'd by hov'ring Angels Wings ! These Rites perform'd , th' Etherial Troop resign , To Forms Divine as Their's , the Royal Shrihe . For lo ! four Matrons , deep in Sables clad , ( Of Solemn Mien , and Aspect Charming sad ) Advance ; with each Her Ensigns waving high , The Emblems of Her Pow'r , or Piety . August BRITANNIA the Procession leads ; In State the BELGIAN Matron Her succeeds . BRITANNIA's Train , in Grandure of a Court ; Her Globe , Her Scepter , and Her Crown support . BATAVIA with Her own Escutchions grac't , Where Lions Rampant grasp Her Arrows sast . * EUSEBIA next appears , in Pomp divine , See how Her Mitre , and Her Crosier shine ! * IRENE brings the Rear , — but She , forlorn ! No Badge but of Distress before Her born . A Wreath of Lillies Her sad Herald wore , But Lillies Crimson'd in Her Off-spring's Gore ! Now to their sundry Stations they disperse , The high-arch'd Inlets to the Sov'reign Hearse ; Where solemnly each Matron takes her Stand , With each a fuming Censer in her Hand . All Mute a while , with awful Sorrow strook , Till Belgia thus in troubled Accents spoke . When late to Albion's Throne I did resign The Princess , I still thought , still found Her mine , While , like Aurora , from beyond the Streams ; She , brightly Rising , reacht me with Her Beams ; Warm Lustre shot , that did my Griefs beguile , And in Her Absence made our Hague to smile ; So Cinthia , when she takes her Sphere above , Shines down , and gilds Her once-frequented Grove . So Cinthia mounts Her Wain , for publick Good , Tho better pleas'd , Retir'd within Her Wood. But , ah ! what Halcyon Days on Europe shone , When Cinthia with her Phoebus grac'd one Throne ! Charm'd by their Godlike Reign , so just and mild , My States to Monarchy grew reconcil'd . Britain and Belgia's Blessings to compleat , They made , from distant Shores , our Interest 's meet . Not so , when blind in fury heretofore , With Naval Thunder we each other tore ; While both , by mutual Tragick Wounds brought low , Made Scenes of Pastime for the Common Foe . Insulting o're the Sight , the Tyrant stood , While our sad Wrecks enrich'd the guilty Flood , Blushing with British and Batavian Blood. 'Twixt treach'rous Courts thus was Ambition bred , While our Exhausted Veins the Monster fed . But when her Fangs with Terror she disclos'd , Heav'n and my Nassau's Virtue interpos'd . Convulsions seiz'd me when he left my Shore . Not Ariadne fear'd for Theseus more ; Such doubtful Hopes possest the Colchian Maid , When Jason his adventrous Task essay'd . At last I saw Him fixt on Britain's Throne ; And blest the Day , and thought the Storm o'er-blown : Yet , from Alarms secur'd of Gallick Pow'r , A hasty Tomb do's half my Joys devour . Ah how transform'd from what I was of late ! How blest , ye Pow'rs , how prosp'rous was my State ! My flourishing Towns with Pleasure I survey'd , The World 's great Mart and Seat of Commèrce made ; Cov'ring with floating Colonies the Main , While Gallick Rage at Home I could sustain ; Visit both Poles , to Spicy Climates run , And spread my Naval Wings before the Rising Sun. No more can populous Towns , or swelling Seas , The stronger Deluge of my Grief appease , My Spicy Eastern Groves no longer please . Matrons sad Vigils through my Cities keep , With streaming Tears my Saylors swell the Deep ; There Tritons , started from their Coral Cells , Rang'd on the Rocks to Dirges tune their Shells : On sep'rate Cliffs their pensive Nereids sit , No chearful Song or am'tous Glance admit ; No more with Pearl and Amber deck their Head , But Mourn , forlorn , their Amphitrite Dead , From Dawn to Dusk , and weep the Stars to Bed. Ye Winds that waft my freighted Fleets away Neglect your Charge ; let useless Traffick stay Till you to Java's Isle my Sighs convey . Fate 's Triumph over Nature there proclaim , And say , MARIA's nothing but a Name ! A Hearse , an Urn , as Vulgar Mortals are ; To Earth no more , but to the Skies a Star. She said — IRENE next her Plaints addrest , Plaints , which her Looks too sensibly exprest : An Exile from her Native Shore she fled , By Innocence and Mourning Angels led . While slowly from the hallowed Floor she rears Her Eyes , still Orient through a Cloud of Cares , May's brightness mix'd with April's Gloom appears ; A pearly Show'r Her fairer Face bedews , While Thus , what Passion dictates , She pursues ; Is Mis'ry boundless ? Can we never know , In Wretchedness the outmost Sphere of Woe ? Condemn'd , on Cruelties Inhumane Stage , To all the Shapes of persecuting Rage ; Bereav'd of ev'ry Blessing I Enjoy'd , My Temples Sack'd , my Votaries Destroy'd ; Till with my Sons expos'd ( a poor Reserve ! ) To foreign Bondage , or at best to Starve . These Injuries Sustain'd , ah ! vain Belief ! I fondly deem'd the last Degrees of Grief . But here a weeping Penitent I come , To Mourn my Error at MARIA's Tomb ! Rank'd with Divine Eliza , distant Fame Early resounded my MARIA's Name , But when that Brighter Phoenix I Survey'd , I blest the Fate that me an Exile made ; Forgave , and for my Persecutors Pray'd . Me , Prostrate and Astonish'd at Her Charms , The Royal Saint rais'd , gently to Her Arms ; In hast She stept from Her Imperial Throne , To dry my Tears — but not restrain'd Her Own. Ah! where is all that Heav'n of Pity Fled ? Life's Sov'reign Patroness Her Self is Dead ! Death reap'd in Her the full Revenge He Crav'd , Reprizal made of all the Lives She Sav'd . Now Tyrants , with uninterrupted Joy , May you once more your meager Fiend Employ , Give Famine new Commission to Destroy . No more shall streaming Charity o'erspread The thirsty Vales , in Thousand Currents led , Fate 's envious Hand Has here Seal'd up the gen'rous Fountain's Head. Instruct me , Grief , unable to sustain Thy pressing Weight , to whom shall I Complain ? To Earth or Skies ? — 'T is they that have Engross'd , 'T is they that share the Treasure I have lost . To Seas ? — ' There Thetis Comfortless appears , And for Her Self reserves the Ocean's Tears . To gentle Winds and Air if I Complain , They can but Sigh , and Sigh like me in Vain ! Nature Replies , when her Relief I try , That She has lost , and grieves as much as I. Or would I to MARIA's self Address , ( The Royal Refuge of my past Distress ) The Queen of Pity I no longer find Enthron'd , but here ( ah ! fatal Change ) Enshrin'd . High rapt in heav'nly Bow'rs Her Spirit remains , Her breathless Reliques a deaf Tomb contains ; Them , sleeping here , my Cries no more can move Than reach her Soul 's transcendant Sphere above ! Ye happier Rivals in our Common Grief ! You mourn , but not , like me , without Relief . Britain and Belgia through the Main can roam , Enrich'd with Treasures of Both Indies come , And , like an Altar , deck MARIA's Tomb. Her Hierarchy does fair Eusebia bless , Secure She does Her sacred Rights possess , And stores of gratesul Incense can address . What Tribute to Her Ashes can I give , Who only did by Her Indulgence live ? A Wretche's last Reserve I will bestow , My Tears — but see — They , uncommanded , flow ! Like Weeping Niobe's their Streams renew : O that , like Her , I could turn Marble too ! She ceas'd — EUSEBIA then her Starry Head With mournful Grace unveil'd , and , sighing , said . If Strangers can such deep Concern express , What Accents will susfice for my Distress ! Of these Remains can I sustain the Sight , Who claim a Subject's and a Daughter 's Right ; Nurs'd with her warmest Beams , whose Lustre fill'd My Front with Stars , and did my Mitre gild . She fix'd my Altars first , Her Guardian-Care ; Then to enlarge my Courts did gen'rous Schemes prepare . Adorn'd my Shrines with Lamps so heavenly bright , They cou'd at once Astonish and Invite . Me , swift-advancing Glory did presage Once more Triumphant o'er the Dragon's Rage . Eve , new created , no such Pleasure took Her own bright Form discov'ring in the Brook ; And , wheresoe're Her ravish'd Eyes She threw , Still to have blooming Paradise in view . So I at my own Happiness admir'd — Ah where are now those golden Dreams retir'd ? Their faint Idea my sick Thought employs , A cold Remembrance of departed Joys . As Ship-wreckt Mariners , on some bleak Shore , The Riches of their perisht Freight deplore , Recount its Value , to indulge their Grief , ( Of Wretchednefs the sad but sole Relief ) Let me , the Treasure I have lost , declare , Too vast for Time and Nature to Repair . Be husht ye Winds , ye Skies serene and clear , No lowring Cloud or angry Wave appear , While my MARIA's Virtues I recite : O were my Language like Her Virtues , Bright TheCharming Sounds wou'dGuests from Heav'n invite , Heav'n wou'd be Here , and with Immortal Lays , My self a Seraph while I Sung her Praise . What ancient Poets did , inspir'd , aver Of Female worth , was Prophecy of Her ; And what their Age by Revelation saw , Posterity must from Her Story draw . Her Breast each cent'ring Excellence cou'd boast , The scatter'd Virtues of Her Sex engrost ; Nor did those Beams on Her refracted Fall , She All possest , and in Perfection All. Cou'd Majesty and Mildness reconcile , Hold Sov'raign Awe , yet on Her Subjects smile ; And when of Sov'raignty She slack'd the Rein , Charm Duty most , and condescending , Gain . Her Thoughts , unruffled with Affairs of State , Stood like the heights of Teneriff , sedate ; Like Phoebe in her Empire of the Skies , To Glory's Zenith did Serenely rise . Nor only Calm , but Constant was Her Mind , Fix'd as the Centre to Earth's Globe assign'd : A Fortress which the Fates in vain assail'd , And where the baffled King of Terrors fail'd . Chearful as Angels , or the Springing Day That tunes the Groves , and makes the Meadows gay For blameless Mirth Heaven 's Off spring is confest , And Heav'n was ever in MARIA's Breast . Her Words and Actions , all exactly weigh'd In Reason's Scale , and by Discretion sway'd , Alike from Prejudice and Passion free , Henceforth of Prudence shall the Standart be . Her Freedoms just , and Her Diversions taught To shun the very Shadow of a Fault . Let Heav'n ( with Heav'n She Correspondence held ) Say how my Saint in Piety excell'd . Its sinking Empire how She did support , And to a Sanctu'ry reform'd a Court. Say , how Her bright Example cou'd disarm Establish'd Vice , and make Religion Charm. What frequent Visits to my Temple pay , And there Instruct Devotion how to Pray : Where thronging Cherubs did Her Zeal attend , Ambitious who should with Her Vows ascend . But Charity , Her Souls essential Grace , In tend'rest Strokes was pictur'd in Her Face , Who like an Angel cou'd at Suff'rings melt , Condole the Mis'ry She had never felt . Reliev'd , till Royal Bounty She had drein'd , Then with Her Tears th' exhausted Store maintain'd ; Kind as the Pelican , in Times of Need , When for Her craving Off-spring said to bleed . Such was my Sov'reign ! Such , and yet expir'd ! To Earth so needfull , yet from Earth retir'd . Earth's Harmony , Life , Lustre and Delight , Have hence with my Astraea took their Flight . Yet see ! no wreck of Elements is found ; Time journeys on , and Nature keeps her Round : Our Vales may bloom again , our Groves be green , No more the Goddess of the Spring be seen ! She 's fled ! divine MARIA's vanisht hence , And sleeps with Queens of common Providence . Like Them , She has to Fate resign'd Her Breath ; O Triumph of the Grave ! O Pomp of Death ! With Her entomb'd — Youth , Beauty , Vertue , their Interment have , O Pomp of Death ! O Tryumph of the Grave ! Yet Tyrants live , ah ! what can Reason say ? They keep their Thrones , who Iron Scepters sway . Support me Faith , if Faith too feeble be , Support my Faith , MARIA's Piety . She pauz'd , and wept . BRITANNIA , tho' with equal Grief opprest ; Majestick , thus her Orisons addrest . Hail Saint and Queen , — too weak alas that Style ! Hail Heroin and Goddess of our Isle ! My Pallas , who cou'd absent Mars supply ; And Jove withdrawn , like Juno rule the Sky . Empire She priz'd not , tho' to Empire born , Nor sought the Pow'r She cou'd so well adorn : Yet held Her British Throne securely calm , As Deborah within her Grove of Palm ; From whose orac'lous Shade she cou'd prescribe , And Audience gave to each consulting Tribe . My Regent with such Grandeur , such Address In Councel sway'd ; and prest with last Distress , Like Her , Spoke Victory , and Look'd Success . In publick Storms She heard the Billows rave , And cheerfully the needfull Orders gave . With pious Hope adjusted Her Commands , And left th' Event on Providences Hands . Thus , from insulting Danger She secur'd Her Regency , and thus Her Realms ensur'd ; Such Conduct shewn , and gen'rous Trust repos'd , Engag'd Heav'ns Honour , and Fate 's Pow'r fore-clos'd . She knew what Mein the Sceptre , Crown and Globe , What Majesty became th' Imperial Robe ; But from th' Incumbrance freed of Sov'reign Awe ; What Artist can Her milder Beauties draw ? What Colours shall express ? What Pencil trace The Charms that did Her Conversation grace ? How beaming Joys Her Aspect did adorn , And how She mov'd the Goddess of the Morn . What Harmony did in Her Language dwell ; How sullen Griefs Her Accents cou'd dispell , While softer They than shedding Roses fell . Methinks I hear lamenting April say , Unwelcome now returns my latest * Day , That once eclips'd the blooming Pride of May. The Day that with auspicious Hours did smile , And gave a Jubilee to Britain's Isle . No more that Festival shall entertain The Court with Revel or harmonious Strain : For chearfull Songs , my Bards must now retreat , And Dirges breath to some forsaken Seat. Seek gloomy Vales , where blasted Nature pines , And Grief with Night her cold Embraces joyns ; Where no fresh Breeze relieves the sulph'rous Steams , And Poplars languish o'er infectious Streams ; Where never did auspicious Bird frequent , Till thither on Despair's sad Errand sent , Some Nightingall of Nest and Young Depriv'd , Or Turtle who her slaughter'd Mate surviv'd . Let there , what never must in Crouds be told , Your mourning Muse that Dismal Scene unfold ! Let Fancy there rehearse in wild Complaint , The sickning Sov'reign , the expiring Saint . When Sacrilegious Maladies , combin'd , Beauty's Imperial Temple undermin'd . How ravaging through Her rich Veins they flew , Till all in one Assault — Against Her gen'rous Heart their Forces drew . While Nature cou'd no more the Fort supply , And vanquisht Art it self stood Sighing by . Well may his Sons despair , when * Phoebus shrouds His baffl'd Head , and sculks in conscious Clouds ; Drives wide his Wain , shuns his Meridian Way , And through continu'd Darkness steals the Day . Immortal Pow'rs , can you behold , ungriev'd , Her Agonies , who Nations had reliev'd ? The Royal Saint who had your Altars crown'd ! For Pray'rs and Alms is no Compassion found ? Amidst Her Pangs , see how She lies resign'd To your Disposal , while you seem unkind ! Undaunted , yet to your Allegiance true , Bids Death Defiance , but submits to You. She sees Distraction through Her Palace spread , She sees the Graces weeping round Her Bed , Yet still Compos'd ; till Her expiring Sight Her swooning Hero. — Here let deepest Night Her Mantle spread , and Nature's Face disguise , While Caesar sinks , and while MARIA's Eyes Closing , transferr Their Glories to the Skies . Oh what Convulsions now shook Britain's Breast ! Her Sun and Moon in one Eclipse opprest . As when the Sov'reign of the Ocean , try'd In Tempests , and had Neptune's Frowns defy'd , Founders on Shelves ; conspiring Tides prevail ; The hurrying Crew , with looks agast and pale , Wringing their helpless Hands , theglorious Wreck bewail ! Such Consternation shew'd Britannia's Court , When Toil and Skill had made their last Effort . Yet , O Alcides of our Age , sustain Thy last and greatest Task to Live and Reign ! This Conquest must Distinguish your bright Name , And write You foremost in the List of Fame . Your Loyal and Addressing Senate view , O pity them , as they condole with You ! See your Augusta too , who bath'd in Tears , Sad Europe's Representative appears . Death ne'er is Distant when Perfection's near ; Vertue Sublim'd will quickly disappear . MARIA's fall'n ! Worthy to have surviv'd , Till Caesar's promis'd Tryumphs were arriv'd ; Till harras'd Europe's Freedom She survey'd , And crown'd the Halcyon Days for which She pray'd . Speak You , who Commerce with Immortals hold , These Labarynths of Providence unfold ! Eusebia speak . EUSEBIA's Sacred Breast With Rapture fill'd , th' inspiring God confest , Divinely bright Her Frontlet-Stars appear'd , While up tow'rds Heav'n Her ravish'd Eyes She rear'd : The Temple shakes , the yielding Roof gives way , And Ope's a Prospect to Eternal Day . Through all the Dome Ambrosial Fragrance spread , While Thus , in Extasie , the Matron said ; With Robes invested of Caelestial Dye , She towrs and treads the Empyraean Sky ! Angelick Choirs , skill'd in triumphant Song , Heav'ns Battlements and Chrystal Turrets throng . The Signal 's giv'n , th' Eternal Gates unfold , Blazing with Jasper , wreath'd in burnish'd Gold , And Myriads now of flaming Minds I see , Pow'rs , Potentates , Heav'ns awfull Hierarchy ; In gradual Orbs enthron'd , but all Divine ; Ineffably those Sons of Glory shine . From Bow'rs of Amaranth and Nectar Streams , ( Mansions of Rapture and inspiring Dreams ) The Host of Saints MARIA's Tryumph meet , MARIA , all , their own MARIA greet . Behold ! a Rev'rend Shade steps forth , his Head Mitred in Glory , deep his Vestments spread ; O Patriarch mild ! thy Aspect still I know , That ev'n on Earth so much of Heav'n did show . Heav'ns Messenger to Us Thou first didst prove , And now MARIA's to the Blest above . O worthiest Envoy , to the Realms of Bliss , Of Her approaching Apotheosis . Now , pointing up , he shews , prepar'd on High , Her Chair of State and Starry Canopy , She takes Her Throne , but there install'd , so bright Her Form , I lose Her in Excess of Light. FINIS . ADVERTISEMENT . A Poem on the late Promotions of several Eminent Persons in Church and State. An Elegy on the Most Reverend Father in God , his Grace , JOHN , late Lord Archbishop of Canterbury . Written by N. Tate . Notes, typically marginal, from the original text Notes for div A62974-e230 * Abbey of Westminst . * Church of England . * Protestant Church of France . * The Queen's Birth-day . * The gloomy Weather during Her Majesty's Sickness .