A DESCRIPTION OF Mr. D— n FUNERAL A Poem. The Third Edition, with Additions. LONDON, Printed for A. Baldwin in Warwicklane, M.DCC Price 6 d. A DESCRIPTION, etc. OF Kings Renowned and Mighty Bards I writ, Some slain by Whores, and others killed in Fight; Some starving lived, whilst others were preferred; But all, when dead, are in one place interred. A Fabric stands by Ancient Heroes built, Designed for Holy Use t' atone their Gild; Here sacred Urns of Majesty they keep, Here Kings and Poets most profoundly sleep; Here Choristers in Hymns their Voices raise, And charm the dreadful Goblins from the Place. Tho thronged with Tombs, no Spectre here is found, They sing the very Devil off the Ground: No Nightmare dances amongst the ancient Tombs, Nor sulphurous Incubus dispenses Fumes; Nor let no subterranean Hag affright My Muse, whilst of the Funeral I writ. A Bard there was, who whilom did command, And held the Laurel in his potent Hand; He o'er Parnassus bore Imperial Sway, Him all the little Tribes of Bards obey: But Bards and Kings, how e'er approved and great, Must stoop at last to the Decrees of Fate. Fate bid him for the stroke of Death prepare, And then removed him to the Lord knows where. If to the Living we such Tributes own, We on the Dead must pious Rites bestow; To our Assistance all the Wits must call, To grace the Glory of the Funeral. Who is the first appears unto our View, But haughty, proud, imperious M— Who cocks his Chin, and scarce affords a Word, But looks as big as any Belgic Lord; In the best Dairies fed, grown sleek and fat, The creeping Mouse is turned into a Rat: Of others brows he licks the toilsome Sweat, And by our Sins grows impudently great: As chief of Wits he does himself prefer, And with our Gold bribe's every Flatterer; But Men of Sense and Honour does despise, And crushes such as would by Virtue rise, Whilst each lewd Rakehell of the nauseous Town He fills with Coin, and does with Honour's crown. The Nation's Wealth he most profusely spends, But not on such as are the Nation's Friends; But such as wrote our Country to enslave, His Kindness follows even to the Grave. He the great Bard at his own Charge Inters, And dying Vice to living Worth prefers. Some others too in the Affair are joined, Alike in Morals, and alike in Mind; But these my Muse must here forbear to name, Scarce worthy Honour, or deserving Fame. The Day is come, and all the Wits must meet From Covent-Garden down to Watling-street; They all repair to the Physicians Dome, There lies the Corpse, and there the Eagles come: No Corpse an Entrance has within this Gate, None are admitted here to lie in State, But such as Fate a noted Death has carved, A Cutpurse hanged, or a poor Poet starved; One is anatomised when he is dead. The other in his Life for want of Bread. A Troop of Stationers at first appeared, And jacob T— n Captain of the Guard; jacob the Muse's Midwife, who well knows To ease a labouring Muse of Pangs and Throws; He oft has kept the Infant-Poet warm, Oft licked th' unwieldy Monster into Form; Oft do they in high Flights and Raptures swell, Drunk with the Waters of our Iacobs Well. Next these the Playhouse Sparks do take their Turn, With such as under Mercury are born, As Poets, Fiddlers, Cutpurses, and Whores, Draps of the Playhouse, and of Common-shores; Pimps, Panders, Bullies, and Eternal Beaux, Famed for short Wits, loug Wigs, and gaudy Clothes; All Sons of Meeter tune the Voice in praise, From lofty Strains, to humble Ekes and Ays: The Singing-men and Clarks who charm the Soul, And all the Traders in fa la fa sol: All these the Funeral Obsequies do aid, As younger Brothers of the Rhyming Trade. The tuneful Rabble now together come, They fill with dolesome Sighs the sable Room; Some groaned, some sobbed, and some I think there wept, And some got drunk, lolled down, and snored and slept. Around the Corpse in State they wildly press; In Notes unequal, like Pindaric Verse, Each one does his sad Sentiments express. The Player says, My Friends, we are undone, See here, the Muse's best and darling Son Is from us to the blessed Elysium gone: What other Poet for us will engage To be the Prop of the declining Stage? All other Poets are not worth a Louse, There fell the Prop of our once glorious House: But now from us by Fate untimely torn, Leaves the dull Stage a Desert and forlorn. A dismal Sadness in each Face appears; And such as could not speak, burst out in Tears▪ His Death, alas! affected every Body, And fetched deep Sighs and Tears from every Noddy: It much affected every tuneful Ringer, But most of all the jolly Ballad-singer, Who now at a Street's Corner must no more A Playhouse Song in equal Numbers roar: Nay, I am told, when he his last Gasp groaned, The Bel-rope trembled and the Organ toned: And as great things affect a little thing, This was the Death of many a Fiddlestring. No Chronicles I read of do relate Such a sad Hurricane in Church and State. The charming Songsters at our great S. Pawles Could scarce sing Prayers to save their very Souls; The Boys were dumb; the Singingmen were wounded, All the whole Choir disabled and confounded; And when the Prayers were ended, alas then The Clerk could hardly sob out an Amen. Not a Crowdero at a Bawdy-house, Who used in racy Liquors to carouse, But with sad haste unto the Burial ran, Forgets his Tipple, and neglects his Can. With Tagrag, Bob-Tail was the Room full filled, You'd think another Babel to be built; Not more Confusion at St. Batt's famed Fair, Or at Guild-Hall for choice of a Lord Mayor. But stay my Muse, the learned G—th appears, He sighing comes, and is half drowned in Tears; The famous G—th whom learned Poets call Knight of the Order of the Urinal. He of Apollo learned his wondrous Skill, He taught him how to sing and how to kill; For all he sends unto the darksome Grave, He honours also with an Epitaph. He entertained the Audience with Oration, Tho very new, yet something out of fashion: But 'cause the Hearers were with Learning blest, He said it in the Language of the Beast: But so pronounced, the Sound and Sense agrees, A Country Mouse talks better in a Cheese, Or jack-at-a pinch, when reeling he repairs To neighbouring Church to mumble o'er his Prayers. The Sense and Wit they say was very good, Thomas neither seen, felt, heard, nor understood. Thus we must all, as common Rumour saith, Believe the Doctor by implicit Faith: Next him the Sons of Music pass along, And murder Horace in confounded Song; Whose Monument, more durable than Brass, Is now defaced by every chanting Ass. No Man at Tyburn, doomed to take a swinging, Would stay to hear such miserable Singing, Where all the Beasts of Music try their Throats, And different Species use their different Notes: Here the Ox bellows, there the satire howls; The Puppies whine, and the bold Mastiff growls; The Magpys chatter, and the Night-Owls screek; The old Pigs grunt, and all the young ones squeak: Yet all together make melodious Songs, As Bumpkin Trols to rusty pair of Tongues. Now, now the time is come, the Parson says, And for their Exeunt to the Grave he prays: The Way is long, and Folk the Streets are clogging, Therefore my Friends away, come let's be jogging. Assist me thou who, clad in Sunbeam Weeds, Driv'st round the Orb each Day with fiery Steeds; Who neither art with Heat nor Cold oppressed, Art never weary, though thou tak'st no rest: Assist me to describe the Cavalcade, What mighty Figure thro' the Streets they made. Before the Hearse the mourning Hautboys go, And screech a dismal sound of Grief and Woe; More dismal Notes from Bogtrotters may fall, More dismal Plaints at Irish Funeral. But no such Flood of Tears e'er stopped our Tide Since Charles the Martyr and the Monarch died. The Decency and Order first describe, Without regard to either Sex or Tribe. The sable Coaches lead the dismal Van, But by their sides I think few Footmen ran, Nor needed these, the Rabble fill the Streets, And Mob with Mob in great Disorder meets. See next the Coaches how they are accoutered Both in the inside, eke and on the outward. One pocky Spark, one sound as any Roach, One Poet and two Fiddlers in a Coach; The Playhouse Drab, that beats the Beggar's Bush, And Bawdy talks, would make an old Whore blush, By every Bully kissed, good truth, but such is Now her good Fate to ride with Mrs. Duchess. Was e'er Immortal Poet thus buffooned? In a long Line of Coaches thus lampooned? A Man with Gout and Stone quite wearied, Would rather live than thus be buried. What greater Plague can Heaven on Man bestow, Who must with Knaves on Life's dull Journey go? And when on the other Shoar he's landed safe, A Crowd of Fools attend him to the Grave, A Crowd so nauseous, so profusely lewd, With all the Vices of the Times endued, That Cowley's Marble wept to see the Throng, Old Chaucer laughed at their unpolished Song, And Spencer thought he once again had seen The Imps attending on his Fairy Queen; Her little Tib, and Tom, and Mib, and Mab, Come to lament the Death of Poet Squab. But Burying is not all the Rites we own, Some other Obsequies we must bestow: Must so religious, so profound a Wit, Be tossed like common Dust into the Pit? The Fates forbidden! We'll surely fill the Plains And neighbouring Woods with Elegiac Strains: Even Newgate's Chaplain, who in's Office fell, Instructing Villains in the way to Hell; He had the Muse's Passport on his Hearse, His Praises sung in Everlasting Verse. Nay, a Dutch Mastiff late in State did lie; My Lady's Lap-dog had an Elegy; And shall not Dr— n have one Oh! Fie, fie? Yes, say the Oxford and the Cambridg Sparks, We'll sing his Death as sweet as any Larks; Oxford and Cambridg, the renowned Schools, Famed for a Breed of wise Men and of Fools, Where Infant Wits, with water-gruel fed, And little puny sucking Priests are bred; Where Conjurers employ their Time in Vision, Whence many a Learned Saffold has his Mission? These always march in Verse in rank and file, In Company pursue Poetic Toil; Here a Battalion does in English lead, While one in Latin does the Troopers head: But such the Wit and Sense, you'd think the Elves Did only write but just to please themselves: Pl —rd laments that he their Lines bespoke, And swears the Bookseller is almost broke. FINIS. Books sold by A. Baldwin in Warwicklane. THE Dream. A Poem, addressed to Sir Charles Duncomb. By R. Gold. The Foreigners. A Poem. Part I. A Letter to his Majesty K. William, showing, 1. The Original Foundation of the English Monarchy. 2. The Means by which it was removed from that Foundation. 3. The Expedients by which it has been supported since that Removal. 4. It's present Constitution as to all its integral Parts. 5. The best Means by which its Grandeur may be for ever maintained. By the Reverend Mr. Stephen's Rector of Sutton in Surrey. A Letter to a Member of Parliament, showing that a Restraint on the Press is inconsistent with the Protestant Religion, and dangerous to the Liberties of the Nation. A short Account how the Kingdom of Denmark was changed from a Popular Government to an Hereditary and Absolute Monarchy, through a Difference betwixt the Lords and Commons. An Answer to a Letter from a Gentleman in the Country, containing seven Queries relating to the present Ministry, and Men in Employments. 1699. The State of the Navy considered in relation to the Victualling, particularly in the Straits and the West Indies. With some Thoughts on the late Mismanagements of the Admiralty, and a Proposal to prevent the like for the future. 1698. Remarks on the present condition of the Navy, and particularly of the Victualling. In two Parts. The first exploding the Notion of fortifying of Garrisons, and proving that the only Security of England consists in a good Fleet. The second containing a Reply to the Observations on the first Part, with a Discourse on the Discipline of the Navy; showing that the Abuses of the Seamen are the highest Violation of Magna Charta, and of the Rights and Liberties of Englishmen. 1699. A Letter to a Member of Parliament concerning Clandestine Trade; showing how far the evil Practices at the Custom-house at London tend to the Encouragement of such a Trade. Written by a fair Merchant. A Dialogue between a Director of the New East India Company, and one of the Committee for preparing By-laws: in which those for an impartial Rotation of Directors, and the preventing of Bribes, are particularly debated. Memoirs of Sir john Berkely, containing an Account of his Negotiation with Lieutenant General Cromwell, Commissary General Ireton, and other Officers of the Army, for restoring K. Charles the First to the Exercise of the Government of England. Memoirs of Secret Service. Containing the fullest and most early Discovery, 1. Of the late intended Assassination of his Majesty King William, with the Consultations and Meetings in order thereunto. 2. Of the intended Invasion from France. 3. Of the arrival of the Thoulon Fleet at. Breast. 4. Of a Number of Arms concealed in Warwickshire by Sir William Parkyns, which his since lodged in the Tower: With other Affairs of great moment. To which is added, A Character of Rob. F— n. By Capt. Matthew Smyth, who kept a private Correspondence for several years with a great Minister of State. Two Pamphlets in vindication of the said Memoirs; the one in answer to the D. of S' Letter, the other against R. K. Books written against a Standing Army. AN Argument showing, that a Standing Army is inconsistent with a Free Government, and absolutely destructive to the Constitution of the English Monarchy. In 2 Parts. A Letter from the Author of the Argument against a Standing Army, to the Author of the Balancing Letter. Some Queries for the better understanding K. James' List of 18000 Irish Heroes published at the Savoy, in answer to what had been, and what should be writ against a Standing Army. A Discourse of Government with relation to Militias. The Militia Reformed, or an easy Scheme of furnishing England with a constant Land Force, capable to prevent or to subdue any Foreign Power, and to maintain perpetual Quiet at home, without endangering the Public Liberty. A short History of Standing Armies in England. A Letter to a Member of Parliament concerning Guards and Garrisons. A 2 d Letter concerning the four Regiments commonly called Mareeners. The Seaman's Opinion of a Standing Army, in opposition to a Fleet at Sea as the best security of the Kingdom. In a Letter to a Merchant written by a Sailor. The State of the Case, or the Case of the State. A Confutation of a late Pamphlet entitled, A Letter balancing the Necessity of keeping up a Land Force in times of Peace with the Dangers that may follow on it. Part I. The second Part of the Confutation of the Balancing Letter; containing an occasional Discourse in vindication of Magna Charta. In which is shown, 1. That Magna Charta is much older than K. john. 2. That the Confirmations procured to it in his and Henry the 3 d's Reigns, were far from being gained by Rebellion. The whole containing an Historical Account and Defence of the Proceed of the Barons against those Kings for their open and notorious Violations of Magna Charta, and the English Laws and Liberties.