AN elegy, On the Death of the Right Honourable and most Noble hero, ROBERT BLAKE, Late general of the English Fleet at Sea.  
Together with a Commemoration of the most famous Victories by him heretofore obained against the HOLLANDERS: And His remarkable Successes, to the Glory of the ENGLISH Nation, afterwards against the Spaniard and Turkish pirates, in clearing the Seas, and taking and drowning their Ships, and burning of many of the best of them in their strongest and most Fenced Havens: Who departed this Life on Friday, August the 7. 1657.  
WHat sacred Flame is this? What glorious Guest  
Is pleased to lodge in my unworthy breast?  
And with a sudden touch my Soul inspires,  
Rapt in amazements, and transporting sires?  
'tis thou (great Shade) thou whosoe'er thou be  
That leavest the world in darkness, thou art he●  
He who would truly mourn for such a man,  
To find him tears should drain the Ocean,  
Whiles dry all Navies through the world should stand,  
Or else be sailing on a 'slud by Land.  
The End of man is glory, and her birth  
Looks most to heaven, and sometimes down to Earth;  
Thou dost partake of both, and now dost know  
How much they differ in degrees, as show.  
Religion, Peace, and wisdom, and the Stories,  
Of Peace and War well-carried on, are Glories,  
But with thyself to make the Country thrive,  
Was thy true glory that's superlative.  
How did the Ocean sweat with blood when War  
Made thee triumphant 'gainst the Hollander●  
How bravely did thy foes come on? yet hid  
Their heads affrighted when thy Thunders chid,  
And all the Monsters in the Seas did keep  
Themselves retired' i'th' bottom of the Deep,  
And 'mongst themselves made peace, afraid to hear  
Thy dreadful Canons rattling in their care,  
The Whale by Whale stood silent, and began  
T'approach and comfort the Leviathan,  
Who in his watery Realms'ne'r knew before,  
Such lasting terror in so loud a roar,  
Three days together Fleet 'gainst Fleet did stand,  
And Thunders answered Thunders; the firm Land  
Trembled, and feared it should to isles be shook,  
And isles to be made Continents did look;  
To crown the merit of an Act so high,  
A glorious wound thou gotest with Victory,  
And having after on the foaming Main  
Made thyself Master of those foes again,  
And slain their admiral, who vowed that none  
At Sea should govern but himself alone;  
Thy Trumpets did on thy Return proclaim  
With thine the honour of the English Name,  
And ever since, where e'er thyself did please  
Thou saildst triumphant up and down the Seas,  
Sometimes to make the Turkish pirates know  
By Fire and Sword what 'tis to be thy fo,  
Or have the world more prone to understand  
The strength of England both by Sea, and Land;  
Sometimes t'examine, and with just disdain  
Suppress the Power, and the Pride of Spain,  
And in their Harbours burn their Ships, or make  
The pirates answer for the Goods they take;  
And thus in several Oceans showing all  
The parts of an accomplished general.  
In thy return a sickness met thee, and  
Death did ensue it ere thou cam'st to land;  
But that more fully we may here declare  
Our plaints, we should lay by all tears, which are  
Too weak for such a loss, we now should shake  
With a just sigh the centre, and awake  
The spirit of grief, that so our accents may  
Make our love known, where e'er his purer ray,  
Where e'er his Star doth shine, if now he is  
Spreading his light where rugged Parrhasis,  
Shines at the Northern Pole, or if he please  
Rather to grace the Southern Hyades,  
Or where the beauties of the Morn their clear,  
Reflections bend on Ganges streams, or where  
When e'er he in the Ocean dives, they run  
From Calpe hill who mourn the fainting Sun,  
Thou wheresoever thou dost thy beams dispense,  
It is no sin to beg their influence,  
Whilst thus on us thou shalt thy light employ;  
We more shall crave it, and we shall enjoy  
And mourn thee taken from us and a flight  
Shall daily practise, till we reach that height,  
Which thou hast gained, O why should Heaven ordain  
That when they there do joy, we here should plain,  
Why should it urge to Good, yet from our view,  
Steal the Example, and rejoice in't too.  
Grief is of kin to heaven, and doth improve  
The glorious Consorts, and blessed Quires above,  
And unto us of greater power doth seem,  
Since their joys move not us, our griefs help them,  
But can tears ease us, or Complaints renew,  
This matchless hero which no Age can do?  
Though grief is not so mighty to revive,  
Yet 'tis so happy to keep Fame alive:  
Let us be proud of sorrow then, and make  
His worth our theme, and since him overtake  
We cannot, let us with devoted trust  
Honour his relics, and religious Dust;  
How well these thoughts become us, we'll indent  
With heaven, and him, to keep the argument  
For ever in our breasts interred, and so  
May grief befriend us, that ourselves may grow  
Rich in his Virtues, and be nobly bent,  
On Sea and Land to love his Monument,  
Which needs no Gravers Art, for every sigh  
Shall better speak his Epitaph, and die,  
And learn a method to the world to grieve,  
Which never could so great a loss outlive,  
But that his Name recovers it as fast,  
And it Embalms, as it away doth wast.  
R. C.  
The End.   

London, Printed for Tho. Vere and W. Gilbertson, and are to be sold as their shops without Newgate. 1657.