ON THE DEATH Of the Right Honourable the Duke of ORMOND: A Pindaric ODE.  
BY THOMAS FLATMAN.  
Nunquam Stygias fertur ad undas  
Inclyta Virtus.— Vivite fortes!  
Nec Lethaeos saeva per amnes  
Vos fata trahent; sed cum summas  
Exiget horas consumpta Dies,  
Iter ad superos Gloria pandet.  Sen. Herc. Oet. 
LONDON: Printed for Benj. took. 1688.   

ON THE DEATH Of His GRACE, JAMES, DUKE of ORMOND: A Pindaric ODE.  

STANZA I.  
HAD not the deathless name of OSSORY  
Power to Preserve, as well as to Create,  
And overrule the dulness of my Fate,  
A Pen so meanly qualified as mine  
Might well this mighty Task decline,  
Too ponderous for feeble Me,  
Me so obscure, my glorious Theme so bright,  
Where all is overpowering Light  
Which never can submit to Night.  
But sense of deepest Gratitude should comptrol  
All the despondencies of a trembling Soul,  
And force a modest confidence to inspire  
The coldest Breast with an uncommon fire.  
Since then, for aught we know  
The separated happy Spirits above  
Sometimes regard our pious love,  
And are not much disturbed at what we kindly do:  
Let ORMOND'S gentle Ghost look down  
Full of kind compassion,  
And pity what my Duty prompts me to,  
Feign would I pay my Tribute ever due  
To his immortal Memory:  
But what immortal methods to pursue,  
Is understood by very few;  
The noblest Bard that ever wore the Bays  
Would here fall short in Sorrow, and in Praise.   

II.  
Our stock of Tears would soon exhausted be  
Were every Eye a Sea,  
And Grief should swell to Prodigality;  
Th' irreparable Loss, if duly weighed,  
Would make Posterity afraid,  
For ORMOND in his radiant course has done,  
What did amaze, what durst abide the Sun,  
And struck with Terror all the envious lookers on:  
Whether with ecstasy we think upon  
His goodly Person, or his matchless Mind,  
Where shall the most inquisitive mortal find  
A more accomplished Hero left behind?  
As he were sent from Heaven, designly Great,  
To dote on still, but not presume to imitate:  
Or whether with regret we cast an Eye  
On his unbounded Liberality,  
His unaffected Piety,  
Or more than Human Magnanimity  
(Virtues inimitable all)  
The joyful Beadsman, and the Church will tell  
The Story, scarce hereafter credible,  
And call his Life one long continued Miracle.   

III.  
Say, all you younger Sons of Honour, say,  
You that in peace appear so brisk, and gay,  
Is it a little thing to forfeit All  
At Loyalties tremendous Call?  
And stand with resolution in defence  
Of a despised calamitous Prince,  
To fight against our Stars, and to defy  
The last efforts of prosperous Villainy,  
And when the Hurricane of the State grew high,  
To brave the Thunder, and the Lightning scorn,  
The beauteous Fabric into pieces torn;  
Imprisonment, and Exile to disdain  
For a neglected Sovereign?  
Still to espouse a crazy tottering Crown.  
This mighty ORMOND was thy Own,  
This Glory thou deserv'dst to have,  
This bravery thou hast carried with thee to thy Grave.  
Let other lesser Great ones live, to try  
Thy arduous paths to Fame,  
Let them bid fair for Immortality,  
And to procure an everlasting name;  
And may thy sacred Ashes smile to see  
Their vain, their frivolous attempts to rival Mighty Thee.   

IV.  
O Noble Fortunate old Man!  
Tho' thou hadst still lived on  
Too Nestor's Centuries, thou hadst died too soon;  
Too soon alas! For Heaven could never be  
Or weary, or ashamed to find fresh toils for Thee:  
What wiser Head, or braver Arm than Thine  
Could Heaven contrive to manage heavens design!  
And what Herculean labour is too hard  
For such a mind, so well prepared!  
Ever above the prospect of Regard,  
And that unfashionable thing, Reward.  
Many have been thy gloomy days,  
Yet ever happy hast thou been;  
In every state thou merit'dst Praise,  
And thou hast never wanted it within.  
All after fourscore years, is Grief and Pain,  
Those honourably passed thou didst resign  
Thy Empire over every Heart,  
From thine this Sceptre never shall depart,  
But the Succession evermore remain:  
'Twas time for thee to die, and let a second ORMOND reign.   

V.  
How shall I mention thy lamented Death,  
Thy only blemish, thy Mortality!  
For 'tis too much disparagement for thee  
To be involved in common Destiny,  
And like inglorious Men give up thy precious breath.  
A fiery Chariot should have snatched thee hence,  
And all the Host of Heaven convened to see  
Th' assumption of a Godlike Prince  
Into th' ineffable Society:  
Half way at least, part of th' immaculate Train  
With Palms should have attended Thee,  
Thy Harbingers to the triumphant Hierarchy,  
Then big with wonder mounted up again.  
What can the Tongues of Men or Angels say?  
What Boänerges ne'er so loud,  
If they would speak of thy prodigious Day,  
Of which an Emperor's History would be proud.  
Farewell dread Prince,— O might it not be said,  
Tho' a desirable Euthanasie  
Prepared the way for Deifying thee,  
ORMOND like other men must die,  
For he with a Fatigue of Victory oppressed  
Laid himself only down to Rest.   
FINIS.