A Funeral-Oration UPON FAVOURITE, My Lady Lap-Dog. By a Person of Quality. Immodicis brevis est oetas, & rara Senectus. Mart. Durum; sed levius fit patientiâ Quicquid corrigere est nefas. Horat. LONDON, Printed in the Year, 1699. Epistle Dedicatory TO URANIA. IT is your Command, Madam, that I should make public the ensuing Oration on Favourite, and your Commands can be no more resisted than your Eyes. But besides, that it is not in the power of your Slave to disobey you, I can pay no less a Tribute to the Manes of our deceased Brother in servitude, than to give this public Testimony of the respect I have for his Virtues. Other Lovers not so disinteressed as myself, might perhaps triumph at the death of so considerable a Rival as was Favourite. But I, Madam, who take share in all your Afflictions, am so far from rejoicing at it, and erecting a Trophy on his untimely Destiny, that I profess all the Consolation I can fetch From Philosophy, from the Lyceum, the Porticus, or the Tusculanum, is not able to support me under the deep sense I have of your unspeakable Loss. Nor can we condemn, or think unwarrantable your Grief. Were not the World sufficiently acquainted with the deserts of Favourite, yet even those who were altogether strangers to his good Qualities would deduce a reasonable consequence, that there was something most emphatically, most conspicuously shining in him, which should prefer hint to Urania's favour. For certainly a Woman of your Discernment, a Woman so nice a Judge, and so bountiful a Rewarder of Merit, whether in Man or Brute, could never bestow so plentiful a portion of your Kindness on a Dog, whose Endowment did not give him a title to it. In fine, you fed, you cherished, you caressed him. By your Favour you raised him more above the Animals of his own Species, than Animals themselves are exalted above the inferior Vegetables. 'Tis true, he created some private Jealousies, some Discontents in the Breasts of your Admiters: But to do public justice to his ashes, I must say that of Favourite, which cannot, without manifest injury to truth, be affirmed of all the other Favourites of Princes, of the Richelieus, of the Mazarins, of the Wolsey's, of the Buckingham's, of the Lerma's, and of the Olivares, that in the Universal corruption of a most degenerate Age, he preserved an unblemished, an inviolable Integrity to his Mistress; that he did not give Intelligence to a Foreign Court, of the private Resolutions of State that were taken in the Cabinet at home; that when Affairs of Importance called her Abroad, he did not stay behind her, nor sleep ingloriously upon the Couch; that he stood unmoved, stood unshaken, against all the Attacks of Bribes; that he did not crush calamitous Merit beneath him, nor supplant the Obstacle in his way above him; that he never Smiled where he intended to ruin. In shore, that he despised the little Artifices of the Great, as the Politic Nod, the slavish Cringe, the deceitful Bow, the betraying Hugg, and the murdering Whisper. But I will enlarge no farther on his Praises, since I am sensible that by my want of Ability he has suffered too much already in the ensuing Oration. Expect not then that after I have injured your Dog, I should be so hardy as to attempt your Panegyric, that is, to injure you. For, Madam, should I employ all the Tragical forces of Rhetoric, should I lavish all the magnificence of Expression, and all the splendid pomp of Metephors, I should fall infinitely short of my Divine Argument. Eloquence here loses its use, the gaudy Train of Tropes and Figures are but vain and empty Ostentation. We cannot speak Figuratively of you, we cannot speak of you with exaggeration. You transcend all Hyperboles, your Merit rises above the sublimest flights of Fancy. I shall only say, that all Virtues unite to make a bright Constellation in you, and that if there were a general shipwreck of your Sex, we should find the scattered Perfections ofWomankind collected in yourself. Other Ladies, if they have their Graces have their Defects withal. Angelica talks away the merit of her Face, and what she gains by her Eyes, she loses by her Tongue. Horatia overwhelms us by the splendour, and leads us Captives by the Arts of her Dress, who were she to be seen in dishabillee in the ruelle, would sigh to see herself no longer the Object of Adoration. Melanissa appears with advantage in the simplicity of an unartful Attire, who cannot suppress the pomp and Ornament of Dress. Sempronia treads on every Heart when she Dances, but gains no Triumph when she Sings. Belinda charms us with her Voice, but is disagreeable at a Ball. Oriana, with her melancholy Air, gives us sad Cause of Melancholy, but excites our Laughter with her own. Aurelia has Wit, has Youth, has Beauty to fix the most roving Heart, but cannot fix her own. Lindamira would make the most constant Lover in the Universe, but wants the Charms to make us so. Aemilia speaks favourably of all the World, but gives all the World just occasion not to speak favourably of her. Cassandra's Innocence is above the Censure of others, but the Innocence of others cannot defend themselves from the Censure of Cassandra. But in you, Madam, we find united all the Advantages of the happiest of your Sex, without any of their Defects. What the most celebrated Wit of this Age has said, of the most celebrated Beauty of a neighbouring Kingdom, may with equal Justice be applied to you. One may be constant to you, with all the pleasure of inconstancy. We change every moment for your Graces, but are still constant to your Person. But, Madam, as I shall not offer Incense to you that has been presented at other. Altars, so neither will I attempt your Comparison with the most illustrious Beauties of the former, or present Ages. When ever we think or talk of you, Madam, the Dispute is not with other, but with yourself, which Part, which Feature, which Posture is most agreeable; whether you charm us most when you Move or Sat, Stand or Walk; Whether, you throw the Lover down more with your hand, than you trample on him with your foot; whether is most powerful, the Eloquence of your Eyes, 〈◊〉 that of your Tongue; whether is most delicate, your Tread in the Conduct of your Life, or that of your Gate: In short, whether your Thoughts are brighter than your Looks, and whether is most boundless your Fancy, to the Empire of your Beauty. Thus it is with you, Madam, as with Kings or Princes, whom we dare not bring in competition with their Inferiors, but measure them by themselves, and compare one part of their Life by the other. Thus, Madam, by the common Fate of all Dedicators I have suffered myself to be carried into the stream of Panegyric, even after I had protested against it; but I shall prosecute this Argument no farther, which I am not able to sustain; the dreadful fate of Salmoneus ought to deter me, who died by the Bolts he endeavoured to imitate. By observing this conduct, I shall not only consult my own Reputation, but the Interest too and Repose of Mankind: For should I persist to draw your fair Picture, should I descend into the detail of your innumerable Excellencies and Perfections, there would fall ten thousand Victims at your Feet, and this Epistle Dedicatory might prove perhaps, in some sense, a Funeral Oration on the Reader. I see, Madam, your Breast is capable of tender Impressions. You can be moved at the Fate of Favourite, (no wonder he outran Us in your Affection, since four Legs will always be too many for two) take pity then of his Orator. You can weep to see him dead, pay then a Teat to the Funerals of the Man, whom yourself, whom your own bright Eyes have slain. The PREFACE. By a Friend of the Author. MEthinks I see some Surly Morose Critics, who mistake their dullness for Gravity, and their Spleen for Religion, look down with a haughty Solemn Air upon the following Performance, and thus vent their pious Choler against it. A Funeral Oration upon a Lady's Lap-Dog▪ why What can the meaning of that be? How comes Panegyric, which ought only to be paid to the memory of the most Eminent Men, and the most virtuous Matrons, in short, to nothing below a Lord Mayor or Alderman, to be squandered away upon a Contemptible Brute, What has this Dog done in his Life-time, to deserve such an uncommon Tribute ahter his Death? Has he built any Hospitals to provide for Beggars of his own making? Has he founded any Lectures to Preach down Socinianism, or left a 〈◊〉 of Thousand Pounds to the bluecoat Infantry? When living, did he encourage the Woollen Manufacture, or the Royal Fishery? Did he appear Vigorously for Liberty and Property, or Bark against a Standing Army If nothing of this is to be found in 〈…〉 to be remembered in so extraordinary a manner? To this I reply, that if our Author was so complacent as to obey the Commands of a fair Lady, or if he had a Mind to ridicule the rumbling bombast, and vile prostitution of the Modern Eloquence; or lastly, if he was resolved to show his Wit upon a trivial Subject, what is that to any Body, or where is the harm on't. If the latter is a Sin, several Learned Authors, whose Books he does not think himself Worthy to carry, have been guilty of it before him. Melancthon, one of the first Reformers, Writ an Encomium upon an Ant. Lipsius, the famous Commentator upon Tacitus, Celebrated an Elephant C●rdan, one of the greatest Philosophers of the last Age, the Gout, as did likewise that great Germane Wit, Bilibaldus Pirkheimerus. Dan. Heinsius showed his parts upon a Louse; Caelius Calcagninus upon a Flea; Johannes Passeratius upon an Ass; Conradus Goddeus upon an Owl; Franc. Scribanius upon a Fly; Janus Dousa upon a Shadow; Martinus Schoockius upon Deafness; Guil. Menapius upon a Quartan Ague; Jac. Gutherius upon Blindness; M. Ant. Majoragius upon Dirt; Arthur Jonston upon an Old Man; and lastly, Caspar Barlaeus upon an Ens Rationis. Were I minded to show my great Reading upon this occasion, I could cite an infinite number of the like examples, as Synesius a Primitive Bishop, who Writ an Oration in praise of Baldness; but these are more than suficient. However, now my hand is in, I cannot forbear to tell my Reader, that St. Jerome mentions the last Will and Testament of a Hogg, under the name Marcus Grunnius Corocotta, Tom. 3. adv. Ruffin. and Tom. 5. ad Enstochium; so 'tis a plain case now, I hope, that the Ancients, as well as the Moderns, have condescended to adorn mean Subjects; and if any discourteous Critic has a mind to oppose such a numerous body, I give him leave under my hand to do it. A Funeral- Oration UPON FAVOURITE, My Lady Lap-Dog. I Am commanded, Gentlemen, to do a Thing to day without a Precedent: For I believe I am the first Orator who ever yet undertook to speak the Funeral-Oration of a Dog. But if Catullus could write an Elegy upon Lesbia's Sparrow; if Alexander could build and dedicate A Town to the Memory of his Horse; can you think it strange that Urania, no less lllustrious by her Beauty, than that Monarch was by his Achievements ' and who has gained as wide an Empire by her Eyes, as he did by his Arms: I say, if Urania is willing to celebrate the Funerals of the Dog she loved so dearly? Besides, As Favourite eminently excelled all other Dogs during his Life, so it is but reasonable we should distinguish him at Death. But ' though both for the sake of Urania, and upon the score of his own admirable Qualities, he deserves to be considered with a Funeral- Oration; yet, of all Men, certainly am I the most unqualifyed for such an Employment: For, not to insist that any Talon in Oratory is but slender, Urania's Cruelty has reduced me to a Condition little better than Favorite's. Yes, Urania; your Unkindness has had the same sad Effect upon me, that Fate has had upon him; and I am present at my own Funerals, as well as those of your Dog. But it is your Command, Madam, that I enter on this Office; and your Eyes have not left me the Liberty to disobey you. Behold then the Dead, making the Oration of the Dead; an unhappy Man, of a happy Dog; the Object of your Scorn, of the Object of your Love. Wherefore, Gentlemen, I demand your Attention, I demand your Sorrows: For, Who will not afford both their Attention, and their Sorrows to Urania's. Misfortune? Are not her Misfortunes ours, and are we not interessed in her Afflictions? Is she moved with any Passion, wherewith we are not likewise affected? But besides that, our Grief is a Tribute we owe to Urania, and which it is not in our power to refuse her, Favourite himself, and. his Virtues, require from us, that we should drop a Tear upon his Grave: For, undoubtedly, never was Dog possessed of so many excellent Qualities; never was Dog so beloved living, or regretted dead. To give you a due Sense of our Loss, and that you may apprehend how just, how warrantable our Sorrows are, I shall set before you the Virtues and Endowments of this excellent Creature: And here should I re-count at large his good Qualities, should I enumerate distinctly his several Excellencies, I should sooner exhaust your Patience, than my Argument. Let it suffice to touch lightly and cursorily on those which were most conspicuous and shining in him. Before I launch out into the immense Ocean of the Argument before me, I might, after the usual and laudable Example of all the celebrated Panegyrists, both of Ancient and Modern Times, reckon up a long and illustrious Catalogue of his Heroic Progenitors. I might tell you, how, by the Mother, he claims Kindred with all the Courts of Europe; there being hardly a Queen, or Princess. or Lady of Quality, throughout christendom, in whose Lap there does not lie some one or other of Favorite's great Relations. I might tell you, how, by the Father, he is allied to Heaven, and to the Stars: How the Celestial Dog beholding from above beautiful Fanny, (for Favorite's Mother condescended to dignify that Name,) sporting herself in Urania's Garden, struck with the Almighty Date of Love, and desirous to possess her, like Jove of old quitted his bright Abode, and descending like a Star-shoot upon Earth, compressed the lovely Nymph in a Bed of Roses, and begot our Hero. Behold the Extraction of Favourite! Such was the Race of Hercules, of Achilles, of Aeneas; half Mortal, half Divine. But I shall insist no longer on his Pedigree. Nam genus, & proavos. & quae non fecimus ipsi Vix ea nostra voco— Great Descent, as it adorns true Merit where it finds it, so where it finds it not, it does not create it. Favourite relies only on his own Deserts for his Fame: Favourite reflects back as much Lustre on his Noble Ancestors, as he can derive from them. But let us return from whence we have digressed, and come to his own Personal Virtues. First then, Was ever any thing so beautiful? Nothing, certainly, was seen so axquisitely formed. What Star more lovely than his Forehead? What Snow more white than his Feet? What more delicately turned than his Ears? What more curiously polished than his Neck? No Arrow of Cupid's rounder than his Tail: No Dove of Venus' smother and softer than his Back. Assuredly, the Goddess of Beauty herself, were she to appear in the Form of a fourfooted Animal, would assume no other Shape than Favorite's. Again, Was there ever anything so well-mannered? For the purpose, If at any time any Ladies of Condition and Quality came to pay their Respects and Devoirs to Urania, he was never observed, like other ill-mannered Dogs, to run with open Mouth to the Door, and receive them with the clamorous Salute of his Voice; but entertain them with a respectful Silence, and introduce them with Civility unto his Mistress, nor, during the whole Visit, as is also the wont of the rest of Dogs, thrust himself in a rude and troublesome manner into their Laps, disordering their Dress, and with dirty Feet incommoding their Linen; but, like a well-bred Creature, sit at a due Distance, and silently wait the Call of the Ladies. A Third remarkable Quality was, his cleanliness. And truly so clean did he constantly appear, with a Body so white, so smooth, so sleek, that one would say Venus herself had combed him, that all the Cupids had unanimously washed him, and that all the Graces had elaborately and tightly wiped him. And so careful and solicitous was he to preserve himself so, that he avoided all Commerce with the Stables or Kitchen, lest he should contract a Filth thereby; confining his conversation altogether to the Chamber or the Parlour, to the Bed or the Couch. Nor would he ever, without manifest Show of Regret, commit himself to the Arms of a Footman, or common Servant, as apprehending a Stain from their Embraces, and Pollution from their very Touch. In like manner, Whenever Nature importuned him, he would privately withdraw from the Company into some solitary Retirement, and there obey her Laws: Or if she called upon him at a Time more unseasonable, when he was either in the Arms or Lapet of a Lady, he would signify with his Foot, or by some certain Tone of his Voice, the Necessity that pressed him, and admonish her to set him down. 'Twou'd be endless a farther Enumeration of his Virtues. I shall only mention one Quality more, which crowns and consummates all; that is to say, his unparallelled Affection to his Mistress. I say, Unparallelled; for I believe, upon all the Records of Story, there is not to Be found an Instance of so unexampled and singular a Love in Dog: And, as on the one hand I may boldly affirm, that never had Dog so kind a Mistress; so on the other, I may with Truth aver, that never had Mistress so affectionate a Dog. Urania's Soul and Body were not more straight united, than were She and her Dog; and as soon might she have been separated from herself, as from him: Wheresoever she went, he was still her Companion; not her own Thoughts were more constantly with her: He would accompany her in her private and in her public Walks; he would attend her in the Park, in the Playhouse, at Balls, at the Court, and in her Visits; he would follow her to her Chamber, to her Closet, to her Bed; he would invade her very Retreats and Solitudes, intrude upon her Meditations and Devotions, and not permit her to be alone, even with her God. But that wherein he most manifestly and signally testified his Love to his Mistress, was, his constant Attendance and Presence in the Time of her late Illness: For, during the whole Course of her Sickness, from the first Moment the Violence of her Indisposition confined her to her Bed, Favourite was not known to be absent from her one Minute; but placing himself at the Top of her Pillow, continued there to abide and watch by her whole Nights and Days, without Intermission: Nor could he ever, by Force or Flattery, be Prevailed upon to quit his Seat, before such time as Urania was perfectly restored to her good Condition of Health. No Wonder then if a Dog thus excellently endowed, and singularly qualified, was both admired and loved, was favoured and caressed by all that had the least Acquaintance with his Merits. Upon the Score of these rare Qualities and Virtues, if any Dog, assuredly Favourite deserved to be immortal. But, alas! every thing beneath the Sun must terminate, and have an End. After that Favourite had been deservedly the Joy and Delight of the Ladies, and that, he had arrived to the highest Pitch of Happiness attainable here below, that is to say, had acquired particularly the Favour and Love of Urania, behold, unexpectedly is he taken from us! Nunc it per iter tenebricosum, Illuc unde negant redire quenquam. At vobis malè sit malae tenebrae Orci, quae omnia bella devoratis. Who can here forbear to grieve, forbear to lament? Who would not here abundantly weep, abundantly sigh? What Heart so insensible, but would relent and melt? What Breast so barbarous, but would feel Sentiments of Sorrow? Lugete ô Veneres, Cupidinésque. Weep Ladies, weep Gentlemen, weep; Favourite is dead; Urania's beloved Dog is dead. Poor Favourite! How art thou changed from what thou wast but yesterday? What a Revolution has one Day made? Thou, whom but four and twenty Hours ago the Sun beheld in Urania's lovely Lap; behold, now shortly the cold Earth will contain thee. Thou, whom she bore about in her tender Arms; behold, now the rough Embraces of Death do fold thee. Thou, who wast then thy Mistriss' Joy, art now her Grief. Thou, who wast then our Envy, art now our Pity. Lastly, Thou, who wast then so visibly distinguished from all other Dogs, art now confounded with the meanest. No more now wilt thou entertain Urania as thou wast wont, with wanton Play: No more now wilt thou divert her with a Thousand Sportive Tricks: No more wilt thou be her beloved Companion in her Chamber, in her Parlour, in her Garden, in her Coach, in her Walks, at her Table, and on her Couch; Alas! Where is now that Beauty, which rendered thee the Admiration of all that beheld thee? Where those innumerable Graces, by which thou didst transcendently surpass the rest of Dogs, and which created thee the Love of the Ladies, and the Envy of the Men? So far art thou from being that admired, that beautiful Thing, which once thou wert, that we are making all the haste we can to remove thee out of our sight, as an Object that offends us, as a Spectacle our Eyes are not able to support without Aversion and Pain. Lugete ô Veneres, Cupidinésque. Weep Ladies, weep Gentlemen, weep; Favourite is dead; Urania's beloved Dog is dead. Who can here forbear complaining of the Rigour of Fate? Who would not be almost tempted to expostulate in thefse Terms with Heaven? Why are the most excellent Things still the most perishable? Why was the Flower so fair, and yet so fading? Why is what we esteem most, snatched from us soon? Why had not Fate bestowed fewer Virtues on Favourite, or given a larger Extent to his Life? But, vain are these Expostulations: Heaven is inexorable, and will not restore him to us; he is irrecoverably, he is for ever gone. Dislevel your Hair, Ladies, and tear your Garments: Disfigure your Faces, Gentlemen, and knock your Breasts. Let us grieve; let us lament? But what do I madly do? Why do I endeavour to move your Tears, which but flow of themselves too fast? Why do I attempt to raise your Grief; which rather wants restraint than incitement. Alas! we have Lamented enough: Let us rather seek how to diminish, than augment our Sorrow; we need comfort, we need Consolation. Let these following Considerations, then mitigate our Grief. First, We would do well to consider, That to die, is to pay a common Debt to Nature, and is a necessity, to which the greatest and best Men have submitted. Of all these infinite numbers of Men: Of all these prodigious swarms of Animals that fill the Globe; is there one single Person or Creature, who is exempted from this Lamentable Law? Nay, do not the most inanimate, the most insensible things arrive at the same end, and suffer the same Destiny with us? Do not the most durable Walls, the strongest Fortifications decay? The Sun, which is daily a Spectator or so many Funerals both of Men and of Beasts, is it not itself perishable? The Earth, which is the common Grave of every living Creature, will it not find itself a Sepulchre in the Universal Ruin? The Heavens, the Stars, the Elements, the whole Mass of the Universe, will it hot sooner, or later, suffer Dissolution? Nay, what is yet more lamentable, what is yet more deplorable, that which is fairer than the Heavens, that which is brighter than either Sun, or Stars, the noblest production, the most exquisite Composition of Nature, Urania herself, will she not one day die, and can we then demand with justice that Favourite should be Immortal? Next, let us remember that our Grief may be hurtful to ourselves, but cannot be any real Benefit to Favourite. Could our Lamentations indeed call him back to life, could our Sighs inspire new Breath into him, or our Tears water the lovely Flower 'till it revived, our Sorrows then were warrantable; but, alas! fruitless are our Sighs, unprofitable our Tears. Lastly, let us comfort ourselves with this Assurance, that Favourite, whatsoever his Condition be, is not unhappy. For if, as most Philosophers hold, the Souls of Brutes perish, and are entirely extinguished with the Body, not existing after death, as he is not capable of Happiness, so neither is he of Misery. But if that other Opinion be true, that the Souls of Brutes, as well as Men, do not die, but only change their Habitation, and pass by way of Transmigration from out of one Body into another, Favourite may enter once more upon the stage or Life, and he that now parts from Urania a Dog, may perchance return to her again a Squirrel, or Sparrow; or it may be a Lover. Since than he is partaker of a common Lot, since our Tears can neither profit him nor ourselves, and since we are persuaded he is not unhappy, let us omit an unjustifiable and unnecessary Sorrow. Favourite himself, could he speak, would certainly bid us cease our Lamentations, and give over our needless Complaints, expressing himself after this manner. Mourn not for me; for, to what purpose is it to mourn? Has not my Orator already told you, that your Tears are idly and unprofitably spent; that they cannot avail to restore me again to Life; and why then this weeping? Why these Complaints? Why these sad Sighs? Do not disquiet yourselves in vain. Do not give yourselves anxieties which are not needful; But as for you, my beautiful Mistress, it is your Interest more especially to be sedate, unless you design to revenge the Men's Quarrel on your own fair Face, and ruin that Beauty, which has ruined them. For what have those lovely Cheeks, done that you should endeavour, by excess of Grief, to rob them of those Graces which subdue all Hearts? How have those bright Eyes offended you, that thus you go about, by immoderate weeping, to deprive them of that Lustre by which they kill? Are you resolved to make my Grave your Beauty's Sepulchre? Alas! I am not worthy of the least of your Thoughts, much less your Tears, which are Gems too bright, too inestimable to be thrown away so lightly. But if you shall still retain any kindness for a Dog that has served you faithfully, demonstrate it another way than by your Tears. Transfer your Love as a Legacy I bequeath from myself to my Orator, from the Dead to the Dead, but yet from one you cannot recover, to one whom you can. I say the Dog himself, had he a Voice, would express himself in the manner I have represented. What remains then, but that we bring at once our grief and our Discourse to a Period? Let us perform our last Office to Favourite. Let us commit his Body to the Dust, and so depart. On Favourite, when alive, in Imitation of the 9th Ode of Anacreon. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 TEll me, whose pretty Dog are you? Whence do you come, and whither go? Urania is my Lady's Name, To her I go, front her I came: O'er every Heart the Maid does Reign, And Men are proud to drag her Chain. At her bright Feet they bleeding lie, For her they Sigh, for her they die, Then use me tenderly, for know, Her Eyes will sure return the blow. She calls me Favourite, and loves Me more than Venus does her Doves. What would you give Alas! to be Urania's Favourite like me? Where e'er my Mistress does repair, I and the Graces follow her. Sometimes with her in Coach Tride, Young Cupid's running by our side. Sometimes she Walks with Noble gate, Whilst I, and Ruin on her wait. Till kindly favouring my Feet, She makes her own bright Arms my Seat. What would you give, Alas! to be Urania's Favourite like me? With her at Table do I Eat, And take my Dinner from her Plate. Or standing at her Chair am fed, Receiving from her hand the Bread. What would you give, Alas! to be Urania's Favourite like me? Me on her lovely Lap she lays, With me she Sports, with me she plays. Sometimes her bosom's Snow I beat, With Sportive motion of my Feet: Sometimes her Mouth I Kiss, and Sip The Nectar from her Rosy Lip. What would you give, Alas! to be Urania's Favourite like me. At Night I follow her to Bed, And on her Bosom lean my Head. The little God of Love, and I Together on one Pillow lie. The Dog which in the heavens appears, And Shines among the glorious Stars, I Envy not, while here I rest, For there is Heaven in her Breast. What would you give, Alas! to be Urania's Favourite like me. But it is time that I were gone, I've told my tale, and so have done. Poor Man! you Sigh, Alas! I fear Urania then is too Severe. Farewell, and may my Mistress be To you as gentle, as to me. AN Heroic Elegy Upon the DEFUNCT aforesaid. Out of the Author of Prince A— Quis desiderio sit pudor, aut modus Tam chari capitis— NOW was the Eastern Sky-dyed purple spread, page 24. For fair Aurora's radiant Feet to tread: 244. And now the beauteous Morn began to rise Streaking with rosy light the smiling Skies. The Fulgent Sun had with an early ray, Depo'sd the Shades, 14. and Reintroned the Day. When in a Gloomy Cave, 14. that nature made In a dark Rock, and covered with the shade Of spreading Trees, that Day could not Invade, Pensive Urania filled with Grief and dread, 9 And pale confusion, drooped her lovely Head. With rage dilated, and with Sorrow blown, 177. Like glowing Aetna on Plinlimmon thrown. A Velvet Bonnet on her Head, and dressed For lightness in a thin Embroidered Vest. Wild with her grief, 240. distracted with despair, She Strikes her throbbing Breast, tears off her Hair, And with her Piercing Screams disturbs the Air. When the fierce Tempest had its fury broke, 251. With a deep Sigh the Sad Urania spoke. Oh my dear Dog, how, mild had been my doom, Hadst thou escaped, I suffered in thy room. Oh that to see this fatal hour I live, And thee, and all that's dear in Life Survive. Such on the Ground the fading Rose we see, By some rude blast torn from the Parent Tree. But sure I shall not long thy absence Mourn, I'll hast to thee, thou'lt not to me return. My ill presaging Dreams are brought to bed, I started in my Sleep, and cried my Dog is dead. O righteous Heaven why hast thou ranged this day, 11. Against me all thy Judgements in array! On me let all thy Fiery Darts be spent, Let not my Crime involve the Innocent. And cruel Death, Sure Thou wast Nursed on th' horrid Alps high tops, 20. And feedest thy Hunger with Cerberean Sops. Hard marble Rocks might with more ease relent, 42. And fire and plague learn sooner to repent. Cease heavenly Viols, 12. cease harmonious Flutes, Besounding Dulcimers, and tuneful Lutes. May dire Convulsions for a dismal space. 9 Distort pale nature, wresting from its place, This Globe, set to the Sun's more oblique view, And wrench the Poles some Leagues yet more askew. Thick Thunderclaps and Lightnings livid glare Disturb the Sky, 14. and trouble all the Air. Eclipses, Comets, Meteors, Lightnings, Storms, 178. Murders and Monsters of tremendous forms. Fierce Alpine Allobrogs with slaughter fed, 159. In snows, and everlasting Winter bred. Outrage, Distraction, Clamour, Tumult reign, Since Favourite 's gone, and ne'er will come again. Why did not Comets shake their fiery hair, 65. And trail their flaming Trains along the Air: Why did not Flakes of fire the World amaze, And intermixed prodigious Meteors blaze. Impetuous roar o'erturn Heavens lofty Towers, And starry fragments fall in burning showers. Conflicting Billows against Billows dash, 219. Thunder 'gainst Thunder roar, Lightnings 'gainst Lightnings flash. Sword's clash with Swords, Bucklers on Bucklers bray, 228. And through the World a horrid din convey. All mingle Tears, your Cries together flow, And form a hideous harmony of Woe. Oh Favourite worthy of a milder fate! 220. But Death's blind strokes distinguish not the Great. Scarce two full Golden-years are stolen away, 240. Which in Love's Calendar scarce make a Day, Wheh first on thee my circling Arms I flung, And on thy Neck, overwhelmed with Joy, I hung, A velvet Cap. did then thy head equip, If my decayed Remembrance does not trip. Too dark th' Eternal's ways are, 11. too profound For the most sharp created Wit to sound. But sure thy loss was not in Anger meant, 12. Heaven is too just, and thou too Innocent. page Thou cam'st of the Islandine Noble Race, That right Descent from the swift Eurus trace: Of lofty Stature, 165. and a graceful Air, Feared by the Males, and favoured by the Fair. Thy Hair Celestial, 16. finely spun and wove On Looms divine by all the skill above, Bleached in th' empyreal Plains, till white as Snow, Made the long Robe that to thy Feet did flow. Let me my Sorrow thus express, 156. 'tis true A fruitless Grief, but all that Love can do. Mean time we must this last kind Office pay, 152. And Favo'rite's Body to the Dome convey, Where his Illustrious Fathers lie Interred, Who reigned by Females loved, by others feared. Painted and drawn with great Magnificence, 165. In lasting Oil bought at a vast expense. Once more Dear Dog, 249. farewel, till we above Meet in the blissful Realms of Light and Love. FINIS. In the Epistle Dedicatory, Page 5. Line 13. read Support instead of Suppress.