skull and crossbones 
MEMENTO MORI   skull and crossbones  
Great-Britain's Lamentation for her Deceased Princess: OR, AN ELEGY upon the Death of that Most Illustrious MARY, Queen of England, Scotland, France and Ireland; who Exchanged this Life for a Better, Decemb. 28.1694.  Maeror obest Elegos Scribere cogit amor. A Rural Pen. 
AH Sin! thou grand Infringer of the Laws  
Of Sacred Justice, how art thou the Cause  
Of World's of Mischiefs? bringing up the Rear,  
Since thou to lead the Van didst first appear:  
'Twas long of thee, the Angels fell so low,  
From height of Glory to the depth of Woe.  
'Twas long of thee, the Just Offended God  
Plagued all Mankind with his Revenging Rod:  
'Twas long of thee, that a late dismal stroke  
From Heaven hath England's Joys in sunder broke:  
'Tis thou, vile Sin! 'tis thou that art the Womb  
Of all our Sorrows; thou that art the Tomb  
Of all our Comforts, but for thee, vile Sin,  
We longer might have kept our Gracious Queen.  
Religious Princes God doth sometimes take  
From Kingdoms, for their Sinning People's sake.  
Death is the Track that every one must tread;  
Not One now living but shall once be dead.  
Death killeth some, wills others to survive;  
Not one deceased, but was once alive.  
Death with a steady Hand his Dart le's fly,  
At all; all Men are Mortal; All must die.  
Death is a Leveller, when he doth strike,  
The Highest and the Lowest fall alike.  
Death will not be by Force of Arms controlled,  
It spares not any, neither Young nor Old.  
Death knocks as boldly at the Princely Door,  
As at the humble Cabins of the Poor.  
The stately'st Cedars, and the sturdiest Oaks,  
Are overpowered by Death's all-conquering Strokes.  
Caesar must be Supreme, and Rule alone,  
And Rival with him, Pompey will have none.  
Yet, those two direful Thunderbolts of War,  
Nay, Alexander's self, that Rid as far  
As Phoebus' Beams are spread, and terrified  
Th' whole World, Conquered by Death, these Conquerors  
The Greatest Sovereigns on Earth must bow 
(died.   
To Fates resistless Force.— And now, ah! now  
At Royal MARY Death his Arrow darts,  
And kills as great a Conqueress of Hearts  
In these Dominions, as was ever found  
Within the spacious Earth's Sea-circled round.  
Our Warlike Pallas, and our mild Astraea,  
Of Sacred Virtue the Divine Idea,  
By equal sharing in the Government,  
To King ang Kingdoms gave no mean Content:  
Whilst far-famed William managed Martial Work  
'Gainst Lewis th' Antichristian Christian Turk  
In foreign Countries, she did overcome  
Her Foes by Prudence, and kept Peace at home.  
Her Crowned Presence, and Renowned Acts,  
Made her the Glory of the Female Sex.  
This Great Exemplar of a Pious Life  
To Kingly Caesar an Obedient Wife;  
Copartner with him in th' Imperial Power,  
To Foes a Terror; to her Friends a Tower:  
A Sword to Wrong; a Shield to Innocence;  
The Rod of Vice, and virtue's Recompense:  
A Peerless Lady, in her florid Age,  
Brim-filled with Honour, Courteous, Modest, Sage,  
Witty and Wise, one of a resolute Mind,  
Yet to Compassion mightily inclined  
Even sometimes to a Fault, in saving those  
False Wretches that were her Life-seeking Foes:  
Factors for Rome, whom nothing will content  
Less than the Ruin of the Government.  
(Know Rebels, tho' a while you spared be,  
Time may advance you on your Mourning Tree.)  
Death thrills his Killing Dart; Great MARY dies,  
When on the sudden, Tides of Sorrow rise,  
And overflow the Land: All Eyes are drowned  
With Tears: All Places with a mourning sound  
Are filled; and Oh! with what lamenting Tones  
Heart-renting Sighs, and never stinting Groans  
The Vaulted Regions ring: The Heavens are clad  
In Mourning, and the Earth's exceeding sad;  
Britain Laments, and if the Seas we cross,  
What Country grieves not for this General Loss.  
confederate Princes all agreed, express  
Great Grief for their great General's Heaviness.  
O what hard-hearted Niobe can forbear  
For his great Loss to spend a Sigh, or Tear!  
Ah cruel Death! to Church and State a Foe,  
To turn a Commonwealth t' a Common Woe!  
Ah cruel Death! that dost at once destroy  
The Fair Maria's Life, and Britain's Joy!  
Ah! cruel Death! that sadly dost divide  
The Royal Consort and his Loyal Bride,  
Th'one Moiety of the Forsaken Throne,  
Leaving but half himself to sit thereon!  
How could he choose but Sigh, and Grieve, and Weep  
In thy rude Arms to see his dearest Sleep!  
Be cheered my Liege, thy Soul, when Prison-free,  
Shall go to her, who may not come to thee.  
Thy Loss is Great, far greater is her Gains,  
In Splendorous Bliss thy Sainted Mary Reigns:  
Be cheered my Liege, and follow her apace,  
Who ran to Glory in the Way of Grace:  
Run well thy Race, and so shalt thou obtain  
An Heavenly Crown, and shalt thy Lose regain  
Once more, and evermore with thy Saint Mary Reign.   

An Acrostic EPITAPH.  

Marry, the WOE rld's Or I enter Jewel;  
Albion ' sGem: OF fection S Fuel;  
Rome ' s Rod; Britain 's choice D elight;  
Y oung, yet stor R ' d withVertu E s bright:  
Q veen El I za's Se C and; Lowly,  
V alien, Fai T hful, Prud E nt, Holy:  
England' s D A rling; Fr A nce ' s Terror;  
Europe ' s Glor je; Female S Mirror;  
N ature's Var N is; what E ' re is found  
E xcellent, h E relies un D er Ground.   
N.B.   

London, Printed for John Whitlock, near Stationers-Hall, 1695.