Hecatonstichon:  
OR, An ELEGY upon the much deplored Death, and solemn Funeral of the Right Honourable CHARLES Earl of Mountrath, Precedent of Connaght, etc. one of the Lords Justices of Ireland. Who deceased the 18. of December, Anno Dom. 1661.  

GReat Alexander judged Achille● Bays  
More glorious by the learned Homer's praise;  
AEneas Deeds had slept, had not the Pen  
Of famous Maro given them Life again. (Glory  
Then brave Achievements gain Triumphant  
When Wit & Learning do compose their Story.  
See then Mountrath's great Acts ye do record,  
If yet our Age a Poet can afford:  
A Trophy He deserves; if That He miss,  
It is our envious Age's shame, not His.  
My Meanness to such Merit bids me hold,  
Yet Duty to His Honour makes me bold  
Thus to deplore our Loss, His Funeral,  
The Irish Terror once, now Festival. (Tone,   

But dare these savage Monsters change their  
Who lately (name but COOTE) did howl, O hone?  
Dare Kerns, Tories, Miscreants yell or sing,  
While English Ears with Lamentation ring?  
Dare they once more lift up rebellious Head?  
Will Wolves be Rampant, now the Lion's dead?  
Ignoble Souls! This Land cannot be free  
From Venom, whilst such Snakes belch Calumny  
To taint our Hero's Fame; but all in vain,  
His Worth and Loyalty they cannot slain:  
These Rebels (true) he vanquished with's sword,  
But 'twas to pay them Tribute to his Lord:  
He tamed by's prowess this Lernaean Train,  
To prepare Subjects for his Sovereign:  
He fears not Irish Bogs, Phanatique Snares,  
Whilst He his Royal Master's way prepares.  
In Him (for so frank Nature had devised)  
Valour and Policie's epitomised.  
To serve His King, His Country, and His God,  
The English Champion and the Irish Rod.  
All wished the King restored, but none could do't  
Till Scotland found her Monk, & Ireland COOTE.  
King Charles' he mounts His Throne, & like the  
Darts forth resplendent rays through Albion. (Sun  
And that the Irish Fog his Beams might clear,  
In Charles Mountrath, King Charles he did appear.  
Thus shined the Glory of our Constellation,  
Charles by Name, and Charles by Deputation.   

When that these Halcyon days he had beheld,  
Peace joined with Plenty, Adversaries quelled,  
The King enthroned. Nobility advanced,  
The Commons Liberty, Arts countenanced,  
He sang his Nunc Dimittis, his vast Mind  
Left Earth in Heaven Eternal Bliss to find.   

Cease then, malignant Tongues, to blast his Fame,  
The Engish Interest we count his Name.  
His Name pronounce, like Zisca's Drum it frights  
Whole Legions of the Popish Proselytes.   

But here let worthy Patriots drop a Tear,  
A grateful Emblem to this worthy Peer.  
Let Sables be the Fashion, midnight-dress  
Best suits with Universal Heaviness.   

I lately saw a wise Triumvirate  
With prudent Counsel steer the Ship of State;  
But when Mountrath untimely left his Station,  
It seemed like Soul and Body's separation.  
I sought his Brothers out, whom while I see,  
I fancy all turned Ghosts by sympathy.  
The Citizens at's death, like men possessed,  
Cry out, Then farewel English Interest:  
The Inns (as having sense of his hard Fate)  
Are clad in mourning, while he lies in State.  
This doleful news when that the Liffj hears,  
She powereth forth a Flood of Brinish Tears.  
The serene Heavens too, could find an Eye  
To weep at this our Public Misery.  
But in his Family what Tongue can tell  
What Sighs, what Sobs, what Tears, what Plaints  
Niobe to Marble's turned: but Oh! see (besel!  
His choicest JEWEL turned to Niobe:  
She was so much in Him, that when he died,  
The Task was hard these Lovers to divide.  
The Children are cast down, but I can't say  
Whether for Sickness more, or Grief they lay.  
They live indeed: God heard their Father's cry,  
O save my children's Life, and let me die.  
His faithful Servants so bewail His End,  
As those that lost a Master and a Friend:  
Such was my Thought, my Grief, my Malady,  
Now rudely vented in this ELEGY.  
Thus fell this peerless HERO: Strength is vain:  
Not by One Wound, but by a Thousand slain.   

But stay! Methinks he marcheth to his Grave  
As One that still new Victories would have.  
The Troops of Mourners, with their General,  
Will enter Heaven, it seems, or scale the Wall.  
Heaven suffers violence, he enters soon,  
Prevailing by GOD's Armour not his Own.  
To Earth he bids adieu; and Heaven doth gain,  
To add a glorious Star to CHARLES his Wain;  
Where Charles the Martyr, Charles his Noble Sire,  
And Loyal Saints, make up a Blessed Quire.  
Christ-Church His Corpse contains, His Soul the  
His Son his Image, Earth His Memory. (Sky,  
But we must stay till Death our passage free:  
Good GOD prepare us for Eternity.   By EDWARD HAWKS, His Honour's Domestic Chaplain.  

Inclytus hostiles retegit Montrathius artes,  
Barbara non populos vincula ferre sinit.  
Nec fasces ambit, Cape tu Diademata, Caesar,  
Dixerat; en tenuis sufficit Vrna mihi.  
Non aliter Phoebi pracessit Phosphorus axem,  
Obscurus subito, cum facit ille diem.  
Incipit (heu) CAROLI Regis nece flebilis annus,  
Et CAROLI Comitis desinit ille rogo.  
Anglia non poterit tantam reparare ruinam,  
Nec poteris damnum, tristis Iërna, tuum.  
Hi tamen in Coelis & regno & pace fruentur,  
Rex, CAROLUS prior est, huic Comes, alter crit.  Per Eundem.