AN OFFERTORY, Presented at the funerals of the Right Honourable, EDWARD POPHAM, admiral, &c.  

BE dumb, ye Brats of Poetry; and no more  
Profane those Orgies which you ought t'adore;  
'tis not the Sock or Buskin can become  
These tragic Rites, or Personate the tomb  
Of Noble POPHAM, whose sublimer Hearse  
Admits no rival with a slow-paced Verse.  
The choir is too narrow, and th' whole Nine  
Too few, to warble anthems at this Shrine:  
Though they could out-weep Niobe, and baptise  
Fresh sorrows in the cisterns of their Eyes.  
Should we design His Tomb? all Britain must  
Subscribe to be the Exchequer of His Dust,  
Nor is it less than a due Debt which she  
Should pay to Him, who fought to make her Free.   

Let those that trace the Series, and the truth  
Of naval Victories, define his Youth,  
Heithened with the Honours of command, where he  
commenced at Sea, and took his first Degree.  
Nor can succeeding times forget to cite,  
And quote the story of that dismal Fight.  
Where those proud Argosies with spreading ships,  
Shadowed the main, and menaced an Eclipse;  
And frighted Nature, in a palsy stood,  
To see whole forests floating on the Flood.  
The slaughter-breathing-brass grew hot and spoke  
In flames of Lightning, and in clouds of Smoke,  
Till the discoloured billows died in grain  
blushed to behold such shambles of the slain;  
And the pale Tritons stood like heartless Elves,  
Trembling to see Men do more than themselves.   

These tragic Triumphs did Great POPHAM view,  
And from their fatal observation drew  
Such Warlike maxims as did thence translate  
Life to His Honours, safety to the STATE:  
But who can write his Noble Acts, who stood  
The grand Example of His Birth, and Blood?  
And as some stately Cedar, by His growth  
And fruitfulness, rependeth what she ow'th  
To her first Planter; so Great Popham's Name,  
Great in the Cradle, greater in the Fame  
Of growing Acts, doth His SIRES Trophies raise,  
And interweave His laurel with their bays.   

Survey His zeal, and faithfulness, you'lim  
And copy Old Themistocles by Him:  
Those brave Philaeni, who fell to restore,  
And enlarge Carthage Bonds, could not do more  
Than He, whose aims in Peace and War were known  
  

Survey His Noble temperance; you'll find  
Fabricius, though before, an Age behind;  
Who where He might command, prescribed a Law,  
And taught His governed Passions to obey.   

Survey His Justice, Aristides shall  
Henceforth be nameless, and apocryphal:  
So punctual were His Actions, and betwixt  
Candour, and Innocence, so poised, so fixed,  
That chaste, untouched Astraea may be said  
In Him to have lived a Nun, and died a maid.   

But why do I contract? What can't be scanned  
In Characters, or taken in short hand?  
Since in the transcript of His soul we read  
All that for Worth or Honour can be said:  
Whilst His just Actions shall His Fame dilate,  
Beyond the reach of Envy, or of Fate.   

Thus lived, thus died blessed POPHAM; to express,  
Or speak Him larger, were to speak Him less:  
For as choice Pictures, where Invention fades,  
Are best portrayed in Umbrages and Shades:  
So silence here best suits, since 'tis more meet  
He should have rather Volumes, than a Sheet:   

And 'twere a Crime to cram a copious theme  
In a poor Schedule, which deserves a ream.