ON THE DEATH OF THE DUKE OF ORMOND. AN ECLOGUE.  
Daphmin ad astra feremus amavit nos quoque Daphnis.  Virg. Eclo. 
LONDON, Printed, and are to be Sold by Randal tailor, near Stationers-Hall. MDCLXXXVII:   

ON THE DEATH OF THE DUKE OF ORMOND.  

AND now, ye Muses,( if a Muse there be  
Alive, and not with grief struck dumb as he,)  
A Verse is to Barzillai's ashes due,  
To your Barzillai this last kindness show,  
Bazillai ever was a friend to you.  
Weep for Barzillai, for Barzillai's dead,  
Weep for yourselves, your friend is with him fled,  
Weep for yourselves, and for Barzillai dead.   

Forgive us Saint—  
If through a Pious error lead astray,  
Our Piety should t' Impiety us betray.  
Forgive us Saint, if we should wish that thou  
Now dead, a second Fate mightst undergo,  
That thou mightst die even in our memories too.  
Barzillai's Name nere troubled us before,  
Now we could wish never to hear it more;  
Those very Glories which once made him Great,  
Those very Glories would we now forget,  
Which only serve to make him more lamented yet,  
And add to th' Spoils, and Triumphs of his Fate.  
That bad mens memories irksome were we knew,  
Here to our cost we find that good mens are so too.  
Since great Barzillai's virtues now once past,  
Are only sad remembrancers of what we've lost,  
Serve only now just to adorn his Hearse,  
And be the Subject of a mournful Verse.  
Weep than ye Muses, for Barzillai's dead,  
Weep for yourselves, your friend is with him fled,  
Weep for yourselves, and for Barzillai dead.   

Yes we will grieve—  
And to stir up our grief, enough 'twill be  
To think Barzillai, of thy acts and thee;  
There we may red our loss; who lends an ear,  
Must surely lend an eye, must surely lend a tear.  
And first, let's him in his Pavilion view,  
Where he his Sword for his great Master drew:  
Heavens! with what matchless Courage there he stood  
And writ the Royal Cause in its Foes Blood;  
To save his Masters Head,( could that been done)  
How oft was he in danger of his own!  
If letting blood could the sick State have cured,  
He drew so much as might our hopes secured:  
And though by gentler means heaven gave us ease  
Nor would that War should be the establisher of Peace.  
Yet this however shall for ever raise  
To him a monument of Eternal praise,  
That he a Land( which as our story tells,  
Is quiter exempt from any poison else)  
Did so reduce unto its lawful Prince,  
He was the first did root out poison thenee.  
See Muses, then is not your Verse his due,  
Who thus provided for your Verse and you?  
His Acts and He, how well might you proclaim,  
The Muses Patron he, and those the Muses theme.  
Weep than ye Muses, for Barzillai's dead,  
Weep for yourselves, your friend is with him fled,  
Weep for yourselves, and for Barzillai dead.   

When Age had made him less for Action fit,  
She made him stronger for directing it;  
And what decaying Nature hath denied  
His Hands, she that to his strong Head supplied;  
He his aged Head from business ne're withdrew,  
His Head which stronger, as he wiser grew.  
This held us up too well, thou sawst it too,  
Who wouldst thy Hands in's Sacred Blood embrew. 
Blood.   
None could so Barbarous, so inhuman be,  
But one who durst attempt the Crown itself; and he  
Did then attempt the Crown when he attempted thee.  
Thy strength of mind and Fortitude was shown,  
In that thy Chimham's Death was not thy own. 
Lord Ossory.   
( Chimham, by Providence sent for fatal ends,  
Alive to kill his Foes, and dead his Friends.)  
What Aged Man but thou could stand alone,  
When his supporting Friend, his Staff was gone?  
But thou,( thy Ages Comfort ta'en away,)  
Thou wanting one thyself, to others were't a stay.  
The Crown thy help did need, this thought did give  
New vigour, and made thee content to live:  
This thought did keep thee up; the Crown and we  
Whom thou so oft supported'st, then supported thee.  
If Love to David held thee up, 
King Charles.  we now  
Don't wonder, if when he did fall then thou didst bow.  
Barzillai since that blow was never well,  
He stumbled then, though not till now he fell.  
We saw him when from Jordan he came down,  
To give the New Prince his welcome to the Crown;  
We saw the Good Old Man, he weakly bows,  
And David's Fate sat heavy on his Brows.  
Grief having stopped his Mouth, for vent does rise,  
And in a silent shower it breaths forth at his Eyes;  
Which trickling down, his Reverend Face bedew,  
And Grief for th' Old obstructs his Joy for th' New:  
'Tis now thy turn to be lamented o'er,  
To be deplored, as thou didst him deplore.  
Weep than ye Muses for Barzillai's dead,  
Weep for yourselves, your Friend is with him fled,  
Weep for yourselves, and for Barzillai dead.   

His Master calls him, and he must away,  
His Master could not brook his longer stay:  
He is not lost, but to his Master given,  
Who could not be without his counsellor in Heaven.  
Barzillai went before him still till now,  
And was his Guide to Glory, and Example too;  
But David got the start at the long run,  
And he his Morning Star, now rose after the Sun:  
But with his Sun this benefit he shares,  
That when he set, 'twas in a Sea of tears.  
If he did ever set—  
'Tis true indeed, he is no longer here,  
And so does set to us, but shines more clear  
And glorious in a brighter Hemisphere.  
This only loss is ours, not his, and we  
By his good will should now no losers be;  
We pardon thee this once, for thou before  
( Barzillai) ne're were't Rich, thy Friends and Country Poor.  
Muses, no more for your Barzillai Pity show,  
Since he's happy enough to Pity you:  
Still your own loss, your own sad Fate deplore,  
Weep for yourselves, but for Barzillai weep no more.   
FINIS.