A Consolatory Poem: ADDRESSED TO HIS Most Sacred Majesty.  
By W. PARTRIDGE, Ex Aulâ B. Mariae Magd. Oxon.  Vincet Amor Patriae, laudumque immensa cupido. Virg. 
LONDON, Printed for R. Baldwin, near the Oxford-Arms-Inn, in Warwick-Lane, 1695.   

A Consolatory Poem, etc.  

INspire me, Muse, with some peculiar Fire,  
Since Grief congealed the Heats of my Desire;  
Those Glorious Beams, which did dispense us Light,  
Are now retired within the Shades of Night;  
Whose Envious Sable Coverts shroud the Dawn,  
Her Sparkling, Radiant Lustre now with-drawn.   

Illustrious Prince! vouchsafe I humbly may,  
Submissive Incense at Her Altar pay,  
Tho' Seraphims Triumphant guard the Way.  
Immortal Glory must perpetuate Fame,  
Since Time itself can't terminate Her Name;  
The God's proclaimed Her Summons whence She came:  
Her Soul soared hence, to Regions of the Blessed,  
There to enjoy Infinity of Rest.   

Too long (Dread Sir!) Your Grief You may sustain,  
‛ Ere This, diffused o'er every Hill and Plain,  
Whirled o'er the Surface of the Liquid Main:  
This Belgia did, in Mournful Accents, tell,  
Repeating oft Her Direful, Funeral Knell!  
In every Region, underneath the Sky,  
The Rural Swains their Tuneful Pipes employ,  
In Pastoral Lays compose Her Elegy:  
Then to the Neighbouring Woods they do repair,  
To Heaven they send their 'plaints, through yielding Air;  
Elect tall Trees, the Wonder of the Groves,  
And there engrave their Sorrows, and their Loves:  
From thence, to Purling Streams they do retire,  
To mitigate the Thirst of Grief's Desire;  
Neglected Flocks, in careless Order, stray,  
And Kids, and Lambs, to Wolves exposed a Prey.   

But (Oh Eternal Powers!) You, who dispense,  
Sceptres to Kings, by Sacred Providence;  
Be once Propitious in the Highest Kind,  
To calm the Anguish of His tortured Mind:  
Divert His Cares by some more Noble Way,  
Inspire His Thoughts on each Victorious Day,  
Adorned with Triumphs, to appear more Gay:  
Tho' to condole Her Absence here, is just,  
(The last Oblation to so Great a Trust;)  
By Grief's Excess, imprudently He may  
The Vital Lamp extinguish with the Day;  
Might Tears prevail, such Streams from Fountains flow,  
As would, in time, into a Deluge grow;  
But they, alas! their Rills are spent in vain,  
Retrieve no more, than Floods, or Showers of Rain:  
And tho' our Sorrow may find some Relief,  
By these Attendants usual to our Grief;  
Yet Life extinct, they Vivifie no more,  
Than Salt, that quenches Flames, can Flames restore.   

Desist, (Heroic Prince!) Mourn, Mourn no more!  
All Europe does Your Mighty Loss Deplore.  
Tho' Solemn Rites are fit; yet long suspense,  
Might question Justice of Omnipotence.  
Great as You are, King of Yourself appear,  
Exempt from Grief, as You are void of Fear:  
Pursue those Paths of Honour, justly due;  
By Powers Above, Ordained for none but You.  
Were Transmutation true, as Bards Proclaim,  
Your Soul from Alexander, hither came,  
Or from the: Mighty Caesar's equal Fame.  
Conquest by Fate, Attends your Valorous Arms;  
Inspired, undaunted at your Foes Alarms:  
O'er Sorrow triumph, as o'er dangerous Toil;  
Appear Yourself, Vouchsafe a Glorious Smile.   

Rouse, Rouse to Arms! Your wont Courage calls,  
Your humble Suppliants are Your Generals;  
Your Foreign Army droops, expecting, wait  
For You, their Hopes, Joy, Life, and happy Fate.  
Clouds must disperse, if You appear Serene,  
And dismal Woe itself retire, unseen,  
Behind the Covert of Oblivion's Screen.   

Tho' Turtle-like, You Her sad Loss bemoan,  
And Love itself, invoaks some piteous Groan;  
Yet Marshal Glory can't admit Delay,  
Triumphing Laurels Crown the Victor's Way.  
You, You alone, the Gods Elected, bring  
To our Distress, our Saviour, and our King.  
Excessive Passions equally destroy;  
Extremes of Grief, as those of sudden Joy,  
Impulse the Spirits Vital, till we die.   

Cease to Lament, Three Nations do Implore;  
As God's Vicegerent, they Your Worth adore;  
On You depends their Surplusage of Store:  
For when the lofty Oak, the Groves chief Pride,  
Unnerved by Rain, falls on a Mountain's side,  
The lesser Trees, and under Shrubs do find  
Themselves Exposed to every Storm of Wind.  
Hence all the dire Calamities of State,  
Hence Civil Wars, and thence intestine Hate;  
Witness, (O Monstrous Times! Eternal dread!)  
How Madness raged! their Royal Martyr dead!  
Distracted Fury did possess the Rout,  
And swift Destruction flew the Land throughout!   

I urge One Maxim yet, for Albion's sake,  
Your Tribulation does Your Foes awake;  
Promotes new Courage to the  Pride,  
Bold at the first, but more Reserved when tried.  
These modest Truths, Your own Exploits declare,  
Your Soul's instinct for War, of Grief beware.  
Darius did his Captive Queen bemoan,  
He Conquered was; You justly Rule alone.  
Yet to Her Shrine, true Sorrow ought no less  
Than Offerings pay, but not to an Excess.   

As lesser Heroes do advance Renown,  
By Acts, tho' Great, unworthy of a Crown;  
Unbounded Yours, the Diadem adorn;  
Heralds Salute You Trophies every Morn.  
To You, alone, we Adoration pay,  
In You, our Chief, we all our Safety lay:  
Your Adverse Fate to brave Repute will bring;  
Victorious Conduct dignifies a King.   

Tho' She is gone, and with Her fled away  
Creation's Loveliest Part, which ought to stay;  
Tho' Her Excelling Virtues were Complete,  
And Graces chose Her Mansion their Retreat;  
Tho' High Perfections, and so vast, we find  
Truly proportioned to so Great a Mind,  
Proclaimed Her Mirror of all Womankind:  
Yet Cease to Mourn, from Sorrow now Refrain;  
Condolance, tho' Sincere, is all in vain:  
If Kings from Gods their True Effigies bear,  
And Represent their Ordination here;  
'Twould derogate from Attributes of Fame,  
By Grief, to lessen that All-Glorious Name.   

Hail, Royal Sir! Happy we You enjoy;  
Three Nation's Pride, to Foes alone Annoy:  
'Tis Your Indulgence does endear each Soul,  
Whose Influential Rays, without Control,  
Birth gives to Bliss, and Honour to the Throne;  
'Tis Godlike to be Great, and Rule Alone:  
So Good! so Wise! so Merciful! so Kind!  
So Justly Pious! so Sincere in Mind!  
Your Qualities from Humane seem Refined!   

Since Ravenous Death does unrelenting prove,  
And no Returns will make Bewailing Love;  
Since he is deaf to all our Prayers and Tears,  
And obstinate, in spite of all our Fears;  
Arm, Arm, (Great Sir!) before his Trumpet sound,  
Lest Grief expose You to a Second Wound;  
His Grim pale Ghost, at last, will Conquer All,  
Victim, and Victor too, before him fall:  
An Age, at least, You may prevent him still,  
Do but Recall Your Courage to Your Will;  
Exert Your Soul, (to Gods Themselves allied)  
Unconquered yet, as often as 'twas Tried:  
Consider, Sighs do vanish into Air,  
As Bodies Macerated are, by Care,  
And Tabid grow, by Vexing and Despair.   

Enough! enough! Cease longer to torment  
Your Matchless Self, with racking Discontent;  
Invelope Grief no more within Your Mind,  
Be to Yourself, and to Your Subjects, Kind:  
Distant and Near, All Loyally Address,  
Your Life, and Health, unfeignedly Caress:  
Great Britain's Safety does on You depend,  
Their Lives and Fortunes they to You Commend:  
Nay, Belgia too, and the Confederates All,  
Are to Your Interest linked, Reciprocal:  
Your Enemies amazed, expecting stand,  
And dread th' Event of Your Alwise Command:  
Then from dejected Mourning, raise Your Head,  
Tho' Softer Joys are frustrate now She's dead.  
Arise! arise! To Your Great Charge repair;  
Your Power does Rival the Great God of War  
Conquest itself attends; Your Trumpets sound;  
And Victory from Hills and Vales around,  
Rejoicing, beat the Rocks, and then Rebound:  
Nay, Echoes too, which do deceive Mankind,  
By flattering What we dearly left behind,  
As tho' Inspired in their Divine Abodes,  
To speak Prophetic Raptures from the Gods;  
As Ecstacyed, the Joyful News to hear,  
Repeat, without Cessation, every where:  
The Nymphs and Fawns receive it in the Groves,  
Divulge the News to late Forsaken Loves:  
The Joy is heard o'er all the Spacious Plains,  
And does Revive dejected, dying Swains;  
Neglected Pipes, which useless were before,  
Your Triumphs play, and Sorrow is no more.   

Launch forth, my Muse! Once more let Me declare  
The Excellence of Your Illustrious Fair;  
Permit, with Sacred Reverence, I Raise  
Monuments Stupendious to Her Praise;  
Such Pyramids to Her Memorial due,  
As shall Eternize both Her Fame, and YOU:  
On Adamantine Columns, I'll Rehearse  
Her Spotless Virtues in Immortal Verse;  
In Characters Indelibly Sublime,  
Shall last beyond the Mouldering Fate of Time.   

Th' Omniscient Gods thought Her too good for Earth,  
Required Her early Tribute due to Death,  
The Finite Limits of a Gasp of Breath:  
From Thence, Translated to a Throne Divine,  
Where Virtuous Acts Refulgent ever Shine;  
Where Io Poeens Angels ever sing!  
Melodious Anthems over Death and Sin!  
Consorts of Cherubs, Hallelujahs Ring!  
Where Joys Eternal circle, and declare  
What Beatific, Real Blisses are,  
For Piety, prepared by th' Almighty's Care:  
Where, from Her Drossy, Mundane Part set Free,  
She does Embrace an Immortality;  
And all the Charming Choir, with Transports sound,  
Proclaim Blest Peace, in an Eternal Round!   
FINIS.