AN ELEGY: ON THE Death of Her late SACRED MAJESTY MARY THE Second, Queen of England, etc. Who Died December, 28 th'. 1694. By J. L. R. of S. YORK, Printed by John White, for Francis Hildyard, Bookseller, at the Bible in Stone-Gate, 1695. Imprimatur. Edm. Wickins R more. in Christo Patriac D no. D no. Johanni. Archiepisc. Ebor. à Sacris. Dom. Apr. 19, 1695. AN ELEGY, on Queen MARY THE Second, Queen of England, etc. HERE, Muse, thyself into a Vestal turn, Such Fires alone shine in this Sacred urn, Restrain thy lighter Fancy, as 'tis meet, The ground's too sacred for unhallowed Feet. But here an Isle heaved from the deep we see, That it might sacred to its Patron be, Another Delos. Hence ' th' muses humbly beg, they ma'owne the hand By which power to weep, by which they stand The House of Commons and the house of Peers. Contend no Privilege now but that of tears. To weep is now become the Subjects Right, 'Twere Arbitrary Power for to deny't, The Reverend Snows from Mitred heads distil In tears, Like dews from of Mount Zions hill, Which make the inferior valleys fruitful still. Nor is this grief within our Seas confined, Spain, Germany and Holland too are joined. Confederates in woe. When Alexander saw Darius dead, Not one insulting or proud word he said, But with a generous hand did nobly throw His Royal mantle o'er his Vanquished foe. More Royal still, because employed So. She fell not, France, by any power of Thine, Our Royal Oak yields only to the stroke divine. Insult not then: but let Thy Lillys come, Joined with our Roses, to spread o'er her tomb. Shame! That the Most Christian King should baffled be By Pagans thus in generosity. Th' old Chaos now returns, a deluged world, All things int' a common confusion hurled, Promiscuous grief; No firmament appears Dividing th' Upper from the Lower tears. Her funeral Pomp thro' th' liquid Streets did pass, (All Eyes seemed such) as if through Seas of Glass, Thus, th' Israelitish Host, at God's command, Thro the Red sea did go, on either hand Whilst th' briny Floods, like Crystal walls, did stand Oh! That the nation could be rated so, That each might bear ' is proportion of the woe, Stupendious grief! How like our Souls, thou art Whole in the whole, and whole in every part. Aristotle's opinion of the Soul. Our Ramah now doth Solemn mourning keep. For us not Rachel, we for Rachel weep, England is now a Bacah, Land of woe A land of fountains, tears do make it so. But oh the horror of that Royal flood, Of grief! Next that which once wept drops of blood: Here draw the Curtains! Mortals, distance keep, Approach not near, where Majesty doth weep, Tears are most strong and awful, when close kept, Peter went out, when bitterly he wept. Luc. 22.26. Such mutual love did th' one toth' other tye, In him she life's, in her he Seemed to die. What Divine Mysteries of State we See, One Single Sovereign in Dualitye. Some Kings do make it their ambition. Ours counts it th' greatest Cross, to rule alone. Thus God at first created two great Lights, The one to rule the day, th' other the nights: But these of ours shone with an equal ray, The night, if any, well might pass for day: Or if the Shechinah did sometimes shine. And sometimes dark appear, 'twas still divine. In her a perfect Scheme of heaven we see, Beauty without, within all piety. Whilst York and Lancaster in Beauties' field. Contend, they both to ' th' Purple Rose must yield Small Pox. But with such sweetness she resigned her breath 'Twould make us almost fall in love with death. Strangers would not believe it, so to be, Seeing all about her look more dead, than she, She did not Seem to die, but gently pass. From hence, like Enoch, who translated was, Only her body she did leave behind, (All that was Mortal, to the Earth consigned) This to the care of her Dear Lord she left, Of all, but th' Royal Mantle, now bereft, Thus by Survivourship he doth inherit, A double portion of her heav'n-borne spirit. Divinely thus she ends the former year, Enters those scenes, where all things new appear, But heaven perhaps not new to her did seem, Where always had her Conversation been. Strange Paradox this! Virtuous hypocrisy; She was more pious, than she seemed to be. Devotion was most practised, when by none IT was Seen, but only by th' All. Seeing one: Like to that fire, which in some sacred urns Expires, when opened; Closd, more strongly burns. What mutual gifts 'twixt heaven and earth now tend? The heavens a God, a Goddess th' Earth doth send. When equal Sins for equal doom did call, (And fire may justly on our Cities' fall) She not. like Lot, to little Zoar flies, But Scales the highest Mountains of the Skies. Such sacred Violence heaven itself approves, Triumphs when vanquished, and its Conqueror loves: And if that heaven our Cities please to spare. We must impute it rather to her prayer. Than to the number of the Pious there. When Moses on that great design was sent, Joined in Commission, Aaron also went, Thus when our Queen her heavenly Progress goes, Our* Aaron too his due attendance shows. John, late Lord Arch B. of Cant. Like John the Baptist, he prepares the way, Thus angels did attend the Shechinah. What fates must we expect, when th' Lord of Hosts Calls in these Flags of Peace, those whiter Ghosts, And in that face, where Sweetness only lay, Doth his Red Flag of angry war display? Toth' Kingdom she did still her aid afford, Or in her Closet, or at'th Council Board. Only we knew not, whether to her cares. We owed out safe'ty more, or to her prayers: Thus Israel good or bad success did share, As Moses' hands were lifted up in prayer. Pious and prudent; wife, but from above, The Serpent never Eating up the dove. Reasons of state she knew, yet practised none. But what were founded in religion. Her Council, tho' in things of great'st concern, Came not t' advise her, but of her to learn. Kings from her Actions now their Rules will draw, As from their great Justiniana's law. Perhaps the only she, whom men confess That Presence did make great, and absence less. If Queens of this our age as wise had been, As that of Sheba, we such Guests had seen, Paying such frequent Visits to our Northern Queen. Perfection only from your sex must grow, Th' world was not perfect, till that made it so. A Princely Mien joined with an humble dress. A strange Majestic Greatness did express. Not Solomon more glories did dispense Than she, cladin her native Country's Innocence. Hence will our Sages still more learned appear, The more they understand their losses here. God in Six days from the first Chaos brought This glorious fabric, by his wisdom wrought, Thus she six Years in the like cares has spent, In regulateing th' English government. Such wonders once by Moses' Rod were wrought When he the Israelites out of Egypt brought. The State reformed, all greiveances redressed, This is her Sabbath, and her year of rest. She was the Dove, sent to a Foreign land. Brought back an Orange-Branch, at God's command, A sign of Peace or victory to our British strand. Like Joseph, when in power abroad, she well Consults the safety of our Israel, Beloved abroad, and honoured at home, Blessings, which rarely even to Prophts come, The Belgic Provinces in nothing were United more, than in their love to her. They there own Heptarchy did disapprove, Seven united. Provinces, Dissolved into a Monarchy of Love, In her we'th virtues, without th' vices, see Both of a Commonwealth and Monarchy. William, that Eastern Sage came from afar, Led by the guidance of an English star, Where having made his Presents, Gold and Arabian Myrrh are meaner things, These to each other are ' th' fittest Offerings, Thus worshipping, he did successful prove, Carries away the object of his love. But England could not long her absence bear, Stars shine most glorious in their native Sphere; Thus Providence by these removealls meant, By Several Schools as't were of government, To fit her for a Throne of higher fame, Next to the Blessed Lady of that name, She was the First, the Second ours became. 'Twas her peculiar glory, hers alone, At once to merit, and refuse a throne, Until she thought it duty to receive. With reverence, what heaven thus Seemed to give. With th' same reluctance still she entered on. The Government, when her Dear Lord was gone: But nothing with more joy she did restore, Unless perhaps she left this life with more. Now the poor widows, only rich in tears, (And he most Pompous is, who thus appears.) Cast their two mites, two weeping eyes they have, Toth' common Treasury of grief, her grave. Poor Orphans thus to greater straits are put, For heaven now has their Exchequer shut. In other things the law did bound her will, Only her Charity was boundless still; From ' th' King, her Second self, 'twas sometimes hid, Her left hand knew not what the right hand did, Lazarus at Dives gate in vain implores, Only the kinder dogs did lick his sores: But 'twas her great Prerogative to save. The lost, and cure the wounds, which fortune gave. Bethesda only cured the first that came: Her healing charity was still the same To all; thus to the last the Lord gave pay Mat. 20.8. Equal to him, who bore the heat o'th' day. The Church and state her only Children were. Our Nursing. Mother placed her thoughts only here. Nor are they now, like Orphans, left at large, Great William still doth undertake the Charge, Albion regains its lustre, and doth stand Great Arbiter of Europe, Aaron's wand Blossoms; Religion and the Laws we see Once more supporters of our Monarchy, Her greatest task of virtue seemed to be, 'Mongst all those glories Still to preserve that great humility. Where ere she was, she still was on a throne, Her presence either found, or made it one. Yet still she humble was; none ere did know At once a soul so high, a soul so low. When living, none durst her just praises Spread, But truth will grant Reprisealls on the dead. She came A Prophetess, not to unfold New Truths, but teach us to observe the old, T' her own she came, there for to carry on That greater work of Court-Conversion, A land, they say, was almost Pagan grown No Holy-water now at Court appears (Strange Reformation!) but what flows in tears. Truth and Smcerity, things long unknown, Were to the Queen chief Maids of Honour grown The Sacred Font doth sons o'th' Church create, But tears baptise us now true sons o'th' state. This haeving done, Ali's finished now, she said, Now I depart in peace, and bowed her head. What Mary's box of precious ointment did TO our Saviour's body never can be hid; It's own perfumes did so Embalm the thing. Thus shall your name in future ages Spring, Where ere our English Annals shall be read, There shall your virtues their Sweet odours spread, Here fix th' Herculean Pillars! since in you We see what nature joined with Grace can do. To the King, What miracles in England still appears. Th' one Pole, on which did move our English Sphere, Is quite removed: and yet no shocks of state, The English Atlas still bears up the weight. What ever prosperous to our realm has been In several Reigns, in you alone is seen. An Eighty Eight you cause us to remember, Another happy fifth day of November. Go on, Great Prince, to fill our Calendar. With such auspicious days of peace, or of successful war. You, Like that Cloud, which interposed, a screen The Egyptians and the Israe'lites between, Tho' you Serene and calm appear at home, Yet when to a foreign field of war you come, Then the black side o'th' Cloud Teems nought, but thunder, from its pregnant womb Suns setting in a watery Cloud, they say Portends a storm impending; and may they Who here refuse to join their pious rain, Feel the fierce fury of that Hurricane. Beware, proud France, how thou dost meet a foe Doubly enraged With thy unjust rejoicing, his just woe. ●east he thy Cities into Ashes turn, As a burned Offering at her injured urn. Ephestion dead, thus Alexander's host, Did Sacrifice whole lands to Dear Ephestion's Ghost. Lest thy proud fleet, with all its prouder names, We offer up once more in funeral flames; When Caesar died, thus did a Comet rise, A direful omen to his Enemies. Tremble, Proud France. th' heavens will not deny't, Our Queen did pray, for what our King doth fight. FINIS.