Sacellum Apollinare. A Funeral POEM TO THE MEMORY OF THAT Great Patriot & Statesman, GEORGE, LATE Marquis of Hallifax.  
— Sapiens dominabitur Astris.  
LONDON, Printed by J. Wilkins; and are to be Sold by R. Baldwin, near the Oxford-Arms-Inn, in Warwick-Lane, 1695.   

A Funeral POEM, etc.  

AS HEAVEN itself's's on Empire's Axis rolled,  
(For Godhead's but Dominion Uncontrolled;)  
So the Crowned Head, the Sublunary JOVE,  
Does, in his Royal Orb of Glory, move;  
With all his Bolts of Fate, in his High Post  
Of Sovereign Power, the Wielded Thunder boast.  
But, in the Highest towering Flight of KINGS,  
'Tis the Great Statesman plumes their Eagles Wings;  
They Move the Great MACHINE, He Sets the Springs.  
And thus, whilst Pregnant EMPIRE's Labouring Head  
With some vast Offspring Teems; the Statesman's Aid,  
To bring the Fair Divine Minerva Forth,  
Is called the Great Lucina to the Birth.  
Wisdom and Counsel! 'Tis their Min'istring Ray,  
Those Bright CROWN- Genij, Cheer th' Imperial Sway:  
The Harmony of WORLDS is only Theirs;  
Empire but Guides, 'tis They that Tune the Spheres:  
Counsel, in Church or State, the Warmth, by Whom  
Aaron's and Moses' Budding Wands both Bloom:  
Thus MONARCHY, what, tho' She Reigns Alone,  
'Tis by her Argus-Eyes She Guards her Throne:  
Her Lights an Hundred, tho' her Hand's but One.   

Of those Rich Lights, Great HALLIFAX shined there;  
In Powers whole Constellation, None more Fair:  
In Calms or Storms, in every varying Gale,  
The Furl'd, the Hoisted, or the Slackened Sail;  
The Helm to Manage, or the Mates to Cheer,  
No Pilot-Hand could ever Worthier Steer:  
TRUST, the Magnetic Load star of his Soul;  
And FAITH, and ZEAL, his Needles to the Pole.   

The Studied World was his Long Theme, and All  
The Politic Movements of the Mighty Ball:  
Yes, the Old World He had Fathomed o'er and o'er;  
Nay, had there been yet Unknown Globes t' explore,  
To give that Head, that Reach, those Depths, their Due,  
He had stood a Fair Columbus, for the New.   

In SENATES, There, with all his Brightest Beams,  
Not Michael, to th' Embattled Seraphims,  
A Mightier Leading CHIEF: Oraculous Sense!  
Victorious Right! Amazing Eloquence!  
All from that Clearest Organ sweetly Sung:  
From that bold ENGLISH CICERO's Silver Tongue,  
Well might Great TRUTH, and Genuine Justice flow;  
For He Looked Upward, when He Talked Below:  
Up to ASTRAEA, heavens translated Pride,  
Her Righteous Balance his Great Standard Guide.   

In Redressed Wrongs, and Succoured Rights APPEAL,  
No Hand, in the Judiciary Scale,  
More Weighed and Poised, than HALLIFAX alone;  
Even Half the Great Tribunal, was his Own.  
But, in that more Exalted Patriot-Cause,  
The Moulding of those Stamps Imperial, LAWS;  
Then, when the whole Divinity of Power,  
In her Collective Strength, that Labouring Hour,  
In her Alwise Consulting Providence,  
Sit, some New Fair Creations to Commence;  
In that High Work, for the Great FIAT Fixed,  
No Hand like His, the Sovereign ELEMENTS Mixt.   

This Famed GAMALIEL in the Great State-Schools,  
Thus by unerring PRUDENCE Sacred Rules,  
No wonder, on that cardinal Hinge He moved;  
In Pow'r-Craft Skilled, that Bold Artsmaster proved:  
The Great Performing Part He had Studied through,  
And no less Learned the Greater Duty too.  
The Public Spirit, and the Active Soul,  
More Lively Warmth, than e'er Prometheus stole,  
Those Champions both of Earth and heavens Just Right,  
Bound by their Great Indenture Tripartite,  
Their equally divided FAITH must bring,  
Betwixt their GOD, their Country, and their King.   

In Power and Trust, through his whole Life's long Scene,  
Never did Honour wear a Hand more Clean:  
He from the Israel Prophet's Copy drew;  
The Suppliant Naaman for his Grace might sue.  
Distress, 'tis true, his Succour ne'er could lack—  
But then her Laded Chariots must go Back.  
No Syrian Bribe was on his Shoulders worn;  
That Tainted Robe such TRUTH and VIRTUE scorn.  
Thus, like the Eden Pair, Why is Truth drawn  
A Naked Beauty, in Transparent Lawn?  
Yes, till her Innocence, for Imp'ious Gold,  
That Tempting, False Hesperian Apple, Sold;  
'Tis from that Fall, Original Blushes came;  
'Twas Then She wanted Fig-Leaves for her Shame.  
A Bribe! That most loathed Thought! Even his whole Roof,  
His humblest Menials, that Temptation-Proof,  
(So Fair their Leading LORD's Example stands)  
Obliged with Frank Full Hearts, but Empty Hands.  
His Favours in that Generous Current run,  
As Providence vouchsafes Her Rain and Sun.  
His Favours Cheaper even than heavens conferred:  
For, though, like Heaven, th' Imploring Prayer He heard;  
Yet no Thanksgiving Offerings Returned:  
To His Kind GRACE, no Gums nor Incense burned.  
Ay, and 'twas Nobly Brave! What can more high,  
Than an Vnmercinary Greatness fly?  
If ought his Obligations must Defray,  
He rather chose that Heaven, than Man should Pay:  
Yes, with a Fair Ambition, Just Disdain,  
Scorned less than JOVE, his Golden Showers should Rain.  
And well so High, that Fair Ambition towered;  
For HALLIFAX so Scorned, and JOVE so Show'red:  
Whilst that vast Affluence Warmed his Fruitful Soil,  
Till his Rich Glebe, and Loaded Harvest Pile,  
With that Increase, that Milky Canaan flowed:  
Prosperity thus Reaped, where Virtue Sowed.   

NATURE & FORTUNE, Here, both Rivals joined,  
Which to their darling HALLIFAX, more Kind,  
Should heap the Ampler Mass: Nature her more  
Refined, and Fortune in her Courser Oar.  
The World but Smiled, where Heaven had Smiled before.  
Great Blessings, when by Greater MERIT shared,  
(Not Providence's Gift, but her Reward,)  
Are all heavens Fairest Blazon, Noblest Pride;  
Th' Eternal DISPENSATION Justified.  
The Righteous Distribution ought no less:  
So Great 'tis to Deserve, and then Possess.   

Nor in Proud Courts, nor States alone, that Great  
Dictator; Even in the DESPOTIC Seat,  
In His own narrower Domestic Sway,  
His Household Sweet Penates decked so Gay;  
To VICE, like Hannibal to Rome, that sworn  
Eternal Foe; and VIRTUE's Champion born:  
To his own Filial Nursery, so Kind  
A FATHER, with those Leading Lights, He shined:  
HONOUR, so Lovely by that Pencil drawn,  
The Early Phosphor to their Morning Dawn:  
So Famed his equally Paternal Care,  
T' Instruct the Great, and to Adorn the 
* His Advice to a Daughter.  Fair.  
Thus Beauties Toilet spread so all Divine,  
Her Cabinet Gems so Furnished from That MINE;  
The Virgin, and the Bridal Coronet,  
Were, by Kind HALLIFAX, so richly Set;  
VIRTUE and INNOCENCE at that full View,  
As even th' Original Eden Lanschape drew:  
All her whole Hierarchy of Graces; not  
One least Enameled Heavenly Spark forgot;  
Each Star in the whole Feminine Renown,  
From Cassiopoea's CHAIR, to Ariadne's CROWN.   

In the Rich Furniture of that Fair MIND,  
Those dazzling Intellectual Graces shined,  
To draw the Love and Homage of Mankind;  
Nothing could more than his firm FRIENDSHIP Charm:  
Cheerful, as Bridal-Songs; as South-Suns, Warm;  
And Fixed, as Northern-Stars: When e'er He deigned  
The Solemn Honour of his Plighted Hand,  
He stood a more than Second Pylades;  
Unshaken, as Immutable DECREES.   

But, whilst these vast Perfections I Recount,  
The Heights to which those Soaring Glories mount:  
My Muse thus rapt into that Cheerful Sphere;  
Is This her Wailing Dirge? her Funeral Tear?  
For his Sad DEATH, to Draw his Glorious LIFE!  
Paint Lights for Shades, and Ecstacies for Grief!  
Are These the Melancholy Rites She brings,  
Fit Airs to Tune the Mournful Theme She sings!  
Yes, the True Mourner's in th' Historian Played:  
What's Present Grief, but Past Delight Displayed?  
Counting what once was Ours, we need no more:  
To Sum th' Enjoyment, does the Loss Deplore.   

Besides, What's all our Sable Cavalcade,  
To the Great DEAD, our Darkest Funeral Shade?  
T' Illustrious Virtue, Grief's an Easy Debt;  
Her Glorious Amulet but Cheaply Set:  
She finds the Diamond, and We the Jet.   

When Learning, Wisdom, Eloquence, Expire,  
And the Great SOULS, (Sparks of Celestial Fire)  
Back to Their Elemental Source Retire:  
To such Rich DUST, in vain we Pyramids Rear;  
For Mausoloeums are but Pageants there.  
What's a poor Short-lived Pile of Crumbling Earth,  
A mouldering Tomb, t' Apollinary WORTH?  
Worth, that so far from such a Narrow Bound,  
Spreads a Large Field! Moves th' Universal Round!  
Fills every Tongue! Thus, what no Urn contains,  
The World's the Casket to those Great REMAINS.   

Nor let Poetic Vanity Rehearse  
Her Boasted Dreams, Her Miracles of VERSE:  
Think, in some poor Recorded EPITAPH,  
That Shallow Page of Brass, or Marble Leaf;  
Or, in some more Voluminous Folio Pile,  
A Davideis, or Arthur's Sweeting Toil,  
Some Sacred Worthies Deathless Fame t' Enstal;  
Raised by her Lyres, like the Old Theban Wall.  
No; when Great NAMES ne'er Dye; That Work alone,  
Is all a Fair Creation of Their Own.  
True GLORY Shines by her Own Lighted Beam:  
'Tis not the Muse's Song, but Muse's THEME.   

When in Great HALLIFAX, WIT's Pantheon fell,  
And Death now hushed that Silenced ORACLE▪  
From Fair Eliza's Hallowed 
* Westminster-School.  Helicon-Walls,  
Methinks, I hear a Fatal Summon calls:  
When, lo! the Delphic 
* Dr. Busbie, who Died the same Day.  SEER, that Reverend Bard  
Of Sacred Literature's rich Fount, prepared  
Th' Expiring HALLIFAX, in Death to wait.—  
No less Attendant on his Funeral State,  
Fate to that ever Honoured HEAD could owe:  
LEARNING itself must shake, at such a Blow.   

But, tho' with all this Mine of Learning stored;  
He Lived, and Died, no Niggard of that Hoard:  
Witness His own Long Pious Founded 
* His Free School Foundations.  Piles,  
Where Nurtured ARTS, by His Auspicious Smiles,  
Tune their Young Voices to the Muse's Song,  
Nerved by his HAND to Books, and Virtue, strong.   

Thus, as th' Old Israel Patriarch, to his once  
Illustrious Twelve, HE to His Hundred Sons,  
His Fruitful CHARITY's Adopted Race,  
(With all his Tenderest Diffusive Grace,)  
Doals, with a True Paternal Glory crowned,  
His Living and His Dying Blessings round.  
Yes, from that Hand, this Scattered Bread must fall:  
He Furnishes those Numerous Pencils, all  
To Copy from His Great Original:  
Resolved, if possible, Resolved t' Inspire,  
To this Young Nursery, His Cherished Choir,  
His own Rich Soul, their Transmigrated Fire.   

But, why (if 'tis not a too Bold Offence,  
To dare Expostu'late with OMNIPOTENCE,)  
Why should Prodigious Worth, from th' Orb it warmed,  
Snatched from the Soil it cherished, Eyes it charmed,  
From its Deserted Charge, unkindly Fly,  
Quit th' Earth it Blessed, Impoverish Worlds, and Dye?  
No, the Kind heavens, in Mercy, to Rebate  
That Mighty Loss, the too keen Edge of Fate,  
Have circled Virtue in a Fence so High,  
As stands so Safe, it knows not how to Die;  
But Found'st its own Proud Immortality.  
For, as some Lofty Cedar, long had stood  
The Landmark of the Plain, and Glory of the Wood;  
Till the Dread Voice of Fate, heavens Angry Blast,  
The Bolt of the Destroying Thunder cast,  
All the tall PRIDE lies Fallen.— Yet still some Shoot,  
Some tender Scyen from the Sacred ROOT,  
By ' its Nutrimental PARENT- Succours fed  
Springs, Grows, Spreads, Flourishes; till th' Upreared Head  
Does t' all its Great Original HEIGHTS improve,  
A Second Perch for the Fair Bird of JOVE.   

So may Great HALLIFAX Himself Survive;  
Thus Fall, and thus His Deathless Virtues Live.  
LIVE in His Fair SUCCESSION, ever Blest;  
Whilst Honour Builds its own Rich PHOENIX Nest.   
FINIS.