AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE ROBERT BLAKE, Esq. One of the GENERALS at Sea, who departed the 7. of August 1657. on board the George near Plymouth Sound.  

WHat means this silence Sirs? what's here become?  
Some heavy tidings sure hath struck you dumb.  
Light griefs make tears distil out from the Eye,  
When great ones dull, and often stupefy.  
What is there none dare speak? Alas I fear;  
It is too harsh? to sound in English Eare.  
Must my misgiving soul divine the cause  
Of your sad Aspects? Stay, for I must pause:  
Is he that over Neptune once bore sway,  
And 'gainst our Foes did often get the day:  
Is he that was to Seamen their delight,  
And lead them on most daringly to fight:  
Is he whose face A Terror strooke; whose name  
The darling was of Fortune and of Fame:  
Is he that by example spent his breath,  
And showed a new way how to outface Death:  
He that struck Terror wheresoever he came,  
And made his Foes to tremble at his Name:  
Speak, is it true? Is noble BLAKE then gone,  
And left us here in dark oblivion?  
Is his Seraphic Soul than fled away,  
Leaving nought but his Ashes and his Clay?  
Your silence seems to say so: Is he dead?  
Sure then your griefs cannot be numbered.  
I see the lasting'st Monuments must bend;  
All things must have their Period and end.  
His brave Example in our Infant-dayes  
Of War, when he alone deserved the Bays;  
When by his virtue only Lime held out  
Against a potent Foe both bold and stout.  
Taunton her liberty to him doth owe,  
His Bounty only did on her bestow.  
Dunster that pleasant seat, whose lofty towers  
E'en pierced the Clouds, did stoop unto his Powers:  
Bridgewater gave him birth, for that famed more,  
And Honoured, then ere she was before.  
His Enemies did oft amazed stand  
When he held up his sure dead-doing hand;  
And death grew pale to see himself outdone  
By one of Mortal race. The setting Sun  
Oft peeped abroad, as oft did blush to see  
Neptune forced wear his sanguine livery.  
Though Death did often strive him to affright  
Yet he out-lookt him, made him mad with spite,  
And when with open force he durst not seize him,  
In a Consumption did at last surprise him.  
His head a mint of Reason was, when he  
Once spoke he used no Tautology.  
His Arguments Dilemmas were, which he  
Confirmed b' Example out of History:  
His own Experience was so great, that all  
With one consent still closed In general:  
And for his Intellectuals so rare,  
That few now living could with him compare.  
A man that always valued his word;  
Bright Honour ever shining on his Sword:  
To vice and baseness ever most severe,  
And to his friends and goodness very dear:  
From affectation free, and what was more,  
A Zealous Enemy of the Scarlet Whore;  
Whose able Judgement in a hot dispute,  
Two of her stoutest Champions did confute;  
Deserving to be (by their own confession)  
His Country's Honour called; 'twas their Expression.  
No Charming Siren could his Ears entice,  
Nor tempting Venus him allure to Vice;  
Nor Cleophis with her bewiching Eyes  
Ere put a period to his Victories.  
War was his Mistress, he did her embrace,  
She hath a Princely and Majestic face;  
She nursed him, bred him, made him her delight,  
Conducted him in many a dreadful fight;  
He was her darling, she in him took pleasure,  
He was her chiefest and her only Treasure.  
Though Threats on Threats, and promises succeeded  
From Royalty, yet he them never heeded.  
Threats could not drive him, nor Allurements high  
Ere make him part with his Integrity.  
No Sceptic in Religion was he found,  
His head and heart and Principles were sound.  
Constant beyond compare, and to his Nation  
A faithful servant in his Generation:  
No Faction would he heed, nor Plots contrive,  
Nor did he wish that ever they should thrive;  
And midst our various changes still kept free,  
Hating cold Dullnesse, base Neutrality.  
Riches he valued not, nor them Respect,  
Nor glorious Titles ever did affect.  
Arms and the Arts did wondrously comply,  
In him to make A perfect Harmony;  
In both Admired, in both he did Excel,  
And lived and died without a Parallel.  
His Valour was diffused, and now dead,  
He the Tenth Worthy may be reckoned;  
The Civic, Mural, and the Naval Crown  
He has deserved, all due to his Renown.  
In peace he was a Seneca, In war  
He outdid Mars, still proved a Conqueror.  
No chamber-Musick squeaking in the night,  
Nor Noyce of Vials did him much delight;  
The deepmouthed Canons thundering in his Ears,  
Was unto him the Music of the Spheres:  
Those bore the Base, the whistling bullets they  
Made up the Triple on a fight day;  
Small shot Division played, whose nimble Motion  
Made many a Soul drink up a sleepy Potion:  
This was the Music most did cheer his spirit,  
And made him Justly so much praise to merit;  
His Noble, Lively, Active, vigorous fire,  
ne'er quenched in him until he did Expire.  
Oh! How my soul bemoans my Country's loss,  
Her only Genius gone, Oh 'tis a Cross  
Beyond compare, now hardly felt, but when  
Our Sins a war on us shall bring again.  
Who then shall stand i'th' Gap? His Noble Arm  
Did quail our homebred, Foreign foes disarm.  
May those succeed Elisha-like Inherit  
A double portion of Elijahs spirit:  
The Hollanders in Bloody lines can write  
What harms he did them by the God of might;  
The portugals, as every one doth know,  
Their Peace, their Plenty and their Traffic own  
Unto his worth: when Rupert he was fain  
To face about and get him home again;  
Loath to appear with his poor Glow-worm light,  
When such a Sun as this appeared in sight.  
The Barbarous Pirates upon Tunis Strand  
Felt the effects of his revenging hand.  
The Spaniards lately feared the name of Blake,  
As once their children did the name of Drake:  
What shall I say? His last attempt so bold  
At the Canaries, It cannot be told  
Unto Its worth; That done with gallantry  
He makes his Exit with a Plaudite;  
And having done to Spain abundant Harms,  
Comes home in Peace and dies free from Alarms:  
The George the first Ship bore him out, and then  
The mournful she that brought him back again.  
Oh that some Virgil, fo: his greater Glory,  
Would please to writehis Everlasting Story;  
Or else some Homer bravely to rehearse  
His glorious Actions in Heroic Verse;  
For me to Limne the Noble Acts h'as done,  
Is but to light a Candle to the Sun:  
That task I'll leave tosome more able hand  
That viewed his Action both by Sea and Land;  
And though in blacks: may not mourn his End,  
Yet none shall more benone him as a friend.  
O'er Death he is Victorious, and he  
Bequeathes it us as his last Legacy.   

Now unto God be Everlasting praise,  
That thus in peace hath finished his days:  
And since his fatal shred is quite Spun out,  
Let's draw the Curtains, put the Candles out;  
And let us leave him to his silent Tomb,  
Free from all troubles, closed up in the womb  
Of Mother Earth let him in quiet rest,  
Till he Enjoy the choicest and the best.  
Of his desires, in Glory for to see  
His Saviour Christ to all Eternity.   

Epitaph Acrostic.  

Rest here in Peace the sacred Dust  
Of valiant BLAKE, the Good, the Just,  
Beloved of all on every side;  
England's Honour, on ●e her Pride,  
Rome's Terror, Dutch Annoyer,  
Truth's defender, Spain's destroyer.   

Bring no dry Eyes unto this place:  
Let not be seen in any case  
A smiling or an unsad face.  
Kindle desires in Every breast  
Eternally with him to test.   
On board the Dunbar in the Downs, Aug. 11. 1657. By Geo: Harrison. Gent.    

Printed for John Bartlet the elder at the Golden Cup in Paul's Churchyard over against the Drapers, and John Bartlet the younger in Westminster Hall. 1657.