AN ELEGY On the DEATH of that brave Sea-Commander, Rear-admiral CARTER, Who was unfortunately Killed in the Famous Engagement with the French Fleet, on the 20th of May, 1692.  

AMidst the Public Joy, which every where,  
With Acclamations, fills the yielding Air,  
Permit a Muse (all drenched in Tears) a while  
To interrupt the Universal Smile,  
Since the most pleasing Passions in Excess,  
Will with their Weight the Noblest Minds oppress,  
Joy should with Grief, and Grief with Joy be mixed,  
Or either Passion fatally is fixed.   

Carter the brave-through floods of fire and smoke  
Rushed on when he th' French Line of Battle broke;  
With pompous Titles, though their Sails they swell,  
Of Thunder, Lightning, and th' Invincible,  
No terror in their empty Names appears,  
Nor their Broadsides th' undaunted Carter fears:  
He saw the Goddess Victory descend,  
And Winds and Seas the Noble Cause befriend.  
The fierce Dispute he did not long maintain,  
But Cries were heard— Our Admiral is slain;  
Thus in the Justest, and the Noblest Cause,  
Great Carter yielded to Fates Rigid Laws.   

He was— but, ah! the bold Attempt, forbear,  
Too weak thy Skill to write his Character,  
That Task is for a Nobler Pen designed,  
Great as his Thoughts, and Daring as his Mind,  
Yet we in small his Portraiture may view,  
And by a little, show, we more would do.   

He was— by Nature made for that Command,  
To which, though most pretend, few understand;  
His Virtue was not rugged, like the Waves,  
Nor did he treat his Sailors as his Slaves:  
But courteous, easy of Access, and free,  
His Looks not tempered with Severity:  
And those who did his Friehdship share confess,  
He was more cordial than they could express.   

These were the private Virtues of his Breast;  
But that which was the Crown of all the rest,  
Was his True Valour for his country's Good,  
Which courage made him lavish of his Blood,  
Unlike to that, when Wine, Surprise, and Rage,  
Our hot-brained Sparks so oft in Blood engage:  
No, he its true intrinsic Value knew,  
And seemed to catch the Bullets as they flew.   

Unlucky Bullet, must thy Random. shot,  
Only select Great Carter for thy Lot?  
A thousand common Tars we could have spared,  
Had not the Admiral in thy Fury shared.  
But though he's Gone, he cannot want a Tomb,  
Whose Praises do in every Breast find room.  
With Manly Sighs the Fleet his Loss lament,  
And the Brave 
* The Ship he was Killed in.  Duke will be his Monument.    

EPITAPH.  

IF from Fates Jaws could Virtue save,  
Or Courage rescue from the Grave,  
Carter would ne'er have quit the Scene,  
But always have Immortal been;  
But the Grim Tyrant all things sweeps,  
To Dark Oblivions silent Deeps.  
All Mortals must obey the call,  
When Death himself rides ADMIRAL.    

LONDON: Printed for Richard Baldwin, MDXCCII.