AN ELEGY ON His Grace the Illustrious CHARLES STUART, Duke of Richmond and Lenox, etc. Ambassador Extraordinary to the Crown of Denmark.  

IS this the News w● expected from the Frost?  
The Fatal Tidings that Great Richmond's lost:  
Behold I how Britain's Genius shivering lies,  
And trickling Icecles drew from its Eyes;  
A sudden Damp has seized its spirits, and all  
Our hopes are Frostnipt in's untimely fall:  
Did Northern Stars there so severely Reign  
Not to be Counterchecked by Charles his Wain?  
Could not the Sovereign Sta● so guard his Heart  
To gain some little respite from Deaths Datt?  
That Aster'isme for those high born and bred  
A Monarches mark on men whose parts he's red:  
'Twas subtly done, Oh Fate I thus to surpriz:  
Him out of reach of his Chaste Consorts eyes;  
From her Life-breathing Lips had one Kiss come  
'T had called him back, and so reversed his Doom:  
Grief's sables now surround the gloomy Room,  
And Sighs like Incense cloud it with Perfume  
From Her sweet breath; whilst her two Panting Breasts,  
Like little mournful Birds droop in their Nests:  
The Funeral Tapers burn, but with dim Light,  
Naught but her Eyes, beneath her Veil, shines bright.  
To rugged Charon she makes gentle moan,  
Calmly to waste the Dearest Relics home  
From cruel De mark's Shoar; Hark I how she charms  
The Churl, to the Elysium of her Arms,  
To bring the twice cold Corpse; That her Sighs may  
With Floods of Tears soften his stiffened Clay;  
Let none into her presence dare t'Intrude  
Once to disturb her graceful solitude:  
She needs none of your help, let her alone,  
The Turtle by herself loves to bemoan.  
She has no leisure yet, t' adhere to Fame,  
Who must high Stories tell of His Great Name;  
For Fame herself must court her lofty Ear,  
For a fit time when she is pleased to hear  
Her large Discourse of all that he hath done,  
Since the first Scene of his great part begun.   

Yet give me leave, Great Duchess to let fall  
The shady Curtain of his Funeral;  
And draw in brief to the World's wondering Eye  
Your Noble Dukes still living Effigy.  
He was a Man— ('s Death! That I could not say  
He was a Man) but moulded of the Clay  
Of Nature's purest Mass, fraught with a mind  
For his so brittle body too Refined;  
And therefore unto Denmark was he sent,  
As none more fit, His King to Represent.  
Yet would not Death Veil to's High Character,  
To show that SUCH, like KINGS still Mortal are:  
Though in His Death he has as much to Boast,  
As those that seemed at Home to serve him most.  
Thus left he all his SERVICES on score  
Unsumed, Denied by Fate, to make them MORE.   
FINIS.   

Printed for Philip Brooksby, 1673.