An Elegy Upon the Death of the Most Illustrious Princess HENERETTA. Duchess of ORLEANS, Madam of FRANCE, etc.  

OUR day's overcast Melpomene come on  
Assist my Fancy, now I am alone,  
Disturbed Spirits come my Soul affright,  
Your doleful presence fits my Fancy right,  
T' Express this Tragedy then let me choose  
The saddest of the Nine to be my Muse,  
So shall my Verse with sighs and growns be full,  
Fitting th' occasion though my Fancy's dull.   

I be who t'other day rejoiced to hear,  
Our Royal Princess came to Dover Peer,  
Where Roaring Guns their Martial tune did sound,  
Whilst Neptune's subjects danced all a round,  
And Barges keeping time (scarce known before  
Danced a Coranto with her to the shore.  
Where she her welcome by that hollow sound  
That cheers the English, but the French doth stound,  
Each Man more breath there from the Air did borrow  
T' Express their Joy but soon 'twas turned to sorrow.   

Then come sad Muse and briny tears distil  
Instead of Helicon into my Quill,  
Our sudden Joy, soon into grief was hurled  
Heneretta leaving England, left the World,  
Yet ne'er 'twas known before the British Main,  
Was the blessed Currant to the Eliazin,  
Such Happiness she enjoyed in English ground,  
As in the gallic Court could not be found,  
She sought but found nothing there worth her stay  
She therefore broke her Fast, and fled away  
Unto those blessed mansions, where all cares  
Are ta'en away, there's no such thing as tears,  
She bears a part with Saints in Heaven's blessed Choir  
Where we by her example may aspire.   

We live to die strange Paradox yet true  
Since we're but strangers we must bid adieu,  
Yet Heavens we must complain that you're unkind  
Thus to surprise us, and ne'er put's in mind  
By Comets, Meteors that do new appear,  
But to give warning Princes deaths are near,  
Death we have feared you sir, since you began  
We think that nothing satisfy you can,  
But Prince's Corpse, you'll brook no common Food,  
Since you the sweetness know of Royal Blood,  
In Ten Years space from Britain's Royal Tree,  
Four mighty Arms are broken off by thee.  
Heneretta dead this melts us all to tears.  
And every one a Niobe appears,  
Each Lady drowns with tears her sparkling eyes,  
Becoming Martyrs to griefs cruelties.  
'Tis true, she left us for a better state,  
To us unhappy, to her a happy Fate,  
Deatl was her Friend, though we of him complain,  
That called her from these Earthly cares and pain,  
Yet an't we bear it, thus to lose a Friend,  
W● needs must hate what to our Love puts end.   

But hark me think I do already hear,  
The Heavens themselves with most meliodious cheat  
Chant sacred Anthems, hark sweet melody  
Princes souls compose this Harmony,  
Whilst Mortals here below do weeping cry  
Our Joy is fled unto Eternity.    

An Epitaph.  

●tay Traveller and thou shalt see,  
Mortal yet a Deity,  
Princes are Gods, his word doth cry  
Yet tells them they like men must die,  
Beauty's Master piece here doth lay,  
What silks and eloath, nows clad in clay,  
The Sun of beauties now is made  
Dark, by Death's interposed shade,  
Majesty's here laid in dust,  
This tells you Fates decrees are just,  
All must obey their just command  
Death's Summons no man dare withstand,  
Though many from him fain would keep,  
Whilst Captives to him truly creep,  
Behold a Princess here doth lie  
Soon snatched from Earth's Felicity,  
She came to see her Native Land,  
Where Pleasures was on every hand,  
But such trifles waned her Aim,  
She came, and saw, and overcame,  
She saw Earth's joy was vanity,  
So took her leave, and went to die.   
R. Philopolymathes   

Printed for John Clark at the Harp and Bible in West-smith-field.