AN ELEGY UPON The most Pious and Incomparable PRINCESS, MARY Queen of ENGLAND, etc. WHO Departed this Mortal Life, on Friday the 28th of December, at Kensington. 1694.  

'TIs true— when death, Fate's Minister does call,  
Princes and Clowns without distinction fall:  
No bribes can make the ravenous Tyrant stay,  
Nor both the Indies purchase one poor Day.  
This Weeping Albion to her Sorrow knows,  
And this the present sad Occasion shows;  
Marry our Nation's late Delight and Pride,  
In whom all Charms triumphantly did ride,  
With every Grace, and every Virtue crowned,  
Now mixed Alas! in common Dust is found.  
Weep British Ladies, Weep around her Hearse,  
And for each Muse attend with tributary Verse;  
Let the pale Sun retire behind a Cloud,  
And swelling Tides proclaim our Griefs aloud,  
For Mary universal Nature Mourn,  
And bid the flattering Spring no more return.   

Oh! if we might of Heaven's Decrees complain,  
Why does it suffer Gallia's Scourge to reign?  
Why does it tamely spare that Bird of Prey,  
And take its best-loved Workmanship away?  
What monstrous Crimes has guilty Britain nursed,  
That it is thus emphatically cursed?   

None sure that ere the Regal Ensigns bore,  
Loud of Perfections claim a greater store.  
Amidst the gay Temptations of the Court,  
Where gaudy Toys, and Vanities resort,  
She between Acts of Charity and Prayer,  
The fleeting Minutes equally did share.  
Sincere Devotion with her beauteous Train,  
Filled all her Heart, and in her Breast did reign;  
No vain Desires, nor guilty Thoughts pressed in,  
All was Serene without, and Calm within,  
While Mighty Nassau yearly crossed the Seas,  
To purchase Europe's Liberty and Ease,  
While He his Sacred Person did expose  
To treacherous Bullets, and more treacherous Foes.  
Marry at home the gentle Sceptre swayed,  
Her mild Commands the Factious Herd obeyed,  
And Homage to her Conquering Goodness paid.  
Men by Her Looks, and by Her Virtues charmed  
The Hydra of its Sting was soon disarmed.  
Affrighted Vice retired at Her Command,  
Sunk to the Shades below, and left the Land.  
A golden Race of Years began to smile  
And Peace and Plenty crowned our happy Isle.   

Oh, who would not dissolve away in Tears,  
To lose the Partner of his Joys and Cares,  
In Youth's gay Pride, and in Her Blooming Years,  
But William don't too long indulge thy Grief,  
But from thy Faithful Senate take relief;  
By the whole Isle Thy Cause will be embraced,  
For Thy own sake, and for the Saint deceased.    

EPITAPH.  

UNder this Marble Urn a Princess lies,  
Gracious and Good, chaste, Merciful and Wise.  
Since Great Eliza. left the British Throne,  
No Queen did e'er such great Perfections own;  
England and Holland she by turns did grace,  
The Joy, Delight and Soul of every place  
To Her for refuge Wretches did resort,  
In her fair Breast the Graces kept their Court:  
Her Sex's Pattern, Ornament and Pride,  
In Pious Acts each precious Hour employed,  
The City's sole Delight, the Country's Care  
Her Royal Hero's burden helped to bear,  
Humble tho' Great, and Innocent tho' Fair:  
The Church's Pillar, and the Poor's Relief,  
Britain's late Pride, but now her only Grief.    

LONDON: Printed by Richard Smith, at the Blue-Ball in Thames-street, over against Baynard's-Castle. 1694.