A poem occasion'd by the death of Her late Majesty of ever happy and sacred memory by a private hand. Private hand. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription B28213 of text R39675 in the English Short Title Catalog. Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 4KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 3 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 B28213 Wing P2678A ocm 18471375

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 Early English books online text creation partnership. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. B28213) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 206590) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1641:10) A poem occasion'd by the death of Her late Majesty of ever happy and sacred memory by a private hand. Private hand. 4 p. Printed for, and sold by J. Whitlock ..., London : 1695. Binder's title: Poems on the death of Queen Mary. Reproduction of original in the Harvard University Library.

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 eng Mary -- II, -- Queen of England, 1662-1694 -- Poetry. eebo A poem occasion'd by the death of Her late Majesty of ever happy and sacred memory / by a private hand. Private hand. 1695 6 563 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2014-06 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2014-07 Sampled and proofread 2014-07 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2015-03 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

A POEM , Occasion'd by the DEATH OF HER Late MAJESTY OF Ever Happy and Sacred Memory .

By a Private Hand .

LONDON , Printed for , and sold by J. Whitlock near Stationers-Hall . 1695.

A POEM , Occasion'd by the Death of Her late Majesty , &c. REtir'd within my self , thus long to mourn , Despairing of my former Joy's return ; Confin'd to mournfull melancholly Thought , Whose Cause , excess of Grief alone has wrought , No Remedy to mitigate my Woe . Besides what Tears and deepest Sighs allow : Faign I from Words wou'd seek for some Relief , Desiring thence no Cure , but Ease from Grief : But oh ! the Subject now becomes too great , For Sighs and Tears to show , or Words repeat . This fatal Truth does Albion now confess , And knows not how Her Sorrows to express ; But for Heav'ns promise which prevents my Fears , I shou'd expect a second Flood by Tears . Time , which has ever yet been found to be , Against such Ills a Sovereign Remedy , Will useless now , and ineffectual prove , And must our selves , if it our Grief remove : For all till Death , must this great Loss deplore , When Time it self with us can be no more . For ever Sacred be Her Memory ; From swift-pac'd Time's destructive Power free , 'Till swallow'd with it in Eternity . What Blessings did we promise to our Isle ? What blooming Hopes did adverse Fate beguile ? The fairest Flow'r is cropt and snatcht form View , That e're in Nature's well-stor'd Garden grew . Since that the Word was Flesh ; sure Heav'n ne're joyn'd Such lovely Form , with so divine a Mind . Those ill Examples which in Courts abound , ( Where Vice in all alluring Shapes is found ; ) Caus'd on Her well fix'd Vertues no Restraint ; Like Mercy kind , and Pious as a Saint . Ne're were in one so many Grace seen ; Meek , tho' so Great , and Humble , tho' a Queen . Vice in a Torrent long o're-flow'd the Land , Which She alone was able to withstand : Nor onely so , but stemm'd th' increasing Flood , And show'd the Excellence of being Good . This She durst do , and do at such a Time , When Vice was hugg'd , and Vertue thought a Crime . Vertue felt an Eclipse till She appear'd ; And scarce more than the Name was known or heard . What Vertues scatter'd through the Sex appear In Her , a glorious Constellation were . We now ( since She from Care below's releas'd ) May truly say , That Miracles are ceas'd . But say , Oh! Whither , whither is She fled ? Methinks I hear Grief whisper , She is Dead . Oh! never say She 's dead , can such Worth be Like us , subjected to Mortality ? Say rather , On an Embassy She 's gone , ( As none so fit ) to the Caelestial Throne , ( As whilst on Earth we were Her chiefest Care , So now ) to fix a firm Alliance there . FINIS .