A poem occasioned by the death of Her Majesty. By a person of honour

On Her Majesty's Decease . WHat can we here secure or lasting call , When God's own Temples ( as if Dagons ) fall ? Why should fond Mothers idly moan the Loss Of Hopes , or Heirs , seeing our Nation's Cross Set , next to Golgotha's ? It frights the Earth , Nay Fiends themselves , from any sort of Mirth . This tells us what is dreadful ; woe indeed ; What 's the Privation , for our sins decreed : And what is Grief , should make them justly mourn , Who , Children like , are froward at each turn . But could we on great William's sorrows think , Our private Passions would to Shadows shrink . He fought like David , and like Noah stood Secure , and saving others thro the Flood : Now , tho his Ark be shook , He 's poys'd for weights Of sinking Worlds , much more of trembling States . He that can wade through Ills so good a way May guide his Stars , and shine more bright than they . All Aspects favour such a Friend as He 's ; For he 's in one Atlas and Hercules . Thank Heav'n he 's still the same , tho a sad stroke Cut him in two , and sov'aign comforts broke : ( While Europe thro his side is wounded too , ) Oh! what vast mischief may this Winter do ? Let our Isles weep , and seek with all their Eyes Full Seas of Tears , to thaw the Belgian Ice ; Lest any be surpriz'd by watchful foes , While our dear Halcyon takes her last Repose . The Phoenix thus in her first Nest expires , And Heav'ns own Hand kindles her fun'ral Fires . Ah! where 's the Hand that held our Pillars Right ? Where is our Pilot in this dreadful Night ? Where 's any Hope below , or Help on High ? Till God , or his Vicegerent say : 't is I. The Universe in black looks up , and sighs , As Egypt once , at Israels Obsequies ; Crying , whose Mourning's this : A Woe unknown To Mankind , till Maria left the Throne , Claiming Heav'ns fairest Kingdoms as her own . Her Soul , her Merit wrought up her Esteem , Fit for the Empire of the Seraphim : Too high for Clouds , too clear for things of Clay ; She blest us with her Robes and went away ; Since half of her this Globe may fully sway . Angels from Men thus suddenly depart , And the quick farewel makes the Vision smart . But wilt thou go , fair Eve , and leave thy Man To rule alone , as Adam first began ? Oh! has he undergone vast Toyls for this , And bid so soon adieu to Paradise ? 't is hard ; but God must be obey'd , he knows , By him he rules , to him the Ruler bows , And thus his Valour's right ascendant shows . Oh let him stand this shock , as he before Did ev'ry storm both on our Seas and Shore . Who but a more than Man e're suffer'd more ? The patient Job with such a steddy Mind Calm'd his Misfortunes , and his Faith refin'd . He 's pain'd , he 's bleeding in his tend'rest part ; Yet hides the Sore , lest we should feel the Smart . No Cannon Ball , no grim Salutes of Death , No close Encounter on the Belgian Heath , No Force , no Treachery , no French Arms , nor Art , Wound like the Point now passing to his Heart : Nor should the Hero such a Touchstone feel , Were not his Virtue the best temper'd Steel . God , that affords such Grace , delights to prove His Work well done , that he may further love . Bear up then , master all thy self , great Prince ; This Conquest will thy Foes and Friends convince ; How in thy Trials Fate has kinder Ends , And God , who proves his Champion , him defends : That Kings may give him place , and Realms make room To kiss the Hand , that unbinds Christendom . FINIS .