On the Death of the Queen

WHile from each Soul the Sorrows copious flow,
And weeping Nations heave with mighty Woe;
Whilst ev'ry Lyre to mournful Notes is strung,
And CAROLINA slutters on each Tongue:
The mourning Muse, to Conso lation deaf,
Swells the sad Consort with melodious Grief.
Ten flow'ry Springs on golden Plumes have flown,
Since she, triumphant, hail'd thee on thy Throne.
Oh CAROLINE! Oh Princess now no more!
Each Heart bleeds inward, and all Eyes deplore.
Stretch'd pale in Death thy lovely Limbs are laid,
Thy Beauty, Albion, and thy Joys are sled!
To Thee, our Tear their filial Torrents bring,
And ev'ry Passion opens ev'ry Spring:
Lost to Despair, in wild Laments we moan,
And distant Regions echo Groan for Groan.

'Twas she, adorn'd by Virtue's heav'nly Charms,
In rosey Beauty bless'd her Prince's Arms:
Her Lover with a pious Eye she view'd,
And CAESAR at her Feet successless su'd:
Imperial Purple her calm Eyes disdain,
And Roman Eagles wav'd their Wings in vain;
Inspir'd, Religion's Dictates to discharge,
She gave her self to Britain, and to GEORGE.

Say, rais'd Britannia, how her gently Air
Adorn'd the Palace, and improv'd the Fair.
Discord, and Party-Rage grew tame, to gaze,
And noisy Factions clamour'd in her Praise.
Domestick Life th' illustrious Pattern grac'd;
On royal Milk the royal Infant feast:
Form'd by her Hands the Monarch-Race were seen.
The rip'ning Hero, and the future Queen.
Far from vain Courts her silent Footsleps roam,
Where chosen Volumes deck'd the sacred Dome:
Still loud Applauses of the joyful Age,
Pursu'd her thro' the lonely Hermitage.
Here, in high Raptures, her immortal Mind,
O'er Newton's Orbs expatiates, unconfin'd;
Familiar Guest! she visits all the Skies,
From World to World, from Sun to Sun she flies!
Thence smiles at mimick Crowns which Sultans wear
In the mock Empires of this little Star.

Such was the Queen! she was — but is no more!—
Wide wounds the Woe, and spreads from Shore to Shore;
Groans the hoarse Ocean as the Tydings fly,
Wave roars to Wave, and Rocks to Rocks reply,
She was, but is no more — lost all Relief!
Now all her Graces greaten all our Grief.
Ev'n our far Land it's Anguish loud proclaims,
We felt her Influence, and we bless'd her Beams.

But, BELCHER, first in Grief as in Command;
With early Zeal you kiss'd her beauteous Hand;
Your Honours to the destin'd Queen you paid,
Ere the Crown flash'd, far-beaming, on her Head.
The Muse reluctant, by your Order sings,
Else had she silent wept, and broke her Strings.
What Fame to us reports, by you were seen,
The Glance attractive, the majestick Mein,
The Angel-Form each milder Feature wears,
That Look obliging, those descending Airs.
Collected in her Innocence she stood,
Devout to Heav'n, to Men divinely Good,
You saw—now see the fated End of all:
How the Fair fades, and how the Mighty fall

See the Pale Cheek its faded Blush resign,
The dying Eyes with transient Lustre shine;
Hoarse the sunk Voice, the Breast no longer warm,
And Death gains fast o'er ev'ry mortal Charm.
O VIRTUE! now thy Joys are all sincere!
Th' exulting Queen demands the final Pray'r,
(Eternal Glories op'ning to her View,)
Waves her gay Hand, and bids the Globe adieu.

See, in the regal Vaults, the shatter'd Lead,
Whose gaping Seams disclose the royal Dead.
Were these, O Muse, triumphant Sov'reigns once!
This Skin all shrivel'd and these naked Bones!
No more resentful, great ELIZA, rest,
Support in Peace the Scottish Mery's Chest
Whilst fast by WILLIAM's and MARIA's Shrine,
We place the Dust of heav'nly CAROLINE.
Ye living, hear what mould'ring Monarchs say!
"For endless Joys give mortal Dreams away.