html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }Religious Discord, Fury of this Isle,
A little Truce, cease your harsh Notes a while!
Honour, Religion, Vertue, Learning, all
Demand our Tears at their Great Patron's fall.
Whilst slight Court-Meteors, soon advancing high,
Short-liv'd too long, once seen neglected die;
At Eighty Years Ormond's Propitious Light
Seems immaturely ravish'd from our sight.
Some Prosperom Star torn from his Native Sphere,
Would cause such Wonder and Confusion there.
The Vertues of four Reigns he kept intire
Fin'd from the Dross, as Gold by Chymick fire.
Exalted Vertues, which here want a Name,
Too weighty for the labouring Wings of Fame!
Of Ancient Honour, Loyalty, and Truth,
The Noblest Standard for our wand'ring Youth.
Thus whilst the Patriarch liv'd, who pass'd the Flood,
The Jewish State by Ancient Maxims stood;
But He once gone, the Base, Degenerate Age,
Sunk to its old Apostasie, and Rage.
Some have in Courts, others in Camps been great,
In Business some, some in a Wise Retreat,
Ormond in all, his vast Imperious Mind
Excell'd in each, as if to one confin'd:
}All times of Life, all Stations he could grace,
The distant Poles of goodness did embrace,
With crowding Lights, fill'd all the glorious Space.
Thro' several Climes he a bright Course did run,
Kind, as the enliv'ning Progress of the Sun.
Warm'd by his Beams, even sad Hybernia's Isle
Look'd up, and chear'd her Visage with a Smile;
Mov'd Britain's Envy, but, her Patron dead,
Deep in his Fens, her Genius sinks his Head.
O—rd, which, during this Apollo's Reign,
Rival'd your Sister, and improv'd your Vein,
If you just Tribute to his Hearse deny,
Your Swans fall Speechless, and your Streams be dry.
Some grateful Voice his Glorious Life shall sing,
More above Subjects, than beneath a King.