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<DATE>2008-09-05</DATE>
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<NAME>tcpstaff</NAME>
<RESP>MURP</RESP>
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<ITEM>Proofed and reviewed as part of batch B080832.pdcc.</ITEM>
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<IDG S="marc" R="UM" ID="B03258">
<STC T="W">E450</STC>
<BIBNO T="oclc">52614640</BIBNO>
<VID>175854</VID>
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<TEXT LANG="eng">
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<DIV1 TYPE="elegy">
<PB REF="1" MS="y"><!-- PDF PAGE 16 -->
<HEAD>AN ELEGIE To the Memory of Richard Earl of Tyrconnel, Late Deputy of <HI>Ireland,</HI> and General of the Bog-trotting Army, who departed this Life in <HI>Limerick,</HI> on <HI>Tue&s;day Augu&s;t</HI> the <HI>8th.</HI> 1691.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>In <HI>Iri&s;h</HI> Ver&s;e, in a bog-trotting Srain,</L>
<L>My grumbling <HI>Mu&s;e</HI> comes huffing, in di&s;dain,</L>
<L>To this &s;ad Her&s;e, whereon <HI>Tyrconnel</HI> lies,</L>
<L>Who&s;e Fame de&s;erves a Thou&s;and <HI>Elegies.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L><HI>Dear Joy,</HI> He was a Man of great Renown,</L>
<L>Till adver&s;e Fortune threw the Champion down:</L>
<L>For his Exploits, with Mu&s;quet and with Cannon,</L>
<L>I take for Witne&s;s <HI>Limerick</HI> and the <HI>Shannon.</HI></L>
<L>His Luck was nought, although he did prove true</L>
<L>To <HI>Babel</HI>'s <HI>Whore,</HI> and Ba&s;tard <HI>Lewis</HI> too.</L>
<L>When Fortune &s;mil'd, he was imperious proud,</L>
<L>And falling down he &s;unk in Seas of Blood;</L>
<L>Contentious, cruel, ba&s;e: But why &s;hould I,</L>
<L>When dead with Scorpions, whip his Memory.</L>
<L>Then hold my <HI>Mu&s;e;</HI> and in a &s;ober Ver&s;e,</L>
<L>Strew Chri&s;tian &s;ighs about the dead Man's Her&s;e.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Man's made of Du&s;t, and broke with Grief and Care;</L>
<L>A guilded Statue that's blown up with Air;</L>
<L>His Child-hood's crying, and his Youth is vain;</L>
<L>His Man-hood's &s;orrow, and's Old-age a Pain.</L>
<L>'Twixt Wind and Wave, and Storms of <HI>Church</HI> and State,</L>
<L>He's to&s;s'd and tumbled to a Tragick Fate.</L>
<L>If Time but &s;mile then his ambitious Eyes,</L>
<L>Stares up aloft into promotions Skies;</L>
<L>And fawning Fortune, with her flattering Wings,</L>
<L>Brings him in favour with the greate&s;t Kings.</L>
<L>She bears him up vain glorious, in di&s;dain,</L>
<L>With greater force, to let him fall again.</L>
<L>This Object of our Joy and Grief doth &s;how,</L>
<L>What mortal Men at Times mu&s;t undergo.</L>
<L>The Charms of <HI>Rome,</HI> which blind the &s;imples Eyes,</L>
<L>Made him intend a fooli&s;h Enterprize;</L>
<L>Eclips'd his Rea&s;on to believe a Lye,</L>
<L>And Idolize perverted Loyalty.</L>
<L>He that would pay Allegiance to his King,</L>
<L>With Loyalty mu&s;t a good Con&s;cience bring;</L>
<L>Not as this <HI>Dear Joy</HI> &s;teer'd, 'gain&s;t Tide and Wind,</L>
<L>And left Religion on the Shoar behind.</L>
<L>And turn'd at la&s;t, &s;o fal&s;e in every thing.</L>
<L>That he prov'd Traitor to his Popi&s;h King:</L>
<L>With all his Force and Power &s;trove to advance,</L>
<L>The Intere&s;t of the Tyrant King of <HI>France.</HI></L>
<L>He that contrive his King and Countries Fall,</L>
<L>Is Fal&s;e, Perfidious, and a <HI>Cannibal.</HI></L>
<L>Duty to Man, when what we ow's laid by,</L>
<L>Unto our Maker's, but Idolatry.</L>
<L>Not Zeal blindfolded, nor the <HI>Romish Cau&s;e,</HI></L>
<L>Can overturn Religion and the Laws.</L>
<L>No Peradventure of a &s;hallow Brain,</L>
<L>Can cut the <HI>Church,</HI> and rend the <HI>State</HI> in twain;</L>
<L>There is a Power above all humane Things,</L>
<L>That rules below, and guides the Fate of Kings.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Then Plotters and Con&s;pirators in Trea&s;on,</L>
<L>(That &s;ore aloft above the Sphere of Rea&s;on)</L>
<L>Throw off your Vizards, and wa&s;h off your Paint,</L>
<L>Which makes a Devil, &s;ometimes, appear a Saint.</L>
<L>Lay by your Plots, and all your black De&s;igns,</L>
<L>'Ere divine Fate blow up your &s;ecret Mines.</L>
<L>Incen&s;ed Vapours, that's compos'd of Air,</L>
<L>Leap from Earth's Bowels to a higher Sphere,</L>
<L>And turn to Comets, where they do remain,</L>
<L>Threatning a while, and vani&s;h quite again.</L>
<L>Even &s;o tho&s;e Spirits, that would &s;till a&s;pire,</L>
<L>Tran&s;gre&s;s their Bounds, and peri&s;h in de&s;ire.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>But as for this our <HI>Popish, Irish</HI> Saint,</L>
<L>Who &s;weet St. <HI>Patrick</HI>'s help did never want,</L>
<L>He's fallen a&s;leep, <HI>Dear Joy,</HI> and let him ly,</L>
<L>Depriv'd of Life, Sen&s;e, Truth, and Loyalty.</L>
</LG>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="epitaph">
<HEAD>EPITAPH.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>BElow this Stone interr'd doth ly,</L>
<L>Rebellion both and Loyalty.</L>
<L>An hone&s;t <HI>Dear Joy:</HI> that was full</L>
<L>Of Plots as empty as his Skull,</L>
<L>In health, no Man could well endure him,</L>
<L>No <HI>Bonny-Clobber,</HI> &s;ick, could cure him.</L>
<L>His Life was cruel, curs'd and ill;</L>
<L>And now he's dead again&s;t his Will:</L>
<L>But &s;ince he's gone, here let him ly,</L>
<L>A Map of fal&s;e Fidelity.</L>
</LG>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
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