_AN ELEGIE ON THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE ROBERT BLAKE, ESQ._, One of the Generals at Sea, who departed the 7th of August, 1657, on board the _George_, near Plymouth Sound. What means this silence, sirs? what’s here becom? Some heavy tidings sure hath struck you dumb. Light griefs make teares distill out from the eye, When great ones dull, and often stupifie. What! Is there none dare speak? Alas! I feare It is too harsh to sound in English eare. Must my misgiving soul divine the cause Of your sad aspects? Stay, for I must pause: Is he that over Neptune once bore sway, And ’gainst our foes did often get the day: Is he that was to sea-men their delight, And led them on most daringly to fight: Is he whose face a terror strooke; whose name The darling was of Fortune and of Fame: Is he that by example spent his breath, And shew’d a new way how to out-face Death: He that strook terror wheresoere he came, And made his foes to tremble at his name-- Speak, is it true? Is noble Blake then gone, And left us here in dark oblivion? Is his seraphick soul then fled away, Leaving nought but his ashes and his clay? Your silence seems to say so. Is he dead? Sure then your griefs cannot be numbered. I see the lasting’st monuments must bend; All things must have their period and end. His brave example in our infant dayes Of war, when he alone deserv’d the bayes; When by his virtue onely Lime held out Against a potent foe both bold and stout. Taunton her liberty to him doth owe, His bounty onely did on her bestow. Dunster, that pleasant seat, whose lofty tow’rs E’ne peirc’t the clouds, did stoop unto his pow’rs Bridgewater gave him birth, for that fam’d more, And honoured, then ere she was before. His enemies did oft amaz’d stand When he held up his sure dead-doing hand; And Death grew pale to see himself out-done By one of mortall race. The setting sun Oft peep’d abroad, as oft did blush to see Neptune forc’t weare his sanguine livery. Though Death did often strive him to affright Yet he out-lookt him, made him mad with spight, And when with open force he durst not seise him In a consumption did at last surprise him. His head a mint of reason was; when he Once spake he used no tautologie. His arguments dilemmas were, which he Confirm’d b’ example out of history: His own experience was so great that all With one consent still clos’d in generall: And for his intellectualls so rare That few now living could with him compare. A man that alwayes valued his word; Bright honour ever shining on his sword: To vice and basenesse ever most severe, And to his friends and goodnesse very deare: From affectation free, and, what was more, A zealous enemy of the Scarlet Whore; Whose able judgment in a hot dispute