"A Poem upon the Coronation, by J. Baber, Esq." "A Pindarique to their Sacred Majesties on their Coronation." "A Poem on Do. by R. Mansell, Gent." "A Panegyrick on Do. by Peter Ker;" with whose rapturous invitation to the ships to strand themselves for joy, we shall conclude the list: Let subjects sing, bells ring, and cannons roar; And every ship come dancing to the shore. ] [Footnote 42: Dryden, perhaps, recollected the poem of Fitzpayne Fisher on Cromwell's death, entitled, _Threnodia Triumphalis in obitum serenissimi Nostri Principis Olivari, Angliæ Scotiæ Hiberniœ cum dominationibus ubicunque jacentibus Nuperi protectoris, (Qui obiit. Septemb. 3tio.) Ubi stupendæ passim victoriæ, et incredibiles domi forasque successus, Heroico carmine, succinctim perstringuntur. Per Fitzpaynæum Piscatorem. Londini, 1658._] THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS. I. Thus long my grief has kept me dumb: Sure there's a lethargy in mighty woe, Tears stand congealed, and cannot flow; And the sad soul retires into her inmost room: Tears, for a stroke foreseen, afford relief; But, unprovided for a sudden blow, Like Niobe, we marble grow, And petrify with grief. Our British heaven was all serene, No threatening cloud was nigh, Not the least wrinkle to deform the sky; We lived as unconcerned and happily As the first age in nature's golden scene; Supine amidst our flowing store, We slept securely, and we dreamt of more; When suddenly the thunder-clap was heard, It took us, unprepared, and out of guard, Already lost before we feared. The amazing news of Charles at once were spread, At once the general voice declared, "Our gracious prince was dead." No sickness known before, no slow disease, To soften grief by just degrees; But, like an hurricane on Indian seas, The tempest rose; An unexpected burst of woes,[43] With scarce a breathing space betwixt, This now becalmed, and perishing the next. As if great Atlas from his height Should sink beneath his heavenly weight, And, with a mighty flaw, the flaming wall, As once it shall, Should gape immense, and, rushing down, o'erwhelm this nether ball; So swift and so surprising was our fear: Our Atlas fell indeed; but Hercules was near.[44] II.