Life of William Phips, Elegy
UPON THE DEATH OF Sir William PHIPS, Knt.
Late Captain General and Governour in Chief, of the Province of the Maſſachuſet-Bay New-England, who Expired in London, Feb. 18. 1694/5.
And to Mortality a Sacrifice
Falls He, whoſe Deeds muſt Him Immortalize!
REjoice Meſſieures; Netops rejoice, 'tis true;
Ye Philiſtines, none will rejoice but You:
Loving of All He Dy'd; who Love him not,
Now, have the Grace of Publicans forgot.
Our Almanacks foretold a great Eclipſe,
This they foreſaw not, of our greater PHIPS.
PHIPS our great Friend, our Wonder, and our Glory,
The Terror of our Foes, the World's rare Story.
England will Boaſt him too, whoſe Noble Mind
Impell'd by Angels, did thoſe Treaſures find.
Long in the Bottom of the Ocean laid,
Which her Three Hundred Thouſand Richer made.
By Silver yet ne'r Canker'd, nor defil'd
By Honour, nor Betray'd when Fortune ſmil'd.
Since this bright Phoebus viſited our Shoar,
We ſaw no Fogs, but what were rais'd before:
Thoſe vaniſh'd too; harras'd by Bloody Wars
Our Land ſaw Peace, by his moſt generous Cares.
The Wolviſh Pagans, at his dreaded Name,
Tam'd, ſhrunk before him, and his Dogs became!
Fell Moxus and fierce Dockawando fall,
Charm'd at the Feet of our Brave General.
Fly-blow the Dead, Pale Envy, let him not
(What Hero ever did?) eſcape a Blot.
All is Diſtort with an Inchanted Eye,
And Heighth will make what's Right ſtill ſtand awry.
He was, oh that He was! His Faults we'l tell,
Such Faults as theſe we knew, and lik'd them well.
Juſt, to an Injury; denying none
Their Dues; but Self denying oft his own.
Good, to a Miracle; reſolv'd to do
Good unto All, whether they would or no.
To make Ʋs Good, Great, Wiſe, and all Things elſe,
He wanted but the Gift of Miracles.
On Him, vain Mob, thy Miſchiefs ceaſe to throw;
Bad, but alone in This; the Times were ſo.
Stout to a Prodigy; living in Pain
To ſend back Quebeck-Bullets once again.
Thunder, his Muſick, ſweeter than the Spheres,
Chim'd Roaring Canons, in his Martial Ears.
Frigats of armed Men could not withſtand,
'Twas try'd, the Force of his one Swordleſs Hand:
Hand, which in one, all of Briareus had,
And Hercule's twelve Toyls but Pleaſures made.
Too Humble; in brave Stature not ſo Tall,
As low in Carriage, ſtooping unto all.
Rais'd in Eſtate, in Figure, and Renown,
Not Pride; Higher, and yet not Prouder grown.
Of Pardons full; ne'r to Revenge at all,
Was that which He would Satisfaction call.
True to his Mate; from whom though often flown.
A Stranger yet to every Love but one.
Write Him not Childleſs, whoſe whole People were
Sons, Orphans now, of His Paternal Care.
Now leſt ungrateful Brands we ſhould incur,
Your Salary we'll Pay in Tears, GREAT SIR!
To England often blown, and by his Prince
Often ſent laden with Preferments thence.
Preferr'd each Time He went, when all was done
That Earth could do, Heaven fetch'd Him to a Crown.
'Tis He: with Him Interr'd how great deſigns!
Stand Fearleſs now, ye Eaſtern Firrs and Pines.
With Naval Stores not to enrich the Nation,
Stand, for the Ʋniverſal Conflagration.
Mines, opening unto none but Him, now ſtay
Cloſe under Lock and Key, till the Laſt Day:
In this, like to the Grand Aurifick Stone,
By any but Great Souls not to be known.
And Thou Rich Table, with Bodilla loſt,
In the Fair Galeon, on our Spaniſh Coaſt.
In weight Three Thouſand, and Three Hundred Pound,
But of Pure Maſſy Gold, ly Thou, not found.
Safe, ſince He's laid under the Earth aſleep,
Who learnt where Thou doſt under Water keep.
But Thou Chief loſer, Poor NEW-ENGLAND ſpeak
Thy Dues to ſuch as did thy welfare ſeek,
The Governour that vow'd to Riſe and Fall
With Thee, Thy Fate ſhows in His Funeral.
Write now His Epitaph, 'Twill be Thine own,
Let it be this; A PƲBLICK SPIRIT's GONE.
Or, but Name PHIPS; more needs not be expreſt,
Both Englands, and next Ages tell the Reſt.
FINIS.
Books Printed for, and Sold by Nath. Hiller at the Princes-Arms in Leaden-Hall Street over againſt St. Mary Axe.
THe Righteouſneſs of God through Faith, upon all without difference who believe, in two Sermons at Pinners-Hall; on Romans 3.22. by Mr. Nath. Mather Miniſter of the Goſpel.
A Learned and Accurate Diſcourſe, concerning the Guilt of Sin, Pardon of that Guilt, and Prayer for that Pardon; written many Years ſince by the Reverend Mr. Thomas Gilbert, Miniſter of the Goſpel, lately Deceaſed at Oxford.
The Conqueſts and Triumphs of Grace, being a Brief Narrative of the Succeſs which the Goſpel hath had among the Indians in New-England, by Mr. Mathew Mayhew, 1695.
Batteries on the Kingdom of Satan by Mr. Cotton Mather, Author of the late memorable Providences, relating to Witchcrafts and Poſſeſſions, and of Early Piety exemplified, 1695.
A Letter to Dr. Bates, containing a Vindication of the Dr. and Mr. Lob neceſſitated, by Mr. Williams his Anſwer to Mr. Humfrey, by Mr. Stephen Lob, 1695.
The Throne of Grace, diſcourſed from Heb. 4.6. in thirteen Sermons at Pinners-Hall, by Mr. Robert Trail, M. A. 1696.
Scripture Proof for ſinging Scripture Pſalms, Hymns, and Spiritual Songs; by E. H. 1696.
The Figures or Types of the Old Teſtament, by which Chriſt and the heavenly Things of the Goſpel were Preached and Shadowed to the People of God of Old; in ſundry Sermons, by Mr. Samuel Mather, ſometime Paſtor of a Church in Dublin.
FINIS.
End of the text · Cotton Mather, Life of William Phips (1697)