A panegyric on our late sovereign Lady Mary Queen of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland, of glorious and immortal memory who died at Kensington, on the 28th of December, 1694 / by James Abbadie ...

A PANEGYRIC On our late Sovereign Lady MARY QUEEN of ENGLAND, &c.

IN vain the grateful World strives to eternize the Memory of Heroes, in vain their Names and Titles are entrusted to Marble and Brass, which Time will quickly deface, in vain are all the artful Endeavors of Painters and Sculptors to give them a shadow of Life in spite of Death, by a lasting Representation of that which is no more, if we do not labour to revive the Spirit that ani∣mated them, and to immortalize their Glory by a careful imi∣tation of their Actions.

Such an Elogy as this is only worthy of MARY, a Prin∣cess in whom all the Vertues were united, and yet seem'd to contend, which should most embellish their lovely Habitation; a Queen the Examplar of Her Subjects; a Heroin the Mo∣del of Queens; elevated above Her Rank by Her Vertues, and even, in some measure rais'd above Her Vertues by Her Modesty, which could not bear Praise, and would not suffer us to do justice, but in secret, during Her Life, to that Merit which has been celebrated, in so glorious a manner, by the Public Grief after her Death.

The Sorrow of England; the Lamentations of the State; the Tears of the Church; the early Acknowledgments of that August Senate, which, by regulating the Affairs of one Nation, governs the Fate of all others; the King's sinking under a load of Grief, the weakness of that Hero, on this

occasion, whose Courage was never before shock'd by Dan∣gers or Misfortunes; the silence of Envy; and the United Groans of so many Nations, who resent this Loss as an Uni∣versal Blow to Mankind, praise Her aloud, and leave so much the less to be said by me, that, in making the Elogy either of Her Immortal Vertues, or of the unexampl'd Wonders of Her Life, I cannot preserve the likeness of Truth without lessening the Truth it self.

I shall say nothing of Her Glorious Ancestors, but that the Lustre which She reflected back upon them was greater than that She receiv'd from them; and that She honour'd Her Birth more than that honour'd Her. And it must be acknowledg'd, that never any Woman could with so much Justice be call'd the Ornament of Her Nation, and Glory of Her Sex.

I will neither imitate the Malice of some, who despise, nor the flattering complaisance of others, who magnifie a Sex which Nature has made little different from ours; tho' Education does commonly make a distinction between them, that is wholly to the advantage of the latter. Yet I cannot but observe, that the Greatness of the Obstacles that bar the Ascent to the most Shining Glory, serves only to heighten the Honour of the Person that surmounts them; and that as there is nothing more rare than to find the Character of a Hero in a Woman, so there is nothing that more imperi∣ously commands our Admiration.

History, that preserves the Memory of so many famous Names, has transmitted to us but a very small number of Illustrious Women, who deserv'd to be mention'd with particular Marks of Honour. Yet every Nation boasts of some; and it may be said that the Spirits of all those Heroins were combin'd together to animate our Queen, and that Eng∣land has engross'd the Glories of all other Nations.

She was Mistress of all the Sublime Characters that enter the Composition of an extraordinary Person. Her Beauty, which might have been the brightest Ornament of another, was always reckon'd the meanest of Her Endowments. And even the perfections of Her Judgment which was naturally steddy, solid, and piercing, besides those Excellent Improve∣ments with which She took care to enrich it, in conjunction

with all the Charms of Her Person, were but the least part of that Merit for which the World admir'd Her.

Never was so much Greatness and Majesty accompany'd with so much Modesty and Sweetness. Never could so easie and natural a Carriage command so much respect, and so admirably well become the sublimest Dignity. How low soever She might condescend to stoop, and endeavour to conceal the Heroin under the disguise of an ordinary Woman, that commanding Air, which was spread over all Her Per∣son, that Mien, and Natural Majesty, which She could not hide, discover'd Her Greatness, and betray'd Her Humi∣lity.

Her Soul was inseparably united to that of Her August Husband. She consider'd His Glory as Her own dearest In∣terest. She studied His Sentiments, to follow them, and His Actions, to imitate them; and set His Will before Her, as the Rule of Her Life.

Her Love and Admiration of Him made Her Submission delightful to her. When She enjoy'd His Presence, She ex∣amin'd His Eyes to know whether She should rejoyce or grieve. When He left Her, She was not sensible of any Trouble, but what was caus'd by Her separation from Him, She fear'd nothing but to lose Him, and Her only Care was to execute His Orders, and, during the Absence of His Person, to preserve at least His Will upon the Throne. She breath'd not but for Him, and seem'd not to live but in Him.

She was not capable of the least Weakness. Never Wife lov'd Her Husband more tenderly; and never Princess bore Misfortunes with greater constancy.

Her Courage rais'd Her above had success, and Her Mo∣desty set Her above happy Events. Prosperity and Adversity were equally unable either to puff Her up, or to cast Her down. She was above them both; and it will for ever re∣main an undecided controversie whether She bore with more Temper the Smiles, or the Frowns of Fortune.

She had at once the highest and most regular Merit that ever was She joyn'd the Courage and Strength that are peculiar to our Sex, with all the Vertues and Graces of Her own. Heaven seem'd to have endow'd Her with the Perfections

of both Sexes, to instruct them both in their several Duties, or to correct their Vices by the Opposition of so many Ver∣tues; as if it design'd to propose one Person for the Standard and Censure of all the rest of the World.

She was equally admirable, when in Her Council She vied with the ablest Statesmen; and when after the King's return, She retir'd to the Innocent Pleasure of Work∣ing with Her Women. She was Wise and Courageous in Her Government, Humble and Modest in Her Retirement. Her Vertue set before us, in Her Illustrious Life, a continual Re∣volution of Advancement and Humiliation, more wonderful than the most stupendous Turns of Fortune.

She dreaded the return of the Season that oblig'd Her to assume the Government, and, besides the Glory of the State, made Her Mistress of the Fate of the People. She would never have desir'd to draw upon Her self the Eyes of all the Universe, if She could have still enjoy'd him whom She lov'd: and gave us a yearly and memorable Instance that Authority may be receiv'd with Tears, and laid aside with Raptures of Joy.

Yet it would have seem'd that Authority had been Natural to Her, so well She knew how to use it. She was capable of the greatest, and exact in the smallest things. She ac∣quir'd the Art of managing the Business of State by an un∣weary'd Application, She had the dexterity to extend Her Empire over the Minds of Her People, and reign'd in their Hearts by Her Clemency. She commanded in such a man∣ner as to make Obedience a Pleasure; and She obey'd in Her turn, as if She had never commanded.

She was always ready to yield to Reason and Truth: but would never be perswaded to bestow on Recommendations the Reward of Merit and Vertue.

She was prepar'd for all Events by Her Resolution, and She provided for them all by Her Wisdom. She enjoy'd an undisturb'd serenity of Mind in the midst of Troubles and Dangers; She was secret in Her Designs, steady in Her Maxims, and of an invincible Constancy under Dif∣ficulties. And it may be said without Flattery that She reign'd without a Fault, as Her Life was without a Ble∣mish.

It seem'd that the King, by entrusting her with the Admini∣stration of Affairs, inspir'd her with all his Wisdom; and that the Queen, for the Heart she gave him, had in exchange re∣ceiv'd his Judgment.

'Tis not impossible for a common Person to live without Reproach, but we find no faultless Heroes. And even the Greatest Vertues seem to be usually accompanied with the greatest Imperfections; as if that which raises us above our selves, was apt to disorder our Souls, by putting them out of their Natural Posture. But here we find an Eminent Merit, without the least Fault or Weakness, in an admirable Person, who was as free from blame, as if she had been sav'd from it by the Meanness of her Condition. The Greatness of her Fortune might have expos'd her to all the Shafts of Malice, if her Vertues had not impos'd Silence on Malice it self: And even her Vertues might have expos'd her to Envy, if they had been mixt with any Faults. But who could blame such a compleat Merit, such high Perfection, and such Spotless Glo∣ry, without renouncing his Judgment, and exposing his Re∣putation.

But after all it must be acknowledg'd, that it was neither the Dignity of her Rank, nor the Lustre of her Heroical Per∣fections, that render'd her Condition worthy of Envy. All that which made the World admire her could not have hinder'd her from being an Object of Compassion in her own Eyes.

Heroes are mortal, as well as other men; and neither all their Glory nor our Tears can preserve them from that fatal Necessity. We are charm'd with that which is no more to us than a bare Idea of Perfection: We begin late to admire a Vertue that has ceas'd to appear, and complain in vain of the cruelty of Death that has robb'd us of our dear Protectors. They have taken an eternal Leave of us: Their Great Names serve only to adorn their Epitaphs, and embelish their Tombs, and those Vertues which the World admir'd, are like the Fu∣neral Torches that signalize the Pomp of their Obsequies whose Splendour serves only to encrease our Affliction.

And who was better acquainted with these Truths than the Queen? She made the Meditation of Death a continual Sup∣port to her Vertue: She lov'd to discourse on that Subject with others, and to entertain her self with the Thoughts of it. Thus, forsaking Vanity long before she was forsaken by it▪

and banishing the World out of her Mind, even whilst she liv'd in the midst of it, She prevented, by a voluntary Sepa∣ration from it, that forc'd Exile to which all Mankind is con∣demn'd; and it may be said, that in this Respect, her Humi∣lity had left little or no Work for Death.

How rare is that Vertue, and how becoming a Companion to Greatness! Humility is most advantagiously plac'd in the Heart of a Soveraign, for there it makes great Restitutions to God; there it opposes the Flattery of the People, who are wont to idolize Grandeur, and teaches the Prince to despise himself in the midst of that Croud of flattering Admirers, who adore his Faults, and prostrate themselves before his Fortune.

But how much more admirable is that Vertue in those Great Souls, who are more truely elevated above Kings by their Ver∣tue, than Kings are rais'd above other men by their Rank and Dignity! 'Tis a shame to be Proud when such excellent Per∣sons as these are Humble. 'Tis an Honour to renounce vain-Glory, when the most eminent Heroes are eminent also for their Humility.

That was the Character of our Queen; Her Life, her Con∣versation and her Carriage were but one continued expression of that Vertue. Her Palace was a Temple of Modesty, so di∣ligent She was to free it from Vanity and Luxury. She deckt her self with her own Vertues, and neglected the Ornaments of Dressing; She appear'd rather Neat than Magnificent in her Train and Furniture. She was an exact Observer of the Rules of Decency, without injuring her Humility; and bestow'd no more on the Pomp of a Court, than what the Dignity of her Rank did absolutely require. And yet she seem'd to grudge her own necessary Expences, as if she had stoln them from the Funds of her Charity.

Never any hid their Faults with more care than she took to conceal her Vertues. This is the only Fault that she could e∣ver be accus'd of. Wonders are made to be seen, and to make a strong Impression upon us; and how many Wonders did she hinder us from seeing, by hiding from us the Noblest parts of so beautiful a Life.

She lov'd to edify, but not to be admir'd, as if she could have purchas'd Humility at the rate of her Glory. She condemn'd Thankfulness to silence, and made this seeming Ingratitude the Condition of her Favours.

With one Hand she dry'd the Tears of the Afflicted, and with the other drew a Veil over their Misery. She was no less charitable in her way of relieving them, than in the Relief she gave them. With equal care she sought Occasions to ex∣ercise her Vertue, and avoided every Temptation to vain Glo∣ry. She always conceal'd the Good that she did, and has been seen to weep for that which she could not do.

But in vain she impos'd a silence, which sooner or later would certainly be broken. The whole Universe that was a Witness of her Vertues, the World that is fill'd with her Charity, which she scatter'd through all Nations, and all Climates, such an infinite number of Persons that felt the comfortable Influ∣ences of her Bounty, cry so much the louder after her Death, as they were forc'd to be silent during her Life. Imprison'd Gratitude shakes off its Fetters and breaks out impetuously. We send forth our Complaints and Lamentations, the expressi∣ons of our Grief and her Glory, because we are not able to re∣tain them longer; and tho that bright Soul could, from the Heavens whither she is ascended, renew those Orders which her Modesty impos'd on Earth, Sorrow and Gratitude would not suffer us to obey them.

Death, which puts a period to the Glory of others, seems on∣ly to begin hers. How vast is the difference between her and the nameless Great, those vulgar Princes, who cease to be known assoon as they cease to live! Her Works came out of the Grave, when she enter'd into it: Her Life hid her from us; and her Death exposes her in all her Glory to our ravish'd Eyes.

Why cannot we do as much honour to her Memory, as she was always ready to do to Merit and Vertue? What do I say? She made it her Pleasure to consider all sorts of Persons; none were despicable in her sight. She never spoke ill of any person, nor ever suffer'd any person to be ill spoken of in her presence. She esteem'd the Reputations of all mankind sacred; and if ever the Serenity of her Mind, was disturb'd by any motion of an∣ger, to which she was almost always a Stranger, it was when any one had the confidence to speak ill of her Enemies in her presence.

She was so incredulous of the faults of others, as if humane Nature had been faultless; and so universally indulgent, as if all mankind had belong'd to her. What a noble Example has she set before Soveraigns, who being the common Parents of

their People, are concern'd in the Reputation of all sorts of persons, and ought no more to encourage Railing against their Subjects, than they would against their own Children.

The Persons are usually despis'd, whose Praises and Flatte∣ries are esteem'd; which is an Effect of Pride. But MARY despis'd Praise, and had an universal Charity for all sorts of persons. This was the peculiar character of her Vertue.

Her Condescension and Bounty kept pace with the Advance∣ment of her Fortune, as if she had intended to comfort others, and make amends for her surpassing them in Quality and Ver∣tues. She was easy of access to the unhappy, she despis'd no Complaint, and rejected no Request. Her generous and mag∣nanimous Temper would not suffer her to overcome Hatred and Envy, any other way than by Kindness and good Offices. She ex∣ceeded all other Women in Frugality, but she was frugal only that she might be charitable; and she was even more Charitable than Frugal, reducing her self often to Poverty by her profuse Beneficency.

This is not an Idea of imaginary perfection. It has been observ'd, that after she had consum'd the regulated Fund of her Charity in extraordinary Bounties, she distributed that which was appointed for her own necessary Charges, to supply the Wants of the Poor. And she felt a pleasure in this vertuous Poverty, which they whose minds are addicted to the World, shall never find in all their proud Abundance, and cruel Super∣fluities.

'Tis certain that Self-love and Interest gain'd no ground in her Heart by her Advancement. Her Greatness was for the benefit of others, rather than for her own good. She rejected the Pomp of it by her Humility; and of all that Plenty of which she was Mistress, she reserv'd nothing to her self, but the pleasure of giving it away.

But what do I say? She was also oblig'd to her Dignity for a thousand occasions to display her Clemency, at a time when Severity might have seem'd not only pardonable, but necessary, to a Heart less heroical than hers.

Princes that regard their Safety more than their Honour, content themselves with being prais'd for their rigorous Justice, by which they serve the Interests of their own Preservation. But Souls of the first form are not satisfied with the Empire that ••ear gives them over others, but rather chuse to maintain their

Authority by inspiring their Subjects with a Veneration for their Vertues. They judge with reason, that 'tis nobler (when possible) to preserve the public Peace by Mercy, than by Justice; that 'tis more honorable to conquer Hearts, than to subdue Persons; and that the State is doubly sav'd, when the inclinations of its Enemies are disarm'd, and they become its Friends and Servants.

Clemency is a Vertue that deserves to be more highly esteem'd, for the greatness of the Dangers to which it exposes its Owners. 'Tis even more generous than Charity: for the charitable man only gives away his Riches; but he that is mer∣ciful hazards his very Life. 'Tis braver than Valour it self, for it exposes it self to secret Foes, which are more dangerous than those open Enemies whom Courage opposes. And 'tis greater than Moderation, which finds its own security in for∣getting private injuries, whereas Clemency neglects the care of its own Preservation by pardoning the Enemies of the Pub∣lic.

If Mercy had been to appear in a humane Form, it would have certainly borrow'd that of the Queen. It was sufficient to be unhappy to be esteem'd innocent by her: She imitated God, who exhorts Sinners to accept his Favors, and adds Bene∣fits to the Pardon that he gives them, with a design to make them better; she forc'd her greatest Enemies to be capable of Gratitude. Her Clemency, by an admirable Priviledge, produc'd all the effects of Severity; It deliver'd her every day from some new Enemy, or crush'd some brooding Conspi∣racy. The benefits that she bestow'd were Spies to discover the Plots of her Enemies, and Guards to secure her against them; and the Pardons which she granted so often, and in so obliging a manner to those that had conspir'd against her Life, furnish'd her with means to acquire new Glory, and additional securities in every Attempt of her Enemies.

Blasphemy was the only crime that she would never forgive. She was still struck with horror at the hearing of an impious Expression: Yet she would not suffer her Indignation to trans∣port her, or make her forget that Calmness with which she administred Justice, by depriving instantly of all Offices, and banishing from her presence, those that had dar'd to brave the Majesty of that God, whom she serv'd with so much Fear▪ By

which she clearly show'd, that it was not she that reign'd, but God that reign'd by her.

Let the World admire, as much as it pleases, those humane Vertues, which, under great Names and venerable Out-sides, hide our most real imperfections, or rather those sacrilegious Vertues which rob God of our best Actions to ascribe them to our selves, and are in some respect more criminal than the grossest Vices, as being more injurious to God. Piety alone deserves the name of Vertue, because it seeks God in all things, and refers all things to his Glory. And Piety was the great business of the Queen's Life.

Her public and private Devotions, from which no Trouble of State, nor Danger that threaten'd her person could ever once divert her; that Commerce of Piety which she held with God, and the Commerce of Charity between her and her Brethren; her Meditations and Reading of pious Books em∣ploy'd all her Mornings, and consecrated to God the half of her Life, those first Hours of the Day, which she sometimes stole from her ordinary rest, and took from Nature to bestow them on Grace, which made a far better use of them. Her Devotions were succeeded by her Charity, her Contemplations by Practice, and her Prayers by good Works; so that she had no time left from these Holy Occupations that was not devoted to God, nor almost a Thought that did not ascend up to Heaven. While she sustain'd the Load of an infinite number of Affairs and Persons that depended on her, she still found leisure to serve God without distraction; and in the midst of so many different Occupations she establish'd, in her well-ordered Life, a Lasting Worship, and a perpetual and uninterrupted Course of Religion.

Her days began, as the Days of Glory shall begin, with the Adoration of her Creator; and ended like the Life of man, with Meditations on the Vanity of the World. Casting her Eyes sometimes on those things which perish, to wean her Love and Inclinations from them, and sometimes on that which perish∣eth not, to make it the Object of all her Hopes and Affections; she liv'd like one that knew she should shortly die; her Christian Prudence producing the same effect in her, that might have been expected from a distinct Revelation of her End, and of the Measure of her Days.

Her Piety was Universal; she practis'd all the Vertues,

because she knew they were all acceptable to God. It had been impossible to determine which of all the Duties of Morality she observ'd most carefully, and it might have been doubted which of her Vertues had the advantage over the rest; if it had not been known that they were all happily united and blended together in her Piety.

Such was the Foundation of her Vertue, which in other respects, was so variously diversified, and still found new occasi∣ons to make it self be esteem'd, by that happy mixture of Eleva∣tion and Humility, Firmness and Mercy, Courage and Charity, Prudence and a holy Resignation to the Providence of God, Sweetness and Resolution, that produc'd an Effect on the Minds of those who heedfully consider'd her, not unlike to that Impression which the Flowers of a beautiful Garden, or the Stars of Heaven, by their Variety and Order, make on the Eyes of an attentive Beholder.

The Merit of our Illustrious MARY was Great; but it was not greater than her Destiny. She stood in need of no less Vertue and Perfection to fulfil the Design of God and the Expectations of Men; being call'd by Providence to edifie a vicious World, to comfort the drooping Church, and to save her sinking Country.

Men may celebrate the Virtues of Great Princes, but God himself endites the Praises of Great Deliverers. He calls Cyrus his Anointed, He proclaims him, He promises him to the World a hundred years before he came inro it; not because he was to be the Conqueror of Asia, but because he was design'd to be the Restorer of the Jewish Liberties. Yet how much more glori∣ous had he been, if at the same time that he freed them from Slavery, he had also deliver'd them from Superstition? And tho God does not think sit to speak to us by the Mouth of a Prophet, does he not declare his Mind sufficiently by the Voice of his Providence?

We have not yet forgot those sad times, when the State was divided into two Parties, one of which endeavour'd to de∣stroy it by introducing Error, and the other to preserve it by defending the Truth: When England, like a disconsolate Re∣becca, felt two Children, an Esau and a Jacob, struggling and con∣tending together with a Secret, but implacable Animosity, in her wretehed Bowels, without being able to foresee the Success of

those Intestine Broils that threaten'd to rend her Entrals to pieces?

Superstition, that active and subtle Mistress; inspir'd her Followers with a Zeal that prompted them to carry on their designs, without losing a minute, even during the life of the late King. Never were Projects better contriv'd, never Intrigues deeper laid or more cunningly manag'd, and never was there more promising Hopes than those of that Party. In what a sad condition had we been, if God had deliver'd us up to that Violence, and to that so well known and often experi∣enc'd Cruelty, which is so much the more dangerous as acting under a Sacred Disguise, and usurping the Name of Religion? Who would not have thought, that England was just ready to be made a Prey to remediless Disorders, and to be turn'd to a bloody Theater of endless Divisions, Revenge, and horrible Massacres?

But these Mischiefs could not be effected without gaining a Princess, on whom, as being the presumptive Heiress of the Crown, they foresaw that the Fate of the State would in time depend. And it was on this occasion, that God exalted the strength of his Arm above all the power of men.

This wonderful Princess seem'd, even almost assoon as she was born, to know what she was call'd to by the Providence of God; so firm and well grounded she appear'd in her heavenly Vocation. And even at that time she was so fixt in her Religion, so constant to her Duty, and so unmoveable under all Tentati∣ons, and in all other respects of so sweet a temper, so wise, moderate and resign'd, that it may be said, that she had already all those Perf••ctions, that we could have wisht to see her after∣wards adorn'd with, and that the most illustrious Lives had scarce any advantage over the Beginning of Hers, or could exceed the glory of so heroical an Infancy.

It was at the same time that there arose a Difference worthy of eternal Memory. The State demanded our Princess as its Sure Refuge, and the Source of all its Comforts; and Super∣stition courted her for a Support and Foundation of its Hopes. They contended for her Education with an eagerness that pro∣duc'd a contest, the success of which was expected with a con∣cern that held the World in suspence, that fill'd the Reform'd part of it with Fears, and Great Britain, particularly, with Anxiety and Disquiet.

But, in vain had both Church and State interpos'd in the Quarrel between Religion and Superstition, in vain had been all the Care and Courage of our Magnanimous Prelates, and in vain had the Parliament, that Council empower▪d both by the Crown and by the Nation, that Sage and (by the Regal Authority) Legislative Assembly, that perpetual Guardian of the Rights and Priviledges of the Kingdom, that honourable and respected Mouth of the People, Inter∣preter both of its Wants and of its Will, in vain, I say, had the Parliament it self resolv'd to determine the diffe∣rence brought before its August Tribunal, if Grace had not already decided the Controversie in the Heart of that young Princess.

She believ'd that she ow'd her self to God and to the State; and that she could not answer the Call of Heaven, but by de∣voting herself intirely to her Country and her Religion. Be∣ing only willing to live, and ready to die for them both; it may be said that from that very time she accepted the Crown, and Death together; being prepar'd to receive either Fortune for so precious and sacred an Interest.

In vain to tempt the Piety of that Heroical Soul, they pro∣pose a Match to her, able, as they think, to shake constancy it self; In vain they speak of uniting her to a Prince, who, be∣sides the amiable qualifications of his Person, could boast the Expectation of a Throne, and the Hopes of one of the most glorious Successions of the Universe, but whose Alliance is equally opposite to the Interest of England, and to the Con∣science of that Princess. She hears the Proposal with Hor∣ror, and rejects it with Indignation, and with a Resolution that could not be conquer▪d.

Thus, for her Countries sake, she despises a Dignity, which the Interest of that Nation alone shall one day make her ac∣cept; and even then she show'd her self uncapable of re∣ceiving a Scepter but for the same Reasons, for which she had already refus'd one. Happy had she been, if she had not found the Sacrifice of her natural Affections, which she was afterwards oblig'd to offer up to God, a harder Task than the Sacrifice of her Ambition which she offer'd then; and if the Crown that she accepted had not more sensibly afflicted her than that which she rejected.

Thus, with an unshaken Constancy, she reserv'd her self for that important and necessary Marriage, to which the Church and the State, the Parliament and Council, and God and the King had appointed her.

Never was the publick Joy better grounded, than on this occasion; and never any Festival was more worthy to be so∣lemniz'd than this. For, then it was that Providence laid the Foundations of the Public Liberty: And to this happy Marriage we owe the succeeding Union of England and Hol∣land, and the general Confederacy of their Allies.

When the Prince went to England, accompanied with the Prayers and Acclamations of the whole World that was con∣cern'd in the Success of his Voyage, he seem'd to ask the Princess in the name of all those Nations that were one day to owe their liberty to this Blessed Match. And (if I might be allow'd to join the present Events with the Occurrences of those times) I would not scruple to affirm, that their Con∣tract of Marriage was a Treaty, which God by his Provi∣dence negotiated with all the Nations of Europe, for their common Defence and Preservation.

After her arrival in Holland, where Providence detain'd her several years, as in a safe Retreat, far from the Al∣lurements and Hurry of the World; where she employed her self in the exercise of all those Vertues, that might fit her to serve the Great Designs of God. There, she did not cease to be useful to the Country which she had left, by ter∣rifyng Popery that disturb'd its Peace, and by over-awing even those who seem'd not capable of being restrain'd by Fear. In Holland she continues to be the Hope of England. Her Life is a dear Pledge of the love of God to that Nation; and so long as that lasts, they fear not that he will forsake them.

But she was not only made for the Good of that Country that had the honour to give her Birth: She was also eminent∣ly useful to others, and above all she was the Joy and Admi∣ration of that, where Providence was pleas'd to fix her. In less time than seems necessary to view that happy Climate, she conform'd her self exactly to its Manners and Customs. She became a Pattern to its Women, even in their own pe∣culiar Vertues. She gave them an illustrious example not

only of Modesty and Chastity, but also of Frugality and Moderation. The sweetness of her Temper, and the win∣ning mildness of her Deportment took away that haughty Air from Greatness with which it is usually arm'd. She ne∣ver suffer'd any Persons to depart unsatisfied from her pre∣sence; and taught even those to love a Court who before esteem'd nothing but Liberty and an Equality of Conditions. And it may be said that among all the Parties and Divisions that disturb'd the State, the most opposite Factions were still united in the love and Admiration of her Vertues.

It was there that her Judgment, besides all those great and early improvements with which it was already adorn'd, be∣came larger and more extensive by the help of a second Edu∣cation. There, her Mind was polish'd and brighten'd by continual Reading, and the Conversation of Ingenious Per∣sons whom she always honour'd with her Protection. And there she acquir'd that comprehensive Knowledge, and those sublime Perfections which would have shone with greater lu∣stre, if they had not been cover'd with the veil of her Hu∣mility.

There, in pious solitudes, she acted the part of a Moses upon the Mount, while her Illustrious Husband performed the Office of a Joshua at the Head of his Armies, where his Valour and Conduct were equally admir'd in good and bad Fortune; and while, by making the best use of both he ad∣vanced apace to that Height of Merit and Honour that was necessary to deserve those glorious Favours that Heaven in∣tended to bestow upon him.

We may easily remember that Time which our latest Po∣sterity shall never forget, for they also are concern'd in it. A Time, in which God set bounds to the Oppression of the people, and to the Affliction of his Church; In which by one sudden stroke he stopt the progress of that Power which threatened to devour all the World; in which he preserved the Earth from the over-bearing Inundations of that raging Sea, by writing on the Sand Hitherto shalt thou come, and no further. We saw, and still have before our Eyes that im∣portant Juncture of Affairs, when the All-wise Governour of the World, who disposes second Causes according to his pleasure, thought fit to chain the preservation of England,

and of so many other Countries to the Resolution of one Man; when the Laws, Rights, Liberty, and Religion of so many Nations were entrusted by Providence to the incon∣stancy of the Waves; when even the Tempests serv'd in so admirable a manner to advance the Work of our Delive∣rance; when unbloody Victories executed the designs of the God of Mercy; when the Armies of the wicked were sub∣dued by the Harmony and Union of our Minds; when the Deliverer appear'd, and the Terrors of God seiz'd on our Enemies; and when by the miraculous Blessing of God on the noblest and most necessary undertaking of our Age, Eng∣land is still suffer'd to enjoy her Laws, the Church to serve God, and we to live and breath.

'Twas then that England became the Field of Battle, where that surprizing Contest was decided, between God who as∣sisted us so visibly, and Men that opposed the designs of his Wisdom. But could the Almighty be defeated by his Crea∣tures, or could his Providence be resisted by his Enemies? At at the same time the heart of the Princess was made the Scene of a no less extraordinary but more secret Engage∣ment between Nature and Grace: and here also God obtain'd the Victory by his spirit. Both these Victories were justifi'd, and made unquestionable, one by its Consequences, and the other by its Effects. The Victory of Providence, by the Events which follow'd it; and that of Grace by the Vertues with which it was accompanied.

If such a numerous Train of the Consequences of that Event, which are either so necessary for our Preservation, or so honourable to England, the progress of Popery stop't, our holy Religion supported, our Laws restor'd, the Disci∣pline and Order of the Church secur'd, the Universities those Eyes of the Church and State happily preserv'd, Ar∣bitrary Power for ever banish'd, the Right of our Elections re-establish'd, our Estates assur'd to us, our Priviledges made henceforth inviolable, Ireland freed from Pillage, from De∣solution and Burning, our Allies defended by our Arms; a formidable and potent Enemy, that has threatened so long to rob us of our Liberty, now scarce able to defend himself, his Ships coop'd up in a Harbour, and his Coasts expos'd to the terrible effects of our just Vengeance; the Conqueror of

Europe ready to be confin'd within his proper and nar∣rower Bounds; and all the World oblig'd to England for its Quiet and Liberty. If, I say all these Glorious Conse∣quences of our Deliverance do not speak loud enough to convince us that Providence consulted our happiness when it sent the Deliverer to England; let us be perswaded by the vertues of MARY, who was her self an Apology for the Revolution.

Let us not look for any other Mark of the Approbation of Heaven, than the rare Piety of that Princess. Let the vertue of our two Illustrious Soveraigns magnifie the Wis∣dom of the People that call'd them to the Throne; and let the Prosperity of the people display the wonderful Good∣ness of God.

With how much luster did their vertue shine forth on that Glorious Day, when they accepted a Crown that they had never sued for; a Crown that was offer'd them by a Nation that loves Liberty too well, that is too jealous of its Rights, too powerful and magnanimous to suffer it self to be forc'd on an occasion of so great importance for its Preservation and Safety; and fill'd a Throne to which it may be more properly said that they were carri'd by the people, than that they willingly mounted it?

The united Interest of God and the People augmented the Union of their Generous Souls. After their arrival in Eng∣land they seemed to have contracted a new Alliance which was both stronger and more sacred than the first. The King did nothing without the Queens consent: and the Queen never attempted any thing, even during the time of her Administration, but by the inspiration of her absent Lord. 'Tis impossible to praise either of them, without giving the Elogies of both. The Absence of their Persons, could never break the Union of their Souls: and that piti∣less Death which has separated them for ever, is not able to divide their Glories.

Nor is it less impossible to shed▪ Tears for one of them, without mourning at the same time for the other. All, the splendor that surrounds the Throne of WILLIAM serves equally to Illustrate the Tomb of MARY; and the Groans that are heard in all places for the Death of that August De∣ceas'd,

are as so many Illustrious Commendations and unsus∣pected Elogies of her Glorious Half, whom God continues still to preserve to us▪ Some affectionate Spouses and passio∣nate Lovers have wished that their Dust might be mingled in their Tombs: but how much greater is the Happiness of our Royal Pair, who are sure that their vertues shall be e∣ternally united, and that they shall possess the same place, if not in the Grave, yet at least in the Temple of Memory.

Our grateful Posterity will read with delight the Annals of our Age, which shall for ever preserve the memory of those immortal Obligations that England receiv'd from both her Defenders. How ravish'd will the future Readers of our History be to learn that our admrable Princes so soon after their Accession to the Throne began to divide the Cares of the Government between them, that while one conquer'd his Enemies, the other defended her Subjects; that WILLIAM the Conqueror and MARY the Deliverer resembled so perfectly the two bright Stars that govern our Nights and Days; and that while the former blest Ireland with glorious and happy Days, the latter comforted and supported England during the gloomy Night of Trouble and Adversity.

Her second Regency was signaliz▪d by the entire Reducti∣on of the Kingdom of Ireland, as the first was, by Victories that will certainly seem incredible to those that shall hear 'em related with all their Circumstances. A Great River pass'd in the Sight of the Enemy, a Considerably City car∣ry'd by Storm, tho' attack'd on a side where the Water that surrounded it, seem'd to render it impregnable; The Ene∣mies Army brav'd by that famous passage of our Troops, and by so important a Conquest, which they beheld but could not hinder, are Events, that have sometimes been seen to happen severally and at a great distance, but were then all united in one amazing Action; while the astonish'd World, beheld both Men and Elements subdu▪d before us, and doubt∣ed which of our Victories was most glorious. And then, Agrim dy'd with the Blood of our routed Enemies whom we assaulted in their Entrenchments, and in the midst of the un∣accessible Bogs where they were posted; and so many Cities, the Retreats of Rebellion, reduc'd either by the Force or Terror of our Arms; so many glorious Advantages which

we ow'd not so much to the Conduct of our Generals and the invincible Valour of our Soldiers, as to the Care and Piety of MARY, whom God took pleasure to favor, and Men e∣steem'd it their honor to obey; All these I say were Miracles of Providence, that were indeed rare and surprizing, but would have been much more so, if they had been wrought for any other than Her.

It would be hard for us to divert our Thoughts from the Contemplation of these wonderful Subjects, if a greater Event did not command our Attention, in which the Queen was more nearly concern'd, and had a more immediate Title to the Glory with which it Crown'd Her. France, having learn'd by an experience of many years, how necessary it was for the Advancement of her ambitious Grandeur, to enslave that Nation, which alone could prevent the execution of her un∣just Designs upon the rest of Europe, took the advantage of a specious pretext of re-inthroning a King that was her Allie, to set forth a Fleet and an Army, which were indeed design'd for the Conquest of Great Britain. The Number of the For∣ces that were imploy'd on this Expedition, while our Troops were engag'd abroad in a foreign War, the secret Contri∣vances of our Enemies at home, the Disaffection of some Members of the State, and the Surprisal and Astonishment of the Loyal Party, the cunning and closeness of our Ene∣mies Counsels which they had not forgot on this occasion, and above all the King's Absence who was hazarding his Life in the Defence of his Neighbours, and for our common Pre∣servation; I say, The Conjunction of so many threatning Circumstances fill'd all the Nations of Europe with the same Apprehensions for us, that we were wont to be sensible of for them.

The Queen was not ignorant of these Dangers; she saw them such as they were in themselves and even greater than they appeared to others. But her Great Soul was not daunted: And while she was ready to expose her Sacred Person to those Dangers that threatned her Countrey; she appear'd to her Subjects with her wonted Tranquillity; and show'd them that serene Countenance, and that unconcern'd and Majestic Air which commanded Respect from all that saw her, and at the same time inspir'd them with Courage.

She forgot nothing that the most active exact Prudence could suggest, as sit to be done in such a juncture, without noise or a too visible Concern. She secur'd the Peace of the Nation, by seizing on those that might have disturb'd it. She took care to put the Militia in a Condition to second the Army, and at the same time she put the Army in a condition to resist the Enemy. She entertained Eyes and Ears thro all the parts of the Kingdom, to observe all that occur'd. The most secret Cabals of the disaffected ••arty, nor their best conceal▪d Magazines could escape her diligence. She seem'd to be the universal Genius of the Kingdom, which encouraged the Soldiers, animated the Officers, enliven'd the Magi∣strates, and filled them all with a noble Resolution to spend their Blood in the defence of their Country. But her princi∣pal Care was to engage the Officers of the Fleet to a vigo∣rous performance of their Duty: She bound them to her ser∣vice with the Ties of Gratitude and Vertue; She entrusted the safety of the Nation to their Honour: And they receiv'd both her Messages and Letters with Transports of Zeal and Affection that they could not hide. They we were filled with a brave Emulation to out-strip one another in Faithful∣ness and Courage; and their Loyalty was quickly recompen∣sed with immortal Lawrels that were dy'd with Blood, and crowned their Valour.

How delightful is the Remembrance of those glorious and happy Days, when the dreaded news of our Enemies De∣scent was prevented by the welcome Account of their Defeat; when they found a Kingdom, which they expected would have yielded it self up to their ambition, guarded by floating Forts, from whose brazen mouths they receiv'd a terrible sa∣lutation by those fiery Messengers of Death that were sent to bid them welcome. We have not forgot the time when our Enemies who, at their setting out to invade us, expected with so much impatience the appointed signal of their Departure, were forc'd to content themselves with the light of their own burning Ships instead of a Signal of Retreat; when they who had already dispos'd of England and of all its Riches, its Fleets and its Armies, by whose assistance they they hoped to hasten the Destruction of Europe, found their own Funeral Piles and the end of all their hopes in their

flaming Vessels; when being environ'd by two hostile Ele∣ments, they knew not to which of them they should surren∣render themselves, or whether to chuse Burning or Ship wrack, and at last died uncertain whether they perish'd by Fire or by Water.

This single success was design'd by Providence to usher in a succeeding Course of Victories, and to make way for the Glories of the last Campaign, in which we saw a potent Enemy that was wont to prescribe Laws to others, yield without resistance the Empire of the Sea to England, whose commanding Flags fly over all the World, and secure the Trade of our Merchants, the Power and Credit of the Nati∣on, the Provinces of our Allies, and the Honour and Reputa∣tion of our Arms.

There was a time when England felt the miseries of a ra∣ging War in her own Bowels, while her Neighbours were in peace: now she enjoys all the Blessings of a profound peace in the midst of a War that fills other Nations with Desola∣tion and Ruine. We enjoy without disturbance the pro∣duct of our Fields, and of our labours; The Arts and Sci∣ences flourish among us without Interruption. No man is exempted by the Law of the Sword from yielding Obedi∣ence to the Laws of the State. Every man is Master at home, and fears not to be punish'd by military Execution for his honest Desire to preserve what belongs to him.

Who could have believ'd, and yet who can deny, that the same Person whose Mind was ravish'd with an attentive Con∣templation of that Great Spectacle of our Deliverance and Preservation, which were also the continual Objects of her Care, who was continually occupied in that glorious Mini∣stry under the Orders of that providence that protected her, could at the same time be a pattern to all other Women in the Simplicity of Domestic Affairs?

She order'd the Affairs of her Houshold with as much Care and Exactness, as if she had not been entrusted with the Go∣vernment of so many Nations; and she manag'd the Affairs of the Crown with so much Application and Success as if she had never thought on any thing else. Nothing was either too great, or too little for a mind like Hers.

She seem'd to be the Mother as well as the Mistress of all those Women that Serv'd her: She rewarded the Services that she receiv'd from them by the Care that she took of them, and by the Examples of Vertue that she set before them. They that enter'd into her Service were Consecrated to God; and in opposition to the Custom of almost all Ages and Nations, they that desir'd to become Courtiers were oblig'd in some sense to renounce the World.

By the lustre of her merit, she appear'd worthy of the Empire of the World: And by the Extensiveness of her Bounty, she seem'd to be the Mother of all the Families in the Kingdom.

She labour'd earnestly to make England a Divine Monarchy, or the Kingdom of God, and to imprint the Image of Heaven on these Fortunate Islands, where nothing can be wanting, if they be not destitute of Piety and Truth.

The Laws which she made, and the Examples which she gave, seem'd to contend which of them should most effectu∣ally recommend Vertue. But why should we make a distin∣ction between them; since the Orders that she establish'd to promote the Service of God are Examples worthy to be imi∣tated by all Soveraigns; and the Examples which she gave have the force of Laws to all those that have any sense of Piety or Vertue.

Princes may be said in some sense to command every thing that they do, and to forbid every thing that they do not. Their Example has an attractive Power to draw others after them. Both their Vices and their Vertues spread themselves over all their Dominions; and are in some measure eterniz'd by Imitation. The least Crime that they commit renders them guilty of a thousand others; and all the Vertues with which they are adorn'd are incessantly reproduced in the Hearts of an infinite number of persons that are ambitious of resembling them.

'Tis certainly a great Blessing to a Nation to have a Sove∣raign that never gives a bad Example; but this was but the least Advantage of Great Britain, that had the happiness to see the priviledges of Chastity and Vertue restor'd together with her Liberty, and the Laws of Honour and Decency re-esta∣blish'd as well as those of the State and of Society.

MARY scatter'd the Seeds of Almsgiving by her diffu∣sive Charity, and of all other Vertues by her edifying Exam∣ple. She reform'd her Subjects by the care which she took to regulate her own Life, and enur'd even those to honest La∣bour who look upon Idleness and Sloth as an Appendix of their Greatness. She allur'd a thousand Benefactors to the Poor by an ever-active Charity, which more industrious than Interest it self invented new Methods for their Subsi∣stance. She perform'd by the Ministry of those who imitated her Vertue, what God did by hers. The Poor were oblig'd to her for the Good they receiv'd from others, as they ow'd to God the Good that she did and caus'd to be done.

By her Care Piety was restor'd if not to all its Priviledges, yet at least to a new degree of Reputation. Devotion was no longer esteem'd a Weakness, and the World was con∣strain'd to pay some Respect to Religion.

Religion was her peculiar care. She was no sooner seated on the Throne, but she began to make it her Business and her Pleasure to defend it, and to preserve it in its purity. How careful was she to bestow the Dignities of the Church on de∣serving Persons? When were these Sacred Sources of the Edification and Instruction of the People more pure and un∣defil'd? Never did a tender and loving Mother employ greater care and circumspection in the choice of fit Persons to be entrusted with the Education of her Children, than she us'd in the Choice of the Spiritual Fathers of her People; and never Soveraign consecrated his Subjects to God with a purer and more Holy Intention▪ I appeal to the Testimony of all the World and of almost all Ages, whose unacquainted∣ness with this vertue is a clear proof of its Worth. How many Princes are there, who, on such occasions, are sway'd by Unjust and Sacrilegious Motives, and favour Recommen∣dation to the prejudice of Vertue, who recompense Secular Services without regard to the Edification of Souls, and make the Salvation of Mankind and the Glory of God de∣pend on the meanest Interests, and even sometimes on the most guilty Passions.

't would have been esteem'd the Glory of any other Prince, to have been able to avoid so general a Fault, as that of a criminal Complaisance in the choice of the Ministers of the Altar; but this was not enough for MARY. She recall'd those blessed Times, those happy Ages of the Church, when Digni∣ties courted Merit, when Humility and Modesty were drawn out of their Retirements, and compell'd to accept those great Charges which they refus'd; and when Vertue thus forcibly recompens'd had a Right to preach Disinterestedness and Re∣signation to others.

By advancing every one according to his Merit, his Gifts and his Vertue, and the Advantage which the People might receive from him; and by ranking those shining Lights in the Mystical Heaven of the Church, she imitated that Order and variety, that pleasant and useful Subordination, with which an Omniscient and Eternal Hand has plac'd the Stars in the Firmament.

With how much delight and satisfaction did good Men be∣hold that happy Turn of Affairs in England. How did they rejoyce to see those whom Persecution had mark'd out for the Objects of its Fury, honour'd with the noblest Recompences of their Merit and Vertue? To see our most Illustrious Suffer∣ers made our chief Prelates, and to contemplate in this bles∣sed Change, as in a lively Figure, the future Happiness of the Universal Church, when it shall be advanc'd from a State of Warfare to a State of Glory and Triumph?

But why do we speak of Triumph and Glory? Have we for∣got that MARY is in her Grave. A fatal and cruel Disease, and more cruel to us than to her, has forc'd her away from the Prayers and Desires of her Subjects, from the Hopes of the whole World, from the Bosom of a passionately lov'd and loving Husband, and, above all, from the Great Designs of her Piety and Beneficence.

She was prepar'd to leave us, but we were not prepar'd to lose her. The Dismal Tidings of her Sickness fill'd every Heart with Woe, and every Mouth with Lamentations: E∣very one begs God to shorten his Days and to add them to so precious a Life. An Universal Cry was heard thro' the whole Nation, or rather thro' all those Nations who depend∣ed on her by the dearest and most Sacred Ties of Religion

and Gratitude, a Cry of Mourning and of Supplication, which doubtless would have reach'd to the Throne of God, if our Sins had not been stronger than our Prayers.

Yet all endeavor to flatter themselves with some hopes. None are willing to deny themselves the pleasure of believing what they desire; and even, after all hopes were taken away, we durst not think of her Death.

Nevertheless it approach'd, that inexorable Death, which by one Blow pierc'd the Hearts of an infinite number of per∣sons. It was the Terror of all the World; but MARY was prepared to receive it.

Already her tender Heart had bore the shock of a sharp Conflict between Nature and Grace; and the first triumph'd over the latter, tho it was forc'd to struggle hard for the Victory, when she beheld her dear and despairing Lord ready to expire before her, and just sinking under the weight of his Sorrow. Forgive, great God, this last Effort of her Tenderness, these Remainders of a Passion that will be quickly extinguish'd. Thou know'st the closeness of the Union that link'd these two Illustrious Hearts, nor could they possibly consent without pain to so killing a separation.

After she had offer'd up to God this last Sacrifice of her Love, which was the hardest but a necessary part of her dying Task, she hears without disturbance the fatal Message, which they who brought it could not deliver without trembling.

She thanks the Author of her Salvation that she was not now to prepare for her end; she gives the Glory to God that had inspir'd her with a sense of better things; she de∣clares with joy that her Religion had taught her not to trust her Great Interest to the Uncertainties of a late Repen∣tance; and can cheerfully cry, with the great Exemplar of Submission, Lo I come to thy Will O God!

She fears to lose the remaining Moments of her Life; she employs them in hearkening to seasonable Instructions con∣cerning her God, and approaching Passage to Glory, and takes care that the continual Reading of pious Books may supply the place of an uninterrupted Exhortation.

She expresses her Piety more by Actions than by Words; but those few Words that she uses are full of the Spirit of Christianity and Holiness. She does nothing out of Osten∣tation, and omits nothing that may serve for the public Edification.

Twice she communicated with Christ, at the beginning of her Sickness by Works of Charity, and towards the end of it in the Sacrament of the Eucharist: First, with the Mem∣bers of Christ, by a chearful distribution of Alms, and then, with Christ himself, who repaid in Grace and spiritual Con∣solations, what he had receiv'd from her in temporal Assi∣stance, and after he had comforted on her Death-bed, re∣ceiv'd her into the Mansions of his Glory.

Thus ended that Life which was so useful to the World, and so dear to the Church of God; which she, or we ra∣ther, lost, in the Height of its Glory, in a flourishing Age, and at a time when her Affairs were in a very prosperous state. Thus were those charitable Eyes forever shut, that were always wont to be Messengers of Good Tidings to the Poor, those Ears that were always attentive to their Cry, and that Mouth which seem'd never to open but to do them good, to promise them relief, or to interceed for them. MARY shall hear no more the Groans of the afflicted, that were wont to pierce her tender Soul; and they shall see her no more, who was always ready to assist and comfort them: She is now in a place where there are no Objects of Compas∣sion. MARY is dead to live again; she has left her Throne here to ascend to one above the Stars: She is now raising the Joys of Heaven, and has fill'd the Earth with Mourning and Desolation.

Scarce had she vanish'd from our sight, when her Merit ap∣pearing in all its splender to the Eyes of the Universe, was celebrated by the Tears or Praises of all sorts of Persons, and publickly extoll'd in all languages, because she was a Be∣nefactress to all Nations. She has left no man the liberty to speak or be silent: Every one praises her according to his ability; and they who relate her Words and Actions with the greatest simplicity give the highest Idea of her Vertue.

A thousand Eloquent Mouths praise her, or are silent only because they are conscious to themselves that they cannot praise her worthily. Others having begun to write her Character, are interrupted by Sighs and Tears, which will not suffer them to finish their Undertaking. Orators, scarce able to follow at a distance the sublime Flights of her Vertues, seem to have recourse to Fiction in their descriptions of them; and Poets, to paint forth so real and sacred a merit, are forc'd

for the first time, to borrow the natural and unaffected Language of Truth. The Poet without Fiction, and the Orator without Disguise, in their ordinary discourse, speak things of her now at her Death which they neither durst, nor could without Flattery have prefag'd at her Birth.

How vain, yet commendable are all our Endeavours to adorn her Tomb? In vain Crouds of her Subjects, grateful to their de∣ceast Benefactress, and just to her Memory, run to see, and to augment by their Presence the Pomp of her Funeral.

There are no Obsequies worthy of MARY, or if there are; they most only consist in the Works of her Piety, and in Sghts that we owe to her Vertue: the Poor watering her Tomb with their Tears, the Vertues weeping round her Monument, our restor'd Laws supplying the place of her Titles and of the marks of her Dignity, the numerous and magnificent Train of all those that were either reliev'd by her Bounty, protected by her Au∣thority, or defended by her Wisdom, the great Examples of her Life expos'd to the Eyes of the World, her Country and Religion following their dear Preserver, and Liberty carri'd as in triumph, in a Chariot, without the wretched Attendance of miserable Captives, or opprest Nations. What can there be in all this Pomp, that strikes the Eyes of a wondring Nation with a more agreeable splendor, than the Nation it self freed from the Yoke that was to be impos'd upon it? Is there any thing more Glorious in the Funeral Oration which the Chief Minister of our Religion pronounc'd before his listening Auditory, than the Liberty that he has to speak, and we to hear him, in that place. And among all that Assembly of mourning Sages, who ar•• no less distinguish'd by their Gravity and Wisdom, than by th•• honor they have to represent the Nation, is there any thin•• more Noble and Magnificent in the eyes of those who remem∣ber former times, than that we have a Parliament. May ye la•• for ever, ye noble Objects of MARY's Care, and precious Reli•• of your deceast Queen, ye Liberty, Church, and People of Bri∣tain, living Monuments of her true Grandeur, perpetual Orn••∣ments of her Tomb, and Immortal Pomp of her Funeral; m•••• ye last for ever for her Glory, and may her Memory endure ••∣ternally for your Consolation.

Fear not that she shall be subject to the Fate of perishab•••• Things▪ MARY shall live; MARY shall never dye. Her 〈◊〉〈◊〉 example shall pass from Age to Age; and her Vertues, immo••¦taliz'd by a happy imitation, shall make her the profitable 〈◊〉〈◊〉

light of the World, and the Benefactress of Mankind, till the final Consummation of all Things. But the Grief that is occasion'd by her Death shall not be eternal: She that is a source of mour∣ning to us, shall be the Joy of succeeding Ages, who will for∣get that she died to remember only that she was born: and will change the Cypress of her Funeral into Nosegays and Garlands, which they will strew upon her Tomb.

But whether are we carried by a Zeal that loses it self equally both in Joy and Grief. Can we forget that MARY rejected those vain Applauses during her Life, and condemns them yet more af∣her Death; that on the Throne she gave us Lessons of Humili∣ty, and in her Tomb preaches to us the vanity of the World; that in the dark apartments of the Grave she imposes silence one Pride, and reigning with God in the Heavens commands our Grief to be silent; and that pointing sometimes to her Tomb, and sometimes to the Throne where she is seated, she does by turns comfort us, and exhort us to Humility.

In the midst of that multitude of melancholic, d••mb, and life∣less Monarchs, those venerable C••rkasses, those mould••ing Ma∣jesties and wormeaten Gods of the Earth, whose Darkness illu∣minates, our minds, whose solitude discourses to us, and even whose silence is eloquent, MARY proclaims aloud the meanness of humane Grandeur with a mightier voice than ever yet struck our Ears: She exhorts us to approach and behold those who govern'd this Kingdom and her who preserv'd it, that we may may see the poor remainders of all their ancient splendor, and of the vain Applause of Men. But she is still more humbl▪d in the Heavens by the presence of God, than in the Grave amidst the dismal Pomp of Death; she surrenders all the Glories of her Life and the Honours that she receiv▪d at her Death, to that God to whom all Honor and Glory belongs.

GOD, she cries, is your only Benefactor, the only Deliverer of Nations, Protector of Empires, and Comforter of the affli∣cted; He alone is Good, Merciful, Wise, Great, and Won∣derful: He is All in himself, and I was nothing but by him. Go to my Grave, and see there what I am; Come to Heaven, and see here what He is. O ye admirers of Dust, or rather of that which is nothing, do n••t persist longer in your injustice to the Glory of the Almighty, Cease to praise me, and begin to serve him▪ Carry your Incense to his Altars, and leave my Body to the Worms, Open his Temples, and shut my Tomb.

THE END