Monmouth Routed.
Together, with his Promise and Resolution to Return
again, a little before he left the Land.
To the Tune of, The Souldiers Departure.
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N Ow the fatal Fight is over,
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Valiant Monmouth must away;
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While his Enemies did follow,
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his sweet Person to betray.
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If we had but Ammunition,
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we had surely won the Field,
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But we were in a weak condition,
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and was forc'd at last to yield.
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Some says Monmouth he was taken
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in a Field a picking Peese;
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Some says in a Ditch a sleeping,
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there were such reports as these;
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Raised meerly to degrade him,
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of his Royal Dignity,
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But let those that did upbraid him,
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Rush for such like Villany.
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Some the more to blast his Glory,
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as the naked truth I say,
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Straightway frame another Story,
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saying in a Cock of Hay
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He through fear was forc'd to build in,
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'till they did his Honour trace;
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But his famous War-like Gelding
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escap'd with his most Royal Grace.
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Some has call'd brave Monmouth Coward
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but they were his Enemies;
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When a Souldier's over-power'd,
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they can this and more devise;
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But their words I never heeded,
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tho' they knit their brows, and frown;
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His stout Valour far exceeded
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those which strove to run him down.
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Now when we were clearly Routed,
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I ran to a pleasant Grove,
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Where some of our Men were Scouted,
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with that Souldier whom we love;
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Who declar'd to give them Battel,
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when he could his strength renew,
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Drums and Canons they should Rattle,
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for to give his Foes their due.
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Now we must away to Holland ,
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where we shall be safe I'm sure,
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And my Souldiers that will follow,
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they with me shall be secure:
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They shall surely lack for nothing,
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while in Holland we remain,
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And we'll be in better Order,
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when we do return again.
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How they Draw and Hang my Soldiers,
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which doth grieve my heart full sore;
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All the bloody Books of Martyrs,
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never shew'd the like before?
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Nay, they cut them into Quarters,
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and their Hearts and Bowels burn'd,
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Likewise boyl'd their Limbs in Cauldrons
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I at this in tears have mourn'd.
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Sure the very Turk or Tartar ,
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could not act more Cruelty,
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Yet like Lambs they took their slaughter,
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when they were condemn'd to dye:
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Tho' it fill'd the world with wonder,
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what they did intend or mean;
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Mothers hearts did break in sunder,
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to behold this bloody Scene.
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How their Actions does allarm me,
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to behold their fatal Bane,
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Well, I'le have another Army,
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for to Fight my Foes again:
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Warlike Canons they shall Rattle,
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like a Hero of Renown,
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I my self will Front the Battel,
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for to run the Romans down.
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I will find a proper Season
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for to pull down Popery ,
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Since it is no more than Reason,
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that my proudest Foes shall see:
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Tho' at present I may may ling[e]r,
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foes shall see my Armor shine,
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Nay, and tremble at my Anger
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when I accomplish my Design.
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He no sooner this had spoken,
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but they straightways him secur'd,
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Christians Hearts was almost broken
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to behold what he endur'd;
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Bloody was his Execution,
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from the hand of Cruelty,
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'Twas the Papists Resolution,
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he should fall most fatally.
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