The lamenting Ladies last farewell to the World. Who being in a strange exile bewailes her own Misery, complains upon Fortune and Destiny, describeth the manner of her breeding, deplores the losse of her parents wishing Peace and happinesse to England, which was her native Country, and withal resolved for death, chearefully commen- deth her soule to heaven, and her body to the earth, and quiet- ly departed this life: Anno 1650. To an excelent new Tune, O hone, O hone.
|
MOurnful Melpomeny
|
assist my quill,
|
That I may pensivly,
|
now make my will,
|
Guide thou my hand, to write
|
And sences to indite,
|
A Ladies last good night,
|
O pitty me.
|
I that was nobly born.
|
hither am sent:
|
Like to a wretch forlorn;
|
here to lament;
|
In this most strange exile
|
Here to remain awhile:
|
Till heaven be pleasd to smile:
|
and send for me.
|
My friends cannot come nigh
|
me in this place:
|
Nor berre me company:
|
such is my case.
|
Poor I am left alone,
|
But few regard my mone:
|
All my delights are gone,
|
heaven succour me,
|
Each day with cares and feares,
|
I am perplext,
|
My drink is brinish tears
|
with sorrow mixt.
|
When others soundly sleep.
|
I sadly sob and weep:
|
Opprest with dangers deep
|
Lord comfort me.
|
When England flourished,
|
my Parents deer,
|
Tenderly nourished
|
me many a year,
|
I was advancd on high,
|
In place of dignity,
|
In golden bravery
|
they decked me.
|
MY garments deckt, with pearl
|
richly approvd,
|
Never was English girle
|
better belovd,
|
Old and young, great and smal
|
Waited upon my cal,
|
I had the love of all,
|
that did know me.
|
But from my former state
|
I am cald back,
|
Through destiny and fate,
|
all goes to wrack,
|
Fortune did lately frown,
|
And caught me by the Crowne,
|
So puld me head-long down,
|
oh woe is me
|
My dear friends are decayd,
|
which lovd me best,
|
Never was harmelesse maid,
|
so much distrest:
|
My Father he is dead.
|
My Mother banished,
|
All joyes are from me fled,
|
Heaven comfort, me.
|
How well are they at ease
|
and sweetly blest,
|
That may goe when they please
|
and where they list
|
To see their Parents kind,
|
As nature doth them bind,
|
Such joyes I cannot finde,
|
Ah woe is me.
|
All earthly helps are gone,
|
I will and must
|
Onely in God alone
|
Put my whole trust.
|
O blessed Trinity,
|
One God and persons three,
|
Release my misery,
|
and comfort me.
|
No creature on the earth,
|
can ease my griefe,
|
Until such time as death
|
yeeld me reliefe,
|
A coffin and a grave,
|
Is that which I would have,
|
Sweet Christ my soule receive
|
and sucour me.
|
My Enemyes that bee,
|
both great and smal,
|
Good Lord I pray to thee
|
forgive them all.
|
May England flourish brave
|
When I am la[i]d in grave
|
So thus I take my leeave
|
Christ calls for me.
|
I have in heaven above
|
a place prepard
|
Never shall I depart
|
from thence afterwards
|
Goe tole my passing bell
|
Whilst Angels ring my knell
|
So vain world now farewell
|
Christ sends for me
|
When she these words had spoke
|
with chearfull heart
|
The noble minded maid
|
then did depart
|
No doubt her souls at rest
|
with them whom God hath blest
|
The last words she exprest
|
was, Christ cals for me.
|
|
|
|
|
|