An Excellent Ballad of the
Lord MOHUN and Duke HAMILTON.
With an Exact Account of their Melancholy Deaths.
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COME all ye people far and near,
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Of high and low degree;
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Sad tidings I have brought you here,
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And therefore mourn with me.
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It was a sad unhappy chance,
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It was, I need must say;
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Two Nobles great, in passion bent,
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Cast both their lives away.
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The one Duke Hamilton by name,
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The other brave Lord Mohun,
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Renowned men of birth and fame,
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But O they perishd soon.
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Great men have got great daring souls,
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And vicious hearts likewise;
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For from the glass and swimming bowls,
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Great quarrels do arise.
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Which often end with blood and death,
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Neer to return again:
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Life is but one short blast of breath,
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Heres two great Nobles slain.
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If men of honour did but know,
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That death would part their fray
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And lay theia lofty heads full low,
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Till the great Judgment day.
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They would their passions bridle sure,
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And not admit such strife;
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But each one thinks himself secure,
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Till hes bereavd of liife.
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It was a sad and sudden fall,
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From grandeur unto death;
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That these two Nobles here did fall,
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And lost their mortal breath.
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It was a sad and sudden fate,
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That did the Queen surprize;
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She has lost two brave subjects great,
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And they have lost their lives.
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Which might have servd the government,
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In many weighty things;
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Which made them all with tears lament,
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That wrath such ruin brings.
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Alas! alas! I little thought
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Upon the other day,
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That blooming honour should be brought
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So soon to beds of clay.
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Instead of trumpets loud alarms,
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In courtly form likewise;
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In deaths cold joys, and frozen arms,
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This man of honour lies.
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Great men will not submissive take
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A quarrel from a friend,
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But strait they will a challenge make,
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And mortally attend.
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For satisfaction all in vain,
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They prize no less than life.
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And these two Nobles who were slain,
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Invade a mortal strife.
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Lord Mohun wounded Duke Hamilton,
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And would have then give oer:
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The Duke replyd he had not done,
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And passd at him once more.
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The sword quite thro his body past,
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Immediately he fell;
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And in Hyde Park he breathd his last,
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And bid the world farewell.
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The Duke was carryd off, and dyd
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Within a little while:
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All former feuds were laid aside,
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And death did end the broil.
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It was a great and sad surprise,
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When to his Lady he was brought,
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All bathd in blood; aloud she cries,
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Who has this fatal mischief wrought?
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What bloody hand has done this deed?
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Speak, if you can, my noble Lord;
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Against his life I will proceed,
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He shall not miss of his reward.
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It was Lord Mohun, Lady, he cryd,
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That first gave me this fatal wound;
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Yet with my sword Im satisfyd,
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I left him breathless on the ground.
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It was a rash attempt, I own,
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But who can help whats done and past?
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Then with a sigh and dying groan,
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He in her presence breathd his last.
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My little son of blooming youth,
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Thy father being dead and slain;
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I bathe his corpse with weeping tears,
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Altho I know them shed in vain.
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Dear son, now for thy fathers sake,
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If thou livest to maturity,
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Such a rash challenge never make,
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But in sweet friendship live and die.
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Thou seest my eye-lids overflown,
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Thy fathers death afflicts me still,
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Unto my private room alone
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Ill go, and weeping take my fill.
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