THE
Queens Lamentation,
OR, The most sad and mournfull Complaint of her Sacred Majesty,
the Queen of England, upon the death of her most dear and well
Esteemed Son, the most Elustrious Prince, Henry Duke of Glocester,
third Brother to our gracious King, Charles the 2d. Deceased the 13.
of September, 1660. Carried over from France, by Sir James O Neal,
Knight and Baronet; comitted to the Press by his own Importu-
ning desire.
To the Tune of, Franklin.
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SWeet Heavens have been pleasd
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of late to shew
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How Stars and Comedies
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in mourning go,
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For my sweet Darling bright,
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Wherein was my delight,
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To Heaven took his flight,
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And left me here.
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Oh that his Chariot free
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had been so strong
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For to have taken me
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with him along;
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My sweet Elustrious Babe
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As ever woman had,
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His last good night have made,
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O pitty me.
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His Crimson looks so sweet,
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his Lilly hand;
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Methinks I see him yet
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by me to stand,
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His shadow with me still
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My grieved heart doth kill.
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But unto Heavens will
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Wee must obey
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When late he was in France,
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his comely Grace
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My spirits did advance
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to see his face:
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And constant was to me
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A seemed Deity;
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Joy and Felicity
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I had in him
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the Second Part, to the same tune.
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HIs comely gestures fed
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me with delight,
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When that his person did
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appear in my sight,
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Whose Princely looks did fly
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Like Comeds from the sky,
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Twould make a heart to dye
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For to relate.
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Why Heavens, were you prone
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so with delight.
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To take my Prince so soon
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out from my sight:
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Methinks I see his Ghost,
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Swiftly to Heaven post,
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Dear Henry I have lost
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O pitty me.
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His Princely pietie,
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his godly zeal,
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The holy deities,
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would not conceal,
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But down from Heaven they
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Ascend in one day,
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And fetch my Dear away.
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O pitty me.
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Angels would have it so,
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for they decreed,
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He needs away must go,
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and withall speed,
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A Prince with them to be,
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In Immortallity,
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For everlastingly
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With them to Raign.
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Yet whatsoever place,
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I walk or stand,
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Methinks I see his face
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close by my hand,
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His shadow I do see,
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Where-ever I shall be,
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Unto Eternity.
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He was so sweet.
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O let all Nations be
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sad for the Prince,
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For which no remedy
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cannot be since,
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Angels rejoyce we know,
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While that we mourn below,
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To Heavens let me go
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Then to my Dear.
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O that I could but fly
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Like to the Dove,
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Even up to the Sky
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to find my Love.
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Then would I enter in
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Amongst the Cherubims,
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To see my dearest friend
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That was so sweet
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O death why didst thou send
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Thy dart so soon,
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Couldst thou not hold thy hand,
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till I came home,
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To have receivd one smile
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From my own dearest child,
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Before his last exile,
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But now hes gone.
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O Heavens may you be
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to me so kind,
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And grant some remedy
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unto my mind,
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Which now oppressed is,
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My vitalls doth decrease,
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My grief transcending is,
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O pitty me
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When I to England shall
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now take my way,
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My comfort is but small;
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yet all my joy
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Is in this Gracious King,
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My blessing be on him,
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When I do come again,
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Lord succour me.
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