A warning to London by the fall of Antwerp
To the tune of Row well ye Mariners.
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THe sturdy Oke at length/
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When forse doth fail
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though nere so tall:
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Resigneth up his strength,
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By boistrous blasts unto the fal.
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The stately Stag in time dooth yeeld:
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Him self a pray to Dogs in feeld.
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The Pecock proud, the swelling Swan:
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At last dooth serve the use of man.
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Pride, pomp, plumes gay:
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Must have a fall who ere say nay,
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Hye mindes, state, power:
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Shall come to end within an houre.
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Let Antwerp warning be,
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thou stately London to beware:
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Lest resting in thy glee,
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thou wrapst thy self in wretched care
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Be vigilant, sleepe not in sin:
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Lest that thy foe doo enter in.
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Keep sure thy trench, prepare thy shot:
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Watch wel, so shall no foil be got.
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Stand fast, play thy parte:
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Quail not but shew an english hart,
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Dout, dread, stil fear:
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For Antwerps plague approcheth neer.
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Leave tearing of thy God,
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let vain excesse be laid aside:
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Els shalt thou feel the rod,
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prepared for to scouge thy pride.
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Forsake thy Devilish drunken trade:
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Which almoste hath the entrance made.
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Erect your walles give out your charge
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Keep wel your ray, run not at large.
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Faint not, fiercely fight:
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Shrink not but keep your contries right.
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Stand stout, on Jesus call:
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And he no dout wil help you all.
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Trust not a civil foe,
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Which under coulour wisheth good:
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For ere thy self doost knowe,
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by craft he seeks to have thy blood.
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The Snake in grasse doth groveling lie:
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Til for revenge due time he spie.
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The leering Dog doth bite more sore:
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Then he that warning gives before.
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Fine flattery, fair face:
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Much discorde breeds in every place.
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Fire, shot, must be to hot:
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For those which have their God forgot.
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Rejoyce not if thou see,
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thy neighbours house set on a flame:
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For like thy luck may be,
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unlesse thou wel prevent the same.
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The scourge which late on Antwerp fel:
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Thy wrack and ruine dooth foretel.
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Make not a gibing jest therat:
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Lest stately Troy be beaten flat.
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Pray God faithfully:
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To save us from all trechery.
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Dout not if we doo so:
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We shall escape the forain fo.
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Pray we with one accorde,
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that God our Queene may ay defend:
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From those which seek by swoord/
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to bring her graces reign to end.
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Cut of (O Lord) their devilish dayes:
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And graunt her life thy name to praise.
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Garde her with grace her Champion be
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That she may gain the victory.
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Hope wel, pray stil:
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God is our guide we feare none il.
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Fear not, watch pray:
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God sheeld this Citie from decay.
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