A Lamentable BALLAD on the Earl of ESSEXs [Death]
The Tune is, Essexs last Good-night.
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ALl you that cry, O hone, O hone,
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come now and sing, O hone with me,
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For why our Jewel is from us gone,
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the valiant Knight of Chivalry:
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Of rich and poor belovd was he,
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in time an honourable Knight,
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When by our Laws condemnd to dye,
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he lately took his last good night.
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Count him not like to Champion,
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those traitorous Men of Babington,
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Nor like the Earl of Westmorland,
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by whom a number were undone:
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He never yet hurt Mothers Son;
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his quarrel still maintains the right,
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Which makes the tears my face down run,
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when I think on his last good night
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The Portugals can witness be,
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his Dagger at Lisbon Gate he hung;
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I would to God, that he would come,
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to fetch them back in order right,
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Which thing was by his honour done.
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yet lately took his last good night.
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The Frenchmen they can testifie,
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the Town of Gourney he took in,
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And marcht to Rome immediately,
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not caring for his foes a pin:
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With Bullets then he piercd their skin,
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and made them fly from his sight:
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He there that time did credit win,
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and now hath tane his last good night.
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And stately Cales can witness be,
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even by his Proclamation right,
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He did command them all straightly,
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to have a care of Infants lives,
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And that none should hurt Man or Wife,
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which was against their right;
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Therefore they prayd for his long life,
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which lately took his last good night.
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Would God he ner had Ireland known,
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nor set one foot on Flanders ground,
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Then might we well injoyd our own,
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where now our Jewel will not be found,
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Which makes our foes still abound;
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trickling with salt tears in our sight,
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To hear his Name in our ears to sound,
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Lord Deverux took his last good night.
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Ash-wednesday, that dismal day,
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when he came forth his Chamber-door,
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Upon a Scaffold there he saw,
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his Headsman standing him before:
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His Nobles all they did deplore,
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shedding salt tears in his sight,
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He said farewel to rich and poor,
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at hi[s] good-morrow and good-night.
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My Lords, said he, you stand but by,
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to see performance of the Law,
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It is I that have deservd to dye,
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and yield myself unto the blow;
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I have deservd to dye, I know,
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but ner against my Countrys right,
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Nor to my Queen was ever foe,
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upon my death, at my good-night.
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Farewel, Elizabeth, my gracious Queen,
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God bless thee with thy Council all;
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Farewell my Knights of Chivalry;
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farewel my Soldiers stout and tall;
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Farewel the Commons great and small;
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into the hands of Men I light,
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My life shall make amends for all,
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for Essex bids the World good-night.
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Farewel dear Wife and Children three,
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farewel my kind and tender Son;
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Comfort yourselves, mourn not for me,
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although your fall be now begun,
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My time is come, my glass is run,
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comfort yourself in former light,
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Seeing by my fall you are undone,
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your Father bids the World good-night.
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Derick, thou knowst at Cales I savd
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thy life, lost for a Rape there done,
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As thou thy self canst testifie,
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thine own hand three and twenty hung,
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But now thou seest myself is come,
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by chance into thy hands I light,
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Strike out thy blow, that I may know,
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thou Essex lovd at his good night.
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When England counted me a Papist,
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the work of Papists I defie,
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I ner worshipt Saint nor Angel in Heaven,
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nor the Virgin Mary, I;
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But to Christ, which for my sins did die,
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trickling with salt tears in his sight,
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Spreading my arms to God on high,
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Lord Jesus receive my Soul this night.
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