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EBBA 33815

National Library of Scotland - Crawford
Ballad XSLT Template
The Lamentation of Englande:
For the late Treasons conspired against the
Queenes Majestie and the whole Realme, by
Franuces Throgmorton: who was executed for the same at Tyborne, on Friday
being the tenth day of July last past. 1584.
To the tune of Weepe, weepe.
Pray pray and praise the Lord, whose wonderous works are seene:
That brought to light the secret snare, laide lately for our Queene.

WIth brinishe teares and sobbing sighes,
I Englande pine in paine:
To see and heare such secret Sectes,
among my people raine.
Now being in my golden prime,
where Nectar sweete doth flowe:
And where the sacred worde is taught,
eche Christians joye to showe.
Pray, pray, etc.

And where the Lord of Lords hath set,
his Handmaide pure and cleene:
Annoynting her my rightfull Prince,
to reigne a royall Queene.
Indued with wisedome from above,
and storde with knowledge great:
That flying Fame throughout the world,
her praises doth repeate.
Pray, pray, etc.

Who to the sacred worde doth stande,
with zeale and godly minde:
Maintaining truth, embracing faith,
and to eche Subject kinde.
Alas why then my people deare,
what is the cause you swerus
Against the Lords annoynted so,
your owne selfe willes to serve?
Pray, pray, etc.

Have you not Peace and Plentie both,
which other Realmes do want?
Have you not worldly pleasures store,
whereof there is no skant?
Have I not fostered you with foode,
which Nature bringeth foorth?
Have I not fed you dayntily,
with Milke and Hony both?
Pray, pray, etc.

And have not I a carefull Prince,
the prop of all your stay:
Which loveth me which cares for you,
and prayes for us eche day?
What is the cause such mischiefes then,
among you doe remaine?
Truely the fulnes of the flesh,
which you so much obtaine.
Pray, pray, etc.

It makes me weepe with trickling teares,
and wring my hands full colde:
To heare, to see, and thinke upon,
the dangers manyfolde,
My loving Prince and Queene is in,
by meanes of Satans crew:
Which often doth conspire the death,
of her my Lover true.
Pray, pray, etc.

How many mischeefes are devised?
how many wayes are wrought?
How many vilde conspiracies,
against her Grace is sought?
Yet God that rules in heaven above,
lookes downe on earth belowe:
Who dauntes them in their wickednesse,
and doth his power showe.

For when his highnes doth perceive,
that dangers are at hande:
Then doth he shewe by secret meanes,
those perils to withstande.
And will not let his chosen flocke,
to perishe on the earth:
But doth her secret foes confounde,
by meanes of shamefull death.
Pray, pray, etc.

As late was seene by Arden he,
and Sommervile also:
Who did pretende to kill my Queene,
and worke her Subjects woe:
But God who doth her still defende,
her Grace he did preserve:
And wrought a shame unto themselves,
as they did best deserve.
Pray pray etc.

Throgmorton lately did conspire,
to overthrowe the State:
That Strangers might invade the Realme
upon an Evening late:
And lande in places where he knewe,
the Realme was something weake:
The secret of which thing he did,
to forraine Princes breake.
Pray, pray, etc.

His dealing with the Queene of Scottes,
by letters too and fro:
Informing her and other States,
of all that he did knowe:
What freends in England they should find,
what power they should bring:
Our Queene thereby for to displace,
this was a wofull thing.
Pray, pray, etc.

He sought to dispossesse my Queene,
of dignitie and Crowne:
And place a Stranger in her State,
thereby to treade her downe.
Ireland and Scotland by advise,
the enemie should invade:
Then into England bring a power,
as he the Plat had made.
Pray, pray, etc.

These were the treasons which he wrought
my good Queene to displace:
To spoyle the state of all this Realme,
such was his want of grace.
But God who doth protect me still,
offended at the same:
Even in his yong and tender yeeres,
did cut him off with shame.
Pray, pray, etc.

O thou Throgmorton wicked wight,
why didst thou this devise:
Why did the feare of God and Prince,
depart so from thy eyes?
No Rebelles power shall her displace,
God will defende her still:
Her Subjectes all will loose their lives,
ere Traytors have their will.

And though he florisht for a space,
in seeking his intent:
When to the Pits brinke that he came,
God did his worke prevent:
And did preserve in spight of him,
his chosen Vessell pure:
That she might florish still in peace,
my comfort to procure.
Pray, pray, etc.

When as the servants of the Lorde,
I meane the Children three:
Were put into the fierie Oven,
destroyed for to bee:
Then fierie flames did them no harme,
they sung and prayed with joye:
And those which stood to worke their woe,
the sparkles did destroye.
Pray, pray, etc.

And when the Children of the Lord,
King Pharao did pursue:
To drowne them in the foming floods,
God was a Captaine true:
The waves like walles stood on eche side,
and they free passadge founde:
And Pharao with his mightie Hoste,
came after and was drounde.
Pray, pray, etc.

Even so the Lord by his great might,
my comfort doth maintaine,
In keeping and preserving still,
my Prince from Traitors traine.
And did preserve her from the harmes,
Throgmorton did pretende:
Who even at Tyborne for the same,
did make a shamefull ende.
Pray, pray, etc.

And though such Impes do worke her spite,
ten thousande kinde of waies:
Yea though the devill him selfe do fite,
to spoyle her golden daies:
Yet if the Lorde defende my wrong,
their courage soone shall quaile:
So long as God stands on her side,
no power shall prevaile.
Pray, pray, etc.

Therefore my loving people deare,
graunt England her request:
Pray to the Lord, him serve with feare.
and Traitors hearts detest.
Embrace the truth, lay holde on faith,
walke in the path of peace:
Obey your Prince, fight in her cause,
and Englands wealth encrease.
Pray pray etc.

And with new warning take new hearts,
olde venomed minds detest:
Eschue all sinne, encrease good works,
that you in peace may rest.
From all olde customes that are evill,
put on the new man Christ:
And newly change your former lives,
and learne to please the highest.


FINIS.
W.M.
Imprinted at London, by Richard Jhones.

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