EBBA 33821
National Library of Scotland - Crawford
Ballad XSLT Template
THE late
Duke of Monmouth's
Lamentation.
The Tune of, On the Bank of a River, Or; Now now the Fights done.
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THe World is ungrateful
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the People deceitful,
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Ambition and Pride our first Parents did choak
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it leads to high places
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as Slip'ry as Glasies,
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Their gilded pretences all vanish like smoak
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Their fatal delusion
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Brought me to confusion
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I fall by those Powers I did justly provoke.
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Those Men of Sedition
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that nurst my Ambition
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And sooth'd up my Fancy with hopes of a Crown
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their fates are depending
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and must have an Ending,
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'Tis they ruin'd me and my former renown
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Seducers of Reason
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Made me commit Treason
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For which on the Block I lay my head down.
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My Gxief I discover
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For those I brought over,
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And those in this Land I seduc'd to the Sin
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true Churchmen deni'd me
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the Gentry defy[']d me
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With none but the Factious I favor did win
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this sorrowful sentence
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brings me to Repentance
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Unfortunate Monmouth this Act to begin.
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The Second Part, To the
same Tune.
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THus my Allegiance was all disobedience
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the King of the West in those Parts they me call,
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Each Village and City
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was spoil'd without Pitty,
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The Kings better Subjects I brought into Thrall:
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But now such vile doing
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hath caused my ruin
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My Pride and Ambition must now have a Fall.
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The popular Bable
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and noise of the Rabble,
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It pleas'd me at first and did Nourish the Vice
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Pride and Vain-Glory
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did furnish the Story
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And gave to my after proceedings the Rise
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while that I did aspire
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t' fly higher and higher,
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Like th' generous Bird I was snar'd in a trice.
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All did me admire
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naught I could require,
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But the Royal Bounty did freely allow
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was of Royal standing
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had all at commanding
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And men of the highest Ranck to me did bow
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but I've taken ill measures
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and lost all those Treasures
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Poor Monmouth's thy Case is alter'd now.
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Ambition can't borrow
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One day, e're to morrow
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Poor Monmouth must be in the silent dark Grave:
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let his sad conclusion
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be Traytors Confusion
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And dash them to Pieces as Rocks do the Waves.
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take warning you Traytors
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and all you Crown Haitors
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Your cunning designs your Heads shall not save.
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This may be Printed July 18. R. L. S.
Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden-
Ball in Pye-Corner.
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