A Lamentable DITTY made on the Death of ROBERT DEVERUX, Earl of ESSEX, who was Be-
headed in the Tower of London, on Ash-wednesday, 1603.
The Tune is, Welladay.
|
SWeet Englands pride is gone,
|
welladay, welladay,
|
Which makes her sigh and groan,
|
evermore still;
|
He did her fame advance,
|
In Ireland, Spain and France,
|
And by a sad mischance,
|
is from us tane.
|
He was a vertuous Peer,
|
welladay, etc.
|
And was esteemed dear,
|
evermore still.
|
He always lovd the Poor,
|
Which makes them sigh full sore,
|
His Death they did deplore,
|
in every place.
|
Brave Honour gracd him still,
|
gallantly, gallantly,
|
He ner did deed of ill,
|
well it is known,
|
But Envy that foul fiend,
|
Whose malice there doth end,
|
Hath brought true vertues friend,
|
unto this thrall.
|
At Tilt he did surpass,
|
gallantly, etc.
|
All Men that is and was,
|
evermore still,
|
One day as it was seen,
|
In honour of the Queen,
|
Such deeds are seldom been,
|
as he did do,
|
Abroad and eke at home,
|
gallantly, gallantly.
|
For Valour there was none,
|
like him before,
|
But Ireland, France and Spain,
|
That feared great Essexs Name,
|
But England lovd the same,
|
in every place.
|
But all would not prevail,
|
welladay, welladay,
|
His deeds did not prevail,
|
more was the pity,
|
He was condemnd to dye,
|
For Treason certainly,
|
But God, that sits on high,
|
knoweth all things.
|
That Sunday in the Morn,
|
welladay, etc.
|
That he to the City came,
|
with all his Troops.
|
That first began the strife,
|
And causd him lose his life,
|
And others did the like,
|
as well as he.
|
Yet her Princely Majesty,
|
graciously, graciously,
|
Hath pardon given free,
|
to many of them;
|
She hath releast them quite,
|
And given them their right:
|
They did pray day and night,
|
God to defend her.
|
Shrove-Tuesday in the night,
|
welladay, etc.
|
With a heavy hearted spight,
|
as it is said,
|
The Lieutenant of the Tower,
|
Who kept him in his power,
|
At ten a clock that hour,
|
to him did come,
|
And said unto him there,
|
mournfully, etc.
|
My Lord, you must prepare,
|
to dye tomorrow.
|
Gods will be done, quoth he,
|
Yet shall you strangely see,
|
God strong in me to be,
|
though I am weak.
|
I pray you pray for me,
|
welladay, etc.
|
That God may strengthen me
|
against that hour.
|
Then straightway he did call
|
To the Guard under the wall,
|
And did intreat them all,
|
for him to pray;
|
For tomorrow is the day,
|
welladay, etc.
|
That I a Debt must pay,
|
which I do owe,
|
It is my Life, I mean,
|
Which I must pay the Queen,
|
Even so hath Justice given,
|
that I must dye.
|
In the morning was he brought,
|
welladay, etc.
|
Where the Scaffold was set up,
|
within the Tower;
|
Many Lords were present then,
|
With other Gentlemen,
|
Which were appointed then,
|
to see him dye.
|
You Noble Lords, quoth he,
|
welladay, etc.
|
That must the witness,
|
of this my dream:
|
Know I ner lovd Papistry,
|
But still doth it defie;
|
And thus doth Essex dye,
|
here in this place.
|
I have a sinner been,
|
welladay, etc.
|
Yet never wrongd my Queen,
|
in all my life;
|
My God I did offend,
|
Which grieves me at my end:
|
May all the rest amend,
|
I do them forgive.
|
To the State I ner meant ill,
|
welladay, etc.
|
Neither wisht the Commons ill,
|
in all my life:
|
But lovd with all my heart,
|
And always took their part,
|
Whereas there were desert,
|
in every place.
|
Then mildly did he pray,
|
mournfully, etc.
|
He might the favour have,
|
private to pray.
|
He then prayd heartily,
|
And with great fervency,
|
To God that sits on high,
|
for to receive him.
|
And then he prayd again,
|
mournfully, etc.
|
God to preserve his Queen,
|
from all her foes,
|
And send her long to reign,
|
True Justice to maintain,
|
And not to let proud Spain
|
once to offend her.
|
His Gown he stript off then,
|
welladay, etc.
|
And put off his Hat and Band,
|
and hung them by,
|
Praying still continually,
|
To God that sits on high,
|
That he might patiently
|
there suffer death.
|
My Headsman that must be,
|
then said he chearfully,
|
Let him come here to me,
|
that I may see him.
|
Who kneeled to him then.
|
Art thou, quoth he, the Man,
|
Who art appointed now,
|
my life to free?
|
Yes, my Lord, he did say,
|
welladay, etc.
|
Forgive me, I you pray,
|
for this your death:
|
I here do thee forgive,
|
And may true Justice live,
|
No foul Crimes to forgive,
|
within this place.
|
Then he kneeled down again,
|
welladay, etc.
|
And was required by some,
|
there standing by,
|
To forgive his Enemies,
|
Before Death closd his eyes,
|
Which he did in hearty wise,
|
thanking him for it:
|
That they would remember him,
|
welladay, etc.
|
That he would forgive all them,
|
that hath him wrongd.
|
Now, my Lords, I take my leave,
|
Sweet Christ my Soul receive.
|
Now when you will prepare,
|
I am ready.
|
He laid his Head on the Block,
|
welladay, etc.
|
But his Doublet let the stroke,
|
some there did say.
|
What must be done, quoth he,
|
Shall be done presently.
|
Then his Doublet off put he,
|
and laid down again.
|
Then the Headsman did his part,
|
cruelly, cruelly.
|
He was not seen to start
|
for all the blows.
|
His Soul is now at rest,
|
In Heaven among the blest;
|
Where God send us to rest,
|
when it shall please him.
|
|
|
|
|
|