Englands Tribute of Tears,
On the Death of his Grace the DUKE of GRAFTON,
Who received his Mortal Wound at the Siege of the City of Cork in Ireland,
on the 9th. of October, 1690.
Tune is, The Watch for a Wise Mans Observation: Or, Aim not too high.
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UNwelcome Tydings over-spreads the Land,
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The Great, the Wise, the Just do weeping stand;
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What is the cause of Loyal Subjects Tears,
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Those Crys and Sorrows which invade our Ears.
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What Castles, Towns or Cities have we lost,
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Or hath the Rebels our good purpose crost?
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Or hath our Valiant Warlike-Troops misled
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Oh! no, the grief is that Great Graftons dead.
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Renowned Hero, whose unhappy Fate
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Untimely Death his Days did terminate;
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Whose boyling Blood, like to the early Spring,
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Ambitious was to serve his Royal King.
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Insulting Death, thus daring to surprize
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So great a Soul, could nothing less suffice
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Thy famishd Jaws, but such a Hero bold,
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Who scornd by Rebells for to be contrould:
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And did the greatest hazzards freely run,
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And by his mighty Arm great things has done;
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The Monuments and Rolls of lasting Fame,
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Shall Crown his Courage, Conduct, and his Name.
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The warlike Grafton did no labour spare,
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A Loyal Heart he in his Breast did bear;
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Resolving still King William's Cause to fight
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Gainst France and Rome that woud oppose his right.
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The Dutch and French when they were both Engag'd,
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He see the odds, which made him soon Enrag'd;
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And coming up, he did the French destroy,
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Thus kill'd the Monsieur and the poor Dear-Joy.
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And thus the Fleet of France was forcd to fly,
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While Dutch and English, Crownd with Victory,
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Did fill the Enemy with dread and fear,
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His true Heroick Courage did appear.
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And thus his Loyal Soul still promp'd him too
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The Irish Rebells, them for to pursue;
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And to Chastize them for their Villany,
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Against King Williams Crown and Dignity.
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Unto the Siege of Cork he March'd with speed,
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Thus while he did his Warlike Forces lead,
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The Fates upon our Valiant Hero frownd,
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For in this Battel he receiv'd a Wound,
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Whereof he Dyd, well may the Nation Mourn,
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And all in tears pay Tribute to his Urn.
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His Life he lost, Religion to maintain,
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And we shall ne'r behold him here again.
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In a Religious Cause it was he fell,
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Therefore we hope his Loyal Soul will dwell
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Amongst blest Saints and Angels, to enjoy
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True Bliss, where Mortal Cares can't him annoy.
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All State and Glory of this present Life,
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Incumber[]d is with trouble, care and strife;
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On Fortunes restless Waves we often steer,
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Meeting with many Disappointments here.
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But happy is the Man that here can make
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His Peace before the world he does forsake,
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As this most Noble Duke we know has done,
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His Eyes with true Repenting tears did run.
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We must acknowledge Trouble he went through,
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Yet like a Lamb he bid the world adieu;
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And Angel did Conduct him on their Wings,
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As a Rich Present to the King of Kings.
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