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EBBA 36623

British Library - Thomason Tracts Ballads
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The Life and Death of the right Honourable, ROBERT,
Earle of ESSEX, the Noble Branch of his thrice Noble Father.

WHo shall assist me, whilst I show
That wch the world admires to know,
The worth of Him, whose valiant Sire
Mov'd great Eliza to desire,
O thou Divinest, shew to me;
Add to my skill in Poesie;
And grant, like to Apollos son,
My Verse may smoothly, sweetly run.

*Linus, so
termed by
Virgil.

Before our Essex Father gat
Into that Cecills unknown hate,
And ere his fatall hap it was
With fierce Tyrone some words to passe,
He was the wonder of his time,
For vertue, Martiall Discipline.
Eliza great full oft did view,
How fast her Knights he overthrew,
When he, like Mars, in armour bright,
Did shine, none durst be opposite.
"But what on earth so firme may stand,
"That Change it cannot countermand?
"Or who is he can long subsist
"In joy, and never tast of *crist?
"Even from the cottage to the Crowne
"The change of state full oft is showne;
"So that there's nothing permanent,
"Mans state's with joy and sorrow's *blent.
His gracious favour with the Queen
Incens'd the irefull Lords to Spleen;
So that they any vantage joy'd
To finde 'gainst him, who now imploy'd
In taming of that rebell crew,
His unadvised rashnesse drew
A harsh Fate on him, and his Foe
Rejoyc'd to see his overthrow.

*sorrow

*mingled

He leaving earth, his valiant Son
To tread his Fathers steps begun,
And his rare vertues joyed more
The Commons, then his Sires before;
While all the earth his fame gan ring,
His worthy praises ecchoing.

What time alas our sinnes were high,
When flourisht all impiety,
And for our crimes, our angry God
'Gan scourge us with an iron rod,

When brother did 'gainst brother arme,
And souldiers 'gan in Troops to swarme;
"When Englands Prince his charge forsook,
"Cast out his friends, and Fautors took,
Then our great Essex chosen was
As fittest Leader, forth to passe
Before that Army, whose great zeale
Them tamed had, to serve the Weale
Publike, from being under brought
To those its utter ruine sought.
"As doth a Father, when his Sonne
"Some hainous Fact, or crime hath done,
"Doth scourge him, and if that not doe,
"Layes him in prison to his woe,
"Yet hates him nere the worse, but he
"From Hell would his preserver be.
So God, when he the Plague (his scourge)
Had sent, repentance for to urge
From us vile wretches, steept in sin,
Yet could not our affections win;
Death on his pale horse he gave charge
Thousands of soules for to inlarge,
That those that would not here repent
Their sinnes, might them in hell lament.
And now each man his neighbour slayes,
The sonne to death his Sire betrayes.
And now a *Battell's pitcht, and they
Desire the Fortune of the day:
Great Essex, at his Armies head,
With Speeches brave incouraged
H[i]s valiant souldiers, and in fight
He was the Foes first Opposite,
And by his valour, to his fame,
His *valiant Foes he overcame.
So Scipio, when to free from thrall
The Romans, vext by Hanniball,
Went forth, and that same scourge of Rome
By valiant prowesse overcome.

*at Edge-
hill

*Truth is the
Kings souldi-
ers that day
shewed them-
selves very
valiant.

But our brave Essex here gave ore
His warlike charge, and as before,
(His haughty helmet laying by)
His Robes of State he presently
Put on, and now by counsell grave
"The States second time doth save.

When he had liv'd so long, to see
The grining of that liberty
Himselfe had strove for, and his Peeres,
When peace sang gently in his eares,
O then, even then, Death rest away
This Lord, to Englands great dismay.
"O Death! thou wert too much obdure
"Englands great losse so to procure,
"Th'ast tane one Pillar cleane away,
"A prop most strong for Englands stay.

But why in vain do I deplore
"His death, who by his losse hath store
"Who now do sing unto the Three
"Chanting celestiall Harmonie
Amidst that glorious crew, who still
Stand prest, to act their Makers will.
"Sleep famous Essex in thine Urne,
"While we with teares thy losse do mourne.
And let this Epitaph be writ
Upon thy Tombe, to garnish it.

(THE EPITAPH.)
LEt no rude foot presume to tread,
But with great awe, upon this Dead,
"Lest that his Genius rise from hence,
"And terrifie his insolence.
But Reader know, whoere thou be,
Here Essex sleeps, whose Ancestrie
Were famous Worthies, all their worth
Were joyn'd in Him, and at his birth
The Heavenly Motions did agree,
Their best Infusements all should be
Injected in him, that his Fame
Might be his Heire, and keep his Name
Alive on earth, and equallize
*His, whose resoundeth to the skies.

*Achilles


LONDON,
Printed for J. Pots in the great Old-Baily, neer
the Sessions-House. 1646.

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