The Noble FUNERA[L]
Of that Renowned Champion the
Duke of GRAFTON,
Who was Slain at the Siege of Cork, and Royally Interred in Westminster-Abby.
To the Tune of, Fond Boy: Or, Loves a sweet Passion.
Licensed according to Or[der.]
|
AS two men was walking down by the seaside,
|
And the rare D of Grafton was shot in his side,
|
they stepped unto him, and thus they did say,
|
Oh the rare D. of Grafton is now cast away:
|
they sent him to Portsmouth, with Royal Renown,
|
And from thence to fair London, being near the crown.
|
they divided his bowels, and laid at his feet,
|
Whilst they imbalmed his body with spices so sweet,
|
six weeks together they kept him from the clay,
|
While the Nobles appointed his Funeral day,
|
twelve Lords went before him, six bore him to th' ground
|
while the Drums and the trumpets did solemnly sound.
|
in Westminster-Abby its now call'd by name,
|
the Rare Duke of Grafton was bury'd in Fame
|
they sighed and sobbed, and spent their whole day,
|
While our Gracious Queen Mary came weeping away.
|
When the rare Duke of Grafton lay deep in the clay,
|
then his Souldiers went wandering every way.
|
Besides the whole Nation did seem for[?]
|
with great Lamentation his Funeral Urn,
|
For this our brave Heroe, who dy'd in [?]
|
His stout noble spirit would never on[?]
|
Unto the proud Foe, who with fear s[?]d
|
When that he in their sights his brigh[?]ord
|
But Death that grim King now hath took him
|
(and left us in sorrow and sadness this day)
|
And sent him a while for to lye in the dust,
|
till Angels shall place him with saints 'mongest
|
then let the brave Actions and Deeds be extol'd
|
Of the stout Duke of Grafton that Champion
|
His brave Noble Men with King Willia[m]
|
to fight and bring down the proud [?]
|
they made both the French and the [?]
|
and run; leaving thousands of slain [?]
|
Whereever they came, the poor[?]
|
to avenge the brave Grafton's de[?]
|
|
|
|
|
|