Dying Tears. OR, Englands Joy turned to mourning, for the loss of that Vertuous Prince, Henry Duke of Glocester, 3d. Son to our late Soveraign King Charles the first: Who departed this life the 13. of September, in the Year of our Lord, 1660.
Prepare for death before you dye,
If you would live eternally.
To the Tune of,
Aim not too high.
C
[...]
[...]re the wonders that our God hath done,
Great are the mercies which to us are shown
Yet we forget to say that God is just,
Even though he turn the living into dust.
Now learn, O England, learn for to lament
His death; who from us hath been long absent;
And at the last is come on
English Shore
To lay his Corps; whose death we now deplore.
Just in the prime and blooming of His age,
Dear
Gloster's ravished from this mortall Stage:
Yet though his body can no more revive,
Pet his rare Vertues seem to be alive.
Scarce had fair
England bidden welcome home
This our most vertuous Prince, but death doth come;
Scarce had his weary body taken rest,
Behold grim death doth come and takes his breath.
How can fair
England weep enough and mourn,
His comely Corps we can't enough adorn:
O death, our hopes, our Treasure, in an hour
Hast thou dispers'd, which makes salt tears to showr
O envious death! how dar'st thou in his prime,
To cut down him, in whom all vertues shine:
Therefore wee'l seek his vertues for to blaze,
Upon his Tomb we will set forth his praise.
No sooner in his vertues we did trust,
But presently this Prince is turnd to dust:
O then what course of lives would Mortalls take,
Seeing that Princes cannot death forsake.
Great Emperours and Kings lye at the stake,
To day they live, to morrow their graves they make
Death is a debt we owe, which we must pay:
When death doth call, poor mortalls must they.
The Second Part
to the same Tune,
O That loud man, would but view o're his says,
And seriously consider his own wayes:
Now that all things below are vanity,
But souls Redeemer 'tis that lives on high.
The God of Love pour forth his mercies great
On our Dread Soveraign, even from his mercy seat;
O give him grace and wisedome to consider
That where his Brother's gone, he must go thither.
For Kings and Princes are but a span,
When death both come with's grimly dart in hand
To give the stroak: whilst nature bios adieu
To all its pleasures, and it's Comfort too.
O that our God would pour his spirit upon
Our King and Prince, that they may both live long;
O let them know 'tis not the arm of flesh
That's able to withstand Deaths powerfull crush.
'Tis not mans honour nor his powerfull hand,
Nor his Riches that are at his command,
Neither his friend at all can him deliver
From death's sad stroke, which strikes but once for ever.
O learn with blessed
David for to prove
That Gods thy portion and thy only love;
Then death shall not affright thee, nor the grave;
But this shall thee rejoyce, thy soul to save.
Death is no sting, the grave cannot contain
The Righteous soul that makes
[...] his aim,
But wicked men when once lass in the Men,
Their souls in torments ever after burn.
But this is not our
Gloster Case, for he
Was the true partern of Nobility:
Saint like he liv'd, and he the same did dye,
As soon as dead to Heaven his soul did fly.
When
France did harbour this out Noble P
[...]
His Mother did endeavour to convince
Him to turn Papist; but with courage bold
He said his true Religion he would hold
The learned Jesuite could not him deceive,
Their damned Doctrine he would not believer
Nor all the Learned men that
France could yield
Could make this Christian prince to quite the field.
But now he's dead! alas, where is he gone,
His Corps to dust, his soul to Heaven is come:
O then Rejoyce, O
England, and be glad,
That God has carried him, then to good from had.
Concluding, now I end my mournfull Song.
Which to all men in
England doth belong,
Prepare for death before before you dye,
If e're you mean to live eternally.
London, Printed for Charles Tyns on London-Bridge.