Songs of mourning bevvailing the vntimely death of Prince Henry. VVorded by Tho. Campion. And set forth to bee sung with one voyce to the lute, or violl: by Iohn Coprario. Coperario, John, 1570 (ca.)-1626. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A17880 of text S107170 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 4546). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 17 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 11 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A17880 STC 4546 ESTC S107170 99842872 99842872 7567 2240864648

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A17880) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 7567) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 878:06) Songs of mourning bevvailing the vntimely death of Prince Henry. VVorded by Tho. Campion. And set forth to bee sung with one voyce to the lute, or violl: by Iohn Coprario. Coperario, John, 1570 (ca.)-1626. Campion, Thomas, 1567-1620. aut [20] p. : music Printed [by Thomas Snodham] for Iohn Browne, and are to be sould in S. dunstons Churchyard, London : 1613. Printer's name from STC. Signatures: [A]² B-E² . Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery. eng Henry Frederick, -- Prince of Wales, 1594-1612 -- Poetry. Songs, English. Songs with lute. eebo Songs of mourning: bevvailing the vntimely death of Prince Henry. VVorded by Tho. Campion. And set forth to bee sung with one voyce to the lute, or vi Coperario, John, 1613 22 2569 2 0 0 450 0 0 17524.33 F The rate of 17524.33 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the F category of texts with 100 or more defects per 10,000 words. 2006-08 Assigned for keying and markup 2006-09 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2006-10 Sampled and proofread 2006-10 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2007-02 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

Songs of Mourning : BEWAILING the vntimely death of Prince Henry .

Worded by THO. CAMPION .

And set forth to bee sung with one voyce to the Lute , or Violl : By JOHN COPRARIO .

LONDON : Printed for Iohn Browne , and are to be sould in S. dunstons Churchyard , 1613.

ILLVSTRISSIMO , POTENTISSIMOQVE PRINCIPI , FREDRICO QVINTO , RHENI COMITI PALATINO , DVCI BAVARIAE , &c. COgimur ; inuitis ( Clarissime ) parce quaerelis Te saluo ; laetis non sinit esse Deus : Nec speratus Hymen procedit lumine claro , Principis extincti nubila fata vetant . Illius inferias maesto iam Musica cantu Prosequitur , miseros haec Dea sola iuuat . Illa suos tibi summittit ( Dux inclite ) quaestus , Fraternus fleto quem sociauit amor . Sed noua gaudia , sed tam dulcia foedera rupit Fati infoelicis liuor , & hora nocens . Quod superest , nimios nobis omni arte dolores Est mollire animus , spes meliora dabit : Cunctatosque olim cantabimus ipsi Hymenaeos , Laeta simul fas sit reddere vota Deo .
AN ELEGIE vpon the vntimely death of Prince Henry . REade you that haue some teares left yet vnspent , Now weepe your selues hart sicke , and nere repent : For I will open to your free accesse The sanctuary of all heauinesse : Where men their fill may mourne , and neuer sinne : And I their humble Priest thus first beginne . Fly from the Skies yee blessed beames of light , Rise vp in horrid vapours vgly night , And fetter'd bring that rauenous monster Fate The fellon , and the traytour to our state Law-Eloquence wee neede not to conuince His guilt , all know it , 't is hee stole our Prince , The Prince of men , the Prince of all that bore Euer that princely name : O now no more Shall his perfections like the Sunne-beames dare The purblinde world , in heau'n those glories are . What could the greatest artist , Nature , adde T' encrease his graces ? deuine forme hee had Striuing in all his parts which should surpasse ; And like a well tun'd chime his carriage was Full of coelestiall witchcraft , winning all To admiration , and loue personall . His Launce appear'd to the beholders eyes When his faire hand aduanc't it in the skyes Larger then truth , for well could hee it wield , And make it promise honour in the field . When Court and Musicke cal'd him , off fell armes , And as hee had beene shap't for loues alarmes , In harmony hee spake , and trod the ground In more proportion then the measur'd sound . How fit for peace was hee , and rosie beds ? How fit to stand in troopes of iron heads ? When time had with his circles made complete , His charmed rounds ? All things in time grow great . This feare euen like a commet that hangs high , And shootes his threatning flashes through the skye , Held all the eyes of Christendome intent Vpon his youthfull hopes , casting th' euent Of what was in his power , not in his will : For that was close conceal'd , and must lye still As deepely hid , as that designe which late With the French Lyon dyed . O earthly state How doth thy greatnesse in a moment fall ? And feastes in highest pompe turne funerall ? But our young Henry arm'd with all the arts That sute with Empire , and the gaine of harts , Bearing before him fortune , power , and loue Appear'd first in perfection , fit to moue Fixt admiration : though his yeeres were greene Their fruit was yet mature : his care had beene Suruaying India , and implanting there The knowledge of that God which hee did feare : And eu'n now , though hee breathlesse lyes , his sayles Are strugling with the windes , for our auayles T' explore a passage hid from humane tract , Will fame him in the enterprise , or fact . O Spirit full of hope why art thou fled From deedes of honour ? why's that vertue dead Which dwelt so well in thee ? a bowre more sweet If Paradise were found , it could not meete . Curst then bee Fate that stole our blessing so , And had for vs now nothing left but woe , Had not th' All-seeing prouidence yet kept Another ioy safe , that in silence slept : And that same Royall workeman who could frame A Prince so worthy of immortall fame ; Liues , and long may hee liue , to forme the other His exprest image , and grace of his brother . To whose eternall peace wee offer now Guifts which hee lou'd , and fed , Musicks that flow Out of a sowre , and melancholike vayne , Which best sort with the sorrowes wee sustaine .
TO THE MOST SACRED King James .

O Griefe , O Griefe , how diuers are thy shapes wherein men lan - guish ? The face sometime with teares thou fill'st , Sometime the hart thou kill'st with vnseene anguish , Somewhile thou smil'st to view how fate , playes with our humane state . So farre from suretie here are all our earthly ioyes , That what our strong hope buildes when least we feare , a stronger power destroyes .

1 O Griefe , how diuers are thy shapes wherein men languish ? The face sometime with teares thou fil'st , Sometime the hart thou kill'st With vnseene anguish . Sometime thou smil'st to view how Fate Playes with our humane state : So farre from surety here Are all our earthly ioyes , That what our strong hope buildes , when least wee feare , A stronger power destroyes . 2 O Fate , why shouldst thou take from KINGS their ioy , and treasure ? Their Image if men should deface 'T were death , which thou dost race Euen at thy pleasure . Wisedome of holy Kings yet knowes Both what it hath , and owes . Heau'ns hostage which you bredd And nurst with such choyce care . Is rauisht now great KING , and from vs ledd When wee were least aware .
The Base .

2 TO THE MOST SACRED Queene Anne .

T Is now dead night , and not a light on earth , orstarre in heau'n doth shine , Let now a mother mourne the noblest birth that euer was both mortall , and diuine .

O sweetnes peereles ! more then humane grace ! O flowrie beauty ! O vntimely death ! Now Musicke fill this place with thy most dolefull breath . O singing waile a fate more truely funerall , Then when with all his sonnes the sire of Troy did fall .

1 T is now dead night , and not a light on earth , Or starre in heauen doth shine : Let now a mother mourne the noblest birth That euer was both mortall , and diuine . O sweetnesse peerelesse ! more then humane grace ! O flowry beauty ! O vntimely death ! Now Musicke fill this place With thy most dolefull breath : O singing wayle a fate more truely funerall , Then when with all his sonnes the sire of Troy did fall . 2 Sleepe Ioy , dye Mirth , and not a smile be seene , Or shew of harts content , For neuer sorrow neerer touch't a QVEENE , Nor were there euer teares more duely spent : O deare remembrance , full of ruefull woe ! O ceacelesse passion ! O vnhumane hower ! No pleasure now can grow , For wither'd is her flower . O anguish doe thy worst and fury Tragicall , Since fate in taking one hath thus disorder'd all .
The Base .

3 TO THE MOST HIGH AND MIGHTY Prince Charles .

FOrtune and glory may be lost and woone , But when the worke of nature is vn-done , that losse flyes past retur-ning , No help is left but mourning : What can to kinde youth more despightfull proue then to be rob'd of one sole bro - ther ? Father and mother aske reue - rence , a brother onely loue , Like age and birth like thoughts and pleasures moue . What gaine can he heape vp though showers of Crownes descend , Who for that good must change a brother and a friend ?

1 Fortune and Glory may be lost , and woone , But when the worke of Nature is vndone That losse flyes past returning , No helpe is left but mourning . What can to kinde youth more despightfull proue Then to be rob'd of one sole Brother ? Father and Mother Aske reuerence , a Brother onely loue : Like age , and birth , like thoughts , and pleasures moue : What gayne can he heape vp though showers of Crownes descend Who for that good must change a brother and a friend ? 2 Follow , O follow yet thy Brothers fame , But not his fate , le ts onely change the name , And finde his worth presented In thee , by him preuented : Or past example of the dead be great , Out of thy selfe begin thy storie : Vertue , and glorie Are eminent being plac't in princely seate : Oh heau'n his age prolong with sacred heate , And on his honoured head let all the blessings light Which to his brothers life men wish't , and wisht them right .
The Base .

4 TO THE MOST PRINCELY AND VERTVOVS the Lady Elizabeth .

SO parted you , So parted you as if the world for e - uer had lost with him her light , Now could your teares hard flint to ruth ex - cite , yet may you neuer your loues againe partake in humane sight . O why should loue such two kinde harts dis - seuer , As nature neuer knit more faire or firme toge-ther ?

1 So parted you as if the world for euer Had lost with him her light Now could your teares hard flint to ruth excite , Yet may you neuer Your loues againe partake in humane sight : O why should loue such two kinde harts disseuer As nature neuer knit more faire or firme together ? 2 So loued you as sister should a brother Not in a common straine , For Princely blood doeth vulgar fire disdaine : But you each other On earth embarc't in a celestiall chaine A lasse for loue that heau'nly borne affection To change should subiect be and suffer earths infection .
The Base .

5 TO THE MOST ILLVSTRIOVS AND MIGHTY Fredericke the fift , Count Palatine of the Rhein .

HOw like a golden dreame you met and par-ted , That pleasing straight doth vanish , O who can euer ba - nish the thought of one so princely and free-har-ted ?

But he was pul'd vp in his prime by fate , And loue for him must mourne though all too late . Teares to the dead are due , let none forbid sad harts to sigh , True griefe , true griefe , true griefe cannot be hid .

1 How like a golden dreame you met and parted That pleasing straight doth vanish : O who can euer banish The thought of one so princely and free harted ? But hee was pul'd vp in his prime by fate , And loue for him must mourne though all too late . Teares to the dead are due , let none forbid Sad harts to sigh , true griefe cannot be hid . 2 Yet the most bitter storme to height encreased By heau'n againe is ceased : O time that all things mouest In griefe and ioy thou equall measure louest : Such the condition is of humane life , Care must with pleasure mixe and peace with strife : Thoughts with the dayes must change , as tapers waste So must our griefes , day breakes when night is past .
The Base .

6 To the most disconsolate Great Brittaine .

WHen pale famine fed on thee with her insatiate i●●es , When ciuill broyles set murther free contemning all thy lawes , When heau'n enrag'd consum'd thee so with plagues that none thy face could know , Yet in thy lookes affliction then shew'd lesse , Then now for ones fate all thy parts ex - presse .

1 When pale famine fed on thee , With her vnsatiate iawes , When ciuill broyles set murder free Contemning all thy lawes , When heau'n enrag'd consum'd thee so With plagues that none thy face could know , Yet in thy lookes affliction then shew'd lesse Thou now for ones fall all thy parts expresse . 2 Now thy highest States lament A sonne , and Brothers losse ; Thy nobles mourne in discontent , And rue this fatall crosse ; Thy Commons are with passion sad To thinke how braue a Prince they had : If all thy rockes from white to blacke should turne Yet couldst thou not in shew more amply mourne .
The Base .

7 To the World .

O Poore distracted World , partly a slaue to Pagans sinnefull rage , partly ob - scur'd with igno - rance of all the meanes that saue , And eu'n these parts of thee that liue assur'd of heau'nly grace : O how they are de - uided ? with doubts late by a Kingly pen deci - ded .

O happy world if what the sire be - gun had beene clos'd vp by his religious sonne .

1 O poore distracted world , partly a slaue To Pagans sinnefull rage , partly obscur'd With ignorance of all the meanes that saue , And eu'n those parts of thee that liue assur'd Of heau'nly grace : Oh how they are deuided With doubts late by a Kingly penne decided ? O happy world , if what the Sire begunne Had beene clos'd vp by his religious Sonne . 2 Mourne all you soules opprest vnder the yoake Of Christian-hating Thrace ; neuer appear'd More likelyhood to haue that blacke league broke , For such a heauenly prince might well be fear●● Of earthly fiends : Oh how is Zeale inflamed With power , when truth wanting defence is shamed ? O princely soule rest thou in peace , while wee In thine expect the hopes were ripe in thee .
The Base .

A Table of all the Songs contayned in this Booke . O Griefe . 1 T is now dead night . 2 Fortune and glory . 3 So parted you . 4 How like a golden dreame . 5 When pale famine . 6 O poore distracted world . 7 FINIS .