%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> Shaftsbury's Farewel: / OR, / The New Association. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/21/2014 33029

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R25620 GReatest of Men, yet Mans least Friend, farewel; / Wits Mightiest, but most Useless, Miracle; Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 467 1: 467 Shaftsbury's Farewel: / OR, / The New Association. Shaftsbury’s Farewel: OR, The New Association. Shaftesbury's Farewell: OR, The New Association. Printer Walter Davis ?-?

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family Featured folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 6/21/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America death politics/ government Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/21/2014 8:01:29 PM XBallad Cortes, Phillip Created XML Version of Ballad 6/21/2014 8:01:29 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/21/2014 8:01:29 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Forbes, Jonathan Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/21/2014 8:01:29 PM Transcriptionist Two Rendt, Ariel Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/21/2014 8:01:29 PM Transcriptionist One Mendoza, Aaron Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/12/2013 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 4/12/2013 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 12/19/2012 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/24/2012 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/29/2012 Checker Elizabeth Aguilar Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/29/2012 Checker Elizabeth Aguilar Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/25/2012 Checker Elizabeth Aguilar Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/22/2012 Bibliographer Elizabeth Aguilar Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 10/22/2012 Checker Elizabeth Aguilar Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/22/2012 Checker Elizabeth Aguilar Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/22/2012 Checker Elizabeth Aguilar Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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GReatest of Men, yet Mans least Friend, farewel; Wits Mightiest, but most Useless, Miracle; Where Nature all her Richest Treasures stor'd, To make one vast unprofitable Hoard: So High as Thine no Orb of Fire cou'd rowl, The Brightest, yet the most Excentrick Soul; Whom 'midst Wealth, Honours, Fame, yet want of ease, No Pow'r could e'r oblige, no State could please; Be in thy Grave with peaceful Slumbers blest, And find Thy whole Life's only Stranger, REST. Oh, Sh------y! had thy prodigious Mind Been to Thyself, and Thy Great Master kind, Glory had wanted Lungs Thy Trump to blow, And Pyramids had been a Tomb too low. Oh that the World (Great States-man) e'r should see Nebuchadnezzars Dream fulfill'd in Thee! Whil[']st such low Paths led Thy Great Soul astray, Thy Head of Gold mov'd but on Feet of Clay. Yes, from Rebellions late Inhumane Rage, The Crimes and Chaos of that Monstrous Age, As the Old Patriarch from Sodom flew, So to Great CHARLES His Sacred Bosom Thou; But, Oh! with more than Lots Wifes fatal Fault, For which she stood in Monumental Salt. Though the Black Scene Thy hasting Foot-step flies, Thy Soul turns back, and looks with longing Eyes. Ah, Noble Peer, that the Records of Fame Should give Erostratus and Thee One Name; Great was his bold Atchievement, Greater Thine, Greater, as Kings than Shrines are more Divine; Greater, as vaster Toils it did require T' inflame Three Kingdoms, than One Temple fire, But where are all those blust'ring Storms retir'd, That roar'd so loud when Oliver expir'd? Storms that rent Oaks, and Rocks assunder broke, And at his Exequies in Thunder spoke. Was
Was there less cause, when Thy last Doom was giv'n, To waken all the Revellers of Heaven? Or did there want in Belgias humble Soil A Cedar fit to fall Thy Funeral-pile? No; Die, and Heav'n th' Expence of Thunder save, Hush'd as Thy own Designs, down to Thy Grave. So hush'd, may all the Portents of the Skie With Thee, our last great Comets Influence die: May this One Stroke our low'ring Tempests clear, And all the Firy Trigon finish here. With Thee expire the Democratick Gall; Thy Sepulchre and Lethe swallow all: Here end the Poyson of that Vip'rous Brood, And make Thy Urn like Moses wond'rous Rod; So may Our Breaches close in Thy One Grave, Till Sh-----ys last Breath Three Nations save; And dying thus, t' avert His Countreys Doom, Go with more Fame than Curtius to His Tomb. But is He dead! How! Cruel Belgia, say! Lodg'd in thy Arms, yet make so short a Stay! Ungrateful Countrey! Barbarous Holland Shoar! Cou'd the Batavian Climate do no more! Her S-------s dear Life no longer save! What? a Republick Air, and yet so quick a Grave! Oh! all ye scatter'd Sons of Titan weep, This dismal day with solemn Mournings keep; Like Israels Molten-Calf your MEDALS burn, And into Tears your Great LAETEMUR turn; Oh! wail in Dust, to think how Fates dire Frown Has thrown your dear Herculean Column down. Oh, Charon! waft thy Load of Honour o'r, And land Him safely on the Stygian Shoar: At His Approach, Fames loudest Trumpet call Cromwell, Cook, Ireton, Bradshaw, Hewson, all, From all the Courts below, each well-pleas'd Ghost, All the Republick Legions numerous Host, Swarm thick, to see your Mighty Heroe land, Crowd up the Shoar, and blacken all the Strand; And, whate'r Chance on Earth, or Pow'rs accurst, Broke all your Bonds, your Holy Leagues all burst: This Union of the SAINTS no Storm shall sever, This Last ASSOCIATION holds forever.
London, Printed, and are to be sold by Walter Davis, 1683.