%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> An ELEGY / On that Worthy Patriot of his Country, / Sir Roger L'Estrange. / De mortuis nil nisi Verum. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1705-1705 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/21/2014 33057

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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

D'Ye hear the News! Sir Roger he's retir'd, / Ungrateful Nature with the Fates con-spir'd, Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 351 An ELEGY / On that Worthy Patriot of his Country, / Sir Roger L'Estrange. / De mortuis nil nisi Verum. An ELEGY On that Worthy Patriot of his Country, Sir Roger L’Estrange. De mortuis nil nisi Verum. An ELEGY On that Worthy Patriot of his Country, Sir Roger L'Estrange. De mortuis nil nisi Verum. 1705-1705

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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 religious groups vice Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/21/2014 3:03:03 PM XBallad Chow, Jeremy Created XML Version of Ballad 6/21/2014 3:03:03 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/21/2014 3:03:03 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/21/2014 3:03:03 PM Transcriptionist Two Pedersen, Emily Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/21/2014 3:03:03 PM Transcriptionist One Ortiz Mazariegos, Jennifer Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/17/2013 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 4/17/2014 Checker Charlotte Becker Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/19/2012 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/29/2012 Checker Olivia Miller Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/29/2012 Checker Olivia Miller Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/22/2012 Bibliographer Olivia Miller Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left">An ELEGY</seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">On that Worthy Patriot of his Country,</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Sir Roger L'Estrange.</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">De mortuis nil nisi Verum.</hi></hi></seg>
D'Ye hear the News! Sir Roger he's retir'd, Ungrateful Nature with the Fates con-spir'd, Grave Time at a full Age convey'd him hence, Disarm'd of Teeth, of Honesty and Sense. He serv'd, that wicked Court whose Slave he was, And thro his Noddle did their Eccho pass; What cursed Projects Romes Priests set on foot, Tho ne'er so base, industrious Hodge would do't. All that he did by order of that State, Was to inflame the Partys,' Feuds create; Good Men abus'd by him, expos'd in Print, The proper Product of that Government. Riots contriv'd for Ruin (said to be) By those base Men, Jen---s, Mea---n, and he: His mighty Conduct was to steer the Cause At the Expence and Ruin of our Laws. By Knaves encourag'd to't without Controul, As he was bid, he'd bite, and snap and groul. Some Dogs when they grow mad, do range the Street, And bite, and tear and snap at all they meet, Without respect, and no Command obey, Unless from such-like Dogs as mad as they. 'Tis wisely thought, when Mankind thus are vext, To beat their Teeth out first, their Brains out next: But this State Blood-hound, made a Currish Knight, Worry'd us all two Churches to unite. He steer'd the Kingdom, and did prop the State, Destroy'd the Plot, and did Romes Foes defeat; Set Mankind by the Ears, sad Truths to tell, His Pow'r from Court, his Pen and Ink from Hell. Touzer the Great, and at his Tail a Broom, A true and busy Slave to Court and Rome. The City could not chuse their Shrieves and Mayor, But to assist the Cause he must be there; To overawe those that the Court detest, And chuse base Men that might enslave the rest; Destroy'd our Order, and gave Laws the Lie, And all that would not serve their Turn, laid by; Like Sodoms Sins, did Nature's Laws deface, And set up unknown Monsters in their place, Traytors and Papists, Torys and Fools, then said To be the Genteel Fellows fit to lead. What Blood was spilt, what Men by Jails undone, What base Designs, and not by him helpt on! Thus did the Knave, whom Fools did all obey, The Laws, the Nation, State and Church betray. But is he gone, and left the Jacks forlorn? Their Irish Understandings ought to mourn: Summon the Tribe, call in the sev'ral Clans, From their Abode at Symonss and Sams, Non-Jurors, Papists, all the trayt'rous Crew, Torys, French Pensioners, and God knows who. Tell his Associate too how things go on, Bid him grow honest, bring the Bond and come. Dear Brother Bob, top of the Northern Clan, That Villain Priest, ne'er true to God nor Man.
Let Cleveland change his Curse, and God his Doom, And let him wander all his days to come! Let him a Curse to the whole World become, Till Mankind all agree to whip him home! Let all his Plots and trayt'rous Projects fail, If not at Tyburn, let 'em end in Jail! And since the State will not correct the Elf, Let him go home, despair and hang himself! And is he gone! that Moloch Man of War, Without an Earthquake, Whale, or Blazing Star; Let us with pickl'd Tears his Hearse adorn, And not in Black, but deep dy'd-Claret mourn: And still to shew the Blockheads are his own, Let's have a loud Huzza with each Go-down. And as at Sams the Parsons did appear, Let those Non-Jurors do a little here; Give this State-Firebrand their Service free, (That unknown Virtue) the Priests Charity. Passive and Loyal, that black canting Crowd Laid by their Books, and to this Idol bow'd; Baptiz'd in Claret, bid their Skill adieu, At this Gamaliels Feet did learn a-new; And from the Pulpit by the Brazenhead, Was his Sedition and his Notions spread Among th' unthinking Herd, who gazing stand To hear old Roger at the second hand: From this State-Tool we must our Faith receive, Who tells long Tales of what he don't believe. To think he's call'd of God, is all a Jest, The Bishop's Tongue and Fingers make the Priest; He learns his Trade, arm'd with a golden Hope, And when he has his Warrant, wants a Shop. Thus Mankind's Passion's grown to a Disease, For all their Cant of Grace and Consciences; Lewd to the last degree, but yet obey, And don't you see their Priests as lewd as they? And when they've gone to Church for many a year, They're far more wicked than at first they were: Their kind of Zeal, join'd with their holy Fits, Make cunning Christians, but rank Hypocrites. So our dear Brother, as he liv'd he dy'd, And on his Masters saving Faith rely'd; To justify his Crimes more can't be said, But that the Knight was poor and writ for Bread. His EPITAPH. HERE's honest Hodge by Death is laid aside, The Nations Curse, and the young Parsons Guide; The Devil a word he says, he's now grown dumb, But when he riseth have at Forty One. No more Sham-plots from him, nor Popish Shams, Nor Crape-gown Worshippers adore at Sams. Nor can his Conduct now the Cause restore, Nor ever reconcile the Churches more; And if thou art of his curst Crimes a Hater, Sit down and Sh------ upon his Observator; And on this comprehensive Stone let's write, Here lies a Fidler, Justice, Knave and Knight.
LONDON; Printed in the Year, M.DCC.V.