%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> ON THE / DEATH / OF HIS GRACE / The Duke of ALBEMARLE. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1670-1670 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/22/2014 33061

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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

R226710 WHO wou'd on Greatness, or on Worth rely, / When Hero's this like common men must die? Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 355 ON THE / DEATH / OF HIS GRACE / The Duke of ALBEMARLE. ON THE DEATH OF HIS GRACE The Duke of ALBEMARLE. ON THE DEATH OF HIS GRACE The Duke of ALBEMARLE. 1670-1670

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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 6/22/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America country/ nation death military/ war nobility/ court Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/22/2014 1:47:39 PM XBallad Chow, Jeremy Created XML Version of Ballad 6/22/2014 1:47:39 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/22/2014 1:47:39 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/22/2014 1:47:39 PM Transcriptionist Two Pedersen, Emily Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/22/2014 1:47:39 PM Transcriptionist One Ortiz Mazariegos, Jennifer Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/17/2013 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 4/18/2014 Checker Charlotte Becker 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"><hi rend="italic">ON THE</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">DEATH</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">OF HIS GRACE</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Duke of ALBEMARLE.</hi></seg>
WHO wou'd on Greatness, or on Worth rely, When Hero's thus like common men must die? Cou'd Virtue, Merit, or cou'd Valour save Deserving Men, from the Impartial Grave; None surely cou'd with so much Justice be Secur'd from Fate, Great Albemarle, as Thee; Whose mighty Actions to the World has shown, 'Tis more to merit, than usurp a Crown; When gen'rously You did refuse and scorn That usurp'd Titles shou'd Your Name adorn, Esteeming it a far more glorious thing For to Restore, than be Your Self a King. Those Baits of Pow'r which Empire did impart, Prov'd far too weak to tempt Your Loyal Heart. When Civil Broils (for our Offences hurl'd By Angry Heaven on our Sep'rate World,) Whose Rage almost Three Kingdoms had destroy'd, And wrought a Ruine none cou'd scarce avoid, Relenting Fate through pity then ordain'd You shou'd those Ills redress, our State sustain'd; And by an Act, as gen'rous as unknown, Restore Our Soveraign to his Native Throne: Nothing cou'd too, Your Prudence more declare Than the Wise Conduct of this great Affair. Through Tracts of Blood you did not Conquest trace; A Haleyon calm did all Your Triumphs grace. Those Pow'rs which oft had Royal Arms withstood, You soon dispers'd without one drop of Blood. Secure You wrought what Rebels scarcely fear'd; As Lightning kills before the Thunder's heard. Thus, through Your Noble Conduct we were blest From all the Toils of horrid War, with Rest. When not Content with what we did Enjoy, Unless Batavia's Traffick we destroy; A War's begun, which nothing did advance To either Nation, but make Potent France. Whil'st on the Sea, others for Empire fight, In Court-Enjoyments You took small delight; Nor yet Content with former Glories gain'd, Unless You now, Your Countries Cause maintain'd. Victorious York did First the Dutch subdue, Their Second Conquest Fate reserv'd for You; Who so improv'd, what was before begun, As Belgick Fleets did from our Canon run; And whilst You Gen'ral on the Ocean Ride, No Hostile Fleet did on our Seas abide. These Glorious Actions prov'd that You cou'd be, Great Albion's Patron both at Land and Sea; And with more Justice may that Title Clame, Than he who England does for Patron Name.
He only help'd a poor distressed Maid, You vanquish'd those, who did our Rights Invade. Rights, our * great Antiquary prov'd to be As Ancient Ours, as is the British-Sea. Fore-knowing Fate only ordain'd that He, Shou'd prove an Emblem, and a Type of Thee. His Fab'lous Stories scarcely known, but You A Monster worse than that great Hero slew: A Monster us'd to Act such horrid things, As it durst shed the Sacred Blood of Kings. For which brave deed, Thy Name shall ever be Ador'd and Reverenc'd by Posterity. And may Auspicious Fate still grant that You, May as their Wonder, prove their Pattern too. *Selden. But now at length Death claims, Great Sir, from You A Debt, as Mortal, was to Nature due. Nor can those Lawrels Conquering bows adorn, Protect those Hero's that are Mortal born. Too well, alas, Th' Imperious Tyrant knew, He only You, cou'd through Your Self subdue. In other Parts he vainly strove to wound Your too much Heart he only Mortal found. Thus to some Grove the aged Phenix flies, Builds its own Nest, and through its own means dies. In Bloody Fields his Malice You defi'd, And like a Gen'ral in Your Chair You di'd. An Exit Your great Courage did befit, Which seem'd to Conquer, when it did submit. Natures great Debt You willing were to pay, Yet scorn'd to do it an ignoble way. And though Y' are Dead, to future Ages fame With such Advantage shall transmit Your Name, As no Oblivion shall thy Deeds obscure, As long as Time, or History indure. Thy Sacred Reliques too shall be convey'd, And be amongst our English Monarchs laid, With all the pomp a grateful Prince can give, Whilst in his Thoughts You shall for ever live. No Mausolaeum can secure Thy rest, Like such a Lodging in His Royal brest. Protected thus within that Sacred Place, Envy, nor Time, Your Merits shall Deface. Who wou'd not then prove that Great Monarch's Friend, Who does His Kindness beyond Life extend; And to Your Mem'ry nobly strives to pay Past Obligations in a gen'rous way. Yet who like You, when Fate seem'd most to frown, Sav'd an Usurp'd, Secur'd an Envied Crown, And Three Great Kingdoms did from Ruine free, Deserves those Honors which are pay'd to Thee.
LONDON, Printed in the Year M.DC.LXX.