%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> AN / ELEGIE / ON THE DEATH OF / GEORGE MONCK, / General of His MAJESTY's Forces, / Duke of ALBEMARLE, &c. / (As it was Presented to the Late, and Most Deserving DUKE His SON.) / Having appear'd about the same time an Extraordinary STARR. Freeman, Thornburgh 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 02/29/2016 34603

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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

R213328 CAn thy Starrs, Heaven! think thy MONCK e're meant / To seek for blazing from thy Firmament? Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 1 AN / ELEGIE / ON THE DEATH OF / GEORGE MONCK, / General of His MAJESTY's Forces, / Duke of ALBEMARLE, &c. / (As it was Presented to the Late, and Most Deserving DUKE His SON.) / Having appear'd about the same time an Extraordinary STARR. AN ELEGIE ON THE DEATH OF GEORGE MONCK, General of His MAJESTY’s Forces, Duke of ALBEMARLE, etc. (As it was Presented to the Late, and Most Deserving DUKE His SON.) Having appear’d about the same time an Extraordinary STARR. AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF GEORGE MONCK, General of His MAJESTY's Forces, Duke of ALBEMARLE, etc. (As it was Presented to the Late, and Most Deserving DUKE His SON.) Having appeared about the same time an Extraordinary STAR. Freeman, Thornburgh Printer Thomas Ratcliffe, and Thomas Daniel 1670-1670 Thomas Ratcliffe, and Thomas Daniel

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<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">AN</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">ELEGIE</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">ON THE DEATH OF</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">GEORGE MONCK,</hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">General of His MAJESTY's Forces,</hi></seg> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Duke of ALBEMARLE, etc.</hi></seg> <seg n="7" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">(<hi rend="bold">As it was Presented to the Late, and Most Deserving</hi> DUKE <hi rend="bold">His</hi> SON.)</hi></seg> <seg n="8" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Having appear'd about the same time an Extraordinary <hi rend="bold">STARR.</hi></hi></seg>
CAn thy Starrs, Heaven! think thy MONCK e're meant To seek for blazing from thy Firmament? Ambitious Snuffs! He needs not them to tell He Great was, his own Mettal sounds that knell. Ah long-tayl'd walking Wisps above! ye show But by your too much Moon, all's Night below: That Flame I doubted was the Rump on fire (Some Jubile blaze) in th'Air, t'light Him higher: When Heavens Christmass Candle's head was light. Much did I fear Great GEORGE's onely height Could reach such rage; I knew too well hee'd fall, When Gods turn'd Link-boys for some Funerall. Dire Death! before thou ne're could'st tyrannize, With Him lies more than in the Earth 'gain lies: England the worst is past, the Best is gone; Hereafter thou wilt scarce know how to moan: The Plague's a scab to this, his Pile brings more Ruine to th' City, than the Fire before. Brave Metempsucosis of GEORGE long past, Thou but ascend'st to tell us what wee'd lost Before thy Birth again; and that no more Such Gallantry of Soul has CHARLES in store: We need not dread more lightning in our Skyes, Jove can but All have for a Sacrifice. Thrice constant Spirit, thou'rt too Loyal grown; (Since Caesars loss but Thou with joy could'st crown) All-pale and dying Him why leav'dst? did'st fear Rebellion once more in the Hemisphere? No fire-nos'd Vulcan do's in Heaven sit, Thou did'st not hope a Traytor there to meet: A lower Orb for their High-treason's meant, Which is as black as are the Harb'rers in't. Farewell our Magazeen, we're robb'd; in vain May plund'red Troups now cry, Call GEORGE again. Hell upon Earth, or Hell upon Hell! see All's double-grim! there's not a Century But's dy'd again; their former Mourning may But be th' Lyning to another today: All Black-Guards now are! Lo! they ne're were bred To fly their Colours, though their General's dead.
Dead; (as I live) yet live in spite of Fate He surely must, that could our King create: Gods cannot die, and He could be no less, Who was th' Guardian to such Sacredness. Dead! that I were but cloyst'red in his Tomb, That he had liv'd, and I enjoy'd his Home: Else, since so Great and Good can have a Pit, I wish I (Russian-like) had leapt into't: Thus, golden Oare (like th' Wise man's Chymick stone) Mixt with my common Sand, had made Us one: Then (whil'st below Pikes dragging were, Guns dumb, With Flags as dismal as their Kettle Drum,) How boldly I should have had fir'd my pass, 'Twixt Nol and th' Prince of Air to happiness? Compendious discipline to worth, wee've seen In Him more must'red than the World again: He was our Health, to Him our Lives we owe; Since Fate quell'd Him, We do desire to bow: Oh quick some Knife! I'le to his Grave and trye My transfus'd blood; if that serve not, I'le die: Or bring my Gansa's, I'le to th' Moon; from thence To Him in th' Orb Emperial I'le advance: These if deny'd, I'le Mars invoke, who shall, With all the Law of Arms, revenge his Fall. Ye Destinies, now cut your own threads, dare Ye let me live and strike an Officer? He who before still (like the Gorgons head) Though's Foes not Stone he made, he made as dead: Base coward Atropos, me thinks I see Thee pale, and proud, yet blush at Victory: As if some mighty Conquest thou had'st won, But that again thou cam'st not fairly on: Can MONCK and truest Valour fail, can He Be vanquish'd by a poor Anatomy? Ha! then I fear our Arms must too lye dead, Nor do I wonder since they've lost their Head: Who having first his King set on his Throne, Took now (too soon) possession of his Own.
Thornburgh Freeman. LONDON, Printed by and for Thomas Ratcliffe, and Thomas Daniel, and are to be sold at their House in New-street, betwixt Shooe-lane and Fetter-lane. 1670.