%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> An Epitaph vpon the deth of kyng Edward University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1558-1558 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 10/18/2018 36292

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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

S91423 ADewe pleasure / Gone is our treasure Society of Antiquaries of London - Broadsides Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 34 An Epitaph vpon the deth of kyng Edward An Epitaph upon the death of king Edward Printer John Charlewod / and John Tysdale 1558-1558

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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 10/18/2018 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America children death royalty Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 10/18/2018 3:04:23 PM XBallad Sintura, Maria Created XML Version of Ballad 10/18/2018 3:04:23 PM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/18/2018 3:04:23 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/18/2018 3:04:23 PM Transcriptionist Two Raychawdhuri, Anita Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/18/2018 3:04:23 PM Transcriptionist One Messner, Milena Transcription of ballad manuscript 8/27/2018 Checker Minh Hua Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 8/23/2017 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 12/13/2017 Checker Kristen McCants Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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ADewe pleasure Gone is our treasure Morning mai be our mirth. For Edward our king That rose did spring Is baded and lyeth in earth. Therfore morne we may. Both night and day And in hart we may be ful sad: Sence Brute came in Or at any time sence The like treasure we never had But death with his darte Hath pearced the harte Of that Prince moste excellent: The childe newborne May lament and morne And for the death of him repent Gone is our joy. Our sport and our play Our comfort is turned to care. To Englandes great cost This jewell we have lost, That with al christendom might compare Of so noble a birth, The godliest in earth. Our true kinge and eyre by right: Edwarde by name Borne of Queene Jane And sonne to kinge Henry the eyght At the age of sixtene yeres As by the Cronicles aperes, In the seventh yere of his raigne God toke him away, Our comfort and joy, To Englandes greate dolour and payne In his tender age, So grave and so sage So well learned and wittie: And now that swete flower Hath builded his bower In the earth the more is the pitie. The whole losse and lacke, Is to Englande a wracke, All faythfull hartes may morne: To se that swete childe. So meke and so milde So soone subdued to wormes
Out of Grenewiche he is gone, And lieth under a stone, That loveth both house and parke: Thou shalt see him no more That set by thee suche store For death hath pearced his hart. Gone is our king, That woulde runne at the ringe, And often times ryde on black heath. Ye noble men of chevalry, And ye men of artilerie May all lament his death. That swete childe is deade, And lapped in leade And in Westminster lyeth full colde All hartes may rewe That ever they him knew Or that swete childe did beholde. Farewell Diamonde deare, Farewell Christall cleare, Farewell the flower of chevalry The Lorde hath taken him And for his peoples sinne A just plage for our iniquitie. But now ye noble peeres Marke well your yeares For you do not know your day: And this you may be bolde, Both yonge and olde You shall die and hence away: And for our royall kinge The noblest livinge, No longer with us may tarie: But his soule we do commende, Unto the Lordes hande, Who preserve our noble Quene Mary. Longe with us to endure, With myrth joy and pleasure, To rule her realme a right: All her enemies to withstande By sea and by lande, Lorde preserve her both day and nighte. God save the Kinge and the Queene.
Imprinted at London in Holburne nere to the Cundite at the signe of the Sarsins head by John Charlewod and John Tysdale.