%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The much-afflicted Mothers / Teares, for her drowned Daughter. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1624-1624 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 10/26/2018 36341

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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

S3851 COme, tender Mothers, see a Mothers feares; / Sinnes Palsie, shake mee; and my Floud of teares: 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. 3: 243 The much-afflicted Mothers / Teares, for her drowned Daughter. The much-afflicted Mother's Tears, for her drowned Daughter. 1624-1624 Iohn Trundle

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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 10/26/2018 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America death family religious concepts Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 10/26/2018 3:44:30 PM XBallad Raychawdhuri, Anita Created XML Version of Ballad 10/26/2018 3:44:30 PM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/26/2018 3:44:30 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/26/2018 3:44:30 PM Transcriptionist Two Stark, Nicole Transcription of ballad manuscript 10/26/2018 3:44:30 PM Transcriptionist One Messner, Milena Transcription of ballad manuscript 9/7/2017 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 8/21/2018 Checker Minh Hua Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
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COme, tender Mothers, see a Mothers feares; Sinnes Palsie, shake mee; and my Floud of teares: Come heare my sighs, and penitentiall prayers; Deaths shade's my Mansion; my Companion, Cares. O! how much worse than any savage Beare, She-Wolfe, or Tygresse, must I now appeare? Since they, their young, with such respect doe cherish; And mine, by Mee, doth thus untimely perish. For, wretched I, (when fruitlesse cares tooke place; And cloudy passion, hid the light of grace) More fell than these are, my poore Childe forgot, And child-bed pangs, (the Mothers painefull lot) Forgot thou wert my Flesh; Forgot how oft I kist thee; blest thee; and, to slumbers soft, Within these armes have lull'd thee: And againe, How oft my pitties have bemon'd thy paine. Forgot how oft upon my tender brest Thou hast bin fed; how often taine thy rest; Forgot a Mothers nine yeeres cares and cost; All which, with thee, are in thy murder, lost. All these forgot. When wee our GOD forget, Then Satan comes, and in our Eye doth set His poysoned baites; which, 'cause I not withstood, Mine Eye drops Water; But, my Heart drops Blood. For Death (alas) I care not: Could I summe As many lives, as I have houres to come; I'de spend them all; And, with a smiling Face, Meet all those Deaths, to give thy sweet life, place. But wishes (deare CLEMENTIA) are but vaine; I drown'd thee (little Angell;) And againe Should drowne thy Body, (wer't before my feares,) In this New River, of mine owne warme Teares. These Teares, that ever from mine Eyes shall flow; This lavish Floud of penitentiall woe; This Wine of Angels, so the Fathers call Those drops Repentance lets so freely fall. With Paul, with Peter, David; and that sonne, The maze of Ryot, and hot lust did runne; And with the Woman, washt her Saviours feet, Let my poore Soule that balme of mercy meet. Thou cam'st not (Lord) the just and pure to call, But impure sinners; Nor do'st joy their fall, But their conversion: And, when Grace doth bring One soule to thee, all the blest Angels sing. I know, 'tis late (O Lord) yet know thy power; Know that's as much, in mans departing houre, As in a rathe beginning; for my griefe Has learnt the Lesson of that penitent Thiefe. Like his, let mine, thy Mercies-Seat ascend, And purchase there, 'gainst this sad life shall end: That life, to death, shall never more give way; So, while I weepe, helpe my poore Soule to pray.
FINIS. Anne Musket, the wofull MOTHER for her lost Daughter. Printed at London for John Trundle.