%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> THE / ULTIMUM VALE, / OR, / Last Farewell / Of THOMAS Earle of Strafford. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/27/2021 36567

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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

R220460 FArewell vain world, farewell my fleeting joyes, / Whose best of musick's but an Echo's noyse, British Library - Luttrell Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 2: 210 THE / ULTIMUM VALE, / OR, / Last Farewell / Of THOMAS Earle of Strafford. THE ULTIMUM VALE, OR, Last Farewell Of THOMAS Earl of Strafford. ?-?

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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 6/27/2021 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/27/2021 3:04:13 PM XBallad Fulmer, Elias Created XML Version of Ballad 6/27/2021 3:04:13 PM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/27/2021 3:04:13 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/27/2021 3:04:13 PM Transcriptionist Two Pettersson Peeker, Aili Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/27/2021 3:04:13 PM Transcriptionist One Raychawdhuri, Anita Transcription of ballad manuscript 2/25/2019 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">THE</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">ULTIMUM VALE,</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">OR,</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Last Farewell</hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Of THOMAS Earle of Strafford.</hi></seg> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">Written by himselfe a little before his death.</hi></hi></seg>
(I.) FArewell vain world, farewell my fleeting joyes, Whose best of musick's but an Echo's noyse, And all the lustre of your painted light But as dull dreams and fantoms of the night. Empty your pleasures too, nor can they last Longer than aire-puft bubbles, or a blast. (II.) Farewell you fading Honours, which doe blinde, By your false mists the sharpest sighted minde, And having rais'd him to his height of cares, Tumble him headlong down the slippery staires. How shall I praise or prise your glorious ills, Which are but poyson put in golden pills. (III.) Farewell my blustring titles, ne're come backe, You've sweld my sailes until my mastings cracke, And made my Vessel reele against the rocks Of gaping ruine, whose destructive knocks Hath helplesse left me, sinking, here to lie: The cause? I rais'd my main-top sailes too high. (IV.) Farewell Ambition (since we needs must part) Thou great Inchantresse of mans greater heart: Thy guilded titles that do seeme so faire, Are but like meteors hanging in the aire: In whose false splendor, falling thence, is found No worth, but water-like shed on the ground. (V.) Farewell the Glory, from which all the rest Derive the Sweets for which men stile them blest,
That from one root in severall branches spring, I meane, The favor of my gratious King: This too, hath led my wandring soule astray, Like Ignis Fatuis, from its righter way. (VI.) Farewell my Friends, I need not bid you go; When Fortune flies, you freely will doe so. Worship the rising, not the setting Sun. The House is falling; Vermin quickly run. Bees do from off the wither'd floures make haste; The reason is, Because th'ave lost their taste. (VII.) Farewell the treasures of my tempting store, Which of all Idols, least I did adore: Haste to some Ideots Coffer, and hee'l bee Thy slave, as I have master been to thee. Heaven knowes, of all the Suiters that I had, I least priz'd thee, as counting none so bad. (VIII.) Last; To my Foes farewell: for such I have, Who do in multitudes wait for my grave; 'Mongst which I can't beleeve but some there be That hate my vices only, and not me: Let them passe o're my fame without a blot, And let the Vulgar scratch they know not what. (IX.) Let them besmeare me by the chattering notes (Poor silly hearts) which echo through their throtes; I'le passe it o're, and pray (with patience too) Father forgive; they know not what they do. Yet O: I could have woo'd my treacherous Fate T'have let me died without the publique hate.
London printed, 1641.