%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> Huberts Ghost. / Or, an excellent Spiritual Dialogue between him and Death a little before his / departure, very comfortable for all Christians to hear or read, a Ditty well / known in the North. 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 07/17/2021 37385

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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

R234258 1 Basses Carrier Basse's Career; Hunter's Career Basses Career Hubert. WHat Serpent is this / That at me doth hiss British Library - Bagford Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 2: 45 2: 46 Huberts Ghost. / Or, an excellent Spiritual Dialogue between him and Death a little before his / departure, very comfortable for all Christians to hear or read, a Ditty well / known in the North. Hubert's Ghost. Or, an excellent Spiritual Dialogue between him and Death a little before his departure, very comfortable for all Christians to hear or read, a Ditty well known in the North. ?-? I. wright, I. Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T. Passinger

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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 7/17/2021 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 7/17/2021 5:16:59 PM XBallad Fulmer, Elias Created XML Version of Ballad 7/17/2021 5:16:59 PM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/17/2021 5:16:59 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Stark, Nicole Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/17/2021 5:16:59 PM Transcriptionist Two McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/17/2021 5:16:59 PM Transcriptionist One Raychawdhuri, Anita Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/20/2019 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">Huberts</hi></hi> <hi rend="italic">Ghost.</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Or, an excellent Spiritual Dialogue between him and Death a little before his</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">departure, very comfortable for all Christians to hear or read, a Ditty well</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">known in the North. The Tune is,</hi> Basses Carrier.</seg>
Hubert. WHat Serpent is this That at me doth hiss And about my bed thus hath been? whose Beauty is gone. all but bare skin and bone, Such Anatomy seldome was seen; tell me what thou art, e're hence thou depart, Thy power, thy vigour and force, Death. Death is my name, From Eden I came, And I purpose to make the a corse Hub. If thou be death, There's no joy in my breath Thou art welcome unto my dear, I see no such thing, that thou canst have a sting, To affright any creature here; For nature doth show, That my life I do owe, Which once apprehended must be; a bubble and a blast, Which long time cannot last, Then thy Dart is no danger to me.
Death. Yet man for thy sin, Thou hast lived long in, Thy flesh will be fearful to dye; Knowing that so soon, To account thou shalt come, For all thy offences so high. Then call in thy friends, For thy time it now ends, Thy will in plain writing indorce, Nay tremble not so, From the World thou must go. For I will quickly make thee a corse Hub. Grim Hag of hell, Thy errand soon tell, As seemeth thee best to do: Thou art fearful to fools, That start at thy tools, Being loath from this World to go But come ne'r so soon, At night, morning, or noon, Long time I have waited for thee: And when I shall hear Thee hum in mine ear, Thy dart is no danger to me.
Death. HEzekiah with tears, a term of fifteen years And no longer from me was he fenc'd, By my Master divine, Yet at the end of time, His suit was unto me commenc'd. But now thou must hence, there can be no pretence, Thou must leave earthly pleasures perforce Then tremble not so, From the World thou must go, For I come to make thee a corse. Hub. This life not one minute, Seek I to live in it, My time is quite spent and gone: In hast I have spent, My Span that was lent, For reprieve I petition to none, If my merciful God, Will with-hold his sharp Rod, And not my offences now see, Then welcome sweet death, Sith thou comest for my breath, For thy dart is no danger to me. Death. Alas filthy Wreth, What sighs should'st thou fetch what groans from a pentitent heart? If thou well examine, What office I am in And how soon with me thou must part, If thou here do neglect, On thy sins to reflect, Afterwards thou shalt find no re-morse Then while time doth last, Think upon thy life past, For I come to make the a corse. Hub. O death thou sayest right, Man is a sad plight, That makes not his reckoning here For after thy dart, Hath once pierc'd the heart, There in vain will Peccavi appear; Therefore I resolv'd, E're my life dissolv'd, If that I so much favour'd may be, My conscience to scan, Like a penitent man, Then sweet death thou art welcome to me.
Death In thy youthful time, When thou wast in thy prime, Thou reject'st my Mistriss sweet grace And now at the last, When thy darts almost past, Thou dost think of thy desolate case: as his mercy is much, So his judgment is such, That unless thou adjoyn all thy force, To unfeigned penitence, For thy former offence, To thy woe I shall make thee a corse. Hub. Away frightful Ghost, a terrour to most, Why seek'st thou my mind to dismay I hope what is done, That the true Virgins Son, with his blood hath clean washed away He will at my lives loss Nayl my sin to his cross, That no more they remembred shall be And by his wounds five, my sick soul shall revive, Then death thou art welcome to me. Death. O Man then prepare, Thyself with great care, Thou hast no long time here to stay, Thy Glass now doth stand, At the last corn of Sand, And therefore it's high time to pray, My message is done, And I needs must be gone, Against me 'tis in vain to use force, Here I waiting stand, With my dart in my hand, I am ready to make thee a corse. Hub. Then farewel frail earth, For in my second birth, All hopes of my heart doth abide, In him is my trust Who from the earth and dust, On the cross suffer'd pains till he dy'd Welcome death my good friend, Thou art welcome to make an end Of my trouble, and set my Soul free, Thy office perform, For my life I will arm, That thy dart shall no hurt bring to me
Printed for J. wright, J. Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T. Passinger.