%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> Francis Winter's last Farewel: / OR, THE / White-Fryers Captain's Confession and Lamentation, / Just before his Execution at the Gate of White-Fryers, on the 17th / of this instant May, 1693. 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 07/08/2021 37413

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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

R186753 1 Russel's Farewel Russell's Farewell Russel's Farewell BEhold these sorrows now this day, / you that are standers by, I nothing see but Grief. [with variation] British Library - Bagford Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 2: 69 Francis Winter's last Farewel: / OR, THE / White-Fryers Captain's Confession and Lamentation, / Just before his Execution at the Gate of White-Fryers, on the 17th / of this instant May, 1693. Francis Winter's last Farewell: OR, THE White Friar's Captain's Confession and Lamentation, Just before his Execution at the Gate of White Friar's, on the 17th of this instant May, 1693. ?-? J. Deacon

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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 7/8/2021 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 7/8/2021 10:47:01 AM XBallad Henderson, Olivia Created XML Version of Ballad 7/8/2021 10:47:01 AM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/8/2021 10:47:01 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Stark, Nicole Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/8/2021 10:47:01 AM Transcriptionist Two McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/8/2021 10:47:01 AM Transcriptionist One Al halabieh, Deena Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/28/2019 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
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BEhold these sorrows now this day, you that are standers by, All former joys are fleed away, now I am brought to die: My heart is fill'd with fear and dread, for here is no relief, Since I a sinful life have led, I nothing see but Grief. I spent my days with roaring boys, and litle thought of death, But where are all those fading joys, now I must lose my breath: Now they are clearly fleed from me, and there is no relief, Alas! alas! I nothing see, but bitter clouds of Grief. Alas! the follies of my youth comes fresh into my mind; Had I been guided by the truth, then had I left behind A better name then now I shall, alas! here's no relief; I by the hand of justice fall, and nothing see but Grief. Bold Francis Winter is my name, who seem'd to bear the sway, But now, alas! in open shame I do appear this day: My former joys have taken flight, for here is no relief; Grim Death appears this day in sight, which fills my soul with Grief. I must acknowledge this is true, that when in arms we rose, I was the captain of that crew which did the sheriff oppose: 'Tis said a man was slain by me, therefore here's no relief, For I must executed be, and nothing see but Grief. Whether I kill'd the man or no, I cannot justly say; But since in arms we acted so, we seem'd to disobey The city's lawful magistrate; therefore here's no relief, And I must here submit to fate, I nothing see but Grief.
I spent my days with roaring boys, and little thought of death, But where are all those fading joys, now I must loose my breath: Now they are clearly fleed from me, and there is no relief, Alas! alas! I nothing see; but bitter clouds of Grief. It was against the wholesome laws of this my native land, To rise in arms, and be the cause of that rebellious band, Who broke through law and justice too, of which I was the chief, For which I bid the world adieu; I nothing see but Grief. Let my misfortunes teach the rest obedience to the laws; Let them not magistrates molest, for that has been the cause Of shedding blood, for which I die, I being there the chief; The very minute's drawing nigh, I nothing see but Grief. I oftentimes have wish'd, in vain, that I had not been there; Nay, were it to be done again, I shou'd that deed forbear, And not myself with such inthral, tho' then I was the chief; But what is past I can't recal, I nothing see but Grief. The thousands that are standing by, alas! you little know My inward grief and misery, and what I undergo: O let me have your prayers this day, my sorrows here condole: I now have nothing more to say, but, Lord receive my soul.
Printed for J. Deacon, at the Sign of the Angel in Guiltspur-street.