%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Brides Burial. 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 07/09/2021 37472

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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

R170794 1 The Ladies Fall In Peascod Time The Lady's Fall COme mourn, come mourn with me, / you loyal Lovers all, British Library - Bagford Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 2: 120 2: 121 The Brides Burial. The Bride's Burial. ?-? W.T. 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 7/9/2021 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 7/9/2021 6:49:23 PM XBallad Henderson, Olivia Created XML Version of Ballad 7/9/2021 6:49:23 PM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/9/2021 6:49:23 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Stark, Nicole Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/9/2021 6:49:23 PM Transcriptionist Two McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/9/2021 6:49:23 PM Transcriptionist One Raychawdhuri, Anita Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/4/2019 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Brides Burial.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Tune is, The Ladies Fall.</hi></seg>
COme mourn, come mourn with me, you loyal Lovers all, Lament my losse in weeds of woe, whom griping grief doth thrall: L[i]ke to the dropping Vine. cut by the Gardners knife Even so my heart with sorrow slain, doth bleed for my sweet wife. By death that grisly Ghost, my Turtle-Dove is slain, And I am left unhappy man to spend my days in pain. Her beauty late so bright, like Roses in their prime, Is wasted like the mountains snow, by force of Phebus shine. Her fair red coloured cheeks, now pale and wan her eyes, That late did shine like Christal stars, alas their light it dies: Her pretty lilly hands, with fingers long and small, In colour like the earthly clay, yea cold and stiff withal. Then as the morning star, her golden gates had spread, And that the glistering Sun arose forth from f[air] Theis bed.
Then did my Love awake, most like a Lilly flower, And as the lovely Queen of heaven, so shone she in her bower. Attired was she then, like Flora in her pride, As fair as any of Diana's Nymphs, so lookt my loving Bride. And as fair Hellens face, gave Grecian dames the lurch, So did my deer exceed in sight, all Virgins in the Church. When he had knit the knot, of holy wedlock band, Like Alablaster joyn'd to jet, so stood we hand in hand: Then loe a chilling cold struck every vital part, And griping grief like pangs of death, seiz'd on my true loves heart. Down in a swound she fell, as cold as any stone, ike Venus picture lacking life, so was my love brought home: At length a Rosy red, throughout her comely face, As Phebus beams with watry clouds ore-covered for a space.
WHen with a grievous groan, and voice both hoarse and dry, Farewel quoth she my loving friend, for I this day must die: The messenger of God, with golden trumpet I see, With many other Angels more, which sound and call for me. Instead of musick sweet go towl my passing bell, And with sweet flowers strow my grave, that in my chamber smell. Strip off my brides array, my Cork shooes from my feet, And gentle Mother be not coy to bring my winding-sheet. My wedding dinner drest, bestow upon the poor, And on the hungry needy mam'd that craveth at the door: Instead of Virgins young my Bride-bed for to see, Go cause some curious Carpenter to make a Chest for me. My Bride-laces of silk, bestow on Maidens meet, May fitly serve when I am dead to tie my hands and feet: And thou my lover true, my husband and my friend, Let me intreat thee here to stay, untill my life doth end. Now leave to talk of love, and humbly on your knee, Direct your prayers unto God, but mourn no more for me; In love as we have liv'd, in love let us depart
And I in token of my love, do kiss thee with my heart. O stanch those bootlesse tears, thy weeping is in vain, I am not lost for we in heaven shall one day meet again. With that she turn'd aside, as one dispos'd to sleep, And like a lamb departed life, whose friends did sorely weep. Her true love seeing this, did fetch a grievous groan, As though his heart would burst in too and thus he made his moan. O dismal and unhappy day, a day of grief and care, That hath bereft the Sun so high, whose beams refresh the Air. Now woe unto the world, and all that therein dwel, O that I were with thee in heaven, for here I live in hell. And now this Lover lives a discontented life, Whose Bride was brought unto [t]he [grave] a Maiden and a Wife. A Garland fresh and fair of Lillies there was made, In sign of her Virginity, and on her Coffin laid: Six Maidens all in white, did bear her to the ground, The Bells did ring in solemn sort, and made a doleful sound. In earth they laid her then, for hungry worms a prey, So shall the fairest face alive, at length be brought to clay.
Printed for W.T. and T. Passinger.