%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> THE DOWN-FALL OF THE ARK. / OR, THE / MORNING-EXERCISE / AT AN END. 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 07/11/2021 37551

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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

R36100 AND now the Ark is falling is there ne'r / An Uzza left, of so many that dare British Library - Bagford Editor none none none none Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 3: 19 THE DOWN-FALL OF THE ARK. / OR, THE / MORNING-EXERCISE / AT AN END. THE DOWNFALL OF THE ARK. OR, THE MORNING EXERCISE AT AN END. ?-?

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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 7/11/2021 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 7/11/2021 7:48:10 AM XBallad Henderson, Olivia Created XML Version of Ballad 7/11/2021 7:48:10 AM Transcription Supervisor McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/11/2021 7:48:10 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/11/2021 7:48:10 AM Transcriptionist Two Stark, Nicole Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/11/2021 7:48:10 AM Transcriptionist One Pettersson Peeker, Aili Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/10/2019 Bibliographer Kristen McCants Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">THE DOWN-FALL OF THE ARK.</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">OR, THE</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">MORNING-EXERCISE</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">AT AN END.</hi></seg>
AND now the Ark is falling is there ne'r An Uzza left, of so many that dare Lend an obsequious hand, or hath of late The London Clergy met with Elys Fate? Where is the Dapper Hero? where is he That danc'd before the Ark so merrily But tother day, or doth he not resent The Ark, that did defend the Covenant? Say are the Presbyterian Champions fled? Is sturdy Vines, and thundering Marshall dead? Or do they now desert their Cause, or be They (with Cornelius and his Company) Cashier'd, exploded, and disbanded all? What ne'r a Rendesvouz Provincial? Go knock at Sion Colledge, ask for Mun, See what's become of Good old Simeon, And weeping Jeremy, than search the Signs For Spurstow, Jackson, and the Club Divines, Tell'em the Ark is falling, and will be 'Thout their Assistance lost eternally. Time was my Masters you could draw a sword, Beat Drums, sound Trumpets, and then fall abord The Enemy, mount the next Pulpit thence, Curse Meros for his sloth and negligence, Stand stifly to the Cause, never give o'er, Witnesse your Brother Ash at Marsenmore. Time was when you could fight with lips & hands, Could turn your Classes into Trained Bands, Thence, go a trouping to the neighbouring Towns, For swords and gantlets, barter Scarfes and Gowns, Court places of Command, swop brass for steel, Make Robbin leave his Plow and Jug her wheel, Ferret out of their holes each Mothers son On the strict pennance of damnation; But now the Ark is falling, now the vile And sordid Rabel threaten to dispoil Her of each sacred Gem and ornament, The Rod for Aaron and the Covenant; The pot of Money, and the golden Rings, The Bowls, the Spoons, the Lamps and other things She justly claims as hers, and only be The Monuments of pristine Charity; Now that the swearing and debauched spark Vow's that He'l make a Dagon of the Ark, Hew it to pieces, not a shred or bit, Nor the least Attome shall remain of it; But every fragment of it shall be thrown Into the deep gulf of Oblivion; How can you hold your peace and not expresse A Cruelty great as the Wickednesse? Methinks I hear the Eccho of your Cry, O use the Ark not so inhumanely! What fault, what fact, what mischief hath it done, 'Twas never friend to superstition, Or sacriledge, though some ally'd to Hell Avouch the Ark rose as the Temple fell? Saw but you how the scoffing multitude Deride the Ark, in what a scurvy rude
Manner they treat the Exercise, you could Not possibly be silent though you would. Saith one, (and than he smiles) it was my Fate To meet the Ark last week at Cripplegate; Then 'twent upon its last legs, tother day 'Twas bury'd at Sepulchres others say, It had been so indeed a third Replies, But that some did deny it Obsequies And Sepulture, deeming it fitter that It should be brought forth to the City gate There to expire its last, and die, for so Notorious Malefactors use to doe. A fourth will break a jest, he therefore cries Pish 'twas Tradiskins Ark of Novelties! A fist steps in and swear's that it was one Of the grand seedplots of Rebellion, The Trojan Horse out of whose fatal side Cohorts of armed Men did lately slide, That did molest, indanger, and annoy The Brittish Kingdoms, and our English Troy. Good Lord how many men have left their wives Their pretty babies, ventured their lives! Taught by the Ark that they must both dispense With Life and Liberty for Conscience And purity, I can remember wel The Ark was than the London Oracle. How have I seen the hasty Prentise fling His Apron off, the Brewer leave his sling; The Shoemaker his All, his wife and friend Forsake his Last perhaps to find his End; Weavers their Shuttles break, the Dyers vow They'l trade in none but scarlet colours now; The Merchant pisheth at such civil strife, Scorns now a lesser Venture than his Life, All sorts and ranks of men wil now begon, Each doth desert his Occupation. Thus was our Ark for the first seven years Not carried upon staves, but swords and spears. In comes the last, but more ingeniously, Now that the waters are asswag'd saith he, Now that the hills and mountains gin to peep Out of the bosome of the silent deep, And shew themselves, now that the Royal Dove Hath brought an Olive branch of peace and Love, Vow's that he wil have every petty crime And injury drown'd in the sea of Time, O Let us all (from first and last conclude (In token of our joy and gratitude,) To split the Ark to pieces, may it ne'r stand A Monument of Gods revenging hand, And our Offences, or if'ts worth our pains, Let us build Altars out of its remains, Where with devotion and solemnities, Offer we Loyal hearts in sacrifice!
London, Printed 1661.