The funeralles of King Edward the sixt VVherin are declared the causers and causes of his death [by William Baldwin] |
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 | The funeralles of King Edward the sixt |  |
Amen quoth death, and with his percing dart,
He strake in twayne the kinges yet praying hart.
But Lord how glad the goast was of the stroke,
For when it sawe the prison gate was broke,
Fast furth it flewe, and vp to heaven went
To rest with God in ioyes that never stent:
The soulles body about the bed did sprall,
While they about it on the King did call,
Adawing him as if he wer in swound:
But all for nought, he had his deadly wound.
And when the blud, that went to helpe the hart,
Had sweltred it, and left eche other part,
Than waxt his face and handes all pale and wan,
And when the bludles partes to coole began,
To heavenward his handes and iyes he cast,
Downe fell his iawes, his hart stringes all to brast,
And still he lay, for lively heat was past.
He strake in twayne the kinges yet praying hart.
But Lord how glad the goast was of the stroke,
For when it sawe the prison gate was broke,
Fast furth it flewe, and vp to heaven went
To rest with God in ioyes that never stent:
The soulles body about the bed did sprall,
While they about it on the King did call,
Adawing him as if he wer in swound:
But all for nought, he had his deadly wound.
And when the blud, that went to helpe the hart,
Had sweltred it, and left eche other part,
Than waxt his face and handes all pale and wan,
And when the bludles partes to coole began,
To heavenward his handes and iyes he cast,
And still he lay, for lively heat was past.
Thus dyed this King, this giltles blessed childe,
In body and soule, a virgin vndefilde,
The sixtenth yere of his vnperfect age.
Wo wurth vs men, whose sins let run at rage
Have murdred him: wo wurth vs wretches all,
On whom the wreke of righteous bloud must fall.
Wo wurth our sins, for they, alas, have slayne,
The noblest prince that dyd, or eft shall rayne.
In body and soule, a virgin vndefilde,
The sixtenth yere of his vnperfect age.
Wo wurth vs men, whose sins let run at rage
Have murdred him: wo wurth vs wretches all,
On whom the wreke of righteous bloud must fall.
Wo wurth our sins, for they, alas, have slayne,
The noblest prince that dyd, or eft shall rayne.
| The funeralles of King Edward the sixt | |