Latine Songs With their English: and Poems. By Henry Bold ... Collected and perfected by Captain William Bold |
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SONG XXIII. |
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104
SONG XXIII.
I
I'le tell you all, both great and small,I tell you all truly,
That we have cause, and very great cause,
For to Lament and Cry,
Fy, Oh! fy, oh! fy, oh! fy!
Fy on thee Cruel Death!
For thou hast ta'ne away from us!
Our Queen Elizabeth.
II
Thou mayst have taken other folks,That better might be mist,
And have let our Queen alone,
Who lov'd no Popish Priest,
In Peace she rul'd all this Land,
Beholding unto no Man,
And did the Pope of Rome withstand,
And yet was but a Woman.
III
A Woman said I? nay that is more,Then any one can tell,
So fair she was, so chast she was,
That no one knew it well,
With that, from France came Monsier o're,
A purpose for to woe her,
Yet still she liv'd, and Dy'd a Maid,
Do what they could unto her.
106
IV
She never acted any ill thing,That made her Conscience prick her,
Nor never would submit to him,
That called is Christs Vicar,
But rather chose couragiously,
To Fight under Christs Banner
'Gainst Pope and Turk and King of Spain,
And all that durst withstand her.
V
But if that I had Argus Eyes,They were to few to weep,
For our Queen Elizabeth,
That now is fal'n a sleep,
A sleep indeed where she shall rest,
Until the day of Doom,
And then shall rise unto the shame
Of the great Pope of Rome.
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