Ballads in Imitation of the Antient By W. H. Ireland |
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Lamentation
On the unhappy fate of the gallant
Earl of Surry.
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 | Ballads in Imitation of the Antient |  |
Lamentation On the unhappy fate of the gallant Earl of Surry.
This accomplished young Nobleman whose fame has been celebrated by our first English Poets, fell a sacrifice to the capricious temper of his Monarch Henry the Eighth, who suspecting him of being inimical to the Protestant Faith, forwarded the trifling charges brought against him by his enemies, which, notwithstanding his spirited defence, terminated in bringing him to the block.
But murky clouds have dim'd its light;
Our Surry pipes no more!
His clarion strain
To mirth or pain
Was wont to cheer the love-lorn heart;
The balm is gone, we feel the smart,
For Surry sings no more.
That whilom sung the plaintive truth;
'Twas Surry's pipe breath'd love.
The flame he felt
In 's breast love dwelt;
He saw the soft and dazzling eyne,
He saw and worshipp'd Geraldine ,
'Twas then his pipe breath'd love.
Twine cypress wreaths and crowns of yew;
Our Shepherd's pale and dead!
'Twas envy's dart
Ypierc'd his heart:
Too sweet for earth he bloom'd a day,
Still we've the perfume of his lay,
Surry the Rose is dead.
As Petrarch had his Laura, so our Surry had his Geraldine, a lady whom he frequently compliments in his Sonnets, but whose real name was long unknown to the world. My Lord Orford, however, seems to have explained this mystery in his life of Surry.—Vid: Royal and Noble Authors, Vol. I. Page 104, &c. Where it appears that she was daughter of Gerald Fitzgerald, Earl of Kildare.
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