XXXII. Lulla, Lullaby
Lvlla, lullaby, lullaby, lulla lullaby, lulla, lullaby,
my sweet little, baby, what meanest thou to cry,
1
Be still my blessed babe, though cause thou hast to mourne:
whose bloud most innocent to shed, the cruel king hath sworne,
& lo, alas behold, what slaughter he doth make,
shedding the bloud of infants all, sweet sauiour for thy sake,
A King, is borne, they say: which king this king would kil,
oh woe, & woful, heauie daie, when wretches haue their wil,
Lulla, la lulla, lulla lullaby,
My sweet little Baby, what meanest thou to cry:
2
Three kings this king of kings to see, are come from farre,
To each vnknowen, with offerings great, by guiding of a Starre:
And shepherds heard the song, which Angells bright did sing,
Giuing all glory vnto God, for comming of this king:
Which must be made away, king Herod would him kill,
Oh woe and wofull heauie day, when wretches haue their will.
Lulla la lulla, lulla lullaby, my sweet &c.
3
Lo, lo, my little Babe, be still, lament no more,
From fury shalt thou step aside, help haue wee still in store:
Wee heauenly warning haue, some other soyle to seeke,
From death must flie the Lord of lyfe, as Lamb both myld and meeke:
Thus must my Babe obey the king that would him kill,
Oh wo, and wofull heauy day, when wretches haue their will.
Lulla la lulla, lulla lullaby, my sweet &c.
4
But thou shalt liue and raigne, as Sibilles haue foresaide,
As all the Prophets Prophesie, whose mother yet a maide,
And perfect virgin pure, with hir brests shall vpbreed,
Both God and man that all hath made, the Sunne of heauenly seed:
Whom caytiues none can tray, whom tirants none can kill,
Oh ioy, and ioyfull happy day, when wretches want their will.
FINIS.
