The Roxburghe ballads . ire we have suffered sore, [ And now with Wars our Land is vexed more :These judgements for our sins the Lord doth send,And worse may come unless our lives we mend. For, blest he God, no Famine we have felt, [But cf. p. 690. The Lord hath mercifully with us dealt: But if we once provoke his wrath again, We may have cause for hunger to complain. 72 Once more, I say, 0 sinners, now awake, And all your hanious sins in time forsake : Who knows but that the Lord will hear our prayers, And shew us mercy for unfeigned tears. And let each one that reads what here is pend, S
The Roxburghe ballads . ire we have suffered sore, [ And now with Wars our Land is vexed more :These judgements for our sins the Lord doth send,And worse may come unless our lives we mend. For, blest he God, no Famine we have felt, [But cf. p. 690. The Lord hath mercifully with us dealt: But if we once provoke his wrath again, We may have cause for hunger to complain. 72 Once more, I say, 0 sinners, now awake, And all your hanious sins in time forsake : Who knows but that the Lord will hear our prayers, And shew us mercy for unfeigned tears. And let each one that reads what here is pend, Strive night and day their lives for to amend : That God in mercy all our Souls may save, When as we fall into the silent Grave. 80 Printed for P. Broolcsby, at the Harp and Ball in Pye Corner, near West Smith-field. [In Black-letter. Date of original issue, 1667, in Philip Brooksbys, butre-issued later, during the second Dutch War, 1672. Two cuts: Old ; 2nd, a fortified Harbour. The cut here belongs to p. 693.]. 698 Cfje Lamentation for Cutenne. How sleep tbe Brave, who sink to rest,By all their countrys wishes blest ?When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,Eeturns fo deck tlieir hullowd mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancys feet have ever trod. •By fairy hands their knell is rung,By forms unseen their dirge is sung:There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey,To bless the turf that wraps their clay. . — William Collins : music by Cooke. UNLESS we be of those weaklings who abhor the whole pompand paraphernalia of military glory; who accept theories of Peace at any price, even without honour; the story of Henri dela Tour, Viscount of Turenne, is one that raises a glow of admirationand pride; so that this Roxburghe Ballad, avowedly written by anEnglishman and nationally his enemy, yet doing justice to hisheroic qualities without stint of enthusiasm, will find a responsein our hearts. It is unnecessary to recapitulate the facts of his are worthy of
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Keywords: ., bookauthorchappell, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1879
