The Bride's Burial.  
The Tune is, The Ladies Fall.  
 

COme mourn, come mourn with me,  
you loyal Lovers all,  
Lament my loss in weeds of woe,  
whom griping grief doth thrall:  
Like to the dropping Vine.  
cut by the Gardener's knife  
Even so my heart with sorrow slain,  
doth bleed for my sweet wife.   

By death that grisly Ghost,  
my Turtle-Dove is slain,  
And I am left unhappy man  
to spend my days in pain.  
Her beauty late so bright,  
like Roses in their prime,  
Is wasted like the mountains snow,  
by force of Phoebus' shine.   

Her fair red coloured cheeks,  
now pale and wan her eyes,  
That late did shine like Crystal stars,  
alas their light it dies:  
Her pretty lily hands,  
with fingers long and small,  
In colour like the earthly clay,  
yea cold and stiff withal.   

When as the morning star,  
her golden gates had spread,  
And that the glistering Sun arose  
forth from fair Thetis bed.  
Then did my Love awake,  
most like a Lily flower,  
And as the lovely Queen of heaven,  
so shone she in her bower.   

Attired was she then,  
like Flora in her pride,  
As fair as any of Diana's Nymphs,  
so looked my loving Bride.  
And as fair Helen's face,  
gave Grecian dames the lurch,  
So did my dear exceed in sight,  
all Virgins in the Church.   

When he had knit the knot,  
of holy wedlock band,  
Like Alabaster joined to jet,  
so stood we hand in hand:  
Then lo a chilling cold  
struck every vital part,  
And griping grief like pangs of death,  
seized on my true love's heart.   

Down in a swound she fell,  
as cold as any stone,  
Like Venus' picture lacking life,  
so was my love brought home:  
At length a Rosy red,  
throughout her comely face,  
As Phoebus' beams with watery clouds,  
ore-covered for a space.   
 
 

THen with a grievous groan,  
●nd voice both hoarse and dry,  
Farewell quoth she my loving friend,  
for I this day must die:  
The messenger of God,  
with golden trumpet I see,  
With many other Angels more,  
which sound and call for me.   

Instead of music sweet  
go towl my passing bell,  
And with sweet flowers strew my grave,  
that in my chamber smell.  
Strip off my bride's array,  
my Cork shoes from my feet,  
And gentle Mother be not coy  
to bring my winding-sheet.   

My wedding dinner dressed,  
bestow upon the poor,  
And on the hungry needy maimed  
that craveth at the door:  
Instead of Virgins young  
my Bridebed for to see,  
Go cause some curious Carpenter  
to make a Chest for me.   

My Bridelaces of silk,  
bestow on Maidens meet,  
May fitly serve when I am dead.  
to tie my hands and feet:  
And thou my lover true,  
my husband and my friend,  
Let me entreat thee here to stay,  
until my life doth end.   

Now leave to talk of love,  
and humbly on your knee,  
Direct your prayers unto God,  
but mourn no more for me;  
In love as we have lived,  
in love let us depart,  
And I in token of my love,  
do kiss thee with my heart.   

O staunch these bootless tears,  
thy weeping is in vain,  
I am not lost for we in heaven  
shall one day meet again.  
With that she turned aside,  
as one disposed to sleep,  
And like a lamb departed life,  
whose friends did sorely weep.   

Her true love seeing this.  
did fetch a grievous groan,  
As though his heart would burst in two  
and thus he made his moan.  
O dismal and unhappy day,  
a day of grief and care,  
That hath bereft the Sun so high,  
whose beams refresh the Air.   

Now woe unto the world,  
and all that therein dwell,  
O that I were with thee in heaven,  
for here I live in hell.  
And now this Lover lives  
a discontented life,  
Whose Bride was brought unto the grave  
a Maiden and a Wife.   

A Garland fresh and fair  
of Lilies there was made,  
In sign of her Virginity,  
and on her Coffin laid:  
Six Maidens all in white,  
did bear her to the ground,  
The Bells did ring in solemn sort,  
and made a doleful sound.   

In earth they laid her then,  
for hungry worms a prey,  
So shall the fairest face alive,  
at length be brought to clay.    

Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright.