Bride's burial/The Bride's Burial

The Bride's Burial (18th century)
The Bride's Burial
3281118The Bride's Burial — The Bride's Burial18th century

THE BRIDE'S BURIAL.

COME mourn, come mourn with me,
ye 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 now ſlain,
doth bleed for my ſweet wife,
By death, that' grieſly ghoſt,
my turtle dove is ſlain,
And I am left ! unhappy man,
to ſpend my days in vain.
Her beauty late ſo bright,
like roſes in their prime,
Is waſted like the mountain ſnow,
by force of the ſunſhine,
Her fair red colour'd lips,
now pale, and wan her eyes.
That ſhone like any cryſtal.ſtar,
alas ! this light it dies.
Her pretty little hands,
her fingers long and ſmall,
In colour like the earthly ciay,
yea cold and ſtiff withal.
When as the morning grey,
her golden gate had ſpread,
And as the gliſt'ning fun aroſe,
forth from fair Titan's bed,
Then did my love awake,
moſt like a lilly flower,
And as the earthly queen of heaven,
to ſhone ſhe in her bower.
Arrayed was ſhe then,
like Flora in her pride,
and fair as are Dian's nymph
ſo look'd my lovely bride.
and as fair Helen's face,
gave Græcian dames the lurch,
ſo did my dear excel in ſight,
all virgins in the church,
When we had knit the knot
of holy wedlock band,
Like alabaſter join'd to jet,
ſo ſtood we hand in hand.
Then lo! a chilling cold,
did ſeize on every part,
And griping grief like pains of death,
ſeiz'd on my true love's heart.
Down in a ſwoon ſhe fell,
as cold as any ſtone,
Like Venus picture lacking grief,
ſo was my love brought home.
At length a roſe of red,
ſpread through her lovely face,
As Phoebus' beams with wat'ry clouds
had covered for a ſpace,
Then with a grievous groan,
and voice moſt hoarſe and dry,
Farewell, quoth ſhe, my loving friends,
for this day I muſt die.
The meſſenger of God,
with golden trump I ſee,
With many holy angels more,
doth fend and call for me.
Inſtead of muſic ſweet,
go toll the paſſing bell,
And with theſe flowers ſtrew my grave
that in my chamber ſmell,
Srip off my bride's array,
my ſhoes from off my feet,
And gentle mother be not coy,
to bring my winding ſheet.
My wedding dinner dreſt,
beſtow upon the poor,
And to the hungry, needy, maim'd,
which do cry at the door.
Inſtead of virgins young,
my bride bed for to ſee,
Go cauſe ſome curious carpenter,
to make a cheſt for me.
My bride laces and ſilks,
to give to matrons meet,
May tidy ſerve when I am dead,
to tie both hands and feet.
And thou my lover true,
my huſband and my friend,
Let me entreat you here to ſtay,
until my life doth end.
Now leave to talk of love,
and humbly on your knee.
Direct your prayer unto God,
but mourn no more for me.
In love As we have liv'd,
in love let us depart,
And I in token of true love
do kiſs thee with my heart.
O ſtaunch thy bootleſs tears,
thy weeping is in vain;
I am not loſt, for we in heaven
ſhall meet once more again,
With that ſhe turn'd her head,
as one diſpos'd to ſleep,
And like a lamb departed life,
while friends full ſore did weep.
Her true love ſeeing this,
did fetch a grievous groan,
as tho' his heart was burſt in two,
and thus he made his moan:
O diſmal heavy day,
a day of grief and care,
That has bereft the ſun ſo high,
whoſe beams refreſh'd the air.
Now woe unto the world,
and all that therein dwell,
O that I were in heaven with her,
for here I live in thrall.
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 lillies 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 fort,
and made a doleful ſound.
In earth they laid her then,
for hungry worms a prey,
So ſhall the faireſt faće alive,
at length be brought to clay.

This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.

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