Let us never think of a noble drink, But with notes advance on high, Let’s proclaim good Canary’s name,— Heaven bless his Majesty! He is a King in everything, Whose nature doth renounce all, He’ll make us skip and nimbly trip From ceiling to the groundsil; Especially when poets be Lords of the Privy Council. But a vintner will his taster be, Here’s nothing that can him let; A drawer that hath a good palat Shall be squire of the gimblet. The bar-boys shall be pages all, A tavern well-prepared, And nothing shall be spared; In jovial sort shall be the court, Wine-porters that are soldiers tall Be yeomen of the guard. But if a cooper we with a red nose see In any part of the town; The cooper shall, with his aids-royal, Bear the sceptre of the crown; Young wits that wash away their cash In wine and recreation, Who hates ale and beer, shall be welcome here To give their approbation; So shall all you that will allow Canary’s recreation. THE MOURNFUL SUBJECTS, OR THE WHOLE NATION’S LAMENTATION, FROM THE HIGHEST TO THE LOWEST. The Mournful Subjects, or the Whole Nation’s Lamentation, from the Highest to the Lowest; who did with brinish tears (the true signs of sorrow) bewail the death of their most gracious Soveraign King Charles the Second, who departed this life Feb. 6th, 1684, and was interred in Westminster Abbey, in King Henry the Seventh’s Chapel, on Saturday night last, being the 14th day of the said month; to the sollid grief and sorrow of all his loving subjects. From vol. i. of the Roxburgh Ballads in Brit. Mus. Tune, “Troy Town, or the Duchess of Suffolk.” TRUE subjects mourn, and well they may, Of each degree, both lords and earls, Which did behold that dismal day, The death of princely pious Charles; Some thousand weeping tears did fall At his most sollid funeral. He was a prince of clemency, Whose love and mercy did abound; His death may well lamented be Through all the nations Europe round; Unto the ears of Christian kings His death unwelcome tidings brings. All those that ever thought him ill, And did disturb him in his reign,— Let horrour now their conscience fill, And strive such actions to restrain; For sure they know not what they do, The time will come when they shall rue. How often villains did design By cruelty his blood to spill, Yet by the Providence divine God would not let them have their will, But did preserve our gracious King, Under the shadow of his wing. We grieved his soul while he was here, When we would not his laws obey; Therefore the Lord he was severe, And took our gracious prince away: We were not worthy to enjoy The prince whom subjects would annoy.