The kings last farevvell to the world or The dead kings living meditations, at the approach of death denounced against him. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A87781 of text R211197 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.13[77]). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 5 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A87781 Wing K597 Thomason 669.f.13[77] ESTC R211197 99869929 99869929 162973 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A87781) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 162973) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 246:669f13[77]) The kings last farevvell to the world or The dead kings living meditations, at the approach of death denounced against him. Charles I, King of England, 1600-1649, attributed name. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. (woodcut) Printed for Robert Ibbitson, London : 1648 [i.e. 1649] Not in fact by King Charles I. Verse - "Through fear of sharpe and bitter paine,". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Charles -- I, -- King of England, 1600-1649 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Great Britain -- History -- Commonwealth and Protectorate, 1649-1660 -- Early works to 1800. A87781 R211197 (Thomason 669.f.13[77]). civilwar no The kings last farewell to the world, or The dead kings living meditations, at the approach of death denounced against him. [Charles I] 1649 821 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2007-09 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-09 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-10 Emma (Leeson) Huber Sampled and proofread 2007-10 Emma (Leeson) Huber Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion The KINGS Last farewell to the World , OR THE Dead KINGS Living Meditations , at the approach of Death denounced against Him . THrough fear of sharpe and bitter paine , by cutting off my dayes , No pleasure in my Crown I take , Nor in my Royall Rayes . I shall discend with grieved heart , ( for none my life can save ) Unto the dismall gates of death , to moulder in the Grave . Farewell my Wife , and Children all , wipe off my brinish teares . I am deprived of my Throne , and from my future years . Farewell my people every one , for I no more shall see The wonders of the Lord on earth , nor with you shall I bee . Mine eyes doe faile , and to the earth to worms I must be hurl'd : Henceforth no more shall I behold the people of the world . My Crown and Scepter I must leave , my glory , and my Throne : Adieu my fellow Princes all , I from the earth am gone . Mine Age ( which did approach to me ) departed is away ; And as a Shepheards tent remov'd , and I return'd to clay ; And as a Weaver doth cut off his thrum , even so my life , Must be cut off , from people and from Children , and from Wife . In sighes by day , and groanes by night with bitternesse I moane , And doe consume away with grief , my end to think upon . Fear in the morning me assailes , Death Lion-like I see , Even all the day ( till night ) to roare to make an end of me . I chattered as the schreeking Crane , or Swallow that doth flye : As Dove forlorn , in pensivenesse , doth mourn , even so doe I , I looked up to thee , O Lord , but now mine eyes doe faile . Oh ease my sad oppressed soule , for death doth now prevaile . What shall I say , to Gods Decree , if he would speak , I then should live ; it is a work for God , I find no help from men . Yet if my life prolonged was , my sins for to repent , Then softly I would goe and mourn , untill my life was spent . And all my years , that I should live , for mine offences foule , I would passe o're in bitternesse , of my distressed soule . O Lord , thou hast discovered to me , that by these things Men live ; Through thee , Princes do Reign , thou swayest over Kings . In all things here Gods providence , and will alone commands , The life of my poore spirit sad , is only in his hands , Oh , that the Lord would me restore . my strength then I would give , To serve my God in humblenesse whilst he would let me live . Behold , O Lord , when I in peace , did look to be restor'd , Then was my soule in bitternesse , cast off , and I abhor'd , Yet in the love of God most good , his righteousnesse most just Hath throwne me downe into the pit , and to corrupted dust , Because that I have gone astray , and cherisht war and strife , My dayes are now cut off , and I am quite bereft of life , Oh cast my sins behind thy backe , good God , I humbly pray , And my offences with the blood of Christ wash clean away . When my dead body is interd , I cannot praise thee there , Death cannot celebrate the Lord , my God , most good , most deare ; They that go down into the pit destructions them devoure : For in thy truth they cannot hope , but perish by thy power . The living , Lord , the living , they shall praise thy holy name . With all the glorious hoast above , and I shall do the same , The father to his children here , that are of tender youth , Shall them forewarn , and unto them make known thy glorious truth . Forgive my sins , and save my soule O Lord , I thee intreate , And blot out mine offences all , for they are very great : Receive my soule for Christ his sake , my Prophet , Priest , and King , That I with Saints and Angells may eternall prayses sing . FINIS . 38 Isay . Imprimatur T. J. Jan. 31. 1648 LONDON Printed for Robert Ibbitson 1648.