Anglorum Lacrimae: In a sad passion complaining the death of our late Sovereign Lady Queen ELIZABETH:  
Yet comforted again by the virtuous hopes of our most Royal and Renowned King JAMES: whose Majesty God long continue.   royal blazon or coat of arms 
Imprinted at London for T. Pavier, and are to be sold at the sign of the Cat and Parrots near the Exchange. 1603.   

To the right Honourable ROBERT LEE, Lord Mayor of the Honourable City of London, and to the right Worshipful the Knights and Aldermen of the same: health and happiness long to continue.  
RIght Honourable, and Worshipful of this City, being overpressed with the heavy burden of Sorrow, and almost overcome with grief, for the loss of our late deceased Queen; whom both you, and all others, sustains a part: I am in duty bound (in the behalf of many thousands) to give a sad farewell to her Excellency; the only and last service that a Subjects true heart can bestow. Vouchsafe therefore (Right Honourable and Worshipful) as a memorial of your late love to her Majesty, to Patronize these tearful Lines: and then no doubt, but Anglorum Lacrimae will be comforted with Anglorum Gaudia, being guided by the virtues of our gracious King: under whose Royal government, all England is made happy, and a golden time is brought unto our Country.  
Yours in all duty to be commanded, a poor Freeman of this City, Richard johnson.   

Anglorum Lacrimae.  

O Sacred QUEEN, ●ith now thy life is spent,  
And that our lives, outlives the life of thee:  
Pale sorrows kingdom shall our hearts frequent  
Tears & true passions shall our mourners be:  
For England now more sorrows doth contain,  
Then there is wealth in all the Ocian main.   

Oh now what doleful Ditties shall we make?  
What mournful Songs of sorrow shall we sing?  
What comfort or sweet pleasure can we take,  
When Death hath broke ELIZA'S vital string?  
Break hearts with grief, and let each living soul,  
Exchange earths joys, for everlasting dole.   

Oh wherefore doth not Phoebus lose his light,  
And fall from Heaven, upon the Earth to mourn?  
Why is not days fair brightness changed to night?  
And joys to grief: all loves to hatred turn?  
For Beauties sovereign, and true virtues Queen,  
May now with mortal eyes no more be seen.   

With bleeding ●●ares come wash all joys away,  
That discontent upon o●● brows may shine:  
The Destinies have wrought her lives decay,  
Whom Europe termed Celestial and Divine▪  
Oh England then bewail this ●●tall cross,  
For never had English men a greater loss.   

Our eyes shall 〈◊〉 her Tomb● with showers of tears:  
Our m●anes shall make the ●●ones to weep for pity:  
All those which this sadd● way●efull murmur hears,  
Shall ring Grieves echo in each English City.  
No Kingdom lik●●o this hath over mourned,  
For her whose flesh the 〈◊〉 to dust have turned.   

All you that lived in her Princely Court,  
Come 〈◊〉 your pleasant Songs to doleful Cries:  
With tragic Tears ●omm●● your Comic sport,  
And let your 〈◊〉 be 〈◊〉 with weeping Eyes:  
For she too soon hath bid the world adieu:  
Thus by her loss, we are compelled to rue.   

How can we choose but fall into a sound,  
When we remember this sweet Princes fall:  
Let our true sorrows make her death renowned,  
And with hearts grief grace out her Funeral:  
exclaiming still with everlasting cries,  
Virtue grows sickly; and true Honour dies   

As Nobles mourn, so let the Plough man weep:  
As Courtiers grieve, so let the Country groan.  
Let all estates in sorrows mansion keep:  
A sadder time was never in England known:  
what is he that can vouchsafe a smile,  
Having lost ELIZA, Monarch of this I'll.   

Weep now Oh Clouds upon the grassy Earth,  
With drops of sorrow pierce the hardest Stones▪  
while we lament our Gracious Prince's death?  
whose soul 〈◊〉 in the Celestial thrones:  
Open wide you 〈◊〉 of the ●●●stall Sky,  
Send down more showers for her mortality.   

Where shall we woeful men go ●orrow tears,  
To teach the Rocks in streaming showers to weep:  
All times and seasons, 〈◊〉, months, and years,  
Consult to keep our wished joys asleep.  
Thus all in vain we daily have deplorde  
Her loss of life, which cannot be restored.   

The cruel Destinies are much to blame,  
To cut her thread of life ere thoroughly spun:  
Her life burnt out like to a Tapers flame:  
And thus the Hour glass of our joys is run,  
Yea all those joys 〈◊〉 we had want to have,  
Are fled to 〈…〉 in her grave.   

We mus● what eye there is that will not weep,  
When we shall tell this lamentable story,  
That she is dead and in the dust doth sleep,  
Although her soul is crowned with lasting glory;  
I think the world will be dissolved to tears,  
When this sad tale shall penetrate men's ears.   

Were it not that King JAMES did now survive,  
Our drooping souls with grief would surely perish:  
If this worlds mirror only, he alive  
did not with virtue still our comforts nourish:  
we should go languish in some obscure den,  
From heavens fair sight, and company of men.   

We rue the loss of true Nobility,  
Whilom invested in her noble breast:  
Wisdom and Virtue linked with Majesty,  
Were all in her: yet she by death suppressed:  
We more lament then all the world beside,  
Our dear loves loss, that late in England died.   

She ever sought her subjects wrongs to right:  
She still maintained her native Country's laws.  
She that in truth and justice did delight,  
Is now consumed by death's devowring jaws.  
All flesh is frail, and unto dust must turn:  
Yet for her loss, all England needs must mourn.   

Let all men know that she deserves more praise,  
Then our poor tongues are able to bestow:  
Well may we crown her death with glorious Bays,  
For through the world her honoured Fame doth blow:  
Her virtues merit Homer's golden Pen,  
To print her praise with tears of Gods and men.   

Oh that from heavens high throne thy soul might see,  
The mournful days that for thy loss we spend:  
The floods of tears that we have shed for thee,  
Are numberless: our sorrows have no end:  
But all in vain, her body lies in Lead,  
Whom sad laments cannot recall from dead.   

Let Scholars pens write Volumes of our grief,  
For sorrows makes us passionate and dumb:  
Let every tongue tell woeful tales in brief:  
Eternal sadness to our hearts is come:  
Let every Hand act passion of his mind,  
And still complain the Fates are too unkind.   

Oh wretched world where still the fairest flowers  
Are soon blasted with the storms of Death.  
Oh furious Fates! Oh all you angry Powers!  
You might have granted her mortal breath:  
But, Ah, all heaven rejoicing at her praise,  
For virtues sake abridged her earthly days.   

Me thinks I see all Arts and Skills disgraced,  
All Sciences with bitter woes oppressed:  
Fine Eloquence and Rhetoric quite defaced:  
And all the Virtues in her Royal breast:  
The learned tongues which she was perfect in,  
Are now grown dumb, in penance for our sin.   

Her looks were sober, full of pleasant cheer:  
Her Wisdom great, with Majesty admierd:  
From subjects hearts she won both love and fear:  
With heavenly graces was her soul inspierd:  
Then England swim in tears, thy light is lost,  
Thy Sun is set, whose beams did cheer thy coast.   

Me thinks I see in mourning weeds arrayed,  
How Chasterie now sighing sits alone.  
Me thinks I see how Soldiers are dismayed,  
And every Statesman's heart made sick with moan.  
Those eyes that wept not many a day before,  
Of tears are now constrained to shed great store.   

Oh that some heavenly Muse would paint her praise,  
Whose breast was termed true Wisdoms sacred spring.  
●●ueth and Religion flourished in her days,  
Peerless to all the world; but to our KING:  
Heaven loves this Country, and doth grace it thus,  
In sending one like Solomon to us.   

Yet gracious QUEEN, needs must we hold thee dear,  
And evermore think on thy Virgin reign:  
In peace thou ruled us four and forty year,  
Spite of proud Rome, and ambitious Spain.  
Oh Heavens! why frowned you on this sinful earth,  
In taking from us Queen ELIZABETH.   

But since the Destinies have been severe  
To rob the earth of her azurd delight:  
There is a place in Heaven devoid of fear,  
Then any earthly Mansion far more bright:  
Where free from harms or any sad annoy,  
ELIZA'S soul shall have eternal joy.   

And now her soul enfranchised from thrall  
Of sinful flesh, ascends the crystal Sky:  
Where as the Trumpets of the Lord doth call  
His chosen flock to joys eternetie:  
Let Reason then reform each sad man's Sense:  
The world is woe: they happiest that are hence.   

Me thinks I see her soul now freed from thrall  
Of sinful flesh, ascending to the Sky:  
Scorning to dwell here in this earthly vale,  
Where all men rise to fall, and live to die.  
Therefore she soared above a humane pitch,  
And with her Virtues doth all Heaven enrich.   

Then joy oh Heavens, enjoy earths Ornament,  
Whose soul up to the Cherubins is fled:  
Her body to the Earth doth now relent:  
Both Heaven and Earth loved her alive and dead:  
Her flesh unto the Earth resolved, doth die,  
Her soul up to the highest Heavens doth fly.   

She now amongst the blessed Saints doth dwell,  
Where patriarchs and the Apostles sit:  
Which shall judge the twelve Tribes of Israel,  
According as to their deserts is fit:  
And there she now obtains a glorious room,  
According to the Lords most sacred doom.   

As here on earth, this QUEEN was magnified  
Above the common sort in high degree,  
In Heaven she shall be much more glorified,  
And shall enjoy the full felicetie.  
And all such Princes as here reign a right,  
Shall have their place in Heaven with Angels bright.   
R. I.  
FINIS.