England's Tribute of Tears, On the Death of his Grace the DUKE of GRAFTON, Who received his Mortal Wound at the Siege of the City of Cork in Ireland, on the 9th. of October, 1690.  
Tune is, The Watch for a Wise Man's Observation: Or, Aim not too high.  
 

UNwelcome Tidings over-spreads the Land,  
The Great, the Wise, the Just do weeping stand;  
What is the cause of Loyal Subject's Tears,  
Those Cries and Sorrows which invade our Ears.   

What Castles, Towns or Cities have we lost,  
Or hath the Rebels our good purpose crossed?  
Or hath our Valiant Warlike-Troops misled  
Oh! no, the grief is that Great Grafton's dead:   

Renowned Hero, whose unhappy Fate  
Untimely Death his Days did terminate;  
Whose boiling Blood, like to the early Spring,  
Ambitious was to serve his Royal King.   

Insulting Death, thus daring to surprise  
So great a Soul, could nothing less suffice  
Thy famished jaws, but such a Hero bold,  
Who scorned by Rebels for to be controlled:   

And did the greatest hazards freely run,  
And by his mighty Arm great things has done;  
The Monuments and Rolls of lasting Fame,  
Shall Crown his Courage, Conduct, and his Name.   

The warlike Grafton did no labour spare,  
A Loyal Heart he in his Breast did bear;  
Resolving still King William's Cause to fight  
'Gainst France and Rome that would oppose his right.   

The Dutch and French when they were both Engaged,  
He see the odds, which made him soon Enraged;  
And coming up, he did the French destroy,  
Thus killed the Monsieur and the poor Dear-Joy.   

And thus the Fleet of France was forced to fly,  
While Dutch and English, Crowned with Victory,  
Did fill the Enemy with dread and fear,  
His true Heroic Courage did appear.   

And thus his Loyal Soul still promped him too  
The Irish Rebels, them for to pursue;  
And to Chastise them for their Villainy,  
Against King William's Crown and Dignity.   

Unto the Siege of Cork he Marched with speed,  
Thus while he did his Warlike Forces lead,  
The Fates upon our Valiant Hero frowned,  
For in this Battle he received a Wound,   

Whereof he Died, well may the Nation Mourn,  
And all in tears pay Tribute to his Vrn.  
His Life he lost, Religion to maintain,  
And we shall ne'er behold him here again.   

In a Religious Cause it was he fell,  
Therefore we hope his Loyal Soul will dwell  
Amongst blessed Saints and Angels, to enjoy  
True Bliss, where Mortal Cares can't him annoy.   

All State and Glory of this present Life,  
Encumbered is with trouble, care and strife;  
On Fortune's restless Waves we often steer,  
Meeting with many Disappointments here.   

But happy is the Man that here can make  
His Peace before the world he does forsake,  
As this most Noble Duke we know has done,  
His Eyes with true Repenting tears did run.   

We must acknowledge Trouble he went through,  
Yet like a Lamb he bid the world adieu;  
And Angel did Conduct him on their Wings,  
As a Rich Present to the King of Kings.   
FINIS.   

Printed for J. Millet, at the Angel in Little-brittain.