The Mournful SUBJECTS OR, The whole Nations Lamentation, from the Highest to the Lowest: Who did, with brinish Tears, (the true signs of Sorrow) bewail the Death of their most Gracious Sovereign King, Charles the Second; who departed this Life Feb. 6th. 1684. And was interred in Westminster-Abby, in King Henry the Seventh's Chapel, on Saturday Night last, being the 14th. day of the said Month; To the solid grief and sorrow of all his loving Subjects.  
To the Tune of, Troy Town; Or, The Duchess of Suffolk.;  
 
 
 

TRrue Subjects mourn, & 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 solid FUNERAL.   

He was a Prince of Clemency,  
whose Love and Mercy did abound,  
His Death may well lamented be,  
through all the Nations Aeurope round:  
Unto the Ears of Christian Kings,  
His Death unwelcome Tidings brings.   

All those that ever thought him ill,  
and did disturb hi● in his Reign,  
Let Horror now their Conscience fill,  
and strive such actions to refrain:  
For sure they know not what they do,  
The time will come when they shall rue.   

Now 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.   

He 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 was not worthy to enjoy  
The Prince whom Subjects would annoy.   

In peace he did lay down his Head,  
the Sceptre and the Royal Crown,  
His Soul is now to Heaven fled,  
above the reach of Mortal frown:  
Where joy and Glory will not cease,  
In presence with the King of Peace.   

Alas! we had our Liberty,  
he never sought for to devour,  
By a Usurping Tyranny,  
to Rule up Arbitrary Power:  
No, no, in all his blessed Reign,  
We had no cause for to Complain.   

Let Mourners now lament the loss  
of him that did the Sceptre sway,  
And look upon it as a Cross,  
that he from us is snatched away:  
Though he is free from Care and Woe,  
Yet we cannot forget him so.   

But since it was thy blessed Will,  
to call him from a sinful Land,  
O let us all be thankful still,  
that it was done by thine own hand:  
No pitch of Honour can be free  
From Death's Usurping Tyranny.   

The Fourteen day of February,  
they did Inter our Gracious Charles  
His Funeral Solemnity,  
accompanied with Lords and Earls:  
Four Dukes, I, and Prince George by Name,  
Went next the KING, with all his Train.   

And thus they to the Abbey went,  
to lay him in his silent Tomb,  
Where many inward Sighs was spent,  
to think upon their dismal Doom:  
Whole showers of Tears afresh there fell,  
When they beheld his last farewell.   

Since it is so that all must die,  
and must before our God appear,  
O let us have a watchful eye,  
over our Conversation here:  
That like Great Charles our King and Friend,  
We all may have a happy end.   

Let England by their Loyalty,  
repair the Breach which they did make  
And let us all United be,  
to Gracious lames, for Charles his sake:  
And let there be no more Discord,  
But Love the King, and fear the Lord.   
FINIS.   

Printed for J. Deacon, in Guilt-spur-street.,