An Excellent Ballad of the
# Lord MOHUN and Duke HAMILTON.

With an Exact Account of their Melancholy Deaths.

COME all ye people far and near,
Of high and low degree ;
Sad tidings I have brought you here,
And therefore mourn with me.

It was a fad unhappy chance,
It was, I need muſt say ;
Two Nobles great, in paſſion bent,
Caſt both their lives away ;

The one Duke Hamilton by name,
The other brave Lord Mohun,
Renowned men of birth and fame,
But O they perſiſ'd ſoon.

Great men have got great daring ſouſ,
And vicious hearts likewife ;
For from the glaſs and fwimming bowls,
Great quarrels do arife.

Which often end with blood and death,
Ne'er to return again:

Life is but one short blight of breath,
Here's two great Nobles flain.

If men of honour did but know,
That death would part their fray
And lay their lofty heads full low,
'Till the great Judgment day.

They would their paſſions bridle ſure,
And not admit ſuch ſtrife ;

But each one thinks himſelf ſecure,
'Till he's bereav'd of life.

It was a fad and ſudden fall,
From grandeur unto death ;
That theſe two Nobles here did fall,
And loft their mortal breath.

It was a fad and ſudden fate,
That did the Queen ſurprize ;
She has loft two brave ſubjects great,
And they have loft their lives,

Which might have ſerv'd the government,
In many weighty things ;
Which made them all with tears lament,
That wrath ſuch ruin brings.

Alas! alas! I little thought
Upon the other day,
That blooming honour should be brought
So soon to beds of clay.

Inſtead of trumpets loud alarms,
In courtly form likewife ;
In death's cold joys, and frozen arms,
This man of honour lies.

Great men will not ſubmissive take
A quarrel from a friend,
But traitor they will a challenge make,
And mortally attend.

For farſisſion all in vain,
They prize no less than life.

And theſe two Nobles who were flains,
I vade a mortal ſtrife.

Lord Mohun wounded Duke Hamilton,
And would have then give o'er :

The Duke reply'd he had not done,
And paſſ'd at him once more.

The ſword quite thro' his body paſſ,
Immediately he fell ;

And in Hyde Park he breath'd his last,
And bid the world farewell.

The Duke was carry'd off, and dy'd
Within a little while ;

All former ſeud were laid afide,
And death did end the broil.

It was a great and ſad ſurprife,
When to his Lady he was brought,
All bath'd in blood ; aloud ſhe cries,
Who has this fatal miſchief wrought ?

What bloody hand has done this deed ?
Speake, if you can, my noble Lord ;

Again his life I will proceed,
He ſhall not miſs of his reward.

It was Lord Mohun, Lady, he cry'd,
That ſieft gave me this fatal wound ;

Yet with my ſword I'm fatisfy'd,
I left him breathleſs on the ground.

It was a rafh attempt, I own,
But who can help what's done and paſſ :
Then with a ſigh and dying groan,
He in her prefence breath'd his laſt.

My little ſon of blooming youth,
Thy father being dead and flain,
I bathe his corſpe with weeping tears,
Altho I know them ſhed in vain.

Dear ſon, now for thy father's ſake,
It thou livest to maturity,

Such a rafh challenge never make,
But in ſweet friendſhip live and die.

Thy ſteet my eye-lids overflown,
Thy father's death affiſts me ſill,
Unto my private room alone
I'll go, and weeping take my fill.

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church
Yard, Bow-Lane, London.