The New Broome.
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POore Coridon, did sometime sit
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hard by the Broome alone:
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And secretly complain'd to it,
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against his only one.
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He bids the Broome that bloomes him by
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beare witnesse to his wrong,
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And thinking that none else was nie,
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he thus began his Song:
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The bonny Broome, the well favour'd Broom,
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the Broome bloomes faire on hill,
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What ail'd my Love to lightly mee,
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and I working her will?
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If Syrinx for despising Pan
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the Shepheards god, was changed,
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Into a Reede, may I not then,
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hope well to be revenged
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On Galatea? whose disdaine
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for sorrow doth consume
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Poore Coridon, who still complaines,
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and mournes among the Broome,
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The bonny Broome, etc.
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If proud Apollo fell in love
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with that Penean dame,
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And left his blest abode above,
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to feede his fleshly flame,
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For pride syne turned in a Tree,
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that Death should bee her Doome:
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Shall shee not sometime sigh for mee,
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and mourne amongst the Broome?
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The bonny Broome, etc.
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For shee hath seene my sighes and teares,
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and knowes my kinde intent:
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Yet scornes for to regard my cares,
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and laughes when I lament.
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Yet though a looke would send reliefe,
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to ease my grieved grone:
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First would shee then to ende my griefe,
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bee buried in the Broome,
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The bonny Broome, etc.
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Oh, would she leave her coy disdaines,
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which makes me dwine and die.
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And pitty him who still complaines,
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that she so coye should bee,
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Poore Coridon would out of doubt,
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his wonted joyes resume:
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And sing her praises round about
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the borders of the Broome.
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The bonny Broome, etc.
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But since she still continues coye,
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and carelesse of my care:
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I will awake the blinded Boy,
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my sute for to declare:
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That he over whom my Mistresse proud
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so proudly doth presume:
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And make her sigh and sing aloud,
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sad songs about the Broome:
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The bonny Broome, etc.
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Else proud Apollo I thee pray,
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to turne her in a Tree:
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Pan throw thy pleasant Pipe away,
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Make her thy Reede to bee.
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In tree or Reede when shee is changed,
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let none of these beare bloome:
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So will I holde mee well revenged,
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and blithly sing the Broome
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Beare witnesse Broome, thou dainty Broom
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that bloomes on hill and dale:
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Since Galetea lightlies mee,
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I take my long Farewell.
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FINIS.
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