The Unbelieving Maiden.
AND THE
True-Hearted YOUNG-MAN.
Vertue and Beauty both in one,
Where they are known to be,
Makes any Mortal Woman seem
Like to a Deity.
To the Tune of, No no, 'tis in vain, etc.
This may be Printed, R.P.
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W Hy should I complain,
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Since my sighs are in vain
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Ah! Cruel, too fair and unkind,
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Since thy Conquering eyes
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My heart did surprize
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No pleasure or comfort I find;
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But like one Forlorn,
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I Languish and mourn,
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And my days are all turn'd into night
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I am sorely opprest,
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And never was blest
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Since first thou appear'd in my sight.
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Thus sighing with sobs,
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And my heart-killing throbs,
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My daily Companions must be,
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in the midst of my pain
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I all comforts disdain,
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My delight it is onely in thee:
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Cause my Love is intire,
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And I burn with desire,
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Must thou to thy Lover be strange,
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It can never be said
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That such a fair Maid
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Is constant, but subject to change.
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For shame do not hide
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And let Cruelty bide
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Under such painted cheeks as thine own
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Since Nature is proud
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of what she allow'd,
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Then do not her favours dethrone
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To thee it was lent,
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Not for injury meant,
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To conquer the world in a trice,
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Or that which is worse,
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To make blessings a curse,
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And rob Men of their Paradise.
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Who will worship her brow
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That shows true Love vow,
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And triumphs o're poor loving man,
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Though the smiles of her face
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Her person doth grace,
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She's fickle, deny't if you can;
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Whose Beauty's inclin'd
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With some Man to be joyn'd,
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When melting in Love she did cry
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Tis a grief and a shame
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That in torment and Flame
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A Languishing Lover should dye.
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Then Barr e'ry frown,
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And with smiles thy Love crown,
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Make him happy who happy would be
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Turn Darkness to Light,
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Whose poor Soul doth delight
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And finds comfort in nothing but thee;;
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Since a Heaven or Hell
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In her Bosome doth dwell,
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Each caus'd by a frown or a Smile,.
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Let him taste of a Kiss
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Which encreaseth his Bliss,
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While her frown doth his freedome beguile.
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Thy Lillys and Roses
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The whole World supposes,
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Were not lent thee poor souls to trappan
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For if it were so,
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All People would know
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That the worst of all creatures is man.
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Then bend not thy brow
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On the Amorist now,
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But let vertue with Beauty so shine,
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That all may desire
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To Burn with that Fire,
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That makes the whole Universe thine.
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