The Love-sick
SERVING-MAN;
SHEWING
How he was Wounded with the Charms of a young Lady, and did
not dare to reveal his Mind.
To the Tune of Ise often for my Jenny strove.
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E'Er since I saw Clorinda's Eyes,
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My Heart has felt a strange surprize,
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No Pen is able to reveal
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The killing Torment which I feel;
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Yet I dare not let her know it,
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'Cause she's Rich and I am Poor;
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No Charms above her, oh! I love her,
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and will do for evermore.
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When as her Presence I draw near,
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She like an Angel doth appear;
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No sooner I her Charms beheld
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But I was with Love Raptures fill'd,
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As a while I did stand gazing,
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My soft Heart was wounded sore,
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No Charm above her, oh! I love her,
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And will do for evermore.
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Oh! that I might let her know
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My Sighs, my Tears, my Care and Woe,
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And how I'm tortured for her sake,
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She might some kind of pity take;
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But I fear I should offend her
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Whom I dearly do adore;
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No Charms above her, oh! I love her,
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And will do for evermore.
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Both Sense and Reason tells me plain,
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That I bestowed my heart in vain,
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Where no acceptance will be found,
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No Balsom for this bleeding Wound:
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She's a fair and youthfull Lady,
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I a Servant mean and poor;
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No Charms above her, etc.
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I value not her Gold, her Pearl,
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For was I either Lord or Earl[,]
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My very Heart would be the same,
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I raise her everlasting Fame;
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Yet in vain are all my Wishes,
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They will not my Joys restore;
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No Charms above her, etc.
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Young Cupid bend thy Golden Bow,
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And let thy silver Arrows flye,
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That my fair charming Saint may know
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The pains of Love as well as I;
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Tell her too, that I lye wounded,
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She may then my Joys restore,
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No Charms above her, etc.
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Tho' now mine Eyes like Rivers run,
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As here in Sorrows I condole;
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Her Beauty like the Rising Sun,
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Can soon revive my drooping Soul,
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But if I may ne'er Enjoy her,
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Let me with a Dart be slain,
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'Tis better kill me, then to fill me
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With this Love tormenting pain.
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FINIS.
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