An Excellent New SONG; Call'd; The Young Man IN LOVES POUND: OR THE Unkind Maiden. To an Excellent New Tune. With Allowance.
|
FRantick Love to what extteams
|
does my furious passion drive me,
|
Those Iris Lips and golden Streams,
|
the one does kill, the other revives me,
|
All my Thoughts are idle Dreams.
|
Fancy bids me love but one,
|
Cupid says 'tis out of season,
|
Was ever Man tormented so,
|
beyond the bounds of Love or Reason,
|
The one says Aye, the other No.
|
Ladies I have seen great store
|
Beauties I have Courted many,
|
I've turn'd them round & look them o're,
|
yet never left my Heart with any,
|
Till I saw thy Face so fair.
|
When a Beauty I have seen,
|
I did Court her in my Passion,
|
And if she peevish once had been,
|
I could as soon be in her Fashion,
|
I could Love or let alone.
|
But I now have met with one,
|
That has set my Heart on Fire,
|
Which is the cause I am undone,
|
for her that grants not my Desire,
|
For no kindness she will own.
|
Since her Beauty is so great,
|
and her Heart has no Compassion,
|
To a youthful Lad whose Fate
|
must end his days all in Distraction,
|
And die a Victom at your Feet.
|
To the Rivers I'll complain,
|
to the Rocks, and to the Fountains,
|
They're all senseless of my Pains.
|
so are the Hills, the Dales, the Mountains,
|
And alack what shall I do.
|
To some Desart I will go,
|
and my Life in Silence languish,
|
Where no Creature e're shall know,
|
the Pains, the Torments, & the Anguish
|
This fair one makes me undergo.
|
To Cupid then who flung this Dart,
|
and made me be a slavish Lover,
|
Wound this fair one to the Heart,
|
till she her Passion does discover,
|
And owns her Love to ease my Smart.
|
Say she'll give but one kind Smile,
|
twill cause me live some years the longer
|
But if her Love she grants a while,
|
instead of Age I must go younger,
|
For 'tis her can Save or Kill.
|
|
|
|
|
|