THE
Lamented LOVERS:
OR, THE
Young Men and Maidens Grief for the Unhappy Tragedy
of this Unfortunate Couple.
To the Tune of Frantick Lover. Licensed according to Order.
My Love I come to Thee.
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YOu Damsels now of Beauty bright,
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It is to you these Lines I write;
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your Cruelty give oer,
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And do not here like Tyrants reign,
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And kill those with your high disdain,
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which doth your Charms adore,
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A young man lately lovd a Maid,
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To whom he often sighing said,
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my Dear, some Pitty show.
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And yield to me some kind relief,
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Or else my Heart will break with Grief:
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twill prove my overthrow.
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Ten thousand thoughts runs in my Head,
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When lying on my restless Bed.
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and Tears like Fountains flow;
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Oh! let thy Frowns to Blessings turn,
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For if in love I longer burn,
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twill prove my overthrow.
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Will not my sighs some pitty move?
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Behold the pleasant Charms of Love,
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in ery Vein does flow;
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Some comfort to thy Servant give,
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Without thy Love I cannot live,
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twill prove my overthrow.
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The scornful Damsel did reply,
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Your Suit I utterly defie;
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pray from my presence go;
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Tis strange that Love should be so hot,
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Your Life or Death I value not,
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or eke your overthrow.
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Each word was like a killing Dart,
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Which piercd the young man to the Heart,
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he streight from her did go,
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With a most discontented mind,
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He often sighing said, I find
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shell prove my overthrow.
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His scorching Love straightway did turn
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Unto a Feaver which did burn,
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he straight to bed did go,
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From whence he never did arise,
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But often said with Sighs and Cries,
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Love proves my overthrow
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I now shall never see thee more,
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Whom I so dearly did adore,
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since you no kindness show,
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Ill dye a Martyr for thy sake,
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And with these words his heart did break,
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love proves my overthrow.
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The Maidens Reply.
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Now when this Damsel she did hear
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The Death of her beloved Dear;
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she wept most bitterly:
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To his Grave with Grief she run,
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And cried out, what have I done!
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my Frowns has murderd thee.
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With Grief and Cares I am opprest,
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That night and day I take no rest;
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thy Ghost methinks I see,
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That haunts my Person night and day,
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My Love, alas! what shall I say?
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twas I that murderd thee.
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Farewell Relations, Friends and all,
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His Bloud doth for just Vengeance call,
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kind Death must set me free,
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In Grave Ill lye down by thy side,
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I am not fit to live she cryd,
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my Frowns has murderd thee.
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She to her Bower did return,
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And never, never cease to mourn;
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in Tears to that degree,
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That Death at length her heart did seize;
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Her last and dying words are these,
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my Love I come to thee.
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It was her Will, that she might have
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A Lodging in her Lovers Grave,
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to which all did agree;
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Both their Relations thought it fit,
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And on her Coffin it was writ,
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My Love I come to thee.
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