The Sorrowful Ladies Complaint,
Relating how a Damosel Lamenteth the loss of her Lover, who behaved himself very Valiantly in a late
Engagement at Sea, but at last was unfortunately Slain.
This Stories known both far and wide,
To Hollands wonder, Englands Pride;
Come therefore every Loyal Heart,
And in my burden bear a part.
To the Tune of, The Earl of Sandwich farewel.
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ONe morning I walkd by my self on the shoar,
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When the Tempest did sing and the Waves they did roar,
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Yet the noise of the winds and the waters was drownd,
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By the pittiful cry and the sorrowful sound,
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Of ah! ah! ah! my Loves dead,
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There is not a Bell
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But a Tritons shell,
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To ring, to ring, to ring my Loves knell.
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It troubled me much when I heard all her grief,
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But hoping it might not be past all Relief,
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I followed the voice till at last I espyd,
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A sorrowful Lady, and all that she cryd,
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Was ah, ah, ah, my Loves dead,
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There is not a Bell,
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But a Tritons shell,
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To ring, to ring, to ring my Loves knell.
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A handsomer Damosel sure never were seen,
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With a face like an Angel, a Robe like a Queen,
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A Voyce like a Syren, and Eyes like a Dove,
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Yet ever she cryd for the losse of her Love;
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Ah, ah, ah, my Loves dead, etc.
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When my Love was alive his courage was such,
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He conquered the Dane, and affrighted the Dutch,
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He venturd to shew he ner feard to dye,
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But woe be to me that for ever must cry,
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Ah, ah, ah, my Loves dead,
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There is not a Bell,
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But a Tritons shell,
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To ring, to ring, to ring my Loves knell.
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Surrounded with Ships and asaulted by Foes,
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He stoutly received, and returned their blows,
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So well he did manage his Ship in the strife,
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That he never would yeild till he yeilded his life,
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Ah, ah, ah, my Loves dead, etc.
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To recal him to life, Oh what would I give?
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But since he is dead, tis no pleasure to live,
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He venturd for me, and shall I be afraid,
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To dye for my love? it shall never be said:
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Ah, ah, ah, my Loves dead,
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There is not a Bell,
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But a Tritons shell,
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To ring, to ring, to ring my Loves knell.
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The second Part, to [the] same Tune.
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MY Love lies now in his watry Grave,
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And hath nothing to shew for his Tomb but a Wave,
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Ile kisse his dear lips, then the Corral more Red,
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That grows where he lies in his watry Bed,
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Ah, ah, ah, my Loves dead,
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There is not a Bell, but a Trytons shell,
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To ring, to ring, to ring my Loves knell.
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The Oriential Pearl, which the Ocean bestows,
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Wel mix with a Corral, a Crown to compose:
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The Sea Nymps shall grieve, and envy our blisse,
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Wel teach them to love, and like Cockels to kisse,
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Ah, ah, ah, my Loves dead,
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There is not a Bell, but a Trytons shell,
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To ring, to ring, to ring my Loves knell.
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Ile go to my Love that lies in the deep,
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And in my imbraces my dearest shall sleep,
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When awake, the kind Dolphins together shall throng,
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In Chariots of Shells to convey him along,
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Ah, ah, ah, my Loves dead,
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There is not a Bell, but a Trytons shell:
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To ring, to ring, to ring my Loves knell.
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And just as she spoke, she was casting her self
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From the top of a Rock on a dangerous shelf,
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But I being neer her made hast to her aid,
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And savd her from falling, when just she had said
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Ah, ah, ah, my Loves dead,
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There is not a Bell,
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But a Trytons shell,
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To ring, to ring, to ring my Loves knell.
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Fair Lady, said I, whether Maiden or Wife,
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Your death will not call the departed to Life:
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Loves fire goes out at the losse of the Fuel,
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And though you be constant, you need not be cruel.
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Ah! what though your Loves dead,
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Yet he had a Bell,
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Not a Trytons shell
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To ring, to ring, to ring out his knell:
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She started to find this unhappy surprize,
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With grief in her face, and disdain in her eyes,
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She told me my kindness had done her much wrong,
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And prayd me to bear but a part in her Song:
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Ah, ah, ah, my Loves dead,
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There was not a bell,
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But a Trytons shell,
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To ring, to ring, to ring out his knell.
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