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EBBA 31175

British Library - Roxburghe
Ballad XSLT Template
An Excellent Sonnet of the Two Unfortunate LOVERS
HERO and LEANDER:
GIVING
An Account how Leander fell in Love with the famous Hero; but being disappoint-
ed by her cruel Father, who confined her in a Tower, Leander resolving to swim
over the Hellespont to fetch her away, a mighty Storm arose, and he was drowned
near her Window; for Sorrow of which, she leaped into the Sea to him.
To the Tune of, Gerherds Mistress.

Hero.
HOW fares
My fair Leander? O vouchsafe to speak,
least my Heart break,
I banishd from thy sweet Company;

Tis not
Thy Fathers Anger can abase my Love;
I still will prove
Thy faithful Friend until such Time I die:

Though Fate and
Fortune do conspire to interrupt our Love,
In spight of Fate
And Fortunes hate I still will constant prove:

And though
Our angry Friends in Malice now our Bodies part
No Friends nor Foes,
Nor Scats nor Blows, shall seperate our Hearts.

Leander.
What Voice
Is this that calls Leander from her Bower?
from yonder Tower,
The Eccho of this Voice doth sure proceed.

Hero.
Leander
Tis thy Hero fain would come to thee,
if it might be;
Thy Absence makes my tender Heart to bleed

But oh! this pleasant
River Hellispont, which is the Peoples wonder
Those Waves so high
Do injury, by parting us asunder:

And though theres Ferry
Men great store, yet none will stand my Friend,
To waft me ore to
That fair Shore where all my Grief shall end.

Leander.
Hero
Though I am thy constant Lover still,
and ever will
My angry Father is thy Enemy:

He still
Doth strive to keep us asunder; now and then,
poor Ferry-Men,
They dare not waft thee over lest they die:

Nor yet
Dare they convey me unto my dear Hero now,
My Fathers Rage
Will not asswage, nor will the same allow,

Be patient
Then dear Hero now, as I am true to thee,
Even so I trust
Thou art as just, and faithful unto me.

Hero.
Is there
No Way to stay an angry Fathers Wrath,
whose Fury hath
Bereavd his Child of Comfort and Content?

Leander.
O no,
Dear Hero, theres no Way that I do know,
to ease my Woe,
My Days of Joy and Comfort now are spent,

You may
As well go tame a Lion in the Wilderness,
As to persuade
My Fathers Aid to help me in Distress.

His Anger
And this River hath kept us asunder long,
He hath his Will,
His Humour still, and we have all the wrong.

Hero.
Tis not
Thy Fathers Anger, nor this River deep,
the which shall keep
Me from the Embracements of my dearest Friend

For through
This Silver Stream, my Way I mean to take,
even for thy sake,
For thy dear sake my dearest Life Ill spend,

Though Waves and
Winds should both conspire mine Enemies to be
My Loves so strong,
I fear no Wrong can happen unto me:

O meet me
In the Garden where this pleasant River glides
Lend me thy Hand,
Draw me to Land, whatever me betides.

Now must
I make my tender slender Arms my Oars,
help watery Powers.
Ye little Fishes teach me how to swim;

And all
Ye Sea-Nymphs guard me unto yonder Banks,
Ill give you Thanks,
Bear up my Body, strengthen every Limb!

I come
Leander now prepare thy lovely Arms for me,
I come dear Love,
Assist me Jove, I may so happy be.

But oh! a mighty
Tempest rose, and he was drownd that Tide,
In her fair Sight,
Her Hearts delight, and so with Grief she dyd.

But when
Her aged Father these Things understands,
He wrings his Hands,
And tears his Hoary Hair from off his Head.

Society
He shuns, and doth forsake his Meat,
his Griefs so great,
And oft doth make the lowly Ground his Bed:

O my Leander,
Would that I had dyd to save thy Life,
Or that I had
When I was sad, made thee brave Heros Wife.

It was
My Trespass, and I do confess I wrongd thee,
Posterity shall
Know hereby, the Fault lay all in me.

But since
The Waves have cast his Body on the Land,
upon the Sand,
His Corps shall buried be in solemn wise;

One Grave
Shall serve them both & one most stately Tomb
shell make him Room,
Although her Corps be Breathless where she lies.

Ye Fathers
Have a special care now, whatsoeer you do,
For those that parts
True loyal Hearts, themselves were never true:

Though Fate and Fortune
Cross poor Lovers, sometimes as we do know
Pray understand,
Have you no Hand, even in their overthrow.


Newcastle upon Tine, Printed by J. White,

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