The Love-sick Maid: Or, Cordelias Lamentation for the
Absence of her Gerheard. To a pleasant New Tune.
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BE gone
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Thou fatal fiery Feavor, now be gone,
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let Love alone;
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Let his Etherial flames possess my Breast:
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His Fires
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From thy consuming heat no aid requires,
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for swift desires
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Transports my passions to a Throne of rest:
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Where I,
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Who in the pride of Health, did
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never feel such warmth to move;
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By Sickness tamd and so inflamd,
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I know no Joys but Love.
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And he
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That trifled many tedious hours
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away, my Love to try,
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In little space, hath gaind the grace
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to have more Power than I.
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Depart
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Thou scorching fury, quick from me depart,
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think not my heart
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To thy dull flame shall be a Sacrifice;
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A Maid
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Dread Cupid now is on thine Altar laid,
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by thee betrayd.
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A rich Oblation to restore thine eyes.
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B[u]t yet
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My fair acknowledgment will
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prove thou hadst no craft,
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To bend thy bow, against thy Foe,
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that aimd to catch the Shaft:
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For if
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That at my Breast thy Arrows
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thou all at once let flye,
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She that receives a thousand Sheaves
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can do no more but dye.
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No more,
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You learnd Physitians, tyre your Brains no more,
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pray give me ore,
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Mine is a Cure in Physick never read:
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Although
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You skilful Doctors all the World doth know;
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pray let me go,
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You may as well make practise on the Dead.
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But if
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My Gerheard dain to view me,
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wi[t]h the Glory of his looks,
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I make no doubt, to live without
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Phy[s]i[t]ians and their Books:
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Tis he
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Tha[t] with his balmed Kisses
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can restore my la[t]est breath:
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Wha[t] bliss is this, to gain a Kiss,
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can save a Maid from Death:
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To you
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That tell me of another World, I vow,
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and will allow
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Your sacred Precepts, if youl grant me this;
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That he
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Whom I esteem of next the Deity,
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may go with me;
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Without whose presence there can be no bliss.
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Go teach
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Your Tenets of Eternity,
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to those that aged be;
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And not perswade a Love-sick Maid,
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theres any Heaven but he.
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But stay,
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Methinks an Icy slumber
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hath possest my frenzy brain:
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Pray bid him dye, if you see I
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shall never wake again.
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The Young-Mans Answer: Or, His Dying Breath,
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Lamenting for his Fair Cordelias Death.
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To a delightful New Tune.
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COme on
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Thou fatal messenger, from her thats gone,
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lest I alone
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Within that quenchless flame forever fry:
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The lake
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Of Love being kindled, wherein none can take
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rest, but wake,
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Where slumber hath no power to close the Eye;
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Whilst I,
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That by my fair Cordelia
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desires to take a sleep,
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With lids wide spread upon my bed,
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am forcd a watch to keep.
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And she
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That waited many tedious hours
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my Constancy to try,
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Is now at rest whilst I opprest,
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fain would, but cannot dye.
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Dispatch,
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Thou scorching Fury, quickly now dispatch,
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by death I watch,
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To be releast from this tormenting flame:
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The Dart
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Sent from dread Cupid, sticks fast in my heart,
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I wanting art,
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Had not the power for to resist the same.
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Though she,
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Who by her late acknowledgment
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profest thou hadst no craft;
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Yet from thy bow, thou madst her know,
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what Power lay in the shaft,
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But then
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Thou sent another Arrow,
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which me of hopes bereft:
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Most like a Foe, to wound me so,
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for whom no cure is left.
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Wherefore
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Did you Physitians give my Mistriss ore?
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had you no more
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Experience, but what you in Books have read?
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Or why
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(You Learned Doctors) did you cease to try
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your skills when I
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Might have revivd her, if shed not been dead:
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And yet
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Suppose that I in Person
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had present been to view her,
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Is there such grace in any face,
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to work so great a Cure?
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But now
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Ime come too late to kiss her:
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which were it not in vain,
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After her death, ide spend my breath
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to fetch her back again.
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Unto
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The fair Elizium, thither will I go,
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whereas I know,
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She is amongst those Sacred ones preferd:
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When I
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Shall be admitted for to come so nigh;
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pardon Ile cry,
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For my so long absence, wherein I have errd:
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And since
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By her I was esteemd
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so much on Earth, being here:
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Hence for her sake no rest i'le take,
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till I have found her there.
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No more,
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But only I desire,
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to hear my Passing-Bell,
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That Virgins may lament the day,
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of Gerheards last Fare-well.
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