The True Lovers Tragedy:
Being an Incomparable Ballad of Gentleman and his Lady.
that both Killed themselves for Love, under the disguised Names of
Philander and Phillis,
Phillis, Philanders scatterd Garment finds
And thinks him slain, for which with Fate she joyns,
And with her Fatal Poniard striketh Deep,
As Life no longer can its Station keep;
The Crimson Streams so fast flowd from her Veins,
Yet Dying, of her Loves dear Loss Complains:
No sooner Death had closed her Starry Eyes,
But her Returnd Philander her espyes;
And finding that for him she lost her Breath,
He kills himself, and Crowns his Love with death.
To a New Play-house Tune: Or, Oh! cruel bloody Fate.
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AH Cruel Bloody Fate,
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What canst thou now do more!
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Alas tis now too late,
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Philander to Restore;
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Why shoud the Heavenly Powers perswade
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Poor Mortals to believe,
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That they guard us here,
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And reward us there,
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Yet all our joys deceive,
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Her Ponyard then she took,
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and held it in her hand,
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Then with a Dying look,
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cryd! thus I Fate Command:
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Philander! ah my Love I come,
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to meet thy Shade below;
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Ah! I come she cryd,
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with a Wound so wide,
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There needs no second Blow.
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Then Purple Waves of Blood,
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ran streaming down the Floor,
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Unmovd she saw the Flood,
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and blessd her Dying hour;
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Philander, and Philander still,
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the Bleeding Phillis cryd:
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She Wept a while,
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and she forcd a Smile,
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then Closd her Eyes, and Dyd.
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Upon the Blushing Ground,
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staind with her Virgin Blood,
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She lay in Deaths deep Swound,
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close by the Murmuring Flood:
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Which for the Lovely Phillis sake,
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complaind of cruel Fate,
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Which had causd such care,
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as had wrought despair,
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I weep it to Relate.
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When loe Philander came,
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with joy to seek his love,
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And her dear Promise claim,
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while Moon-beams, from above,
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Did twinkle through the thickest shade,
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and guild the flowry plain,
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When he espys,
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And ah Phillis cries,
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(Not thinking she was slain.)
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Arise, arise, from Earth,
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shake off this dull repose,
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Phillis my onely mirth,
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to thee Philander bows:
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Sooner I would have come to thee,
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had not a Lyon stayd,
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My course to fight,
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For which exploit,
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he Lifeless now is made.
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Ah me, whats this! shes Cold,
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ye Gods quite Breathless too-
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Oh Death durst thou infold,
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this beauties not thy due
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Alas! O cruel Fate he cryd,
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by her own hand, tis well,
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Oh the dismal blow,
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That did overthrow,
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by Heavns for me she fell.
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Behold my Germents dyd,
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in Phillis precious blood,
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Which falling from my side,
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made her suppose me dead:
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And therefore fell for love of me,
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ah cruel destiny,
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And shall Philander
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Live to wander,
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No! by the powers ile dye?
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I come my Phillis now,
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prepare! for in thy Arms,
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I will perform my vow,
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a sleep like death now charm[s]:
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These Ciprus wreaths our Cr[o]wns shall be
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wel Triumph over dea[th]
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From thy fair Lip,
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ile Nectar Sip,
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Even with my latest breath.
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With that his Fatal Sword,
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he Plunged in his breast,
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And sighd with dying words
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Oh now I am at rest:
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Now Phillis, now for ever mine,
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Fate now no more shall part,
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Then throug the Wound
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Life passage found,
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and left the Lovers Heart.
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