THE
Unconstant SHEPHERD:
OR, THE
Forsaken Lasss Lamentation.
To an Excellent new Tune. Licensd according to Order.
|
OH, how can I be merry or glad,
|
or in my mind contented be;
|
When the bonny bonny Lad whom I love best,
|
is banishd out of my Company?
|
Tho he was banishd it was for my sake,
|
and his true Love I still remain;
|
He has causd me many a night for to wake,
|
and adieu to my true Love once again.
|
I dare not come where my Love is,
|
I dare not for to sport nor play,
|
For their evil evil tongues they are so glib,
|
I must take a kiss and go my way.
|
Kissing is but a silly fancy,
|
it brings true Lovers into sin;
|
O that I were, and I wish that I were,
|
for to see my true Love once again.
|
As I was a walking through the Hall,
|
I spyd the twinkling of my Loves eyes;
|
O that I were, and I wish that I were
|
in the Chamber were my true Love lies.
|
Away fond Fool, call home thy heart,
|
and in thy mind contented be;
|
For thou spendst thy time, and gets no gain,
|
by loving a Lover that loves not thee.
|
If I do spend my time in vain,
|
oh, it is no loss to none but me;
|
Ill set it as light as the wavering wind,
|
that daily blows from tree to tree.
|
My Lover so lively, tall and young,
|
I had not the power to say him nay;
|
The words of his false deluding tongue,
|
did suddenly steal my heart away.
|
In desarts Ill wander for his sake,
|
for here I no peace nor joy can find;
|
My innocent heart I fear it will break,
|
because he has proved so unkind.
|
I cannot forget the pleasing charms,
|
which every day he did renew;
|
When as I lay clasped in his arms;
|
but now I must bid them all adieu.
|
I did the delights of Love allow,
|
and stroaked his locks of curled hair;
|
Then is he not most ungrateful now,
|
to leave in grief and deep despair?
|
Some other young Nymph enjoys my Swain,
|
she which does indeed my glory blast;
|
Yet tho he should kill me with disdain,
|
Ill love him as long as life shall last.
|
I languish and have not long to breathe,
|
therefore Ill write my last farewel:
|
To Phaon I here my heart bequeath;
|
with whom I did once in pleasure dwell.
|
Unto the Elizium Shades Ill go,
|
where hovering Spirits do remain;
|
Repeating their killing griefs and woe,
|
who by their hard-hearted Lovers was slain.
|
Of my little Lambs I take my leave,
|
and every Creature in the Grove;
|
Young Phaon he wont my Life reprieve,
|
therefore, alas! I die for love.
|
|
|
|
|
|