The Young-Mans Complaint, Or,
An ANSWER To
The DAMOSELS Tragedy.
When Friends deny, and won't comply,
but let them suffer smart,
We often see such Cruelty,
will break a Lovers heart,
To the Tune of, Charon, etc.
This may be Printed, R.P.
|
NOw for the loss of my Amorous Jewel,
|
I am surrounded in grief and woe,
|
It was thy Parents unkind and most cruel,
|
which did occasion thy overthrow:
|
For my dear Nell I did adore thee,
|
but we was too much kept apart,
|
There was no one that I e're priz'd before thee;
|
thy Death alone does lye near my heart.
|
Farewel the hopes of all peace, joy, and pleasure,
|
I have no comfort; but care and grief,
|
Often in private I weep out of measure,
|
Death alone must yield me relief:
|
Love, when I first heard of thy Dying,
|
tho' we had long been kept apart,
|
I tore my hair in a passion, and crying
|
this Damsels death will lye near my heart.
|
Down from his Eyes then the tears they did trickle,
|
with many sorrowful sighs, said he,
|
It is well known that I never was fickle;
|
for I lov'd none in the world but thee:
|
Had I been suffer'd to come near thee,
|
thou hadst not felt Death's cruel Dart,
|
I would have laid down my life for to cheer thee,
|
for thy Death now does lye near my heart.
|
For many months I did never behold her,
|
this was a sorrow that griev'd me sore,
|
Her unkind Parents had oftentimes told her,
|
that she should never come near me more:
|
Thus did they soon blast all her glory,
|
for when she felt Deaths fatal Dart,
|
I never heard a more killinger story,
|
this Damsels death doth lye near my heart.
|
Then in her absence my poor heart was wounded,
|
for I might not come anear my joy,
|
When I cou'd see her we then was surrounded,
|
in the sweet Raptures of Love and joy:
|
But by her friends we were tormented,
|
so that we felt Loves fatal smart,
|
She by strong Poyson her Passion has vented,
|
this Damsels Death does lye near my heart.
|
As she was dying, poor heart, she did blame me,
|
she knew not very well what she said,
|
Tho' with sad sorrowful sighs she did name me,
|
not her Love that her life betray'd:
|
For if I might enjoy'd the blessing,
|
she should have never felt the smart,
|
Now am I nothing but torments possessing,
|
this Damosels Death doth lye near my heart.
|
This sad Distraction so much d[o]th inthrall me,
|
that I am restless both night and day,
|
Methinks I often hear my Lover call me,
|
sa[y]ing sweet Johnny make haste away:
|
Let there be now no more delaying,
|
why shou[l]d we still remain apart,
|
Where e're I wander, I fancy this saying,
|
her Death doth now lye so near my heart.
|
Thou in thy life-time didst dearly adore me,
|
as by thy sorrow I well m[i]ght see,
|
Tho' thou art gone hence a little before me;
|
Love, i'le lye down in the Grave with thee:
|
Farewel my Friends and each Relation,
|
here with the World and you i'le part,
|
For I shall be in a far better station
|
when I[]m with Nelly my own dear heart.
|
|
|
|
|
|