The Frowns of FATE,
OR, An ANSWER
To the Young-Mans Unfortunate Destiny.
When Maids so Coy will slight their Joy,
With scorn, and high Disdain,
Then grief and care with sad Despair,
Will end their Days in pain.
To the Tune of, The Doubting Virgin.
|
WHen she heared how he died,
|
in a sad and woful state.
|
Bitterly aloud she cryed,
|
and in sorrow did relate;
|
Was I cruel to my jewel,
|
that in Love did me adore,
|
Well she cryed, and replyed,
|
I shall never see thee more.
|
O that I had ner denied,
|
what he did propose to me,
|
But had willingly complyed,
|
with his Civil Courtesie:
|
Love unfeigned, never stained,
|
but as constant as the day.
|
Death possess me, Heavens Bless me,
|
I have cast thy life away.
|
He most courteously did wooe me,
|
it is I that am too blame,
|
He did proffer to endue me,
|
with a plenty to maintain
|
Me in Splendor, this doth render,
|
all my actions now to be,
|
To refuse him, and abuse him,
|
by usurping Tyranny.
|
Oftentime he hath intreated,
|
that he might salute my hand,
|
Yea, and many times repeated
|
he would be at my command
|
So entire, his desire
|
was to love without deceit,
|
When he smiled, I reviled,
|
and did scornfully retreat.
|
Now too late I do repent it,
|
I have cast his life away,
|
Had I but in love consented,
|
he had never seen the day:
|
When we parted, broken hearted,
|
he with sorrow was opprest:
|
And bewailed, as he Sailed,
|
over Neptunes Curled breast.
|
I in sorrow am surrounded,
|
that I know not where to go,
|
My poor heart with grief is wounded,
|
I am in a Sea of woe;
|
No remission, my condition
|
is to languish to my grave,
|
To appease me, Death come seize me,
|
this is that I fain would have.
|
Cupid now doth over rule me,
|
with his sharp severity,
|
He doth so chastise and School me,
|
that I wish I now was free
|
For his power; he I devour
|
all the comfort of my life,
|
Never ceasing, but increasing,
|
death must surely end the strife.
|
Love, the thought of thee is killing,
|
I am haunted now with fears,
|
Heart and life with grief is filling,
|
and a thousand melting tears
|
Now is flowing, life is going
|
hence, into Eternity,
|
Then she cryed, and replied,
|
love, Ile dye, and come to thee.
|
Then her reason quite forsook her,
|
falling into deep dispair,
|
In her hand a Knife she took her,
|
which did soon her life impair;
|
She lay bleeding, so exceeding,
|
bidding now the World adieu;
|
Death that hour, came in power,
|
and in full Commission too.
|
You that hear this mournful Ditty,
|
of true Lovers Tragedy,
|
Let your heart be movd to pitty,
|
learn to love with Loyalty;
|
Then youl flourish, when you nourish,
|
he that doth you highly prize,
|
Ner conceal it, but reveal it,
|
why should Lovers Tyranize.
|
|
|
|
|
|