The Constant Lovers Mortal Mistake. While Phaons absence caus'd suspition strange In her who wondred that his love should change, Her bloody knife a mortal blow did give her, Startled hereat he fell into the River, His dream was fatal while her deep suspition Caus'd these poor souls to dye in this condition. Tune of, Young Phaon.
|
YOung Phaon sate upon the brink
|
to view the silver stream,
|
He overtaken was with sleep
|
and fell into a dream.
|
He then beheld a sight most strange
|
the like he ne'r did see.
|
Phillis did stand with Knife in hand
|
and thus complained she.
|
Old wretched fate you now too late
|
show me my misery,
|
My Phaons gone so fair so young
|
now for him I must dye.
|
Why was I robb'd and then she sobb'd
|
of my delig[h]tful bliss,
|
So soon that he could not give me
|
one smile or parting kiss.
|
While he did live he ne'r did give
|
me cause to mourn or grieve,
|
His life is fled and he is dead
|
I perfectly believe.
|
Therefore will I make haste and fly
|
out of this world of pain,
|
With him so sweet I fain would meet
|
with him for to remain.
|
While him I miss no pain like this
|
no blessings can I meet,
|
Had I but dy'd by his dear side
|
death I had counted sweet,
|
And therewithall she soon did fall
|
by wounding her fair brest,
|
Oh! now quoth she I come to thee
|
she shrick'd and went to rest.
|
He heard this cry as she did dye
|
and thought it was her voice,
|
Whom he did love all souls above
|
in her he d[i]d rejoyce.
|
He started then and strait fell in
|
he never more was seen,
|
Phillis he cryed and then he dy'd
|
was lost in that sweet stream.
|
'Tis sorrow great for to relate
|
these constant lovers cross,
|
Few in this wo[r]ld were ever whirld
|
into so great a loss.
|
Both terrified these Lovers dyed
|
and ne'r were seen again,
|
In vain did he lament while she
|
was by her self thus slain.
|
|
|
|
|
The second part to the same Tune.
|
The great mistake that she did make
|
because he did absent,
|
This mischief caus'd, for when she paus'd
|
on him she did lament.
|
Dispairing love did passion move
|
which prov'd to be extream,
|
She gave deaths wound while he was drownd
|
nothing could them redeem.
|
You happy lovers then beware
|
that you do not miscarry,
|
Perchance they may abscent away
|
whom you'd have alwayes tarry,
|
Then have a care and dont despair
|
and hug not discontent,
|
When from you they do keep away
|
they by themselves lament,
|
In lovely Hymnes and Stratagems
|
they'r singing forth your praise,
|
In hopes e're long there will belong
|
to them a Crown of Bayes.
|
For to adorn their not forlorn
|
nor yet forsaken loves,
|
When Himey comes with sugar-plumbs
|
they bill like Turtle Doves,
|
And when they'r strange their links & Chains
|
are stronger then before,
|
For when they'r tane in them again
|
they'r fast for evermore.
|
Tho fallings out may breed some doubt
|
count my assertion true,
|
They do encrease loves joyes & peace
|
and passion doth renew,
|
These are loves toys and lovers joys
|
sometimes to prove the heart,
|
Such charmes they breed that I indeed
|
cannot to you impart.
|
Their grieves don't last, love with a blast
|
these seeming clouds disperse,
|
But where or when they meet agen
|
their passions they rehearse.
|
One sigh alone joyn'd with a groan
|
more Penetrates the brest,
|
Then twenty why in company
|
they pass it as a jest,
|
But secret tears tears produc'd by fears
|
and none do them oppose,
|
They work upon the melting one
|
and prove their mortall foes.
|
|
|
|
|