The Pensive Lover;
OR,
The Damosels Crosses Crown'd with Comfort.
She for a time had lost her Swain,
for which her Heart near broke;
Likewise she would herself have slain,
but Phaon stopt the Stroke.
To the Tune of, Grim King of the Ghosts.
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O Pitty a harmless Maid
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you Lovers that hear my moan
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Young Phaon is from me stray'd,
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and here I am left alone:
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My sorrows was ne'r so severe,
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as now for the loss of my Swain,
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Alas! I have reason to fear,
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I never shall see him again.
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Through Valleys I range and rove,
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and Desarts both far and near,
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And every shady Grove,
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in order to find my Dear:
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But weary of wandring now,
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since Phaon I cannot find,
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O here in these Shades I vow,
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my breath shall be straight resign'd.
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Sweet Death thou must prove my friend,
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since there is no joys appears,
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For why should I live to spend,
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my sorrowful days in tears:
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His innocent Life is betray'd,
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alas! I have cause to fear,
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Or else he would ne'r have stay'd
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so long from his dearest Dear.
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He never was false to me,
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but true as the Turtle-Dove,
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Therefore I know that he
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would never desert his Love:
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But that some unfortunate doom,
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has blasted the days of my Dear,
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O would I had dy'd in his room,
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for I have no Comfort here.
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Whenever I close my Eyes,
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to slumber and take my rest,
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I fancy I hear the Crys
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of Phaon my Love, opprest:
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His body all bathed in Blood,
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thus gashful my Love he appears,
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At this my poor eyes, like a flood,
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does melt into showers of Tears.
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Farewel to the World, said she,
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since Phaon is not alive,
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This Minute i'le come to thee,
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for why should I here survive?
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Then taking a Weapon so keen,
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so soon as these words she had spoke,
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But Phaon straight stept in between,
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and hinder'd the fatal stroke.
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As soon as she e're beheld
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young Phaon, her hearts delight,
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She was with Love-Raptures fill'd,
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her sorrows all banisht quite:
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With trembling voice she reply'd,
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sweet Phaon thou 'rt welcome to me,
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My Patience, alas! has been try'd,
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but now I am happy in thee.
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Pardon, fair Cynthia, he said,
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for leaving thee sighing here,
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My Flocks with their Lambs they strayd
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and I have rang'd far and near:
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The Valleys, nay, Desart and Grove,
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I wander from morning till night,
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But now I am come to my Love,
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to Crown thee with joy and delight.
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Whenever I slept, said she,
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I waken'd in frightful Dreams,
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Thy Body I thought I see
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all bathed in Purple Streams:
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When I in this passion did wake,
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and just at the point of Dispair,
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I knew not what course I should take,
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my sorrows I could not bear.
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Love, dry off thy Tears, said she,
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since I am alive and well,
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And here in the shades with thee,
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hereafter I mean to dwell:
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And never will wander again
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from thee who I dearly adore,
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The Glory of all the whole Plain,
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fair Cynthia shall be therefore.
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