THE
Unconstant SHEPHERD:
OR, THE
Forsaken Lass's Lamentation.
To an excellent new Tune, much in Request.
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Oh, how can I be merry or glad,
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or in my mind contented be;
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When the bonny bonny lad whom I love best,
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is banisht out of my company.
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Tho' he was banisht, it was for my sake,
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And his true love I still remain;
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He has caus'd me many a night for to wake,
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and adieu to my true love once again.
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I dare not come where my love is,
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I dare not for to sport nor play,
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For their evil evil tongues they are so glib,
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I must take a kiss and go my way.
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Kissing is but a silly fancy,
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it brings true lovers into sin;
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O that I were, and I wish that I were
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for to see my true love once agen.
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As I was a walking through the hall,
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I spy'd the twinkling of my loves eyes,
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O that I were, and I wish that I were
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in the chamber where my true love lies.
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Away fond fool, call home thy heart,
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and in thy mind contented be;
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For thou spend'st thy time, and gets no gain,
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by loving a lover that loves not thee.
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If I do spend my time in vain,
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oh, it is no loss to none but me,
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I'll set it as light as the wavering wind,
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that daily blows from tree to tree.
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My love so lively, tall and young,
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I had not the power to say him nay;
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The words of his false deluding tongue,
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did suddenly steal my heart away.
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In desarts I'll wander for his sake,
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for here I no peace nor joy can find;
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My innocent heart I fear will break,
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because he has proved so unkind.
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I cannot forget the pleasing charms,
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which every day he did renew;
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When as I lay clapsed in my arms;
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but now I must bid them all adieu.
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I did the delights of love allow,
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and stroaked his locks of curl'd hair;
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Then is he not most ungrateful now,
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to leave me in grief and deep despair.
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Some other young nymph injoys my swain,
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she which does indeed my glory blast;
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Yet though he should kill me with disdain,
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I'll love him as long as life shall last.
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I languish and have not long to breathe,
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therefore I'll write my last farewel:
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To Phaon, I here my heart bequeath,
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with whom I did once in pleasure dwell.
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Unto the Elizium shades I'll go,
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where hovering spirits do remain;
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Repeating their killing griefs and woe,
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who by their hard-hearted loves was slain.
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Of my little lambs I take my leave,
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and every creature in the grave;
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Young Phaon he won't my life reprieve,
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therefore, alass! I dye for love.
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