A CALL to
CHARON,
To Carry the Dying Lover over to the
ELIZIUM Shades:
OR,
The Discontented Lover Overcome with Grief.
A Pleasant New Song greatly in Request. To the Tune of, Charon make haste, etc.
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CHaron make haste and carry me over
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to the Elizium Shady Grove,
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Where I my Passion in sighs will discover,
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which I have suffered long for Love:
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I am aweary of my Life,
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and cannot be eased no, nowhere;
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Then put a period to my Grief,
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and carry me where I may know no care.
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O my dear Sylva, 'tis thou that hast wounded me,
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with the soft glances of your fair Eyes,
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And with your hate you have quite confounded me,
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and you have made me a Sacrifice:
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I was a Slave to all your Charms,
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and perfectly thought you would comply;
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But now you leave me in Deaths cold Arms,
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and I must for your sake a poor Martyr dye.
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Come Charon make haste, why is all this delaying,
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since Sylva the fair she is so unkind,
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I'm weary of Life, and weary of staying,
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and fain I some ease there now wou'd find:
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Come give me a cast to the cooler Shore,
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where kind Lovers Ghosts does there remain,
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Free from the Torments that wrack'd 'em before,
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and find a soft Cure for all their pain.
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Ah Sylva unkind, your Eyes did discover,
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if that you might be but subject to yield,
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Which made me before a passionate Lover,
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nor thought by your scorn for to be kill'd:
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But ah! since those promising Eyes,
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have deceiv'd my poor hopes, and destroy
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Those fancies that late did arise,
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that I might my dear Sylva enjoy.
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Farewel to the World, now barren of pleasure,
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for since none it can bring to my Breast,
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Since Sylvas unkind who is the Worlds treasure,
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farewel to't, come Charon now make haste;
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My pain's too great for longer delay,
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my Torment's beyond expressing,
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Since she is unkind, why should I stay,
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besides my Sylva, there's nought worth possessing
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Delay not a wretch quite weary of living,
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who dyes by disdain every day,
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Since Sylva my life thinks not worth reprieving
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Charon make haste and fetch me away:
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O'recome with pain, see, see I faint,
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and Death proves more kinder than my dear,
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Farewel then to my cruel Saint,
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for to the Shades I with speed now repair.
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To the Elizium Shades I am going,
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that is the place that my Cares will Cure,
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Down from my eyes here the tears they are flowing
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Love is a Torment I can't endure:
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My very Sighs and Tears discover,
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that I was ever true to you,
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Now my fair Sylva and most unkind Lover,
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forever, forever I bid adieu.
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