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EBBA 36752

British Library - Osterley Park
Ballad XSLT Template
An Answer to the
The Unfortunate Lady.
Who Hang'd herself in Dispair:
Containing her Lovers Lamentation for her Untimely Destiny; Together
with the Apparition of her Bleeding Ghost in his silent Chamber.
To the Tune of, The Languishing Swain.
Licensed according to Order.

I.
WHat dismal tydings do I hear,
The fatal ruin of my Dear,
Who did her dearest Life destroy,
When she might not her Love enjoy.

II.
Which grieves me to the very Soul,
In sorrow I her Death condole;
No peace nor comfort can I find,
The thoughts of her runs in my mind.

III.
Each Night when e're I close mine Eyes,
Methinks I hear her dismal Cries,
Saying, my Love I dy'd for thee;
And then her bleeding Ghost I see.

IV.
Then with a Voice both sharp and shrill,
She does my silent Chamber fill,
And with a sigh and bitter groan,
She does express her piteous moan.

V.
Alas! although I did appear
Thus in the Chamber of my Dear,
He never wrong'd his Lover, no,
'Twas Parents prov'd my overthrow.

VI.
I know the tender Turtle-Doves,
Was ne'r more constant to their Loves,
Then thee and I has been, she cry'd,
And yet, alas! for Love I dy'd.

VII.
I was to thee as dear as Life,
My Friends has caused all the strife;
They sought for Wealth and Riches store,
When Love had won the Field before.

VIII.
'Cause thou did'st not in Wealth abound
My near Relations on thee frown'd,
And I was posted straight from thee,
And by that means have ruin'd me.

IX.
They sent me word that thou wert Wed,
Which tydings almost struck me dead;
Unto Dispair I straight did run,
O see what cursed Gold has done!

X.
Then with a sigh and dismal groan,
She straight departs; leaves me alone;
Where I in sorrow weeping lye,
To think of Parents Cruelty.

XI.
Sure Friends was never more to blame,
How could they such a Letter frame,
That I another Choice had made?
By this her Life they soon betray'd.

XII.
She well might be amaz'd, that I
Shou'd guilty be of Perjury,
And leave a loyal Love at last,
When many solemn Vows had past.

XIII.
She's gone, and I am left behind:
Now since I can no Comfort find;
Come Death and prove a Friend to me,
O let me Dye as well as she.


FINIS.
Printed for P. Brooksby, J. Deacon,
J. Blare, and J. Back.

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