EBBA 36845

British Library - C.121.g.9

Ballad XSLT Template

AN ANSWER
To
LOVES THE CAUSE OF MY MOURNING,
Sung with its own proper Tune:

WHen first my poor heart unacquainted to love,

The god with his bow and his arrow did prove

So soft was the warmth it so gently did move,

As yet the green wound was not bleeding.

I knew not what ail'd me, but something I found

I never felt before, which the more did abound

As Straphon I thought on and walk't over the ground

Where his milkie white flock he was feeding.

But now alas, it doth increase to fatal loves excess,

Never was poor Shepherdess so qite undone

Yet though it should kill me I never will express

To Straphon the cause of my thraldome.

Straphon the brave, the Witty, and Gay,

So fine were the Notes he so sweetly did play,

That he charmed the whole Nimphs of the plain in the day

But all night he keeps my Heart burning

How cruels the custom forbids to reveal

A passion so strong, so hard to conceal,

To the desart I'le go and the plain bid farewell

For Love is the cause of my mourning.

There the sweet Nightingal in mournful notes shall knell

My lovesome funeral as she is flying.

Till the Rocks shall resound, and Straphon tell,

The sad account of my dying.

But when the birds voice disturbed Straphons rest

With the dismall account of Beatie the best

For pity the love peirced his generous breast,

That ranged the whole forrest to find her.

And by a murmuring brook as he past,

Just ready to dye he found her at last:

In passion with ardour his mind he exprest,

At length for to hear he inclin'd her.

Then tenderly by degrees, begging upon his knees

She his heart would appease, gently replying,

Is this my dear Straphon she straight was at ease.

So the Shepherd sav'd her from dying.

FINIS.