The Lamented Lovers

You Damsels now of Beauty bright,
It is to you these Lines I write;
your Cruelty give e'er,
And do not here like Tyrants reign,
And kill those with your high disdain,
which doth your Charms adore,

A young man lately lov'd a Maid,
To whom he often sighing said,
my Dear, some Pitty show.
And yield to me some kind relief,
Or else my Heart will break with Grief:
'twill prove my overthrow.

Ten thousand thoughts runs in my Head,
When lying on my restless Bed.
and Tears like Fountains flow;
Oh! let thy Frowns to Blessings turn,
For if in love I longer burn,
'twill prove my overthrow.

Will not my sighs some pitty move?
Behold the pleasant Charms of Love,
in e'ry Vein does slow;
Some comfort to thy Servant give,
Without thy Love I cannot live,
'twill prove my overthrow.

The scornful Damsel did reply,
Your Suit I utterly defie;
pray from my presence go;
'Tis strange that Love should be so hot,
Your Life or Death I value not,
or eke your overthrow.

Each word was like a killing Dart,
Which pierc'd the young man to the Heart,
he streight from her did go,
With a most discontented mind,
He often sighing said, I find
she'll prove my overthrow.

His scorching Love straightway did turn
Unto a Feaver which did burn,
he straight to bed did go,
From whence he never did arise,
But often said with Sighs and Cries,
Love proves my overthrow

I now shall never see thee more,
Whom I so dearly did adore,
since you no kindness show,
I'll dye a Martyr for thy sake,
And with these words his heart did break,
love proves my overthrow.

Now when this Damsel she did hear
The Death of her beloved Dear;
she wept most bitterly:
To his Grave with Grief she run,
And cried out, what have I done!
my Frowns has murder'd thee.

With Grief and Cares I am opprest,
That night and day I take no rest;
thy Ghost methinks I see,
That haunts my Person night and day.
My Love, alas! what shall I say?
'twas I that murder'd thee.

Farewell Relations, Friends and all,
His Bloud doth for just Vengeance call,
kind Death must set me free,
In Grave I'll lye down by thy side,
I am not fit to live she cry'd,
my Frowns has murder'd thee.

She to her Bower did return,
And never, never cease to mourn;
in Tears to that degree,
That Death at length her heart did seize;
Her last and dying words are these,
my Love I come to thee.

It was her Will, that she might have
A Lodging in her Lover's Grave,
to which all did agree;
Both their Relations thought it fit,
And on her Coffin it was writ,
My Love I come to thee.