Celindas last Gasp: OR, Her Farewel to False Coridon. Since Coridon provd false in heart, Celinda Mourned sore, But feeling too too great a smart, she vowd to Love no more: But at the last all-Conquering Death did ease her troubled mind, And as she parted with her Breath, he staid not long behind. To the Tune of, Young Phaeon, Busie Fame: Or, Cloris full of Harmless thoughts.
|
ATtend true Lovers and give ear,
|
unto my Dying Song;
|
For unto you I will declare,
|
how Cupid did me wrong:For with his powerful cruel Dart,
|
he sought my grief and woe,
|
And piercd my tender Love-sick heart,
|
which proves my overthrow.
|
And Coridon who I did love,
|
beyond all other men,
|
To his Celinda false did prove,
|
which cut my heart agen:
|
So now I to the Grave am brought,
|
for loving too too well,
|
Love would have brought, a heaven I thought,
|
but now it proves a Hell.
|
Ah! fate to me so cruel still,
|
now let me know the cause,
|
That you thus seek my Blood to spill,
|
for keeping Cupids Laws:
|
Them in my mind I thought I was
|
oblieged to obey,
|
But now too late I find alas,
|
my comforts all decay.
|
WHen poor Celindas dead and gone,
|
and laid within her Grave,
|
Write some Love Verses on my Tomb,
|
tis all I now do crave:But yet I fear no Shepherdess,
|
ere felt so deep a Wound,
|
My griefs and sorrows to express,
|
theres none that can be found.
|
Who can relate my riged fate,
|
and not be drownd in Tears?
|
Or who can pitty my sad state,
|
that have for Months and years
|
Been Languishing in this Abiss,
|
and can no bottom find;
|
Robd of all joy and true Loves Bliss,
|
and troubled in my mind.
|
And Coridon for thy hard heart,
|
thou shalt tormented be,
|
For causing all this grief and smart,
|
which happened unto me:
|
For in the dead time of the night,
|
while others take their rest,
|
With Visions strange ile thee affright,
|
and prove a dreadful Guest.
|
Oh then too late thou shalt repent,
|
that thou wert so unkind,
|
Twill be in vain for to lament,
|
that thou shalt surely find:Where ever thou shalt be alone,
|
ile still be in thy sight,
|
Ile make thee sigh, and grieve, and mourn,
|
and rob thee of Delight.
|
That thou mayst be a warning to
|
such as like thee would prove,
|
And seek more Maidens to undo,
|
wrapt up in bonds of Love:
|
Who cannot find one hours content,
|
but burn with endless fire,
|
And do both night and day lament,
|
wanting their hearts desire.
|
So farewel cruel Coridon,
|
ile never love thee more,
|
Thou once wert he I doted on,
|
and did too much adore:One minute I out of my mind,
|
could not my Shepherd keep,
|
But he was Cruel and unkind,
|
and laught to see me weep.
|
My sorrows now will have an end,
|
that I continued in,
|
And loosing his (once) faithful friend,
|
his Torments will begin:
|
True lovers all observe his fall,
|
of falshood still beware,
|
For punishment is due to all,
|
that lay for Maids a snare.
|
And thus the poor Celinda Dyd,
|
with a sad troubled breast,
|
And Coridon was terrified,
|
as is before exprest:
|
But let no lovers after this,
|
be faithless and unkind,
|
For when the Shepherd did see this,
|
he staid not long behind.
|
|
|
|
|
|