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EBBA 21396

Magdalene College - Pepys
Ballad XSLT Template
The Dying Shepherdess.
While Coridon did her Forsake ,
who lov'd him as her soul ,
For him poor wretch, she moan did make ,
and sadly did Condole .
To the Tune of, Ah Cloris full of harmless thoughts .

A Las my Youthful Coridon ,
now prove unkind to me,
He was the Man I doted on,
yet slighted I must be,
O who could think a tongue so fair,
could mean so much deceit,
And cause a Soul, thus to condole,
beneath her pain to great.

O that I ne'r had him beleiv'd,
who prov'd a meer trappan,
Too long, too long, poor soul I griev'd
for this False-hearted man:
And should I sigh my self to be,
to him all one 'twould be,
For while I mourn, like one forlorn,
he triumphs over me.

False Man take heed least you in time,
are caught in Cupids Snare,
And whilst you flourish in your prime,
of such Deceits take care:
For sometimes Cupid is so just
that he doth those requite,
And gives a wound, that is profound,
to those who Maids do slight.

But let it not to you seem strange,
if once you feel his Dart,
For though you love the world to range
it is but your desert,
For to be wounded to the Quick,
that you feel such pain,
As Maidens do, when such as you,
their tender Loves disdain,

The pains of Love there's none can tell
but those who do them feel,
No Doctors art can make them well,
no Balsome can them heal,
Yet one poor Kiss, can oft do more,
then tongue can well express
While we do find, false men unkind,
and too too pittifless.

In dying words I now Exclaim,
of thy Unconstancy,
By thee thy Faithful Love is slain,
for thee I bleeding dye:
And when I am deceased and gone,
thou surely wilt Lament,
& grieve that thou didst break thy vow,
and wilt too late Repent.

Whilst I in the Elizium shade,
with many thousand more,
That by false men have been betray'd,
in ages heretofore:
Amongst our selves shall there rejoyce:
while we are left behind,
and your heart bleeds, for your misdeeds
there we shall comfort find.

The torments then you will endure,
will be just Punishment,
Your wounds will not admit of Cure,
in vain you will repent:

But had you to your Loves been true,
such pains you ne'r had known,
O why should we, continually,
in torments fry alone.

When on your Death-beds you shall lye
strange Visions will appear,
Which shall amaze your wondring eye,
strange sounds shall fill your ear,
And when your actions too unjust,
you then shall think upon,
You'l sigh and say, Death come away,
for helpless Coridon ,

And when you lose your sweetest breath,
as once you know you must,
You will avknowledge to grim death,
that you have been unjust,
And those that here art left behind,
shall write upon your Tomb,
Here lyeth one false Coridon,
confin'd to this small room.


London , Printed for M. Coles, T. Vere, J[.]
Wright, J. Clarke, W. Thackaray,
and T. Passinger.

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