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EBBA 21397

Magdalene College - Pepys
Ballad XSLT Template
The wounded Lover:
Loves powerful Dart did pierce his heart
who with his panting breath
Aloud did cry, My Celia's eye
hath wounded me to death.
Tune of, Some say there was a Papist plot ; or, Jenny Gin.

M Y thinks I feel fresh bleeding wounds,
still running in my breast;
'Tis Celia all my Joys confounds,
and robs me of my rest:
The beauty of her sparkling eyes
doth set my heart on fire;
She doth my yielding soul surprize,
and fills me with desire.

Yet tho she doth so tryrannize,
I fondly hug my chains;
My Liberty I do despise,
and love my pleasing pains:

'Tis love, O love! feeds my delight,
and adds flames to my fire;
Altho' I burn both day and night,
I languish with desire.

Yet she in whom I take delight
looks with a scornful eye;
And seems my passion for to slight,
that ready am to dye:
Yet one poor sweet enamouring smile
not mixed with disdain,
My killing anguish would beguile
and banish all my pain.

O who would let a Lover dye,
that one poor smile could save?
A glance of her all-conquering eye
would fetch me from the Grave.
Then be as kind as thou art fair,
'twill happy be for me;
Or else for Death I must prepare,
and all for love of thee.

My troubled Ghost will to and fro
be wandring through the Ayr;
And every where as it doth go
cry: Celia too too fair,
Why didst thou prove to me unkind
while I enjoy'd my breath?
I was so troubled in my mind,
that brought me to my death.

For certain this must trouble thee,
to give me to my doom;
For I will have thy cruelty
engraved on my Tomb:
Some one that felt Love's powerful dart,
so kind will be to me,
And write here lies a broken heart,
fair Celia slain by thee.

The blossoms of thy flowry cheeks
will then grow wan and pale,
And turn as green as any Leeks,
thy spirits they will fasl.

O then too late thou wilt repent
thy cruelty to me,
And cry in fearful discontent,
my Love i'le follow thee.

Then e're it be too late begin
thy kindness for to show;
Think on the pains I lived in
encompass'd round with woe:
So maist thou me from death preserve,
now mourning in despair,
Who vow while I have life to serve
my Celia chast and fair.

Oh what a happy man were I
beyond all others blest,
If by the message of thine eye
thy love would be exprest:
But if there be no hopes that I
my true-Love may obtain,
I'le wish for death most greedily,
to ease me of my pain.

Take pitty on my fainting breath
once more I thee desire;
Or see my heart resign to death,
just ready to expire:
Thou ne'r wilt find a Love more kind,
my passion to exceed;
To cruel death I yield my breath,
for thee to death I bleed.


Printed for J. Clark, W. Thackery and T. Passenger.

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