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EBBA 30944

British Library - Roxburghe
Ballad XSLT Template
OLIMPYAS Unfortunate Love:
OR
GALLIUS his Treacherous Cruelty.
A new Song, as it is Sung in a Play, called, The Spanish Fryer.
At the Dukes Theatre, with great applause.
Fairest Olimpia at last being won,
Did yield to Gallius, who has her undone,
Her Honours lost, and he does her Neglect
His ends being gaind he shews her no respect:
But flies her arms, whilst that false Man she crys,
And in her Blood her fatal Dagger dyes.
To a pleasant new Play-House Tune.

FArewel ungrateful Traytor,
farewel my Perjurd Swain;
Let never injurd Creature,
believe a Man again:
The pleasure of possessing,
Surpasses all expressing,
But tis too short a Blessing,
and love too long a pain.

Tis easie to deceive us,
in pitty of your pain,
But when we love, you leave us,
to rail at you in vain:
Before we have discryd it,
There is no Bliss beside it,
But she that once has tryd it,
will never love again.

The passion you pretended,
was only to obtain,
But when the Charm is ended,
the Charmer you disdain:
Your love by ours we measure
Till we have left our Treasure,
But dying is a Pleasure,
when living is a pain.

For who would live in Torment,
to be each moment slain;
By flames of love so fervent,
enragd by mans disdain:
When death has power to ease us,
Of all the woes that seize us,
And sorrows that displease us,
so ner to grieve again.

No Tortures like to loving,
and not belovd again,
Yet we are oft approving;
of such a fatal bane:
By crediting their wishes,
Their Toying and their Kisses,
Which do but raise our Blisses,
to fall beneath disdain.

They only are for pleasure,
our Honours so to stain,
Then let us grieve at leisure,
theyl Laugh when we complain
And still will prove more cruel,
By adding of new Fuel,
In which they think they do well,
to Martyr us with pain.

Whilst like the Phenix frying,
we in sweet Gums remain,
They triumph in our Dying,
and boast they Trophies gain:

But cruel man tis faded,
Since you my Love invaded,
I will not be upbraided,
first Death shall end my pain.

O witness all ye powers,
how he my Love did gain,
Whilst oft in shady Bowers,
he swore he woud remain
The constantest of Lovers,
But now my Loss discovers;
How black my fate it hovers,
and how his vows were vain.

With that a sigh she breathed,
whilst in her breast the flame
Did struggle to be eased,
when ah, she did proclaim:
Too Cruel Galius flying,
When thy Olimpias Dying,
With gloomy Eyes then eying
each corner of the Plain.

When as she Deaths keen message,
out of her Bosom drew,
And gave it speedy passage,
her Life for to subdue:
Then cryd false Man, her passion,
Who first for you took Station,
Fate weds past alteration,
Olympia Dyes for you.


Printed for J Deacon, at the Angel in Guilt-spur-street without Newgate.

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