%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The True Lover's Joy: / Or, A Dialogue between a Seaman and his Love. / The Maid implores the Aid of Charon's Boat, / That to the gloomy Shades her Soul might bloat; / With Sighs and Groans, much weary and opprest; / At last he heard her Moan, and gave her rest, / From all past Dangers, and from future Harms, / She safe arriv'd and anchor'd in his in his Arms. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1703-1703 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 05/09/2011 31304

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R228945 1 a new Tune much in Request UNKNOWN A New Tune Much in Request Hark Charon, come away, / bring forth thy Boat and Oars, Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 3: 885 The True Lover's Joy: / Or, A Dialogue between a Seaman and his Love. / The Maid implores the Aid of Charon's Boat, / That to the gloomy Shades her Soul might bloat; / With Sighs and Groans, much weary and opprest; / At last he heard her Moan, and gave her rest, / From all past Dangers, and from future Harms, / She safe arriv'd and anchor'd in his in his Arms. The True Lover’s Joy: Or, A Dialogue between a Seaman and his Love. The Maid implores the Aid of Charon’s Boat, That to the gloomy Shades her Soul might float; With Sighs and Groans, much weary and opprest; At last he heard her Moan, and gave her rest, From all past Dangers, and from future Harms, She safe arriv’d and anchor’d in his Arms. The True Lover’s Joy: Or, A Dialogue between a Seaman and his Love. The Maid implores the Aid of Charon’s Boat, That to the gloomy Shades her Soul might float; With Sighs and Groans, much weary and oppressed; At last he heard her Moan, and gave her rest, From all past Dangers, and from future Harms, She safe arrived and anchored in his Arms. 1703-1703 E. Brooksby

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious types & sects royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic The New World travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgarities/ crass humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 5/9/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America love maritime mythology/ Classical The New World Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 5/9/2011 2:11:38 PM XBallad Doss, MacKenzie Created XML Version of Ballad 5/9/2011 2:11:38 PM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/9/2011 2:11:38 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Zusky, Catherine Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/9/2011 2:11:38 PM Transcriptionist Two Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/9/2011 2:11:38 PM Transcriptionist One Megna, Paul Transcription of ballad manuscript 2/14/2011 Checker Grafals Michael Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/29/2009 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
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Maid. HArk Charon, come away, bring forth thy Boat and Oars, And carry me poor harmless Maid, unto the Eleizium Shoars. Charon. Who Charon calls in hast, whilst I sit here in pain? I carry none but pure and chast, such as true Love hath slain.
I am come, dear Soul, I come, thy Face doth so incharm me; Come in my Boat and take thy room, no Wind nor Wave shall harm thee. Maid. Now I am come in thy Boat, I am a Maid undone, Sighing my Heart is almost broke, for my Love he is from me gone. Thus as I pass the Shades,
Ill tell you a mournful Tale, So full of Sigh as we do pass, shall serve us for a Gale. And so beguile the time, Ill sing you a true Lovers Song, Mine Eyes shall flow a Sea of Tears, to carry the Boat along. Oh whats become of those hard Hearts of a Virgin takes no Pitty, Theyr sailing to Virginia Parts, where Neptune hath built a City. O Cupid hath wounded me, and hath piercd my tender Heart, To call for one whom I lovd so dear, who cares but little fort. Thus in the Shades below, well wast the tedious Hours No gust of Wind, but sighs shall blow, the Boat with Charons Oars. His Answer. Stay, gentle Charon, stay, and let the Boat alone, Row not the harmless Maid away, that sits and makes her Moan. For she that calls so fast, and sighs so at thy stay, A Virgin is as pure and chast, as ere true Love did slay. Shes no dear Soul for thee, let not her Face incharm thee, Though room within thy Boat there be, her Beauty there may charm thee. O fair One if you go, Im more undone than you, My Heart doth equal Sorrow know, and still my Love is true. The Shades you must not pass, nor mournful Stories tell, Instead of sighing Gales, alas! a Kiss will do as well.
youd better stay a shore, and sing us a true Lovers Song, It is enough, we need no more to carry his Boat along. No Heart so hard I know, but would gladly ease your Pain, Else Heart let him to Virginia go, and never return again. If Cupid hath wounded you, he had wounded me before; If you love as you say you do, I love you as much or more. In Beds of softest Down, well spend the short livd nights, No gust of Wind or Sigh shall drown the Current of our Delights. Maid. Come gentle Charon, come, and me to shoar remove, The Wind dispairing sight did blow, shall wast me unto Love. How slow the Boat-man stears, if he no faster ply, My Love to rid me of my Fears, shall lend me his Wings to flye. To thee, dear Love, I float, finding thee just and true, And bid to Charon and his Boat, eternally Adieu. Make hast, make hast, my Dear, for, if thou longer stay, Through the Floods without all Fears, my Arms shall make their way. Welcome, my Love, to shoar, Ill keep thee from all harms, And thou shalt ride for evermore at Anchor in my Arms.
Printed for E. Brooksby at the Golden Ball in Pye-corner.