The Perjur'd SWAIN;
OR, The Damsels Bloody Tragedy.
You Loyal Lovers now that hear
this Damsels Destiny;
Sure can't forbear to shed a Tear
at this sad Tragedy.
The Tune is, Sefautian's Farewell.
This may be Printed, R.P.
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AS I rang'd for my Recreation,
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just as fair Phebus in glory did rise;
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I o'reheard a young Damsel in passion,
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who bath'd her Cheeks with her wat'ry Eyes;
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Smiting her Breast, these words she exprest,
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O where shall I wander to find any rest?
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My unkind Swain, has left the Plain,
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and long have I sought him, and yet alas in vain.
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I ne'r thought you could have been cruel,
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when you my Person did dearly adore;
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Saying, I was your amorous Jewel;
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and vow'd you lov'd me a thousand times more
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Then all the Gold you e're did behold,
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but I find that passionate Love is soon cold;
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When Maids believe, Young-men deceive,
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and that is the reason that I lament and grieve.
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By each false and flattering Story,
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my Heart to love you was easie betray'd;
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This has clearly Eclipsed my Glory,
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and you have Ruin'd an innocent Maid,
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Whose bitter crys, now pierces the Skies,
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while you do both Triumph and Tyrannize
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Over me here, sharp and severe,
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for loving so loyal, my Life must pay full dear.
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HEre I make my moan to the Mountains,
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and senceless trees which are here in the Grove,
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While my Eyes they do flow like two Fountains,
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sad sighs I send for the loss of my Love:
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Here I declare, I am in dispair,
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my passion is more than I'm able to bear;
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True Love, I find, distracts my mind,
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O Strephon, now tell me, how can you be unkind.
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Pale-fac'd Death come hither and seize me
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why should I live here in sorrow and grief?
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O, it lies in thy power to ease me,
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thou art able to yield me relief:
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Here let me have a sweet silent Grave,
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for that is the boon I desire to crave;
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To ease my smart, let me depart,
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without long delaying, come wound me to the heart.
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Since my Swain has prov'd so ungrateful,
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I here lye wrack'd on the torments of love;
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Surely never was Man more deceitful,
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he often call'd to the Powers above
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To justifie, his pure Loyalty,
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yet he from his vows and his promise can flye;
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Here I take on, do what I can,
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sure there is no Creature so false as wretched Man.
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My sweet Lambs that are round me a feeding
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here in this Valley both safe and secure;
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While my innocent heart lies a bleeding,
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you are not sensible what I endure:
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What heaviness, my Soul does possess,
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my Pen is not able alas to express;
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Yet soon I'll be, from my pains free,
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for why should I languish in grief and misery.
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To my Swain my love was intire,
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and can't forget him as long as I live;
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Therefore here I do vow to expire,
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and will this minute the fatal stroak give:
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Then she apply'd a Dart to her side,
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which made a deep wound, so that quickly she dy'd:
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In midst of pain, she cry'd amain,
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farwel to the world, and my false & perjur'd Swain
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