%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Pensive Lover; / OR, / The Damosels Crosses Crown'd with Comfort. / She for a time had lost her Swain, / for which her Heart near broke; / Likewise she would her self have slain, / but Phaon stopt the Stroke. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1664-1664 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 07/09/2014 33419

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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

1 Grim King of the Ghosts. Grim King of the Ghosts Grim King of the Ghosts. O Pitty a harmless Maid / you Lovers that hear my moan Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 923 The Pensive Lover; / OR, / The Damosels Crosses Crown'd with Comfort. / She for a time had lost her Swain, / for which her Heart near broke; / Likewise she would her self have slain, / but Phaon stopt the Stroke. The Pensive Lover; OR, The Damsel's Crosses Crowned with Comfort. She for a time had lost her Swain, for which her Heart near broke; Likewise she would herself have slain, but Phaon stopped the Stroke. 1664-1664 J. Blare

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family Featured 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 groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 7/9/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America affliction/ health love rural life Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 7/9/2014 8:39:23 AM XBallad Saylor, Colton Created XML Version of Ballad 7/9/2014 8:39:23 AM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/9/2014 8:39:23 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Doran, Thomas Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/9/2014 8:39:23 AM Transcriptionist Two Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/9/2014 8:39:23 AM Transcriptionist One Yonker, Tori Transcription of ballad manuscript 12/4/2013 Checker Christopher Foley Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 12/4/2013 Checker Christopher Foley Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/6/2012 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Pensive Lover;</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">OR,</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left">The Damosels Crosses Crown'd with Comfort.</seg> <lb/> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">She for a time had lost her Swain,</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">for which her Heart near broke;</hi></hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">Likewise she would herself have slain,</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="7" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">but</hi></hi> <hi rend="italic">Phaon <hi rend="bold">stopt the Stroke.</hi></hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="8" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To the Tune of, <hi rend="bold">Grim King of the Ghosts.</hi></hi></seg>
O Pitty a harmless Maid you Lovers that hear my moan Young Phaon is from me stray'd, and here I am left alone: My sorrows was ne'r so severe, as now for the loss of my Swain, Alas! I have reason to fear, I never shall see him again. Through Valleys I range and rove, and Desarts both far and near, And every shady Grove, in order to find my Dear:
But weary of wandring now, since Phaon I cannot find, O here in these Shades I vow, my breath shall be straight resign'd. Sweet Death thou must prove my friend, since there is no joys appears, For why should I live to spend, my sorrowful days in tears: His innocent Life is betray'd, alas! I have cause to fear, Or else he would ne'r have stay'd so long from his dearest Dear.
He never was false to me, but true as the Turtle-Dove, Therefore I know that he would never desert his Love: But that some unfortunate doom, has blasted the days of my Dear, O would I had dy'd in his room, for I have no Comfort here. Whenever I close my Eyes, to slumber and take my rest, I fancy I hear the Crys of Phaon my Love, opprest: His body all bathed in Blood, thus gashful my Love he appears, At this my poor eyes, like a flood, does melt into showers of Tears. Farewel to the World, said she, since Phaon is not alive, This Minute i'le come to thee, for why should I here survive? Then taking a Weapon so keen, so soon as these words she had spoke, But Phaon straight stept in between, and hinder'd the fatal stroke. As soon as she e're beheld young Phaon, her hearts delight, She was with Love-Raptures fill'd, her sorrows all banisht quite:
With trembling voice she reply'd, sweet Phaon thou'rt welcome to me, My Patience, alas! has been try'd, but now I am happy in thee. Pardon, fair Cynthia, he said, for leaving thee sighing here, My Flocks with their Lambs they strayd and I have rang'd far and near: The Valleys, nay, Desart and Grove, I wander from morning till night, But now I am come to my Love, to Crown thee with joy and delight: Whenever I slept, said she, I waken'd in frightful Dreams, Thy Body I thought I see all bathed in Purple Streams: When I in this passion did wake, and just at the point of Dispair, I knew not what course I should take, my sorrows I could not bear. Love, dry off thy Tears, said she, since I am alive and well, And here in the shades with thee, hereafter I mean to dwell: And never will wander again from thee who I dearly adore, The Glory of all the whole Plain, fair Cynthia shall be therefore.
Printed for J. Blare, at the Looking-Glass on Lundon Bridge.