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EBBA 33931

National Library of Scotland - Crawford
Ballad XSLT Template
The DAMOSELS Tragedy:
OR, True Love in Distress.
Being an account of a young Man, who Slighting a young
Maiden who had fix'd her love upon him, did thereby cause her to end her days in
Dispair by a dreadful Dose of Poyson.
To the Tune of, Charon, etc.
This may be Printed, R. P.

YOu Loyal Lovers attend to my Ditty,
which with a sorrowful heart I raise,
'Tis of a Damsel, the more is the pitty,
who with strong Poyson did end her days:
Fair Elinor this Lass was named,
John the cause of all her Woe,
Sighing she said, tho' I here may be blamed,
No body knows what I undergo!

In my soft Breast is a secret Fire,
which by the power of Love increas'd,
Nothing but Death is my earnest desire,
hoping there by I shall be releast:

For I have lost my dearest Jewel,
this to my Grief, alas! I know,
My dearest Johnny, O why now so Cruel!
you little think what I undergo.

Here do I languish by you unlamented,
now my poor innocent heart's betray'd,
How can you any way here be contented,
when you have ruin'd a harmless Maid?
To me you have been most false-hearted,
proving my final overthrow,
Since from my presence you have departed,
No body knows what I undergo!

Every Vein in my heart now does tingle,
while I in sorrow am left alone,
Many sad Sighs with my Tears I mingle,
while to the world here I make my moan:
O that I might but once behold him,
then would it Expiate my Woe,
But in my arms I shall never infold him,
No body knows what I undergo!

down from her eyes the tears flow'd like a fountain
being surrounded with Care and Grief,
And tho' her sorrows she still was recanting,
there was no Creature to yield Relief:
Many a bitter Sigh she giving,
while her poor heart was sunk full low,
Said she, I here am a weary of Living,
No body knows what I undergo.

In her strange Fancy ran many a Notion,
before the passion of Love was past,
At length it was to prepare a sad Potion,
the which bereav'd her of Life at last:
Then as in Torments she lay Dying,
being opprest with Grief and Woe,
Wringing her hands like a Lover, and crying,
No body knows what I undergo.

Farewel, farewel, to my dearest for ever,
I must submit to the hand of Fate,
If that you here would afford me your pitty,
now you would find it is far too late:
Then with those words she did Expire,
saying, to Dye I am afraid,
All her Relations and Friends that was nigh her,
wept for to hear the sad moan she made.

Here have I given a perfect Relation,
of a young Damsel that Dy'd you hear,
Through her false Lovers Dissimulation,
who can forbear now to shed a Tear?
True Love abused it is such a Tryal,
that there is few thorow it can Wade,
Therefore O young-men, now learn to be Loyal,
think of the Sorrowful End she made.

Printed for J. Back, at the Black Boy on London-
Bridge, near the Draw-Bridge.

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