The wofull complaint, and lamentable death of a forsaken Louer. To a pleasant new tune.
DOwne by a forrest where as I did passe,
to see what sport abroad there was,
Walking by a pleasant spring,
the Birds in sundry notes did sing.
Long time wandring here and there,
to sée what sports in forrests were,
At length I heard one make great mone,
saying, From me all ioyes are gone.
I gaue good héed vnto the same,
musing from whence this Eccho came:
But by no meanes I could deuise,
from whence this sorrowfull sound did rise,
But in that place did still remaine,
vntill I heard it once againe.
Then presently I heard one say,
O death, come take my life away.
I looked downe vpon my right hand,
a sort of pleasant flees did stand:
And vnder them I did behold
a pleasant place with shadowes cold.
A sumptuous place was in the same,
musing from whence this Eccho came:
Then in that place I did perceiue,
a Gentleman both fine and braue.
And from that place hée did come downe,
casting from him a mourning Gowne,
Walking vp and downe the place,
me thought a proper man he was▪
Thus to himselfe he did lament.
wishing to God his dayes were spent,
His torments did increase so sore,
his heart was able to beare no more:
I stept into a hollow trée,
because I would his passion sée:
With folded armes looking to skies,
the teares alas stood in his eyes:
And carelesse of his life he séem'd,
pitty he was no more esteem'd:
Then downe he laid him on the ground:
no ease to sorrow can be found.
Thus he lamented in wofull case,
seuen long yéeres within few dayes,
Saying, While I liue, I must remaine,
I find no ease to helpe my paine:
For she that should my sorrowes remoue,
she doth disdaine to be my Loue,
And hath béene since that she did heare,
that I good will to hee did beare.
Ye gods aboue come ease my paine,
[...]h heauy griefe doth me constraine,
For whilst my corps remaines, on earth,
shall shew the causes of my death.
Euery trée that here doth stand,
shall be engrauen with mine owne hand,
That they long time may witnesse beare,
Loue was the cause I died here.
Nature did to her so much right,
scorning to take the helpe of [...]t:
And in as many vertues dight,
as euer did imbrace a heart.
Being so good, so truly tried,
O some for lesse were deifl'd,
Full of pitty as may be,
and yet perhaps not so to me.
When first I saw her pleasant face,
me thought a ioyfull sight it was▪
Her beauty tooke my wits away,
I knew not how one word to say,
A Gentleman tooke her to dance,
she gallantly her selfe could prance,
And kept her order in good time,
I wish to God she had béene mine.
But when I thought she had béene mine owne,
then was she farthest from me flowne:
She gaue no eare vnto my cry,
which makes me here in sorrow die.
For she was in another mind,
which to my paine I often find,
Of all my hopes I am beguild,
which makes me walk [...] in woods so wilde,
The second part, To the same tune.
TO silent trées I make my mone,
and birds and beasts doe heare me grone,
Yet shée that should my griefe remove,
disloyall wretch to me did proue.
My loue to her was constant pure,
and to my end will so indure,
And Ioue to her I hope will send
a grieued minde before her end.
I haue forsaken friends and kinne,
my dayes to end these words within,
My pleasure past I now do leaue,
swéet Sauiour now my soule receiue.
Beare witnesse heauen of my griefe,
to ease my heart send some reliefe,
Faire Maids, vnto your louers be true,
if first be good, change not for new.
O young men all, be warn'd by me:
gaze not too much on womans beauty,
Lest that you be so fettered fast,
you cannot be enlarged at last.
Some womens wils they are well knowne,
in loue oft changing sticke to none:
They'l [...] sweare they loue you with their heart,
when mind and tongue are both apart.
My loue to her I did reueale,
and from her nothing did conceale,
Though at the first she seemed coy.
she said at the last, I was her ioy,
And none but I her loue should haue,
what néed I any more to craue?
But Haggard-like she me abus'd,
another chosen and I refus'd.
When he had bewail'd his sorrowes long,
hée tooke a Lute that by him hung,
And on the lute he sweetly plaid,
and vnto it these words he said:
O death, when will the houre come,
that I haue waited on so long?
For whilst I liue I languish still,
finding no helpe to ca [...] [...] ill,
Then quite he flung his lute away,
and tooke a sword that by him lay,
Sayes, Oft thou hast béen thy masters friend,
and now thou shalt his torments end.
He gaue true sentence in that place,
to end his life in a wofull case.
The hilt he strooke downe to the ground,
and gaue himselfe a deadly wound.
Then vnto him I ranne amain [...],
but out alas it was all in vain [...]:
For long before to him I came,
his death he had vpon the same.
I found his graue was ready made,
wherein I thought he should be laid.
And in that place I laid him downe,
and ouer spred his mourning Gowne.
Ou [...]r his Graue his sword I laid,
whereon his death he had receiu'd,
Upon his Lute a peale I rung,
and by the place the same I hung.
Then I beheld on euery trée,
her name that was his onely ioy,
Which long before his face did stand,
because she got the vpper hand.
This Maid that did doe all this wrong,
to liue a Maid thought it ore-long,
Married she is to such a one,
that daily makes her sigh and groane,
Her coynesse to her former Loue,
disloyall then, now truely proues:
Take héed faire Maids, for you may sée
wrongs alwayes will reuenged be:
Thus you women will vse your skill,
let vs poore men say what we will.
FINIS.
Printed at London for Henry Gosson.