The Northerne Turtle:
Wayling his vnhappy fate,
In being depriued of his sweet Mate.
To a new Northerne tune, or A health to betty.
AS I was walking all alone,
I heard a man lamenting,
Vnder a hollow bush he lay,
but sore he did repent him
Alas quoth he, my Loue is gone:
which causeth me to wander,
Yet merry wil I neuer bee,
till I lye lulling beyond her.
Good Lord, so soundly I could sléep,
if that I lay lulling beyond her,
All the night till the day were light
and the sun did shine vpon her:
Yet early by day I wold steal away
to keepe my Loue from slander,
Yet I will neuer quiet bee,
till I lye lulling beyond her.
My loue and I, we gallantly,
so many yeares together,
Her loue was so inclined to me,
that now I'me loth to leaue her:
But now this wicked world is such
that causeth me to wander:
Yet will I neuer woman touch,
till I lye lulling beyond her.
Like to the Turtle I will mourne,
in absence of my marrow,
With bitter teares I cry and morne
my ioy is all but sorrow;
My comfort is to me much care,
whilst floods and woods I wander
Nay, merry will I neuer be,
till I lye lulling beyond her.
O Gods that made the birds to fly,
to loue their mates so dearely,
Yet for her sake they doe refuse,
to sing or chirp once cheerely.
What comfort can the world afford
what ioyes then can I render?
Nay merry wil I neuer be,
till I lye lulling beyond her.
A pretty Dame was once my Loue,
till death made separation,
And she to me did constant proue,
without dissimulation:
Yet for her sake still will I weepe
while I on earth doe wander:
Nay soundly will I neuer sleepe,
till I lye lulling beyond her.
Though cruell death hath cut the breath,
of this my comely creature,
To meet againe we haue true faith,
our change is but a feature.
Death may indeed in bondage keepe,
yet not our loue can hinder,
Then soundly, soundly shall I sleepe;
when as I lay lulling beyond her.
My dearest Deare I come to thee.
when pleaseth death to send me,
The graue I count my dearest home,
oh quiokely then befriend me:
She prou'd a Hero true to me,
and I will be a Leander,
I neuer shall in quiet be,
till I lye lulling beyond her.
FINIS.
London, printed for I. H.