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The pretty daisy which doth shew
Her love to Phæbus bred her woe, Who joys to see his chearful face,
And mourns when he is not in place, Alack, alack, alack, quoth she,
There's none that ever loves like me.
The flowers of the sweetest scent,
She bound them round with knotted bent, And as she laid them still in bands,
She wept, she wail'd, and wrung her hands, Alas, alas, alas, quoth she,
There's none that ever lov'd like me.
False man (quoth she), forgive thee heaven,
As I do wish my sins forgiven, In blest Elysium I shall sleep,
When thou with perjured souls shall weep, Who when they liv'd did like to thee,
That lov'd their loves as thou dost me,
When she had fill'd her apron full,
Of such sweet flowers as she could cull,
The flowers pillows for her head,
Alas with love her heart did break,
THE FAITHLESS LOVER,
(A second part to the preceding.)
When I had seen this virgin's end,
I sorrowed as became a friend, And wept to see that such a maid
Should be by faithless love betray'd, But woe I fear will come to thee,
That was not in love, as she.
The birds did cease their harmony,
The harmless lambs did seem to cry, The flowers they did hang their head,
The flower of maidens being dead, Whose life by death is now set free,
And none did love more dear than she.
The bubbling brooks did seem to moan,
And Echo from the vales did groan, Diana's nymphs did ring her knell,
And to their queen the same did tell, Who vowed by her chastity,
That none should take revenge but she.
When as I saw her corpse was cold,
I to her lover went, and told
What chance unto this maid befell,
Who said I'm glad she sped so well, D'ye think that I so fond would be
To love no maid, but only she,
I was not made for her alone,
I take delight to hear them moan, When one is gone I will have more,
That man is rich that hath most store, I bondage hate, I must live free,
And not be tied to such as she,
0, Sir, remember then (quoth I)
The power of heaven's all-seeing eye, Who doth remember vows forgot,
Though you deny you know it not, Call you to mind this maiden free,
The which was wrong'd by none but thee,
Quoth he, I have a love more fair,
Besides she is her father's heir, A bonny lass doth please my mind,
That unto me is wondrous kind, Her will I love, and none but she,
Who welcome still shall be to me,
False minded man that so would prove
Disloyal to thy dearest love,
Who at her death for thee did pray,
And wisht thee many happy days, I would my love but would love me,
E'en half so well as she lov'd thee.
Fair maidens will example take,
Young men will curse thee for her sake, They'll stop their ears unto our plaints,
And call us devils seeming saints, They'll say to-day that we are kind,
To-morrow in another mind.
“ THE TRUE MAYDE OF THE SOUTH,
A rare example of a maide dwelling at Rie in
Sussex, who for the love of a young man of Lester-shire, went beyond sea in the habit of a page, and after, to their hearts content were both marryed at Magrum in Germany, and now dwelling at Rye aforesaid.”
To the tune of_“Come, come my sweet and bonny one."
From a black letter copy printed for F. Coules.
Within the haven town of Rye,
That stands in Sussex fair,
This turtle dove
Did dearly love
In mind and face,
To be the grace