The New Broome.  
 

Poor Coridon, did sometime sit  
hard by the Broom alone:  
And secretly complained to it,  
against his only one.  
He bids the Broom that blooms him by  
bear witness to his wrong,  
And thinking that none else was nigh,  
he thus began his Song:  
The bonny Broome, the well favoured Broom,  
the Broom blooms fair on hill,  
What ailed my Love to lightly me,  
and I working her will?   

If Syrinx for despising Pan  
the Shepherd's god, was changed,  
Into a Reed, may I not then,  
hope well to be revenged  
On Galatea? whose disdain  
for sorrow doth consume  
Poor Coridon, who still complains,  
and mourns among the Broom,  
The bonny Broome, etc.   

If proud Apollo fell in love  
with that Penean dame,  
And left his blessed abode above,  
to feed his fleshly flame,  
For pride sign turned in a Tree,  
that Death should been her Doom:  
Shall she not sometime sigh for me,  
and mourn amongst the Broom?  
The bonny Broome, etc.   

For she hath seen my sighs and tears,  
and knows my kind intent:  
Yet scorns for to regard my cares,  
and laughs when I lament.  
Yet though a look would send relief,  
to ease my grieved groan:   
 

First would she then to end my grief,  
been buried in the Broom,  
The bonny Broome, etc.   

Oh, would she leave her coy disdains,  
which makes me dwine and die.  
And pity him who still complains,  
that she so coy should been.  
Poor Coridon would out of doubt,  
his wont joys resume:  
And sing her praises round about  
the borders of the Broom.  
The bonny Broome, etc.   

But since she still continues coy,  
and careless of my care:  
I will awake the blinded Boy,  
my suit for to declare:  
That he over whom my Mistress proud  
so proudly doth presume:  
And make her sigh and sing aloud,  
sad songs about the Broom:  
The bonny Broome, etc.   

Else proud Apollo I thee pray,  
to turn her in a Tree:  
Pan throw thy pleasant Pipe away,  
Make her thy Reed to he,  
In tree or Reed when she is changed.  
let none of these bear bloom:  
So will I hold me well revenged,  
and blithely sing the Broom  
Bear witness Broome, thou dainty Broom  
that blooms on hill and dale:  
Since Galetea lightlies me,  
I take my long Farewell.   
FINIS.   

London Printed for F. Coles.