The Constancy of True Love, OR. An Excellent Relation of the Untimely Death of Two Faithful Lovers. To the tune of Down by a Forest  
 

IN that fair fragrant month of May,  
When earth her curtains doth display,  
I did by chance my corpse repose  
Upon a bank, which Woods did close,  
With green and levy bowers about;  
A place to shun the tedious rout  
Of Tib's and Tom's, for this intent,  
This flowery seat I did frequent.   

Nature had striven to show her feat  
In the composure of this seat;  
For in a U●lley plain was found,  
This place by hills encircled round.  
Both lofty Beech and Cedar's tall  
Did shelter this rich Sylvan hall.  
here Satyrs and the Naiads,  
Here Silvans and the Dryads,   

Here rural gods and tripping Nymphs,  
Did hath their corpse in the pure lymphs,  
And crystal streams which made a noise  
In compassing this place of joys.  
No fairer place nor fountain found  
Diana ' with golden tresses crowned,  
And Lad●● guarded in this seat,  
the wihstling wind cooled summer's heat   

Here the nine Muses vs●e to dance,  
Here the kind graces used in prance;  
Here Phoebe his warbling harp did tune,  
The lifesome months of May & june.  
Here Philomela tuned melody.  
Hither the chirping birds did fly,  
Here Thrush & blackbird from their throats  
strained diverse sundry pleasant notes,   

Here the Nymph Echo in bellow ground  
Di● the la●● 〈◊〉 resound;  
What harbour could the world spare  
more trim, more neat, more sweet more tore?  
Here as I sat musing alone,  
Me thought I heard one grieve and groan,  
Ah me poor wretch, this creature said,  
Where at my senses grew afraid.   

I started looking here and there,  
To view the subject of this fear:  
A Lady object to mine eyes,  
I sound the effect of all these cries;  
I hasted to inquire the c●use  
Which did her weeping eyes amaze:  
Behold, quoth me, my Love (alas)  
Whose crimson blood here dies the grass.   

The sweetest creature here lieth dead,  
That famous Europe ever bred;  
I have my wronged Lover slain,  
His death shall be the death of twain.  
I prayed her then for to relate,  
The cause of his untimely fate;  
She then scarce fetching of her breath,  
Begins the Story of his death.   

Blind Cupid (quoth she) with his dart,  
In tender years did wound his heart,  
Made subject to the love of me,  
An actor of this tragedy.  
His heart and mind together tried,  
His love and mine together ti'ed,  
Our parents sought to cross our will,  
But we continued constant still.   

Though time the disadvantage gave,  
And we no place for love could have,  
Yet still we sought to recompense,  
Love with true love without offence.  
We dwelled in neighbouring houses ni●,  
And getting conference thereby;  
We did appoint under this tree  
Is meat but disappointed be.    

The second part, To the same tune.  
 

When bright Aurora péeped out,  
And Phoebus newly looked about,  
I first (according to my vow)  
made haste unto this plighted bough:  
Here as I stayed for my Love,  
Whose coming over-late did prove,  
A Lion with inhuman paws,  
Came to that well to cool his jaws.   

His mouth was all with blood besmeared,  
This instrument of Death I feared,  
I stead to hide myself for fear,  
And left behind my mantle there.  
The Lion having slaked his thirst,  
Run where I left my garment first,  
But when he saw no place for prey.  
He s●u●'d with blood my Livery:   

And having m●s●ed thus the same,  
Thither he went whence first he came:  
But I knew not that he was gone,  
And therefore stayed I hid alone.  
In the mean time (Oh grief) came he,  
Who promised ha● to meet with me,  
And under this our plighted bough,  
He sought performance of our vow.   

He found not me, but found my Coat,  
All bloodied by the Lion's throat,  
Which when he saw with blood belayed,  
My absence made him sore afraid:  
What should he think, but that some beast,  
Upon my carcase made his Feast:  
He thought that the grim Lion's whelp,  
Devoured me being void of help.   

While he these events thus did brook,  
The instrument of death he took,  
A naked sword, which by his side,  
Ready for Combats he had tied:  
I have, quoth he, wrought my Love's death,  
The end of her shall end my breath,  
And thereupon thr●st to the hilt  
His sword, and thus his blood he spilt.   

That the first Passenger might know,  
The dismal events of this woe,  
He wrote and pinned a note thereof,  
Upon his Hat to show the proof:  
Which I being void of sear at last,  
And thinking all the danger past,  
Returning from that hideous bed,  
Whereto I from the Lion fled,   

I found this Copy of his death,  
And his dead carcase void of breath:  
No sch●●o sighs no griefs, no groans,  
No trickling tears, no mournful m●●nes,  
No ejaculations, no cries,  
No doleful Ditty. or Elegies,  
Shall serve for to be ●asle his end,  
Which for my love his life did spend.   

In life his love did me pursue,  
But by his death he proved it true:  
If he then for my s●k●●id die,  
As much for him why should not I?  
Since death hath us denied our right,  
Then friendly death shall us unite,  
And I will follow him in haste,  
Who thought he followed me being past.   

These words as soon as she had spoke,  
She gave herself a deadly stroke:  
She drew the sword out of his breast,  
And in her own the same she thrust.  
And as in life their hearts were one,  
So are their lives together gone,  
In spite of parents, time or place,  
Fond love will run his wished race.   

Thus have you heard a Tragedy  
Acted by lover's constancy,  
God send such lover's better speed,  
Where fervency true Love doth breed.   
FINIS.   

Imprinted at London for Francis Coules and are to be sold at his shop in the Old-Bayley.