A New Copy of Verses CALLED The Heiress' Lamentation: OR, Pity too Late.  
To the Tune of, The Torments of a Long Dispair.  

I  
YE Happy, happy Nymphs around,  
That hear my Mournful Story,  
Whose Breasts it does with Pity wound;  
Take warning I implore ye:  
Had I but sooner seen my Fate,  
I might have saved my Ruin.  
But like fond Girls, I find too late,  
The cause of my Undoing.   

II.  
If Pity be the Virgin's part?  
Their Nature's soft and moving;  
Why then had I so hard a Heart  
To One so Kind and Loving?  
Distracting Thoughts my Fate attends,  
All other Men will shun me:  
Oh! cruel Laws, more cruel Friends,  
Why have ye thus undone me?   

III  
Alas! what is my Fortune now?  
Each Fop will look above me;  
Pretenders I may have enough,  
But none that e'er will love me,  
Like those by Ignorance betrayed,  
I'm driven to Repentance,  
To live a Wretched ruin'd Maid,  
Is my unpitied sentence.   

IV.  
Some strictness Modesty allows,  
To guard us from our Ruin,  
But I alas! have no Excuse,  
He sought not my Undoing;  
With tender Sighs (to be his Wife,)  
And constancy did Woe me,  
But I ungrateful took his Life,  
What Vengeance must pursue me?   

V  
Methinks in the Elysium shades,  
Where injured Lovers tarry,  
He here my Treachery upbraids,  
My cruel Marks does carry;  
Revenge, revenge my Wrongs (he cries)  
‛ On that Perfidious Woman;  
‛ Ye Fates for her new Wrath devise,  
‛ And Punishments uncommon.   

VI  
‛ As Pity once was to her Breast,  
‛ May Peace become a Stranger,  
‛ Let Ghastly Thoughts desturb her Rest,  
‛ And fright her still with danger;  
‛ When Time my Injuries shall ●●●r  
‛ Let all Mankind defame her:  
‛ May all with Joy, her Sorrows hear,  
‛ But none with pity name her.   

VII.  
Such Cruel dismal Sounds are these,  
My waking Thoughts discover,  
And when with Sleep my Griefs I'd ease,  
His strangled Ghost does hover  
About my Couch; methinks it flies  
With open Arms, to have me,  
‛ You are my Lawful Wife, he cries,  
‛ No Power on Earth shall save ye.   

VIII.  
Then waking from the sad Surprise,  
I trembling, gaze around me,  
And tho' no Ghosts, alas! there is:  
My Conscience serves to wound me.  
Would I had been some homebred Lass,  
Brought up in humble Doing;  
For Riches is the Cause, alas!  
Of my Eternal Ruin.   

IX.  
Ye British Maids, take my Advice,  
And not for Interest Marry,  
Let not Merit rule your Choice,  
Lest ye like me Miscarry;  
My Fortune I was loath to give,  
Tho' he by Love had won me,  
But now too late, I do perceive,  
The Cause that has undone me.   

X.  
All Day I sit and vent my Grief,  
My Friends are but a Trouble,  
In vain they strive to give relief,  
They but increase it double:  
Had they been less severe, I might  
Have hindered my Undoing,  
But oh! alas, I find too late,  
The cause of my Undoing.    

London, Printed for I. Richardson, near Ludgate.