YOUNG Jemmy OR, The Princely Shepherd.  
Being a most pleasant and Delightful New Song.  

In blessed Arcadia, where each Shepherd feeds  
His numerous Flocks, and tunes on slender Reeds;  
His song of Love, while the fair nymphs trip round,  
The chief amongst 'em was young Jemmy found:  
For he with glances could enslave each heart,  
But fond Ambition made him to depart  
The Fields to Court, led on by such as sought  
To blast his Virtues which much sorrow brought   
To a pleasant New Playhouse Tune. Or, In january last, Or, The Gowlin.  
 
 

YOung Jemmy was a Lad,  
of Royal birth and Breeding:  
With every Beauty clad,  
and every Swain exceeding.  
A face and shape so wondrous fine,  
so charming every part:  
That every Lass upon the Green,  
for Jemmy had a heart.   

In Jemmy's powerful Eyes  
young Gods of Love are playing,  
And on his face there lies  
a thousand smiles betraying:  
But O he dances with a grace,  
none like him e'er was seen:  
No God that ever fancied was,  
had so divine a mien.   

To Jemmy every Swain  
did lowly deft his Bonnet:  
And every Lass did strain,  
to praise him in her Sonnet:  
The pride of all the Youths he was,  
the Glory of the Groves:  
The pleasure of each tender Lass,  
and theme of all their Loves.   
 
 

But Oh unlucky fate,  
ah Curse upon Ambition:  
The busy Fops of State,  
have ruined his condition:  
For glittering hope he left his shade,  
his glorious hours are gone:  
By flattering Fools and Knaves betrayed,  
poor Jemmy is undone.   

Then Jemmy none more kind,  
and courteous had been ever:  
Thinking the like to find,  
but he as yet did never:  
For the false Swains that led him forth  
to expectations high:  
Designed but to Eclipse his worth,  
brave Jemmy to outvie.   

But Jemmy saw not this,  
when in the Groves delighting,  
Nor thought to tread amiss,  
at such a fair inviting:  
But Jemmy was mistaken there,  
for he wasted astray;  
Whilst each kind Swain and Nymph so fair,  
for Jemmy sighed all day.   

For Jemmy's loss the streams  
ran hoarse, as if with mourning;  
The birds forgot their Leams  
and Flowers so late adorning.  
The pleasant Plains hung down their heads  
as bearing part o'ch grief,  
And wishing he had longer stayed,  
but Jemmyed no belief.   

For Jemmy's strutting veins,  
with youthful blood were flowing,  
Which made him raise his strains,  
to his almost undoing.  
Though each kind Villager did pray  
he would again return:  
And tread still in the pleasant Way,  
but Jemmy it did scorn.   

For jemmy in fierce Arms,  
more than his Crook delighting:  
Despised the Wood-Nymphs charms,  
that were so much inviting.  
And dreams of digging Trenches deep,  
storming each Fort and Town;  
Ambition still disturbed his sleep,  
whilst jemmy sought renown.   

But jemmy now may see,  
that he was led to ruin,  
By such as glad would be  
of his utter undoing.  
Yet that his Wand'ring he'd retrieve,  
the wish is of the Swains:  
And in Arcadia happy live,  
where his great Father reigns.   
FINIS.   

Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-ball in West-smithfields