An Excellent New SONG, Called, The Languishing Swain: Or, The Hardhearted SHEPHERDESS.  
To a pleasant New Play-Tune.  
Licenced according to Order.  
 

HAppy's the Man that's free from love,  
He'll range the Woods and shady Grove,  
He'll neither mind the Great nor small,  
But a good Condition's best of all.   

My only Care was how to keep  
From cruel Woolves my Harmless Sheep;  
Although from Woolves my Sheep I kept,  
None could my heart from love protect.   

There's ne'er a one upon the Plain,  
That loves like me poor harmless Swain,  
But now I find unto my cost,  
He that loves best shall suffer most.   

No Swain there is that sure be  
So wretched in their love as me,  
For Love I lose Lambs, Life, and all,  
And yet can gain no love at all.   

O cruel Gods what have I done,  
That I must be despised alone;  
There is no Swain that I can find  
Tormented thus by Womankind?   

My love I made to her alone,  
Yet did she never mind my moan:  
I begged, I sighed, and often cried  
For pity, but she still denied.   

When I beheld her on the Green,  
She seemed to me like beauty's Queen,  
My heart was wounded then with love,  
And I the pain cannot remove.   

When I of love to her do speak,  
She flouts; this makes my heart to break;  
One smile I beg she turns her head.  
With frown●, that strikes me almost dead.   

Till now I ne'er loved any one,  
Yet by my love I am undone,  
For though she is all charming fair,  
Her coyness causes deep despair.   

Can others Nymphs as fair as she,  
Show to their loves such Cruelty?  
If so, Why do I thus complain,  
Since Modesty makes them Disdain?   

Once more I'll see her kill Eye,  
Although ten thousand Deaths I die;  
Praying her Heart may softened be,  
That she may pity take on me.   

But if she has no tender Heart,  
Nor will not ease my bleeding smart;  
Then will I sing out to my cost,  
He who loves best must suffer most.    

Printed for J. Blare, at the Sign of the Looking-Glass on London-Bridge.