THE Lamented LOVERS: OR, THE Young Men and Maiden's Grief for the Unhappy Tragedy of this Unfortunate Couple.  
To the Tune of Frantic Lover.  
Licenced according to Order.  My Love I come to Thee. 

YOu Damsels now of Beauty bright,  
It is to you these Lines I write;  
your Cruelty give e'er,  
And do not here like Tyrant's reign,  
And kill those with your high disdain,  
which doth your Charms adore,   

A young man lately loved a Maid,  
To whom he often sighing said,  
my Dear, some Pity show.  
And yield to me some kind relief,  
Or else my Heart will break with Grief:  
'twill prove my overthrow.   

Ten thousand thoughts runs in my Head,  
When lying on my restless Bed.  
and Tears like Fountains flow;  
Oh! let thy Frowns to Blessings turn,  
For if in love I longer burn,  
'twill prove my overthrow.   

Will not my sighs some pity move?  
Behold the pleasant Charms of Love,  
in ev'ry Vein does slow;  
Some comfort to thy Servant give,  
Without thy Love I cannot live,  
'twill prove my overthrow.   

The scornful Damsel did reply,  
Your Suit I utterly defy;  
pray from my presence go;  
'Tis strange that Love should be so hot,  
Your Life or Death I value not,  
or eke your overthrow.   

Each word was like a kill Dart,  
Which pierced the young man to the Heart,  
he straight from her did go,  
With a most discontented mind,  
He often sighing said, I find  
she'll prove my overthrow.   

His scorching Love straightway did turn  
Unto a Fever which did burn,  
he strait to bed did go,  
From whence he never did arise,  
But often said with Sighs and Cries,  
Love proves my overthrow   

I now shall never see thee more,  
Whom I so dearly did adore,  
since you no kindness show,  
I'll die a Martyr for thy sake,  
And with these words his heart did break,  
love proves my overthrow.   
The Maidens Reply.  

Now when this Damsel she did hear  
The Death of her beloved Dear;  
she wept most bitterly:  
To his Grave with Grief she run,  
And cried out, what have I done!  
my Frowns has murdered thee.   

With Grief and Cares I am oppressed,  
That night and day I take no rest;  
thy Ghost methinks I see,  
That haunts my Person night and day.  
My Love, alas! what shall I say?  
'twas I that murdered thee.   

Farewell Relations, Friends and all,  
His Blood doth for just Vengeance call,  
kind Death must set me free,  
In Grave I'll lie down by thy side,  
I am not fit to live she cried,  
my Frowns has murdered thee.   

She to her Bower did return,  
And never, never cease to mourn;  
in Tears to that degree,  
That Death at length her heart did seize;  
Her last and dying words are these,  
my Love I come to thee.   

It was her Will, that she might have  
A Lodging in her Lover's Grave,  
to which all did agree;  
Both their Relations thought it fit,  
And on her Coffin it was writ,  
My Love I come to thee.    

Printed for P. Brooksby, J. Deacon, J. Blare, and J. Back.,