The Loyal Lovers Farewell, Or, The True Lovers Mournful Ditty, For the absence of her Dearest Love, who upon some importunate occasion was forced to cross the Seas.  

The youngman he in sorrow here bewails  
The absence of his Love, while that she sails  
On surging waves, he is oppressed with fear,  
Lest in a storm they should shipwrak his dear.  
But then with hopes to mitigate his pain,  
He prays kind Neptune guard her o'er the main  
And that no danger e'er may her annoy,  
But in safety return to Crown his Joy.   
To the Tune of, Bright was the Morning.  
 

BRight was the morning, cool the air,  
serene was all the Shy,  
When on the Waves I left my fair,  
the centre of my joy:  
Heaven and Nature smiling were,  
and nothing sad but I   

Each Rosy Field its odours spread,  
all fragrant was the shore,  
Each River God rose from his Bed,  
and sighed and owned his power:  
Curling their waves, they decked their head  
as proud of what they bore.   

Boreas' his blustering Minds had laid  
but blue a pleasant Gale,  
Fanning the Streamers sweetly played  
and filled each swelling Sail;  
Then leaving me, farewel, she said,  
her absence to bewail.   
 
 

And from my eyes dropping a tear,  
I forced was to part  
With her whom I do love so dear,  
and doth enjoy my heart;  
In a sad Labyrinth of fear,  
which causes all my smart.   

Lest that Dame Fortune fickle prove,  
e'er she the Seas have crossed,  
And by a Storm the Waves do move,  
and she on them be tossed;  
Then in distress will be my love,  
in danger to be lost.   

When stormy winds do blustering blow  
and Billows they do rise,  
The raging waves no pity show,  
when mounting to the Skies;  
All these sad fears create my woe,  
while tears flow from my eyes.   

Then to that silent Grove strait I,  
in discontent repair,  
Where I have oft most lovingly,  
with joy embraced my fair;  
For it was her sweet Company,  
that vanished all my care.   

O cruel Fate, to me unkind,  
to rob me of my dear,  
Leaving me here in grief behind,  
till she again appear;  
For to my grief, alas, I find,  
each minute seems a year.   

Nor can I e'er my grief unfold,  
her absence is my pain,  
Nor can my joy be ever told,  
when she returns again,  
Prising her more than all the Gold,  
the Indies doth contain.   

And may all happiness attend  
on her whom I adore,  
While I in tears my time do spend,  
oft Walking on the shore:  
Viewing the waves with sighs, do send  
a thousand wishes o'er.   

Glide on ye waters, bear these lines,  
and tell her I'm distressed,  
Bear all my sighs ye gentle winds,  
waft them to her fair breast;  
Tell her if e'er she prove unkind,  
I never shall have rest.   

Guard her kind Neptune then, that she  
may bless me with her Charms,  
Guide her from flocks and dangers free  
or any other harms;  
Bring her with speed o'er the wide Sea  
in safety to my Arms.   
FINIS.   

Licenced according to order.  
Printed for I. Blare, at the Looking-glass on London-Bridge.