The Sorrowful Lady's Complaint,  
Relating how a Damosel Lamenteth the loss of her Lover, who behaved himself very Valiantly in a late Engagement at Sea, but at last was unfortunately Slain.  

This Stories known both far and wide,  
To Holland's wonder, England's Pride;  
Come therefore every Loyal Heart;  
And in my burden bear a part.   
To the Tune of, The Earl of Sandwich farewell.  
 
 


One morning I walked by myself on the shore,  
When the Tempest did sing and the Waves they did roar,  
Yet the noise of the wind and the waters was drowned  
By the pitiful cry and the sorrowful sound,   

Of ah! ah! ah! my Love's dead,  
There is not a Bell  
But a Triton's shell,  
To ring, to ring, to ring my Love's knell.   

It troubled me much when I heard all her grief,  
But hoping it might not be pass all Relief,  
I followed the voice till at the last I esyped  
A sorrowful Lady, and all that she cried.   

Was ah, ah, ah, my Love's dead,  
There is not a Bell,  
But a Triton's shell,  
To ring, to ring, to ring my Love's knell.   

A handsomer Damosel sure never were seen,  
With a face like an Angel, a Robe like a Queen,  
A Voice like a Siren, and Eyes like a Dove,  
Yet ever she cried for the loss of her Love;   

Ah, ah, ah, my Love's dead, etc.   

When my Love was alive his courage was such,  
He conquered the Dane, and affrighted the Dutch,  
He ventured to show he ne'er feared to die,  
But woe be to me that for ever must cry,   

Ah, ah, ah my Love's dead,  
There is not a Bell,  
But a Triton's shell,  
To ring, to ring, to ring my Love's knell.   

Surrounded with Ships and asulted by Foes,  
He stoutly received, and returned their blows;  
So well he did manage his Ship in the strife,  
That he never would yield till he yielded his life,   

Ah, ah, ah, my Love's dead, etc.   

To recall him to life, Oh what would I give?  
But since he is dead, 'tis no pleasure to live,  
He ventured for me, and shall I be afraid,  
To die for my love? it shall never be said:   

Ah, ah, ah, my Love's dead,  
There is not a Bell,  
But a Triton's shell,  
To ring, to ring, to ring my Love's knell.    

The second Part:  
to the same Tune  

My Love lies now in his watery Grave,  
And hath nothing to show for his Tomb but a Wave,  
I'll kiss his dear lips, than the Coral more Red,  
That grows where he lies in his watery Bed,   

Ah, ah, ah, my Love's dead,  
There is not a Bell, but a Tritons shell,  
To ring, to ring, to ring my Love's knell.   

The Oriental Pearl, which the Ocean bestows,  
We'll mix with a Coral, a Crown to compose:  
The Sea Nymphs shall grieve, and envy our bliss.  
We'll teach them to love'and like cockles to kiss,   

Ah, ah, ah, my Love's dead,  
There is not a Bell, but a Tritons shell.  
To ring, to ring, to ring my Love's knell.   

He go to my Love that lies in the deep,  
And in my embraces my dearest shall sleep,  
When, awake, the kind Dolphin together shall throng,  
In Chariots of Shells to convey him along,   

Ah, ah, ah, my Love's dead,  
There is not a Bell, but a Tritons shell;  
To ring, to ring, to ring my Love's knell.   

And just as she spoke, she was casting herself  
From the top of a Rock on a dangerous shelf,  
But I being near her made haste to her aid,  
And sav●d her from falling, when just she had said   

Ah, ah, ah, my Love's dead,  
There is not a Bell,  
But a Tritons shell,  
To ring, to ring, to ring my Love's knell.   

Fair Lady, said I, whether Maiden or Wife,  
Your death will not call the departed to Life:  
Loves fire goes out at the loss of the Fuel,  
And though you be content, you need not be cruel.   

Ah! what though your Love's dead,  
Yet he had a Bell,  
Not a Tritons shell  
To ring, to ring, to ring out his knell.   

She started to find this unhappy surprise,  
With grief in her face, and disdain in her eyes,  
She told me my kindness had done her much wrong,  
She prayed me to bear but a part in her Song:   

Ah, ah, ah, my Love's dead,  
There was not a bell,  
But a Tritons shell,  
To ring, to ring, to ring out his knell.     

London, Printed for Philip Brooksby, at the Hospital-gate in West-smith-field.