The Fair and Loyal Maid of bristol.  

Dame Fortune on this Maiden frowned,  
That once on her did smile,  
She was in tears of sorrow drowned,  
That death did her beguile.   
To the Tune of, Jenny Ginn, Or, busy famed.  
 

THere lived in Bristol City fair,  
a Maiden fair and bright,  
To whom a Seaman did repair  
she was his hearts delight,  
No comfort had he in this life,  
when she was from him gone,  
'twas she he vowed should be his wife  
and her he doted on.   

But Fortune did upon them frown,  
that once on them did smile,  
And she that did these Lovers Crown,  
at last did them beguile:  
And to Virginia he must go,  
his fortune to advance,  
Which did procure their overthrow▪  
Oh sad unhappy chance.   
 

And at his parting showers of tears,  
came trickling from their eyes,  
She was possessed with deadly fears▪  
and doubt did her surprise:  
Least he should ne'er return again,  
to Crown her Nuptial day,  
And as she sadly did complain,  
thus he to her did say.   

Cease, cease, my dear do not complain,  
I'll faithful be to you,  
And let me perish on the main,  
If e're I prove untrue:  
And with a thousand Kisses I,  
my faithful promise Seal,  
While she perceived from his eye,  
a trickling tear to steal.   

More faithful Lovers ever could,  
in this same Land be found,  
She that was made of Beautys mould,  
in virtues did abound:  
And down upon her bended knee,  
this lovely dame did fall,  
And prayed for his prosperity,  
with his return and all.   

So to the brackish Seas with speed,  
this Loyal Seaman went,  
Which did in her much trouble breed,  
and caused her discontent:  
For e're he to Virginia came,  
he lost his dearest life,  
And ne'er returned to her again,  
to espouse her as his wife.   

But this to her was still unknown,  
in vain did she expect,  
Her true and faithful Lover home,  
whom she did so affect,  
But oft to Dundree Hill she went,  
to see ships under Sail,  
Where she most sadly did lament,  
and Courage then did fail,   

Ah me of all unfortunate,  
thus to her self she said,  
I fear that cruel rigid fate,  
hath struck my true Love dead,  
But if it prove for to be true,  
that my dear Love is gone,  
All comforts then I'll bid adieu,  
alas I'm quiter undone.   

I'll melt away, in brinish tears,  
mine eyes no more shall close,  
And I'll add sorrow to my fears,  
all Comforts I'll oppose:  
I'll have a Motto on my Tomb,  
shall make true Lovers mourn,  
till for my sake they shall consume,  
and languish here forlorn.   

At last the tidings to her came,  
that her true Love was dead,  
And to the world she did proclaim,  
her joys were gone and fled:  
No comfort in this world she took,  
but night and day she cried,  
She was of blessings quiter forsook,  
and so poor soul she tied.   
FINIS.   

Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball, near the Hospital-Gate in Smithfield.