The new way of. LOVE is the cause of my Mourning,  
To it's own Proper Tune.  

1  
WHEN Strephon the Heart of fair Iris possessed,  
'mongst all the young Shepherds she loved him best  
No Swain in a Mistress so fully was blessed,  
For he was both her Friend and her Lover:  
Long did he court her Affection in vain,  
Till at length soft Compassion triumphed over Disdain  
That she heard all his Sighs, and she felt all his Pain  
Then the Swain found the Art how to move her.  
Heavens did both their Souls inspire  
Then with an equal Fire,  
Both had but one Desire,  
Both Hearts were burning.  
O then, my dear Iris I little did fear,  
Love would be the Cause of my Mourning!   

2  
Iris, the sprightly, the witty and gay,  
Whose Charms all bewitching and fragrant like May  
Will ever be blooming and never decay;  
She was all my Delight and my Pleasure:  
Returned all my Vows, and so kind she did prove,  
Each Smile and each Glance increased our Love,  
And taught how I might the dear Minutes improve,  
I envied no Monarch his Treasure.  
But oh alas! that cu●sed Fate,  
Hath changed her Mind of late,  
Her Love is turned to Hate,  
And I now forlorn,  
Like an innocent Turtle: thats left by its Mate  
Do remain in sad Anguish and Scorn.   

3  
Since Iris condems me, and will not allow  
To hear the Defence of a Lover so true,  
To any new Beauty I'll scorn e'er to bow;  
What I loved once will charm me for ever.  
Tho my Vows and my Sighs are returned with Disdain  
I'll suffer her Martyr, and never complain:  
My Sou'ls so fast locked, and in Love with its Chain  
No new Beauty has Power to discover,  
And now banished from her Sight  
And robbed of all Delight,  
I'll take a longsome Flight  
Without e'er returning.  
And concealing her Name, to th' World I'll proclaim  
That Love's been the cause of my Mourning.   
FINIS,