To the Tune of, Woes my heart that we shou’d sunder.
A Dieu ye pleasant-sports and plays,
Farewell each song that was diverting;
Love tunes my pipe to mournful lays,
I sing of Delia and Damon’s parting.
Long had he lov’d, and long conceal’d
The dear tormenting pleasant passion,
Till Delia’s mildness had prevail’d
On him to shew his inclination.
Just as the fair one seem’d to give
A patient ear to his love story,
Damon must his Delia leave,
To go in quest of toilsome glory.
Half spoken words hung on his tongue,
Their eyes refus’d the usual meeting;
And sighs supply’d their wonted song,
These charming sounds were chang’d to weeping.
Dear idol of my soul, adieu:
Cease to lament, but ne’er to love me,
While Damon lives, he lives for you,
No other charms shall ever move me.
Alas! who knows, when parted far
From Delia, but you may deceive her?
The thought destroys my heart with care,
Adieu, my dear, I fear for ever.
If ever I forget my vows,
May then my guardian-angel leave me:
And more to aggravate my woes,
Be you so good as to forgive me.
– New Words by Different Hands.