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A Newe Ballade of a Louer extollinge his Ladye.

Submitted by Euriol of Lothian

To the tune of Damon and Pithias.

Alas, my haste doth boyle,
And burne within my breste,
To showe to thee, myne onely deere,
My sule and my request.
My love no loung can tell,
Ne pen can well descrye,
Extend thy loue for louse againe,
Or els for loue I dye.

My loue is set so suer,
And fixed on thee so,
That by no meanes I can abstaine,
My faythfull loue to showe;
My wounded harte, thierfore,
To thee for helpe doth crye;
Extend thy loue for loue againe,
Or els for loue I dye.

Although the gods were bent,
With greedie mynde to slaye,
My corpse with cruell panges of death,
And lyfe to take awaye.
Yet should my faythfull harte
At no tyme from thee flye;
Show loue therefore for loue againe,
Or els for loue I dye.

Although the sun were bent
To burne me with his beames;
And that mine eyes, throuw greous pangs,
Should send forth bloudy streames;
Yet would I not forsake,
But styll to thee woulde crye,
To showe me loue for loue again,
Or els for loue I dye.

Ye through ech sterre were tournd
Untyll a fiery darte,
And were all readybent with payne,
To perce throweout my harte;
Yet coulde I not forsake
To loue thee faythfullye;
Extend thy loue for loue againe,
Or els for loue I dye.

Ye through eche foule were founde,
A serpent fell to be,
My corps to stay with blaudy wounds,
And to deauser me;
Yet would I be thine owne,
To loue full harlelye;
Extent thy loue for loue again,
Or els for loue I dye.

Ye through the lyon were,
With gapinge greedy jaws,
Readye with rygorus raggye teeth,
My fleshe to teare and gnawe;
Yet should I be thine owne,
To serve most earnestlye;
Extend thy loue for loue againe,
Or els for loue I dye.

Ye through the fishes all,
That swymes in surginge sease,
Should swallows me with greedy mouth,
Yet could thee not appease.
My earnest harte to thee,
To loue entyerlye;
Extend thy loue for loue againe,
Or els for loue I dye.

Ye though the earth would gape,
And swallows me there-in,
And that I should larmentyd be
In hell, with every sin;
Yet would I be thy owne,
To saue or els to spyll;
Show me therefore lyke loue againe,
Or els thou does me kyll.

Finis, q. M. Ofb.

Imprinted at London, in Flelstrele, at the signe of the Faucon, by Wylliam Griffith, 1568

 



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