Cruel father, or, The loyal lover's downfal (1820)/The Cruel father, or The loyal lover's downfal

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A lady’s daughter in the west,
about the age of twenty.
And she had sweethearts of the best,
both Lords and Squires in plenty.

But she ador’d her father's Clerk,
above all men of honour
But she ador'd her father’s clerk
and she would have no other.

Her father oft-times to her said,
when he alone did meet her,
Do you mean to disgrace our blood,
you fond and foolish creature?

To go and marry with a slave,
that has neither birth nor breeding,
Sure I no portion will you give,
if this be your proceeding.

O then honoured father, she reply’d,
I pray you use your pleasure,
For I adore my dearest joy,
above all wordly treasure.

With him I mean to live and dwell,
to him I have consented,
Kind heaven will our wants supply,
with that we'll be contented,

Her father in a passion flew,
and threat'ned to destroy her,
If that her folly she'd pursue,
no clerk should e'er enjoy her.

O then, she said, He must and will,
although you be offended.
When from my solemn vow I fall,
pray let my life be ended.

Upon the table in the room,
a fowling piece did ly,
Her father in a passion flew
and straight at her let fly.

It lighted on her youthful breast,
and she fell down before him,
These were the last words that she spoke,
for ever I'll adore him.

When he had seen what he had done,
what, have I slain my daughter?
His rapier then he drew out forth,
and slew himself soon after.

Her mother came into the room,
and both she stood a viewing,
With grief her tender heart did break,

ambition was their ruin.

Her lover came among the rest,
with hands in sorrow wringing.
And from her fair youthful breast,
the blood he then saw wringing.

How could her father be so severe?
why so severe and cruel?
Could he not laid the fault on me,
and spar’d my dearest jewel?

The beauty of all western parts,
who daily did adore me
Nay, I may say the best of hearts
lies bleeding now before me.

O how can I presume to live,
all in this world behind her!
No, no one fatal stroke I’ll give
perhaps then I may find her.

Down in the silent shades below,
where bleeding lovers wander;
Still pouring out sad grief and woe,
they daily did ly under.

A sword he from his side drew out,
and slew himself soon after,
Just like two loyal lovers fair,
there died both together.

They both were buried in one grave,
just like two lovers loyal.
May God preserve all you that love,
and send you no such trial.

This work was published before January 1, 1925, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.