4
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.
