# The Bride's burial, or, The affectionate lovers

THE
Bride's Burial
OR, THE
Affectionate Lovers,
A True Love Song.
PRINTED PY C. M LACHLAN,
For John Sinclair, Bookseller
DUMFRIES.
the
Bride's Burial, &c.
Come mourn, come mourn with me; ye loyal lovrs all; Lament my loss in weeds of woe, whom gripping death doth thrall
Like to the drooping vine, cut by the gard‘ner's knife, Even so my heart, with sorry slain doth mourn for my sweet wife,
By death, that grizly Gost, my turtle dove was slain, And I’m left, unhappy man, to spend my days in vain.
Her beauty, late so bright, like roles in their prime, Is wasted like the mountain snow by frost of Phœbus shine.
​Her fair and coloured cheeks, now pale and wane her eyes, That late did shine like chrystal stars, alas! their light nowdies.
Her pritty lilly hands, with fingers long and small, In colour like the early dew, yea, cold and stiff with all.
When, as the morning gay, her golden gates had spread. And that the glittering Sun arose, Forth from Thetia's bed;
Then did my love awake, most like the lilly flower, And as the lovely Queen of may, so shone she in her bower.
attired was she then, like Flora in her bower. For as any of Diana's nymphs, so lookd’ my lovely flower.
​And as fair helen's face give Grecian dames the lurch, So did my dear in exceed, in fight all the virgins in the church.
When we had knit the knot, of holy wedlock bands, Like alab after join'd to wine, so stood we hand and hand.
Then low a! chilling cold, struck ev’ry vital part, And grippling grief, like pangs of death, seiz’d on my true lov’s heart!
Down in a swoon she fell, as cold as any stone. Like Venus' picture wanting life, so was my love brought home
At length a rosy red. throughout her comely face, As Phœbus’ beams with wat’ry cloud o’er cover’d with a space.
​Then with a grievous groan! and voice both hoarse and dry Farewel, quoth she, my lovely friends
for I this day must die!
The messenger of death, with golden trump I see, With many other angels more, which found a call for me.
Instead of music sweet, go ring my passing bell, And with sweet flowers straw my grave that in my chamber smell.
Strip off my bride’s arry my cork shoes from my feet, And gentle mother be so kind, as to bring my winding-sheet.
My wedding-dinner dress, bestow upon the poor, And to the hungry, blind & lame that craveth at the door.
​Instead of virgins young, my bride’s bed for to see, Go cause some curious carpinter, to make a chest for me.
My broad lace of silk below on maidens meet, May fitly serve, when I'm dead, to tie my hands and feet.
And thou my lover true, my husband and my friend, Let me intreat thee here to stay, until my life doth end.
Now leave to talk of love, and humbly on your knees, Direct your prayers to God, and mourn no more for me,
In love as we have liv’d, In love now let us part; And I in token of my love, kiss thee with all my heart.
​Oh! staunch this bootless tear, thy weeping is in vain; I am not lost, for we in heav'n shall one day meet again.
With that she turn’d aside,
as one dispos'd to sleep, And like a lamb departed life, while friends did sorely weep.
Her true love seeing this, did fetch a grievous groan, And tho' his heart would burst in two, and thus he made his moan
Oh! dismal unhappy day! a day of grief and care,
That hath bereaved me of my love whose beauty was so fair.
Now woe unto the world, and all therein that dwell; Oh, that I were in heaven, for here I live in hell.
​And now this lover lives, a discontented life,
Whose bride was brought unto the grave, a maiden and a wife.
A garland fresh and fair, of lillies there was made, In signs of her virginity, and on her coffin laid.
Six maidins all in white, did bear her to the ground; The bells did ring in solemn sort, and made a doleful sound.
In earth they laid her then, for hungry worms a prey; So shall the fairest face alive, at length be brought to clay.
Thus do you see by this, how frail in life and grace; Now haven bid us all prepare, for that blest happy place.
finis.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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