Love lies a Bleeding (c. 1653-1659)

by Anonymous

Love lies a Bleeding

By whose mortal wounds you may soon understand,What sorrows wee suffer since Love left the Land.To the Tune of, The Cyclops.

 Lay by your pleading Love lies a bleeding,Burn all your Poetry, and throw away your reading, Piety is painted and Truth is taintedLove is a Reprobate, and Shism now is Sainted the Throne Love doth sit on, wee daily do spit on,It was not thus, I wus, when Betty rul’d in Brittain. but friendship hath falter’d Loves Altars are alter’dAnd he that is the cause, I would his neck were halter’d

 When Love did nourish, England did flourish,Till holy hate came in, and made us all so currish, now every Widgeon talks of Religion,But doth as little good as Mahomet and’s Pigeon each Coxcomb is suiting, his words for confuting.but heaven’s sooner gaind by suffering than by disputing true friendship wee smother,and strike at our Brother,Apostles never went to God by killing one another.

Let Love but warm yee,Nothing can harm yee,When love is General, there’s Angels in the Army Love keeps his Quarters, and fears no torturesThe bravest fights are written in the book of Martyrs could wee be so civil, to do good for evil,It were the onely happy way to overcome the Devil, the flowers Love hath watered. Sedition hath scatteredWe talk with tongues of holiness, but act with hearts of hatred

He that doth know mee,and Love will show meHath found the nearest, noblest way to overcome me he that hath bound me, and then doth wound me,Wins not my heart, he doth not conquer but confound me, in such a conditionLove is a Physician,True Love and Reason makes the purest Politician, but strife and confusion deceit and delusionThough it seems to thrive at first wil make a sad conclusion.

The second part, To the same Tune

Love is a fewel,A pretious jewel,’Tis Love must stinch the blood, when fury fights the duel, Love is a Bloudstone hate is a Toad-stone,Heaven is the North-point, and Love is the Load-stone though fury and scorn Loves Temples have torn.Hee’l keep his Covenant, and will not bee forsworn, his Laws do not border, on strife and disorder,He scorns to get his wealth by perjury or Murder.

What false-hood drew in,Grace never grew inLove will not raise himself upon anothers ruine, hee can present yee with peace and plentylove never advanceth one by throwing down of twenty, where Love is in season there Truth is, and reasonThe soul of Love is never underlaid with treason, he never doth quarrel for Princely apparel,Nor ever fixt a Chair of State upon a barrel.

Love from the dull pitOf follies full pitNev’r took an Anvile out and put it in a Pulpit, Love is no sinker, Truth is no slinker,In mending breaches, Love did never play the Tinkar where vengeance and lust is no truth is, nor trust isAs will appear at last in Gods high court of Justice pitty and remorce is the strength of Loves forcesPaul never converted men by stables fil’d with horses.

Mercy is fading,Truth is degrading,Love is the onely cause of Plenty, Peace, & Trading Love is a fire made of desireWhose chief ambition is to heaven to aspire it stops the gradation of fury and passionIt governs all good families, & best can guide a Nation the low land; the high land, & my land and thy landGrew all in common strait, when love had left this Iland.

Where Peace is pantingAnd rage is ranting,’Tis an undoubted sign the King of Love is wanting, Father and Mother, Sister and BrotherIf love be lacking, quickly mischief one another, where wrath is, the rod is that ruines our bodiesWith hate the Devil is, but where love is, God is, then let us not doubt it, but straight go about itTo bring in love agen, wee cannot live without it.

Then let the GracesCrown our embracesAnd let us settle all things in their proper places, lest Persecution cause dissolution,Let all purloyned wealth bee made a restitution For though now it tickles, ’twill turn all to prickles,Then let us live in peace & turn our swords to sickles, When Noah’s Dove was sent out, then Gods pardon went out,They that would have it so, I hope will say Amen to’t.

London, Printed for F. G. on Snow-hill. Entered according to Order. Finis.