Classic Poem

Ye sacred fires, and powers above,
Forge of desires working love,
Cast down your eye, cast down your eye
Upon a maid in misery.
My sacrifice is lovers blood:
And from eyes salt tears a flood:
All which I spend, all which I spend
For thee, Ascanio, my dear friend:
And though this hour I must feel
The bitter sour of pricking steel,
Yet ill or well, yet ill or well
To thee Ascanio still farewell.