Lament For Love
Once on a time, when Love was young,
While light, as his own dart, he flew;
Where-e'er a gentle lay was sung,
Ev'n there would Love be singing too.
Where-e'er a maiden sighed, he'd sigh,
Where-e'er she smiled, he'd smile as gay,
Where-e'er she wept, he flew to dry
With cherub-lips her tears away.
But now, alas! that Love is old,
Beauty may e'en lay down her lute,
His wings are stiff, his heart is cold,
He will not come and warble to't.
Or like a tottering tiny sire,
With false voice and false-feathered wing,
While light, as his own dart, he flew;
Where-e'er a gentle lay was sung,
Ev'n there would Love be singing too.
Where-e'er a maiden sighed, he'd sigh,
Where-e'er she smiled, he'd smile as gay,
Where-e'er she wept, he flew to dry
With cherub-lips her tears away.
But now, alas! that Love is old,
Beauty may e'en lay down her lute,
His wings are stiff, his heart is cold,
He will not come and warble to't.
Or like a tottering tiny sire,
With false voice and false-feathered wing,