From Citheron the warlike boy is fled

Lyrics
From Citheron the warlike boy is fled And smiling sits upon a Virgin's lap Thereby to train poor misers to the trap Whom Beauty draws with fancy to be fed: And when Desire with eager looks is led Then from her eyes The arrow flies Feather'd with flame, arm'd with a golden head There careless thoughts are freed of that flame Wherewith her thralls are scorched to the heart: If Love would so, would God thе enchanting dart Might once return and burn from whеnce it came! Not to deface of Beauty's work the frame But by rebound It might be found What secret smart I suffer by the same If Love be just, then just is my desire; And if unjust, why is he call'd a God? O God, O God, O Just! reserve thy rod To chasten those that from thy laws retire! But choose aright (good Love! I thee require) The golden head Not that of lead! Her heart is frost and must dissolve by fire
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Credits
- Writers
- William Byrd