WHEN the god of merry love As yet in his cradle lay, Thus his withered nurse did say: 'Thou a wanton boy wilt prove To deceive the powers above; For in thy continual smiling I see thy power of beguiling'. Therewith she the babe did kiss; When a sudden fire outcame From those burning lips of his, That did her with love inflame. But none would regard the same: So that, to her day of dying, The old wretch lived ever crying. |