"O my Censor who wakest a-morn to see * The joys of life and its jubilee! Had the fangs of Destiny bitten thee * In such bitter case thou hadst pled this plea, 'Ah me, for Love and his case, ah me: My heart is burnt by the fires I dree!' But from Fate's despight thou art safe this day;- * From her falsest fay and her crying 'Nay!' Yet blame him not whom his woes waylay * Who distraught shall say in his agony, 'Ah me, for Love and his case, ah me: My heart is burnt by the fires I dree!' Excuse such lovers in flight abhorr'd * Nor to Love's distreses thine aid afford: Lest thy self be bound by same binding cord * And drink of Love's bitterest injury. 'Ah me, for Love and his case, ah me: My heart is burnt by the fires I dree!' In His service I wont as the days went by * With freest heart thr
