My merry, merry, merry roundelay
Concludes with Cupid's curse,
They that do change old love for new,
Pray gods, they change for worse!
Live or die, sink or swim.
His golden locks Time hath to silver turned, O time too swift! O swiftness never ceasing! His youth 'gainst Time and Age hath ever spurned, But spurned in vain! Youth waneth by increasing.
Fair maid, white and red,
Comb me smooth, and stroke my head;
And every hair a sheave shall be,
And every sheave a golden tree.
Honour, the spur that pricks the princely mind,
To follow rule and climb the stately chair.
Parish me no parishes.
Beauty, strength, youth, are flowers but fading seen; Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever green.
God in the whizzing of a pleasant wind Shall march upon the tops of mulberry trees.