Youth To Itself Rebels, Though None Else

She Marking Them Begins A Wailing Note And Sings Extemporally A Woeful Ditty How Love Makes Young Men Thrall And Old Men Dote How Love Is Wise In Folly, Foolish-witty Her Heavy Anthem Still Concludes In Woe, And Still The Choir Of Echoes Answer So.

Then Love-devouring Death Do What He Dare.

Say, Thou Art Mine; And Ever, My Love, As It Begins, Shall So Persevere

Our Praises Are Our Wages.

Bosom Upon My Counsel; You'll Find It Wholesome.