Though little be the god of love
Yet his arrows mighty are
And his victories above
What the valiant reach by war
Nor are his limits with the sky
Over the Milky Way he'll fly
And sometimes wound a deity
Apollo once the python slew
But a keener arrow flew
From Daphne's eye, and made a wound
For which the god, no balsam found
A smile of Venus that did more
On Mars then armies could before
Thus Love can fiery spirits tame
And, when he pleases, cold rocks inflame
Victorious men of Earth, no more
Proclaim how wide your Empires are
And though you bind in every shore
And your triumphs reach as far as night or day
Yet you proud monarchs must obey
And mingle with forgotten ashes when
Death calls you to The crowd
Of common men
Devouring famine, plague and war
Each able to undo mankind
Death's servile emissaries are
Nor to these alone confined
He has at will
More quaint and subtle ways to kill
A smile or kiss, he will use the art
Shall have the cunning skill
To break a heart
Stay Cupid, where art you flying?
Pity the pale lovers dying
They that honoured thee before
Will honour thee no more
At thy alter pay their vows
O let the weeping virgins strow
Instead of rose, and myrtle boughs
Sad yew and funeral cypress now
Unkind Cupid, leave thy killing
These are all my mother's doves
O do not wound such noble loves
And make them bleed, that should be billing
What will it, Death, advance thy name?
Upon cold rocks to waste a flame
Or by mistake seem to throw
Bright torches into pits of snow
Thy rage is lost, thy old killing frost
And with thy arrows you may try
To make the young or aged bleed
But indeed not compel one heart to die
O Love! O Death! Be it your fate
Before you both repent too late
To meet and try upon yourselves
Your sad artillery
So Death may make Love kind again
Or cruel Death by Love be slain