A Song to a Lute
Hast thou seen the down in the air,
When wanton blasts have tossed it?
Or the ship on the sea,
When ruder waves have crossed it?
Hast thou marked the crocodile's weeping
Or the fox's sleeping?
Or hast viewed the peacock in his pride,
Or the dove by his bride,
When he courts for his lechery?
O, so fickle, O, so vain, O, so false, so false is she!
