and think ye nymphs - william byrd lyrics
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and thinke ye nymphes to scorne at love?
as if his fire were but of strawes:
he made the mightie gods above
to stoope and bowe unto his lawes
& with his shafts of beautie bright
he slaies the hearts that scorne his might
love is a fit of pleasure
bred out of idle braines
his fancies have no measure
no more than have his paines
his vaine affections like the weathеr
precise or fond, we wot not whеther
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