If thou long'st so much to learn, sweet boy, what 'tis to love,
Do but fix thy thought on me, and thou shalt quickly prove.
  Little suit at first shall win
    Way to thy abashed desire;
  But then will I hedge thee in,
    Salamander-like, with fire.

With thee dance I will and sing, and thy fond dalliance bear;
We the grovy hills will climb and play the wanton there.
  Otherwhiles we'll gather flowers
    Lying dallying on the grass,
  And thus our delightful hours
    Full of waking dreams shall pass.

When thy joys were thus at height my love should turn from thee;
Old acquaintance then should grow as strange as strange might be;
  Twenty rivals thou should'st find
    Breaking all their hearts for me;
  When to all I'll prove more kind
    And more forward than to thee.

Thus thy silly youth enraged would soon my love defy.
But alas, poor soul, too late; clipped wings can never fly.
  Those sweet hours which we had passed,
    Called to mind thy heart would burn;
  And could'st thou fly ne'er so fast,
    They would make thee straight return.