A ho! A ho! 
    Love's horn doth blow, 
    And he will out a-hawking go. 
His shafts are light as beauty's sighs,
And bright as midnight's brightest eyes,
        And round his starry way 
The swan-winged horses of the skies,
With summer's music in their manes,
Curve their fair necks to zephyr's reins,
        And urge their graceful play.

        A ho! A ho! 
    Love's horn doth blow, 
    And he will out a-hawking go. 
The sparrows flutter round his wrist.
The feathery thieves that Venus kissed
        And taught their morning song, 
The linnets seek the airy list,
And swallows too, small pets of Spring,
Beat back the gale with swifter wing,
        And dart and wheel along.

        A ho! A ho! 
    Love's horn doth blow, 
    And he will out a-hawking go. 
Now woe to every gnat that skips
To filch the fruit of ladies' lips,
        His felon blood is shed; 
And woe to flies, whose airy ships
On beauty cast their anchoring bite,
And bandit wasp, that naughty wight,
        Whose sting is slaughter-red.