The man of life upright,/ Whose guiltless heart is free/ From all dishonest deeds/ Or thought of vanity.
Rose-cheeked Laura, come; / Sing thou smoothly with thy beauty's / Silent music, either other/ Sweetly gracing.
Time's fatal wings do ever forward fly; to every day we live, a day we die.
Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet; / Haste you, sad notes, fall at her flying feet.
Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore.
The Summer hath his joys, / And Winter his delights. / Though Love and all his pleasures are but toys, / They shorten tedious nights.
When thou must home to shades of underground, / And there arrived, a new admirèd guest, / The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round, / White Iope, blithe Helen, and the rest.