The gods have heard my vows

The gods have heard my vows,
Fond Lyce, whose fair brows
Wont scorn with such disdain
My love, my tears, my pain.
Fa la!

But now those spring-tide roses
Are turn'd to winter-posies,
To rue and thyme and sage,
Fitting thy shrivell'd age.
Fa la!

Now, youths, with hot desire
See, see, that flameless fire,
Which erst your hearts so burned,
Quick into ashes turned.
Fa la!