Music: Hertrich

Lyrics: Hertrich



When fourty nights shall besiege Your brow

and dig deep wounds in Your beauty now

Your youth's prout livery so gazed on me

tomorrow will be darkened sealed



Look how a bird lies tangled in a net

Pure shame and awed resistance made him fred

So fastened in her arms the favoured lies

She found more beaty in his varied eyes



Cut is the branch that might be grown

with Your faith, the treasure of Your lusty days



Then being asked where all Your beaty lies

I say it to Your deep-sunken eyes

"As if the dead the living should exceed,

possessed by heavens heart and hand"



He burns with bashful shame

She with her tears does quench the maiden

burning off her cheeks

Then with her windy sighs and golden hands

to fain and blow them dry again she seeks



Look how a painter would surpass his life

His art with nature's worksmanship at strife

In limming out a well-proportioned steed

as if the dead the living should exceed