Not content with discarding their fashions and dresses,
With their very own names they don't scorn to make war;
Thus while 'Young' my identity ever expresses,
You soon may be somebody else than you are.
Come, find me some oath that more surely may bind thee;
Come swear then by something that never shall change,
By the grace with which nature has lavish entwined thee,
Which time ne'er shall alter nor fortune estrange.
By thy smile's witching power, by thy mind's airy flight,
That lark-like soars high o'er the place of its birth,