Binds fetters on my eager feet
That once on Springtime’s road were fleet
To bear me to Love’s shining goal.
Now bitter tides of sorrow roll
To drown me in a sea of woe
And God looks on, and wills it so!
Give over thy pursuing, Age!
Fearest thou not my lover’s rage?
For he is young and strong of limb,
Thou canst not stand a bout with him.