As ever yet was said or sung,
(Since Orpheus sang his spouse from hell,)
Whilst thou art fair, and I am young;
‘Sweet Florence, those were pleasant times
When worlds were staked for ladies eyes;
Had bards as many realms as rhymes,
Thy charms might raise new Anthonies.
‘Though fate forbids such things to be,
Yet, by thine eye and ringlets curled,
I cannot lose a world for thee,