To celebrate this festal day?
Why wouldst thou have me weep, O grief,
For no cause rising? Why with flowers,945
Dost thou forbid to wreathe my hair?
It does, it does forbid! For see,
Upon my head the flowers of spring
Have withered; and my festal locks,
Though dripping with the precious nard,
Stand up in sudden dread; my cheeks,
That have no cause to weep, are wet950