Who are the Conquer’d, with the Conqueror.

A Song.

1. The young, the fair, the chaste, the good,

The sweet Camilla, in a flood

Of her own Crimson lies

A bloody, bloody sacrifice

To Death and man’s inhumane cruelties.

Weep Virgins till your sorrow swells

In tears above the Ivory Cells

That guard those Globes of light;