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;