At that time always fell to my lot;
Within the maze of Cupid’s arts
I was their guiding star, their pilot;
Not to have loved me with a blinding passion
Was, broadly speaking, to be out of fashion.
But latterly, I don’t know why,
That star has waned, until at last I’m
Left in the lurch while maidens fly
Towards the ruder forms of pastime;
And now their talk is all of tennis courts,