Fresh spring the herald of love's mighty king.
All love is sweet Given or returned And its familiar voice wearies not ever.
Nothing under heaven so strongly doth allure the sense of man, and all his mind possess, as beauty's love.
Gather therefore the Rose, whilst yet is prime, For soon comes age, that will her pride deflower: Gather the Rose of love, whilst yet is time.
What more felicity can fall to creature, than to enjoy delight with liberty?
Together linkt with adamantine chains.