Charles Villiers Stanford - Cupid and Rosalind - текст песни (слова)

Love in my bosom like a bee
 Doth suck his sweet: 
 Now with his wings he plays with me,
 Now with his feet. 
 Within mine eyes he makes his nest,
 His bed amidst my tender breast;
 My kisses are his daily feast,
 And yet he robs me of my rest:
 Ah! wanton, will ye?
 
 And if I sleep, then percheth he
 With pretty flight, 
 And makes his pillow of my knee
 The livelong night. 
 Strike I my lute, he tunes the string;
 He music plays if so I sing;
 He lends me every lovely thing,
 Yet cruel he my heart doth sting:
 Whist, wanton, still ye!
 
 Else I with roses every day
 Will whip you hence, 
 And bind you, when you long to play
 For your offence. 
 I'll shut mine eyes to keep you in;
 I'll make you fast it for your sin;
 I'll count your power not worth a pin.
 Alas! what hereby shall I win
 If he gainsay me?
 
 What if I beat the wanton boy
 With many a rod? 
 He will repay me with annoy,
 Because a god. 
 Then sit thou safely on my knee;
 Then let thy bower my bosom be;
 Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee;
 O Cupid, so thou pity me,
 Spare not, but play thee!