A Song To The Lute.

When first I came to Court,     Fa la!     When first I came to Court,     I deemed Dan Cupid but a boy,     And Love an idle sport,     A sport whereat a man might toy     With little hurt and mickle joy--     When first I came to Court!     Too soon I found my fault,     Fa la!     Too soon I found my fault;     The fairest of the fair brigade     Advanced to mine assault.     Alas! against an adverse maid     Nor fosse can serve nor palisade--     Too soon I found my fault!     When SILVIA'S eyes assail,     Fa la!     When SILVIA'S eyes assail,     No feint the arts of war can show,     No counterstroke avail;     Naught skills but arms away to throw,     And kneel before that lovely foe,     When SILVIA'S eyes assail!     Yet is all truce in vain,     Fa la!     Yet is all truce in vain,     Since she that spares doth still pursue     To vanquish once again;     And naught remains for man to do     But fight once more, to yield anew,     And so all truce is vain!