George Peele. 1552-1598.
His golden locks time hath to silver turned;
O time too swift! Oh swiftness never ceasing!
His youth 'gainst time and age hath ever spurned,
But spurned in vain; youth waneth by encreasing.
Sonnet. Polyhymnia.
[25]
His helmet now shall make a hive for bees,
And lovers' songs be turned to holy psalms;
A man-at-arms must now serve on his knees,
And feed on prayers, which are old age's alms.
Sonnet. Polyhymnia.
My merry, merry, merry roundelay
Concludes with Cupid's curse:
They that do change old love for new,
Pray gods, they change for worse!
Cupid's Curse.