Full Lyrics
Ay me, poor heart!
Since Love hath played his part,
my senses all are lost,
my mind eke tossed
like waves that swell.
Sweet god of Love,
thou dost excel!
Thy passions move
my mind to prove
that turtle dove.
She flies, she flies;
my love she tries.
Help, gods that sit on high!
O send me remedy.
