Music: Hertrich Lyrics: Hertrich When fourty nights shall besiege Your brow and dig deep wounds in Your beauty now Your youth's prout livery so gazed on me tomorrow will be darkened sealed Look how a bird lies tangled in a net Pure shame and awed resistance made him fred So fastened in her arms the favoured lies She found more beaty in his varied eyes Cut is the branch that might be grown with Your faith, the treasure of Your lusty days Then being asked where all Your beaty lies I say it to Your deep-sunken eyes "As if the dead the living should exceed, possessed by heavens heart and hand" He burns with bashful shame She with her tears does quench the maiden burning off her cheeks Then with her windy sighs and golden hands to fain and blow them dry again she seeks Look how a painter would surpa** his life His art with nature's worksmanship at strife In limming out a well-proportioned steed as if the dead the living should exceed