The Golden Net

Three Virgins at the break of day：
     `Whither， young man， whither away
     Alas for woe！ alas for woe！'
     They cry， and tears for ever flow.
     The one was cloth'd in flames of fire，
     The other cloth'd in iron wire，
     The other cloth'd in tears and sighs
     Dazzling bright before my eyes.
     They bore a Net of golden twine
     To hang upon the branches fine.
     Pitying I wept to see the woe
     That Love and Beauty undergo，
     To be consum'd in burning fires
     And in ungratified desires，
     And in tears cloth'd night and day
     Melted all my soul away.
     When they saw my tears， a smile
     That did Heaven itself beguile，
     Bore the Golden Net aloft
     As on downy pinions soft，
     Over the Morning of my day.
     Underneath the net I stray，
     Now entreating Burning Fire
     Now entreating Iron Wire，
     Now entreating Tears and Sighs——
     O！ when will the morning rise？