Anonymous

“HEY, down a down!” did Dian sing

Amongst her virgins sitting;

“Than love there is no vainer thing,

For maidens most unfitting.”

And so think I, with a down, down, derry.

When women knew no woe,

But lived themselves to please,

Men’s feigning guiles they did not know,—

The ground of their disease.

Unborn was false suspect;

No thought of jealousy;

From wanton toys and fond effect,

The virgin’s life was free.
“Hey, down a down!”

At length men used charms

To which what maids gave ear,

Embracing gladly endless harms

Anon enthrallèd were.

Thus women welcomed woe

Disguised in name of love,

A jealous hell, a painted show:

So shall they find that prove.

“Hey, down a down!” did Dian sing,

Amongst her virgins sitting;

“Than love there is no vainer thing,

For maidens most unfitting.”

And so think I, with a down, down, derry!