Where art thou, Cupid, let me conjur thee?
With thine bow end the world of turmoil’s pain;
For love’s language hath deeply captured me,
Till the hands of fate surround thee again.
How do you speak love universally?
Return, arrowed cherub, and set thine aim;
Was thine fate to rise up from this valley?
Or only for moments of joy exclaim.
In tumult or bliss jointly sing along
Let anger and death be away with here;
And uphold what is right, not that is wrong;
For love be the muse of all that is dear,
Giving life to all goodness, sound the gong,
All angels in chorus belt out this song!