text: When to her lute Corinna sings,
  Her voice revives the leaden strings,
  And doth in highest notes appear
  As any challenged echo clear;
  But when she doth of mourning speak,
  Evn with her sighs the strings do break.
  
  And as her lute doth live or die,
  Let by her passion, so must I:
  For when of pleasure she doth sing,
  My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring,
  But if she doth of sorrow speak,
  Evn from my heart the strings do break.