In dew of roses [Alfred Deller, The Deller Consort, 1954]
In dew of roses, steeping Her lovely cheeks, Lycoris thus sat weeping. Ah Dorus false, that hast my heart bereft me, and now unkind hast left me: Hear, alas hear, O hear me; Ay me, cannot my beauty move thee? Pity then me because I love thee. Ay me, thou scornst the more I pray thee, And this thou dost to slay me. But do, then do kill me and vaunt thee. Yet my ghost still shall haunt thee.