I haven't heard the Sarah Makem song, and have no idea what it's about or what it sounds like, but I went searching for "ye gods of love" and found this, at the Bodleian collection: Harding B 6(19):


THE FORLORN DAMSEL

Ye gods of love, who rule above,
Pity a maid that's wounded.
Of Cupid's dart I feel the smart,
And grief has me surrounded.

I sigh and moan since he is gone
Who was my chiefest fancy.
The other day he sailed away
And parted with his Nancy.

May woe attend my cruel friends
That caused his transportation.
For him I pine, lament and whine
In woeful desolation.

In frightful dreams I often screams
And wakes out of my slumber.
Then in amaze I roam and gaze
And of my dear I ponder.

My parents they sent him away
To face his foes so cruel,
All for to part from him my heart,
My dear and only jewel.

My love is tall, comely withal,
And rarely put together;
His person neat, his breath as sweet
As dew in summer weather.

His carriage neat, his limbs compleat,
And all his frame commodious.
When he doth sing, the woods do ring,
His voice is so melodious.

Guardian angels be his guide.
Defend him from all harms.
Let not bad fortune him betide
In any of war's alarms.

Should he be slain on Boston plain,
Where cannons roar like thunder,
Then death would ease me of my pain
And break my chains asunder.

Although my love has crossed the main,
'Twas what he ne'er intended.
I hope to see him once again
Whene'er the wars are ended.

Then all my grief will turn to joy
When he is in my arms;
Then I'll embrace my charming boy
And treat him with my charms.