| |
| NOW each creature joys the other, | |
| passing happy days and hours; | |
| One bird reports unto another, | |
| in the fall of silver showers; | |
| Whilst the Earth, our common mother, | 5 |
| hath her bosom decked with flowers. | |
| |
| Whilst the greatest Torch of heaven, | |
| with bright rays, warms FLORA’s lap; | |
| Making nights and days both even, | |
| cheering plants with fresher sap: | 10 |
| My field, of flowers quite bereaven, | |
| wants refresh of better hap. | |
| |
| ECHO, daughter of the Air, | |
| babbling guest of rocks and hills, | |
| Knows the name of my fierce Fair, | 15 |
| and sounds the accents of my ills. | |
| Each thing pities my despair; | |
| whilst that She, her lover kills. | |
| |
| Whilst that She, O cruel Maid! | |
| doth me and my love despise; | 20 |
| My life’s flourish is decayed, | |
| that depended on her eyes: | |
| But her will must be obeyed; | |
and well, he ends! for love, who dies.
F I N I S. | |
| |
