The restlesse paynes of the Louer forsaken.
IN springe time when fresh flowers, in Feilde do florish fayre,
When Trees do bud and blosoms beare, when temperate is th'ayre
When Byrdes with chirping cheare, when Beastes that be but brute,
As course of kinde doth force them forth, through loue begins great sute.
Then I whose fansie fed, my sprites to sporte and play,
To Forrist fayre of pleasant ayre, began to take the way:
As I did passe throughout a valey fayre and gréene,
Where Birds did singe and Beastes to runne oft pleasant I had séen.
All husht I founde it tho, such silence was there kept,
As midnight then if it had béen, and all thinges sounde had slept:
Where at amasde I stoode, and listning longe might heare
At last a hollow sounding voice, with lowde lamenting cheare.
In shrubs harde shrowded by, a wofull wight there lay,
Whose carefull corps through pining paine, was welnie worne away:
Where powring out his plainte, he curst his cruell fate,
That led him forth to hope for hier, where he in fine founde hate.
He sight and beat his breast, and bid all men take héede,
By him to trust no filed wordes, where as they shew no déede:
For filed wordes me fed, to folow fancie so,
That like the hooked Fish betraide, I languish now in wo: