¶The passionate Shepheards Song.
ON a day, (alack the day,) Loue whose moneth was euer May: Spied a blossome passing faire, Playing in the wanton ayre. Through the veluet leaues the winde, All vnseene gan passage finde: That the Shepheard (sicke to death,) Wish'd himselfe the Heauens breath. Ayre (quoth he) thy cheekes may blow: Ayre, would I might triumph so. But alas, my hand hath sworne, Nere to plucke thee from thy thorne. Vow (alack) for youth vnmeet, Youth so apt to pluck a sweet. Thou for whom Ioue would sweare, Iuno but an Aethiope were, And deny himselfe for Ioue, Turning mortall for my Loue.FINIS.
W. Shakespeare.