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Now th’ Ayre is sweeter then sweet Balme, And Satires daunce about the Palme, Now earth with verdure newly dight, (10) Giues perfect signes of her delight.

O beauteous Queene, &c.
Now birds record new harmonie, And trees doo whistle melodie, Now euery thing that Nature breedes, (15) Dooth clad it selfe in pleasant weedes.

O beauteous Queene, &c.

FINIS. Tho. Watson.


¶ Colin Cloutes mournfull Dittie for the death
of
Astrophell. +

S Heepheards that wunt on pipes of Oaten reede, Oft-times to plaine your loues concealed smart; And with your pitteous Layes haue learn’d to breedeCompassion in a Country-Lasses hart: (5) Harken ye gentle Sheepheards to my song, And place my dolefull plaint your plaints among.
To you alone I sing this mournfull verse, The mournfulst verse that euer man heard tell: To you whose softned harts it may empierse (10) With dolours dart for death of Astrophell. To you I sing, and to none other wight: For well I wot, my rimes been rudely dight.
Yet as they been, if any nicer witShall hap to heare, or couet them to reade: (15) Thinke he, that such are for such ones most fit,