Nimphs backe peeping fearefully. All our pleasure knowne to vs poore Swaines, (30) All our merry meeting on the Plaines. All our euening sports from vs are fled, All our loue is lost, for Loue is dead. Farewell sweete Loue, thy like nere was, For sweete content, the cause of all my moane: (35) Poore Coridon must liue alone, Other helpe for him, I see that there is none.
¶ Another of the same Shepheards. +
A S it fell vpon a day, In the merry month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade, Which a groue of Mirtles made. (5) Beasts did leape, and Birds did sing, Trees did grow, and plants did spring. Euery thing did banish moane, Saue the Nightingale alone. +She poore bird, as all forlorne, (10) Lean’d her breast against a thorne, And there sung the dolefull’st Ditty, +That to heare it was great pitty. Fie, fie, fie, now would she crie Teru, Teru, by and by. (15) That to heare her so complaine, Scarse I could from teares refraine.