¶ A Canzon Pastorall in honour of her Maiestie. +
A Las what pleasure now the pleasant Spring Hath giuen place, To harsh black frosts the sad ground couering, Can wee poore wee embrace, (5) When euery bird on euery branch can sing Naught but this note of woe alas? Alas this note of woe why should we sound? With vs as May, September hath a prime, Then birds and branches your alas is fond, (10) Which call vpon the absent Sommer time: For did flowres make our May Or the Sun-beames your day. When Night and Winter did the world embrace, Well might you waile your ill and sing alas.
(15) Loe Matron-like the Earth her selfe attires In habite graue, Naked the fields are, bloomelesse are the brires, Yet we a Sommer haue, Who in our clime kindleth these liuing fires, (20) Which bloomes can on the briers saue. No Ice dooth christallize the running Brooke, No blast deflowres the flowre-adorned field, Christall is cleere, but cleerer is the looke, Which to our climes these liuing fires dooth yield: (25) Winter though euery where Hath no abiding heere: On Brooks and Briers she doth rule alone, The Sunne which lights our world is alwayes one. +
FINIS. Edmund Bolton.