[* Many, company.] "Let birds be silent on the naked spray, 330 And shady woods resound with dreadfull yells; Let streaming floods their hastie courses stay, And parching drouth drie up the cristall wells; Let th'earth be barren, and bring foorth no flowres, And th'ayre be fild with noyse of dolefull knells, 335 And wandring spirits walke untimely howres.

O that so faire a flowre so soon should fade, And through untimely tempest fall away!

Report is that Dame Venus on a day, In spring when flowres doo clothe the fruitful ground, Walking abroad with all her nymphes to play, 115 Bad her faire damzels flocking her arownd To gather flowres, her forhead to array.

Fresh flowre of grace, great goddesse of my life, When your faire eyes these fearfull lines shall read, Deigne to let fall one drop of dew reliefe, That may recure my harts long pyning griefe, 285 And shew what wondrous powre your beauty hath, That can restore a damned wight from death.

Then comes fair May, the fayrest mayde on ground, Decked with all dainties of the season's pryde, And throwing flowres out of her lap around.