An Ode.

NOW each creature ioyes the other, passing happy dayes and houres,
One byrd reports vnto an other, in the fall of siluer showers,
Whilst the earth (our common mother,) hath her bosome deckt with flowers.

Whilst the greatest Torche of heauen, with bright rayes warmes FLORAS lap,
Making nights and dayes both euen, cheering plants with fresher sap:
My field of flowers quite bereauen, wants refresh of better hap.

ECCHO, daughter of the Ayre, (babbling guest of Rocks and Hills,)
Knowes the name of my fierce Fatre, And sounds the accents of my ills.
Each thing pitties my dispaire, whilst that shee her Louer kills.

Whilst that shee (O cruell Mayd,) doth mee and my loue dispise,
My liues florish is decayd, that depended on her eyes:
But her will must be obeyd, and well he ends for loue who dies.