To Thé for Me

Suete Nichtingale in holene grene that han[ts]
To sport thy-self, and speciall in the spring,
Thy chivring chirlis, vhilks changinglie thou [chants,]
Maks all the roches round about thé ring;
Vhilk slaiks my sorou, so to heir thé sing,
And lights my louing langour at the leist;
Yit, thoght thou sees not, sillie, saikles thing!
The piercing pykis brods at thy bony breist.
Euin so am I, by plesur lykuyis preist,
In gritest danger vhair I most delyte.
Bot since thy song for shoring hes not ceist
Suld feble I for feir my conqueis quyt?
Na, na,--I love thé, freshest Phœnix fair!
In beuty, birth, in bounty but compair.