The Louer hoping in May to haue had redresse of his woes, and yet fowly missing his purpose, bewailes his cruell hap

MOu that in May haue bathde in blis
And found a salue to ease your sore:
Doe May obseruaunce, Reason is
That May should honord be therfore.
Awake out of your drowsie sléepe
And leaue your tender Beds of Downe,
Of Cupids Lawes that taken kéepe
With Sommer flowers deck your Crowne.
As soone as Venus Starre doth showe
That brings the dawning on his back
And chéerefull light begins to growe
By putting of his Foe to wrack:
Repair to heare the wedded Makes
And late ycoupled in a knote,
The Nightingale that sits in Brakes
And telles of Tereus truth by note:
The Thrussell, with the Turtle Doue,
The little Robin eke yfeare
That make rehearsall of their loue,
Make haste (I say) that yee were theare.
Into the fieldes where Dian dwels
With Nimphes enuirond round about,
Haste yée to daunce about the Wels,
A fit pastime for such a rout.
Let them doe this that haue receiude
In May the hire of hoped grace:
But I as one that am bereaude
Of blissefull state, will hide my face,
And doole my daies with ruthfull voice
As fits a retchlesse Wight to doe:
Since now it lies not in my choise
To quite mée from this cursed woe.
I harbour in my breast a thought
Which now is turnde another way,
That pleasaunt May would mée ybrought
From Scylla to a better bay.
Since all (quoth I) that Nature made,
And placed here in earth bylowe,
When Spring returnes, of woonted trade
Doe banish griefe that earst did growe,
And chaungeth eke the churlish chéere
And frowning face of Tellus hewe,
With vernant flowers that appéere
To clad the soile with mantell newe:
Since Snakes doe cast their shriueled skinnes,
And Bucks hang vp their heads on pale,
Since frisking Fishes lose their finnes,
And glide with new repaired scale:
Then I of force with gréedie eie
Must hope to finde to ease my smart,
Since eche anoy in Spring doth die,
And cares to comfort doe conuart.
Then I (quoth I) shall reach the port
And fast mine Aucker on the ground,
Where lyes my pleasure and disport
Where is my suretie to be found:
There shall my beaten Barke haue rode,
And I for seruice done be paid,
My sorrowes quite shall be vnlode,
Euen thus vnto my selfe I said.
But (out alas) it falles not so,
May is to mée a Month of mone,
In May though others comfort gro,
My séedes of griefe are surely sowne.
My bitter Teares for water serue
Wherewith the Garden of my brest
I moist, for feare the seedes should sterue,
And thus I frame mine owne vnrest.
Let others then that féelen ioy
Extole the merrie Month of May,
And I that tasted haue annoy,
In praise thereof will nothing say.
But wish returne of winters warre
And blustring force of Borias force againe.
These sower séedes of wo to marre
By force of winde and wisking raine.
And so perhaps by better fate
At next returne of Spring, I may
By chaunging of my former state
Cast off my care, and chaunge my lay.