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The nighting all with war bling throte
Doth iug forth many a pleasant note,
that makes the woods to ring:
The fountames cleere, as Christall glasse,
About the which, vpon the grasse
The Nymphes do sit and sing:
But let Eluinia turne her eies from all those sweete delights,
Then doth continuall winter rage with stormy daies and nights.

When that the freezing Northren windes disgrace
The fragrant flowers, the slately trees and tall
Of all their pride, and couereth euery place
With flakes of snow, which neuer cease to fall:
And nightingals their songs leaue for a space,
And desert fieldes, that haue no greene at all:
The daies are yrkesome short, and sad,
The cold nights blow, as they were mad,
With many a bitter blast:
The cloudes as darke as any pitch,
And thicke as lothsome mud in ditch,
The aire do ouercast:
But let Eluinia walke the fields or where it please her best,
There merie springtide doth returne her praises to protest.

If that the angrie heauens sometimes throw downe
A fearfull lightning or some cruell thunder,
The silly Shepherd, far from wood or towne,
Begins to feare, to tremble and to wonder,
And if the hayle fall thicke vpon the ground
Like little stones, do beat and burst asunder
The fruit, and leaues in euerie place,
And spoiles the flowers of their grace,
A strange, and pitious sight:
The Shepherd runs away amaine,
Leauing his sheepe vpon the plaine
With swift and fearfull flight:
But let Eluinia walke the fields her beautie euerie where
Doth cleere the heauens, and rids the Shepherds hart from trembling feare.

And if by chaunce I sing or pipe on hie,
Vnder the shade of Elme or little hill,
The Song thrush and the heauenly Larke replie
Vnto my songs, with sweetest notes at will:
And when the fresh and Western windes in skie
Breath forth an aire, so pleasant and so still:
When euerie ioy, and sweete content,
And euerie day in pleasures spent
Doth giue me new delights,
And free from feare with liuely cheere