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THe merry
Cuckow, messenger of Spring,
His trompet shrill hath
thrise already sounded:
that warnes al louers wayt
vpon their king,
who now is comming forth with
girland crouned.
With noyse whereof the quyre of
Byrds resounded
their anthemes sweet devized of
loues prayse,
that all the woods theyr ecchoes back
rebounded,
as if they knew the meaning of their
layes.
But mongst them all, which did Loues honor
rayse
no word was heard of her that most it ought,
but she his precept proudly disobayes,
and doth
his ydle message set at nought.
Therefore O loue,
vnlesse she turne to thee
ere Cuckow end, let her a
rebell be.
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