¶That to heare her
so complaine,
¶Scarce I could from teares refraine:
¶For her griefes
so liuely
showne,
¶Made me thinke vpon mine owne.
375Ah (thought I) thou mourn
st in vaine,
¶None takes pitty on thy paine:
¶Sen
sle
sse Trees, they cannot heare thee,
¶Ruthle
sse Beares, they will not cheere thee.
¶King Pandion, he is dead:
380All thy friends are lapt in Lead.
¶All thy fellow Birds doe
sing,
¶Carele
sse of thy
sorrowing.