270Cleare wels
spring not,
sweete birds
sing not,
271Greene plants bring not forth their die,
272Heards
stands weeping,
flocks all
sleeping,
273Nimphes blacke peeping fearefully:
274All our plea
sure knowne to vs poore
swaines:
275All our merrie meetings on the plaines,
276All our euening
sport from vs is
fled,
277All our loue is lo
st, for loue is dead,
278 Farewell
sweet loue thy like nere was,
279 For a
sweet content the cau
se all my woe,
280 Poore Coridon mu
st liue alone,
281 Other helpe for him I
see that there is none.