The Love-lorn Nightingale Nightly To Thee Her

His Rod Revers'd, And Backward Mutters Of Dissevering Power.

Let None Henceforth Seek Needless Cause To Approve The Faith They Owe; When Earnestly They Seek Such Proof, Conclude, They Then Begin To Fail.

Straight Mine Eye Hath Caught New Pleasures Whilst The Landscape Round It Measures, Russet Lawns And Fallows Grey, Where The Nibbling Flocks Do Stray, Mountains On Whose Barren Breast The Labouring Clouds Do Often Rest; Meadows Trim With Daisies Pied, Shallow Brooks, And Rivers Wide.

Sweet Bird, That Shun The Noise Of Folly, Most Musical, Most Melancholy!

And Join With Thee Calm Peace And Quiet, Spare Fast, That Oft With Gods Doth Diet.