 | The Whole Works of William Browne
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4.
[Within the compasse of a shadye grove]
Within the compasse of a shadye grove
I long time sawe a loving Turtle flye,
And lastlye pitching by her gentle Love,
Sit kindelie billing in his company:
Till (haples soules) a faulcon sharply bent,
Flew towards the place where these kind wretches stood,
And sev'ring them, a fatall accident,
She from her mate flung speedie through the wood;
And scapeing from the hawke, a fowler sett
Close & with cunning vnderneath the shade,
Entrapt the harmles creature in his net,
And nothing moved with the plaint she made,
Restraynde her from the groves & deserts wide,
Where overgone with griefe, poore Bird, she dyde.
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