The Forrest of Fancy Wherein is conteined very prety Apothegmes, and pleasaunt histories, both in meeter and prose, Songes, Sonets, Epigrams and Epistles, of diuerse matter and in diuerse manner. With sundry other deuices, no lesse pithye then pleasaunt and profytable [by H. C.] |
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A commendacion of the Robin redde brest.
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 | The Forrest of Fancy |  |
A commendacion of the Robin redde brest.
VVhen Hyems with his hory frostes,and blustering Boreas blaste,
Had runne his race, and Lady Ver,
his pleasaunt course had past,
and Phebus golden rates,
Whose scorching heate mild Zephirus,
asswagde at all assayes,
Were spread abroade through euery coste,
which causde eche thing to ioye,
Then was it pleasure great to see,
the little Fishes play,
And friscoes fetch about the bankes,
to fynde some pleasaunt baite,
Whiles they vnwares intangled are.
by Fishers foule deceite,
Then euery tree is fresh and greene,
then Flora on the ground,
Her mantell spreades, and fertill fieldes,
with pleasaunt Flowers abound.
The dainty Dames from euery place,
doe thither fast resorte,
And Garlandes make of cropped flowers,
of sundry sent and sorte,
In euery streete great stirring is,
some quasse and make good cheare,
Some leape, some daunce, some sing, some play
some chase the light foote Deare,
Here Orpheus with his pleasaunt Harpe,
there Amphion with his Lute,
Doe make moste pleasaunt melodie,
and carping cares confute,
The amorous youthes doe stray the streetes,
and with their Ladies walke.
And some againe doe passe the day,
with passing pleasaunt talke,
So euery man to please his minde.
some pastime doth frequent,
To driue away all drowsy dumpes,
and sluggish sloth preuent.
that as in bed I lay,
Oppressed sore with painefull pangs,
about the breake of day
I started vp, and forth I walkte,
into the fieldes so fayre,
My selfe to solace there at will,
and take the pleasaunt ayre,
The ground that garnisht was with flowers,
did yield so sweete a smell,
That noysome sauoures none were felt,
It did them all repell,
Then past I forth with stealing steps,
and lookte about me round,
To take a view of euery thing,
wherein I pleasure found,
And by and by from farre me thought,
I seemde a sounde to heare,
Which still the further that I past,
more pleasaunt did appeare,
It was so sweete a melody,
that sure I thought some muse,
Or else some other heauenly wight,
did there frequent and vse.
But as I cast mine eye asyde,
on braunche of willow tree,
A little Robin redbrest then,
there sitting did I see,
And he it was, and none but he,
that did so sweetely sing,
But sure in all my life before,
I neuer harde the thing,
That did so much delight my hart,
or causde me so to ioye,
As did that little Robins song,
that there I hard that day,
or causde me so to ioye,
As did that little Robins song,
that there I heard that day,
The Poets faine that Orpheus made,
both stones and trees to daunce,
When he vppon his Harpe did play,
They also doe aduaunce
So muche Arion for his skill,
that when into the seas
He should be cast they said that he,
a Dolphin so did please,
That safe she brought him vnto shore,
when death he did aspect,
And from all perrils perrillous,
did him right well protect,
Mercurius made the hundred eyes,
of Argos all to sleepe,
With playing on an Oten pipe,
his knowledge was so deepe,
Yet sure I thinke their harmony,
might not coequall be,
With that this little Robin made,
it so delighted me.
Nay sure I thinke the Muses nyne,
may not with him compare,
Nor yet Apollo for his skill,
whose musick was so rare.
Full often times my hart doth wishe.
this prety byrd to haue.
For more then any worldly thing,
the same I still doe craue.
And if my luck might be so good,
this Robin once to gaine.
Then greatly would my ioyes abound,
and hart should feele no paine,
that I so well could leeke,
Therefore aboue all other thinges,
to haue the same I seeke,
For collour and for comlinesse,
all byrdes he doth surmount,
His flesh as very delicate,
full many men accoumpt,
God graunt therefore that I may gaine,
this Robin at my will,
Then doe I hope to vse him so,
that he shall tarry still.
For rather would I lose my lyfe,
and all thinges else besyde,
Then from my Robin I woulde parte,
at any time or tide.
Finis.
| The Forrest of Fancy | |