University of Virginia Library



[XII. Now each flowry bancke of May]

Now each flowry bancke of May,
Wooes the streames that glides away,
Mountaines fan'd by a sweet gale,
Loues the humble looking Dale,
Windes the loued leaues doe kisse,
Each thing tasteth of loues blisse,
Onely I though blest I be, to be lou'd by desteny,
Loue confest by her sweet breath,
Whose deere loue is life, whose hate is death.