The crimson Moon, uprising from the Sea

Then live who may, where honied words prevail, I with the deer, and with the nightingale!

Nature is always wise in every part.

May! queen of blossoms, And fulfilling flowers, With what pretty music Shall we charm the hours? Wilt thou have pipe and reed, Blown in the open mead?

Light heart, light foot, light food, and slumber light, These lights shall light us to old Age's gate, While monarchs, whom rebellious dreams affright, Heavy with fear, death's fearful summons wait.

The sunn must lend his goulden beames, Soft windes their breath, green trees their shade, Sweete fields their flowers, cleare springs their streams, Ere such another smyle bee made.

Thou little bird, thou dweller by the sea, Why takest thou its melancholy voice, And with that boding cry Why o'er the waves dost fly? O, rather, bird, with me Through the fair land rejoice!