JOHN LYLY

CUPID and my Campaspe play’d At cards for kisses—Cupid paid: He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows, His mother’s doves, and team of sparrows; Loses them too; then down he throws The coral of his lips, the rose Growing on’s cheek (but none knows how); With these, the crystal of his brow, And then the dimple of his chin: All these did my Campaspe win. At last he set her both his eyes— She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love! has she done this for thee? What shall, alas! become of me?

What bird so sings, yet so does wail? O ’tis the ravish’d nightingale. Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu! she cries, And still her woes at midnight rise. Brave prick-song! Who is’t now we hear? None but the lark so shrill and clear; Now at heaven’s gate she claps her wings, The morn not waking till she sings. Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat Poor robin redbreast tunes his note! Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing Cuckoo! to welcome in the spring! Cuckoo! to welcome in the spring!