Now welcom somer, with thy sonne softe, That hast this wintres weders over-shake, And driven awey the longe nightes blake! Seynt Valentyn, that art ful hy on-lofte, Thus singen smale foules for thy sake: Now welcom somer, with thy sonne softe, That hast this wintres weders over-shake. Wel han they cause for to gladen ofte, Sith ech of hem recovered hath his make; Ful blisful may they singen whan they wake: Now welcom somer, with thy sonne softe, That hast this wintres weders over-shake, And driven awey the longe nightes blake. (CHAUCER: _Qui bien aime a tard oublie_, in _The Parlement of Foules_, ll. 680-692. ab. 1380.) This is the "roundel" sung by the birds "to do Nature honour and plesaunce." "The note" we are told was made in France. It will be seen that Chaucer employs a form with three-line refrain, of which the first two lines are twice repeated, the last only once: _ABB,abAB,abbABB_. The same form is used in the three roundels of _Merciles Beaute_. Too hard it is to sing In these untuneful times, When only coin can ring, And no one cares for rhymes! Alas! for him who climbs To Aganippe's spring:-- Too hard it is to sing In these untuneful times! His kindred clip his wing; His feet the critic limes; If Fame her laurel bring Old age his forehead rimes:-- Too hard it is to sing In these untuneful times! (AUSTIN DOBSON: _Too hard it is to sing._) Underneath this tablet rest, Grasshopper by autumn slain, Since thine airy summer nest Shivers under storm and rain. Freely let it be confessed Death and slumber bring thee gain Spared from winter's fret and pain, Underneath this tablet rest. Myro found thee on the plain, Bore thee in her lawny breast, Reared this marble tomb amain To receive so small a guest! Underneath this tablet rest, Grasshopper by autumn slain. (EDMUND GOSSE: _After Anyte of Tegea._) In this the second line of the refrain is omitted where we should expect it as line eight, the scheme of the first part of the rondel being changed to _ABab, abbA_. The ways of Death are soothing and serene, And all the words of Death are grave and sweet. From camp and church, the fireside and the street, She signs to come, and strife and song have been. A summer night descending, cool and green And dark, on daytime's dust and stress and heat, The ways of Death are soothing and serene, And all the words of Death are grave and sweet. O glad and sorrowful, with triumphant mien And hopeful faces look upon and greet This last of all your lovers, and to meet Her kiss, the Comforter's, your spirit lean.-- The ways of Death are soothing and serene. (W. E. HENLEY: _The Ways of Death._) ii. _"Rondeau" Type_