And all the quire that wont with her to beare a part and sing Concordant discords in sweet straine for welcome of the spring, Sate silent on the frostie bow, and shuddering all for cold, Did shroud the head beneath the wing, the day was waxed old, None but the red-brest and the wren did sing the euen away, And that in notes of sad record for summer’s late decay: The field, which whilome _Ceres_ crown’d with golden eares of corne, And all the pasture-springing meades, which _Pales_ did adorne, Lookt pale for woe, the winterie snow had couered all their greene, Nought else vpon the grasselesse ground, but winter’s waste was seene: The shepheard’s feeble flocke pent vp within the bounded fold, So faint for food, that scarce their feete their bodies could vphold, Did hang the head with heauie cheare, as they would learne to mourne The thrall in which they now did liue, by shepheard left forlorne: All sweet delight of summer past, cold winter’s breath had blasted, The sunne in heau’n shone pale on earth to see her wombe so wasted: All which, as I grieu’d at such sight, the fields alone did range, Did teach me know all things on earth were subiect vnto change: How fond (me thought) were mortall men, the trustlesse stay to trust, Of things on earth, since heere on earth all things returne to dust? Who so in youth doth boast of strength, me thought the loftie oake Would teach him that his strength must vade, when age begins to yoke His youthfull necke, euen by it selfe, his leauie lockes being shed, And branched armes shrunke vp with frost, as if they had been dead: The louely lillie, that faire flower for beautie past compare, Whom winter’s cold keene breath had kill’d, and blasted all her faire, Might teach the fairest vnder heau’n, that beautie’s freshest greene When spring of youth is spent, will vade, as it had neuer been; The barren fields, which whilome flower’d as they would neuer fade, Inricht with summer’s golden gifts, which now been all decay’d, Did shew in state there was no trust, in wealth no certaine stay, One stormie blast of frowning chance could blow them all away; Out of the yeares alternate course this lesson I did con, In things on earth of most auaile assurance there was none: But fancie feeding on these thoughts, as I alone did wend, The clocke did strike, whose chime did tell the day was at an end; The golden sunne, daies guide, was gone, and in his purple bed Had laid him downe, the heau’ns about their azure curtaines spread, And all the tapers lighted were, as t’were the watch to keepe, Lest past her houre night should vsurpe, while he secure did sleepe; Then clad in cloake of mistie fogges the darke night vp did come, And with grim grislie looke did seeme to bid me get me home; Home was I led, not as before with solace from the field,