Is sign of dreary death, my deadly cries
"Most ruthfully to tune: and as my cries
(Which of my woe cannot bewray least part)
You hear all night, when Nature craveth sleep,
Increase, so let your irksome yells augment.
Thus all the nights in plaints, the day in woe,
I vowed have to waste, till safe and sound
"She home return, whose voice's silver sound
To cheerful songs can change my cheerless cries.
Hence with the nightingale will I take part,