O heavy herse!
Break we our pipes, that shrill'd as loud as lark;
O careful verse!
"Why do we longer live, (ah! why live we so long?)
Whose better days Death hath shut up in woe?
The fairest flower our garland all among
Is faded quite, and into dust ygo.
Sing now, ye shepheards' daughters, sing no moe
The songs that Colin made you in her praise,
But into weeping turn your wanton lays.