Now clere wether, forthwith a stormy showre;
All thynge compassyd, no perpetuyte,
But now in welthe, now in aduersyte.
So depely drownyd I was in this dumpe,
Encraumpysshed so sore was my conceyte,
That, me to rest, I lent me to a stumpe
Of an oke, that somtyme grew full streyghte,
A myghty tre and of a noble heyght,
Whose bewte blastyd was with the boystors wynde, 20
His leuis loste, the sappe was frome the rynde.