Stones do weep, and trees do groane,
Birds in aire, fishes in flood,
Beasts in field forsake their food;
The Nymphs forgoing all their bow’rs
Teare their chaplets deckt with flow’rs;
Sol himselfe with misty vapor
Hides from earth his glorious taper,
And as mov’d to heare thee plaine
Shews his griefe in show’rs of raine.