"That blessed bird, that spends her time of sleep
In songs and plaintive pleas, the more t'augment
The memory of his misdeed that bred her woe."
And this exquisite little song, written by I know not whom, but set to music by Thomas Bateson in 1604:
"The Nightingale, as soon as April bringeth
Unto her rested sense a perfect waking,
While late bare earth proud of her clothing springeth,
Sings out her woes, a thorn her song-book making;
And mournfully bewailing,
Her throat in tunes expresseth,