"Come blessed bird! and with thy sugred rellish,
Help our declining quire not to embellish;
For Bonny-bootes that so aloft would fetch it,
Oh! he is dead, and none of us can reach it!
Then tune to us, sweet bird, thy shrill recorder,
And I, Elpin and Dorus,
For fault of better, will serve in the chorus.
Begin; and we will follow thee in order.
Then sang the wood-born minstrel of Diana,
Long live faire Oriana."