Once in an arbour was my mistresse sleeping
With rose and woodbind wouen
Whose person thousand graces had in keeping
Where for myne hart her harts hard flint was clouen
To keepe him safe: behind stood pertly peepinge
Poore Cupid softly creepinge
And draue small birdes out of the myrtle bushes
Scar'd with his arrowes who sate cheeping
On euery sprigge whom Cupid calles and hushes
From branch to branch whiles I poore soule sate weeping
To see her breathe not knowing
Incense into the cloudes and blesse with breath
The wyndes and ayre whiles Cupid vnderneath
With birdes with songes nor any posies throwing
Could her awake.
Each noyse sweet, lullaby was for her sake.