Come, shepherd swains, that wont to hear me sing,
  Now sigh and groan!
Dead is my Love, my Hope, my Joy, my Spring;
  Dead, dead, and gone!
O, She that was your Summer’s Queen,
  Your days’ delight,[Pg 17]
Is gone and will no more be seen;
  O, cruel spite!
Break all your pipes that wont to sound
  With pleasant cheer,
And cast yourselves upon the ground
  To wail my Dear!
Come, shepherd swains, come, nymphs, and all a-row
  To help me cry:
Dead is my Love, and, seeing She is so,
  Lo, now I die!