To the Nightingale
Euery night from euen till morne,
Loue's Quirister amidde the thorne
Is now so sweet a singer;
So sweet, as for her song I scorne
Apollo's voice, and finger.
But Nightingale, sith you delight
Euer to watch the starry night;
Tell all the starres of heauen,
Heauen neuer had a starre so bright,
As now to Earth is giuen.
Royall Astræa makes our day
Eternall with her beames, nor may
Grosse darknesse ouercome her;
I now perceiue why some doe write,
No countrey hath so short a night,
As England hath in Summer.