A pleasant Song made by a Souldier, whose brinring up had been dainty:
and partly by those affections of his unbridled youth-is-now beaten with his own
rod: and therefore termeth this his Repentance, on the fall of Folly.
To an excellent tune, called, Calino.
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IN Summer time when Phoebus rayes,
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Did cheer each mortall mans delight,
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Increasing of the cheerfull dayes,
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and cutting of the darksome nights.
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When nature brougth fourth every thing
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By just return of April showers,
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To make the pleasant Branches spring,
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with sundry sorts of herbs and flowers.
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It was my chance to walk abroad,
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To view Dame Natures new come brood
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The pretty Birds did lay on load,
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with sugred tunes in every wood.
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The gallant Nightingale did set
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Her speckled brest against a Bryer,
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Whose mournfull tunes bewail (as yet)
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her brother Tereus false desire.
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The Serpents haveing cast their coats
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Lay listning how the Birds did sing,
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The pretty Birds with sugred notes,
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did welcome in the pleasant spring.
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I drew me to the Green-wood side,
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To hear this Country harmony,
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Whereas ere long I had espyd,
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a wofull man in misery.
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He lay alons upon the ground,
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And to the Heavens he cast his eye,
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The bordering Hills and Dales resound,
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the ecchos of his piteous cry.
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He wailing sore, and sighing said,
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Oh Heavens what endlesse grief have I,
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Why are my sorrows thus delaid
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come therefore death and let me die.
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When Nature first had made my frame,
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And set me loose when she had done,
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Steps Fortune in that fickle Dame,
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to end what Nature had begun.
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She set my feet upon her knee,
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And blest my tender age with store,
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But in the end she did agree,
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to mar what she had made before.
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I could no sooner creep alone,
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But she forsook her fostered child.
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I had no lands to live upon,
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but tracd abroad the world so wild.
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At length I fell in company,
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With gallant Youths of Mars his tra[i]n,
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I spent my life in jeopardy,
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and got my labour for my pain.
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I watched on the sieged walls,
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In thunder, lightning rain and snow
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And oft being shot with poudred Balls,
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whose costly markes are yet to show.
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When all my kindred took their rest,
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At home in many a stately Bed,
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The ground and pavement was my nest,
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my Flask a pillow for my head,
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My meat was such as I could get,
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Of Roots and Herbs of sundry sorts,
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Which did content my hungry mind
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although my commons were but short.
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My powder servd to salt my meat,
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My Murrion for a guilded Cup,
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Whereas such drink as I could get
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in Spring or Ditch I drank it up.
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My Rapier alwayes by my side,
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My Piece lay chargd with match & light,
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Thus many a month I did abide,
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to ward all day and watch by night.
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I lived in this glorious vain,
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Untill my limbs grew stiff and lame,
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And thus I got me home again
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regarding no such costly fame.
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When I came home I made a proof,
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What friends would do if need should be,
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My nearest kin-folks lookt aloof,
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as though they had forgotten me.
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And as the Owl by chattering charmes
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Is wondred at of other Birds
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So they came wondring at my harms,
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and yeeld me no relief but words.
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Thus do I want while they have store
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That am their equall every way,
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Though fortune lent them somwhat more
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else had I been as good as they.
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Come gent[l]e Death and end my grief,
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Ye pretty Birds ring forth my knell
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Let Robin red-breast be the chief,
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to bury me and so farewell.
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Let no good Souldier be dismaid,
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To fight in Field with courage bold,
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Yet mark the words that I have said,
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trust not to friends when thou art old.
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