Richard Barnfield - The Nightingale lyrics

As it fell upon a day In the merry month of May, Sitting in a pleasant shade Which a grove of myrtles made, Beasts did leap and birds did sing, Trees did grow and plants did spring; Every thing did banish moan Save the Nightingale alone. She, poor bird, as all forlorn, Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn, And there sung the dolefull'st ditty That to hear it was great pity. Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry; Tereu, tereu, by and by: That to hear her so complain Scarce I could from tears refrain; For her griefs so lively shown Made me think upon mine own. —Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain, None takes pity on thy pain: Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee, Ruthless beasts, they will not cheer thee; King Pandion, he is dead, All thy friends are lapp'd in lead: All thy fellow birds do sing Careless of thy sorrowing: Even so, poor bird, like thee None alive will pity me.