XXAs it fell upon a dayIn the merry month of May,Sitting in a pleasant shadeWhich a grove of myrtles made,Beasts did leap and birds did sing,Trees did grow and plants did spring;Everything 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 pitty.“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 shownMade me think upon mine own.Ah, thought I, thou mourn’st in vain!None takes pitty on thy pain.Senseless trees they cannot hear thee,Ruthless bears 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.Whilst as fickle fortune smiled,Thou and I were both beguiled.Every one that flatters theeIs no friend in misery.Words are easy, like the wind;Faithful friends are hard to find.Every man will be thy friendWhilst thou hast wherewith to spend;But if store of crowns be scant,No man will supply thy want.If that one be prodigal,Bountiful they will him call,And with such-like flattering,“Pity but he were a king.”If he be addict to vice,Quickly him they will entice;If to women he be bent,They have at commandement.But if Fortune once do frown,Then farewell his great renown.They that fawn’d on him before,Use his company no more.He that is thy friend indeed,He will help thee in thy need:If thou sorrow, he will weep;If thou wake, he cannot sleep.Thus of every grief in heartHe with thee doth bear a part.These are certain signs to knowFaithful friend from flatt’ring foe.
As it fell upon a dayIn the merry month of May,Sitting in a pleasant shadeWhich a grove of myrtles made,Beasts did leap and birds did sing,Trees did grow and plants did spring;Everything 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 pitty.“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 shownMade me think upon mine own.Ah, thought I, thou mourn’st in vain!None takes pitty on thy pain.Senseless trees they cannot hear thee,Ruthless bears 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.Whilst as fickle fortune smiled,Thou and I were both beguiled.Every one that flatters theeIs no friend in misery.Words are easy, like the wind;Faithful friends are hard to find.Every man will be thy friendWhilst thou hast wherewith to spend;But if store of crowns be scant,No man will supply thy want.If that one be prodigal,Bountiful they will him call,And with such-like flattering,“Pity but he were a king.”If he be addict to vice,Quickly him they will entice;If to women he be bent,They have at commandement.But if Fortune once do frown,Then farewell his great renown.They that fawn’d on him before,Use his company no more.He that is thy friend indeed,He will help thee in thy need:If thou sorrow, he will weep;If thou wake, he cannot sleep.Thus of every grief in heartHe with thee doth bear a part.These are certain signs to knowFaithful friend from flatt’ring foe.