Song: To the Spring. 
By Lyly, John. 


What bird so sings, yet does not wail?
O, 'tis the ravished nightingale!
"Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu" she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick-song! who is't now we hear?
None but the lark so shrill and clear;
Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings,
The morn not waking till she sings.
Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat
Poor robin-redbreast tunes his note!
Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing
"Cuckoo," to welcome in the spring,
"Cuckoo," to welcome in the spring!