The message

Ye birds that sing sweetly, come, listen to me,

And take to fair Phillis a message with ye;

Below in the valley she walks stately, pure,

And wots not how cruel are the pains I endure.

Go, sing to her softly in accents of love,

And whisper a sigh from her lover above.

And ask her upon him a thought to bestow,

One glance of her eyes that so wondrously glow;

But pray for some kindness towards the poor swain

Who sighs for a token he loves not in vain.

E'en death would be stingless if I could but prove

That Phillis doth list to my message of love.