MUSIC OF THE GROVE. 241 



Summer is come, for every spray now springs ; 



The hart hath hung his old head on the pale ; 

 The buck in brake his winter coat he flings ; 



The fishes flete with new-repaired scale ; 

 The adder all her slough away she slings ; 



The swift swallow pursueth the flies smale ; 

 The busy bee her honey now she wings ; 



Winter is worn that was the flower's bale ; 

 And thus I see among these pleasant things 

 Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs. 



The Earl of Surrey, who was a warrior, as well 

 as a poet and philosopher, must also have been a 

 close observer of Nature. The fact which he no- 

 tices of the buck getting rid of his winter coat 

 among the brakes, is well known to those who 

 are acquainted with the habits of deer. In the 

 Spring, small bunches of hair may be seen sticking 

 to bramble bushes and thorns, when they serve 

 for many of our pretty warblers and other birds 

 to line their nests with, or to be mixed up with 

 mosses and other materials to form the nest it- 

 self, so careful is Nature, in providing for her off- 

 spring. 



The following is an extract from the sonnets of 

 Thomas Watson, who wrote the "Tears of Fancie,'' 

 1593. 



When May is in her prime and youthful Spring 



Doth clothe the tree with leaves, and ground with flowers, 



And time of year reviveth every thing, 



And lovely Nature smiles, and nothing lours ; 



There Philomela most doth strain her breast 

 With night complaints, and sits in little rest. 

 M 



