V.

I saw a phœnix in the wood alone, With purple wings and crest of golden hewe; Strange bird he was, whereby I thought anone, That of some heavenly wight I had the viewe;

Untill he came unto the broken tree, And to the spring, that late devoured was. What say I more? Each thing at last we see Doth passe away; the phœnix there, alas! Spying the tree destroid, the water dride, Himself smote with his beake, as in disdaine, And so forthwithe in greate despight he dide; That yet my heart burns in exceeding paine, For ruth and pitie of so haples plight; O! let mine eyes no more see such a sight.