A pleasant Song, made by a Soldier, whose bringing up had been dainty, and partly fed by those affections of his unbridled youth, is now beaten with his own rod, and therefore termeth this his repentance, the fall of his folly.  
To the tune of Calino.  
 

IN Summer time when Phoebus' rays,  
Did cheer each mortal man's delight,  
Increasing of the cheerful days,  
and cutting off the darksome night.  
When Nature brought forth every thing,  
By just return of April showers:  
To make the pleasant branches spring,  
of sundry sorts of herbs and flowers.   

It was my chance to walk abroad,  
To view Dame Nature's new come brood:  
The pretty Birds did lay on load,  
with sugared tunes in every wood.  
The gallant Nightingale did set,  
Her speckled breast against a Briar,  
Whose woeful tunes bewails as yet,  
her brother Tereus foul desire.   

The Serpents having cast their coats,  
Lay listening how the Birds did sing:  
The pretty birds with sugared notes,  
did welcome in the pleasant Spring:  
I drew me to the Gréenewood side,  
To hear this country harmony,  
Whereas ere long I had espied,  
a woeful man in misery.   

He lay along upon the ground,  
And to the heavens he cast his eye:  
The bordering hills and dales resound,  
the Echoes of his piteous cry.  
He wailing sore, and sighing, said,  
O heaven, what endless grief have I?  
Why are my sorrows thus delayed?  
come therefore death and let me dye.   

When Nature first had made my frame,  
And let me lose when she had done:  
Steps Fortune in that fickle Dame,  
to end what Nature had begun,  
She set me soft upon her knee,  
And bl●st my tender age with store;  
But in the end she did agree.  
to mar what she had done before▪   

I could no sooner creep alone,  
But she forsook her fostered child,  
I had no land to live upon,  
but ●●●c'd abroad the world so wild.  
At len●●● I fell in company,  
With ●●●●ant youths of Mars his train,  
I spe●●●y life in ieoperdy,  
and 〈◊〉 m● labour for my pain.   

I wa●●●● on the sieged walls,  
In thunder, lightning, rain, and snow,  
And oft in shot o● powdered halls,  
whose costly marks are yet to show,  
When all my kindred took their rest,  
At home in many a stately bed:  
The ground and pavement was my nest,  
my Flask a pillow for my head.   

My meat was such as I could find,  
As Roots and Herbs of sundry sorts:  
Which did content my hungry mind,  
although my commons were but short,  
My powder served to salt my meat,  
My murrain for a gilded cup,  
Wherein such drink as I could get,  
in spr●●●●r ditch, I drank it up.   

My Rapier always b● my side,  
My piece lay char●●●●ith match alight,  
Thus many a m●●●h I did abide,  
to ward all day, and watch all night,  
I lived in this glorious vain,  
Until my limbs were stiff and lame▪  
And then I got me home again,  
regarding not such costly fame.   

When I came home, I made a proof  
What friends would do if need should be,  
My nearest kinsfolks looked aloof,  
as though they had forgotten me.  
And as the Owl by chattering charms,  
Is wondered at of other Birds,  
So came they wondering at my harms,  
and yield me no relief but words.   

Thus do I want when they have store,  
That am their equal every way:  
But fortune lent them somewhat more,  
else had I been as good as they.  
Come gentle Death and end my grief,  
Ye pretty Birds ring forth my knell:  
Let Robin red breast be the chief,  
to bury me, andd so farewell.   

Let no good Soldier be dismayed,  
To fight in field with courage bold▪  
Yet mark the words that I have said,  
trust not to friends when thou art old.   
FINIS.   

Printed at London for john Wright.