EJ - Come, come, blessed bird

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Come, come, blessed bird,and with thy sugared relish
Help our declining choir now to embellish,
For Bonnyboots, that so aloft would fetch it,
O he is dead and none of us can reach it.
Then tune to us, sweet bird, thy shrill recorder,
And Elpin, and I, and Dorus, for fault of better,
Will serve in the chorus:
Begin, and we will follow thee in order,

Then sang the wood-born minstrel of Diana:
Long live fair Oriana.

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