A certain dead creature in mine armes I take,
With her back to my bosome, great glee doth she make
As thus I doe hold her, she greatly doth cheere mee,
And wel are they pleased, that see me and heare mee.
Whilst erst it remayned in forest and field,
It silent remayning, no speech forth did yeeld.
But since she of life, by death was depriued,
With language shee speaketh, mens sprites are reuiued.