"Or as the red breast byrds, Whome prettie merlynes hold, Ful fast in foote, by winter’s night To fende themselves from colde.Though afterwards the hauke For pitie let them scape, Yet al that day they fede in feare, And doubt a second rape.And in the nexter night, Ful many times do crie, Remembering yet the ruthful plight Wherein they late did lye."