And thus I see among these pleasant things Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs! - Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey

Surrey, for his justness of thought, correctness of style, and purity of expression, may justly be pronounced the first English classical poet.

So cruel prison how could betide, alas,
As proud Windsor? where I, in lust and joy,
With a King's son, my childish years did pass,
In greater feast than Priam's sons of Troy.
Where each sweet place returns a taste full sour.

The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings,
With green hath clad the hill, and eke the vale:
The nightingale with feathers new she sings;
The turtle to her make hath told her tale;
Summer is come, for every spray now springs.