X. Phœbus had once a bird, his chief delight

Robert Tofte (1561–1620)

PHŒBUS had once a bird, his chief delight,

Which, only ’cause he had an evil tongue,

He made him black; who was before most white.

So if all those who, Lovers true have stung

With spiteful speech, and have their loves betrayed;

Or to their Ladies false be and untrue,

Setting at nought the promise they have made;

LOVE would but change into this coal-black hue:

Thousands abroad, like sea-coal crows should show;

Who, now unknown, for snowy swans do go.