Page:The Pennyles Pilgrimage.djvu/18

 Wit's whetstone, Want, there made us quickly learn, With knives to cut down rushes, and green fern, Of which we made a field-bed in the field, Which sleep, and rest, and much content did yield. There with my mother earth, I thought it fit To lodge, and yet no incest did commit: My bed was curtained with good wholesome airs, And being weary, I went up no stairs: The sky my canopy, bright Phœbe shined Sweet bawling Zephyrus breathed gentle wind, In heaven's star-chamber I did lodge that night, Ten thousand stars, me to my bed did light; There barricadoed with a bank lay we Below the lofty branches of a tree, There my bed-fellows and companions were, My man, my horse, a bull, four cows, two steer: But yet for all this most confused rout, We had no bed-staves, yet we fell not out. Thus nature, like an ancient free upholster, Did furnish us with bedstead, bed, and bolster; And the kind skies, (for which high heaven be thanked,) Allowed us a large covering and a blanket; Auroras face 'gan light our lodging dark, We arose and mounted, with the mounting lark, Through plashes, puddles, thick, thin, wet and dry, I travelled to the city Coventry.