And that a wretch might so be entertaining them.
But if to giue it me, I should refell it thee,
What wouldst thou doe (O greefe) that thus adiuring it,
Faine would I hide mine ill, and neuer tell it thee.
But after (my Syrenus) thus procuring it,
A Shepherdesse I doe inuoke (the fairest one)
And thâ€™end goes thus, vnto my cost enduring it.
Syluanus mine, a loue, of all the rarest one,
A beautie, blinding presently disclosing it,
A wit, and in discretion the waryest one,
A sweete discourse, that to the eare opposing it,
The hardest rocks entendereth in subduing them.
What shall a haplesse louer feele in loosing it?
My little sheepe I see, and thinke in viewing them,
How often times I haue beheld her feeding them,
And with her owne to foulde them, not eschewing them.
How often haue I met her driue, and speeding them
Vnto the riuer, in the heate, where resting her
With great care she was telling yet, and heeding them.
After, if that she was alone, deuesting her,
Thou shouldst haue seene the bright sunne beames enuying her
Resplendant hayre, to kembe them manifesting her.
But on the sudden meeting, and espying her,
(My deerest friend Syluane) how oft incended was
Her fairest face, with orient blushing dying her?
And with what grace, how mildly reprehended was
My staying long, which she did aske, correcting me?
Which if I greeuâ€™d, with blandishments amended was.
How many daies haue I found her expecting me
At this cleere fountaine, when that I was seeking her
Along that thickest hedge, to greefe subiecting me?
All paines and troubles what so ere (in meeting her)
Of sheepe, or lambes, we straight way were forgetting them,
When she sawe me, or when that I was greeting her.
Some other times (Syluane) we tunâ€™d (in setting them)
Our Bagpipe and the Rebeck, which we plaied on,
And then my verses sung we, nothing letting them.
After with bowe and arrowes we estraied on,
Sometimes with nets, and she neuer refraining me,
And came not home without some chase we praied on.
Thus fortune went by these meanes entertaining me:
Reseruing for some greater ill, and tendring me,
Which hath no end, but by deathes end restraining me.
Syrenus, that most cruell loue, engendring me
Such greefe, stints not, nor hindreth the perswading me
Of so much ill: I die therein remembring me.