these words, and the remembrance of that which was past, cost afflicted Diana. But for loue of thy selfe (said Syrenus to Diana) let vs goe and seeke out thy Bagpipe: for it is no reason thou shouldest requite it so ill, that hath done thee so good seruice: And by the way we will goe to our flockes, and bring thee acquainted with Firmius, of whom I haue told thee sometimes before, and if we could intreate him to sing, I know thou wouldest take great delight to heare him: the one for his great iudgeâˆ£ment and wisedome; the other, bicause he is as sorrowful as thy selfe, whereby thou mightest (I thinke) receiue some comfort and content. But if Syrenus had knowen, what should afterwards haue befallen vnto him of these praises, and of other things which he told of Firmius, he would not onely haue left vndone what he did, nor spoâˆ£ken at all in the matter, but not once haue had a thought thereof. Thou hast tolde me so much of this new Shepherd (said Diana) that I must needes goe see him: for there are two things in him (thou tellest me) befitting my humours so well, but espeâˆ£cially his melancholie and sadde life, wherein I shall best conforme my selfe with him. Now were they come in sight of the place, where Diana had left her Bagâˆ£pipe, when they saw Firmius singing to the tune of his Rebecke. We are come in good time (said Syrenus) for Firmius is singing, and (happily) I must needes say, since so seldome he is wont to do it, being continually so full of sad and pensiue thoughts. Comming therefore softly and secretly on, bicause they would not be seene of him, they heard him singing this transuersed Sextiuen.
IN this greene Meade mine Eies what doe you see,
The Bagpipe of my Nymph so passing faire?
Vnlesse my senses Dreame, so should it be,
For Sure this is the Oke, wherewith despaire
She lean’d vnto, and heere the grasse yet lies,
And field, that she did water with her eies.
What doubt I then? mine Eies see it so plaine:
For Sure I knowe, this is the very Meade,
And tree, that did her tender lims sustaine:
This is the Bagpipe, which my Nymph did treade
Vpon: This is the Oke, the happy beame,
Whereto she lean’d, I knowe this is no Dreame.
But if I Dreame, that thinking with mine Eies
All this I see, and all doth prooue but nought:
And if this Oke in dreame I doe surmise,
And see this Meade, but onely in my thought,
Where my faire Nymph did print her goodly feete:
O Sure it were a dreame to me most sweete.
Ioue thee I pray, if this I doe but feare,
And if my Dreame doth fall out Sure or no?
By all the loue to Nymphes, that thou didst beare,
Open mine Eies the trueth that I may knowe:
Helpe me to pray him greene and flowrie Meade,
Helpe me to pray him, Oke with branchie heade.