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In happines I spend the yeere,
The pleasant daies and nights:
But if Eluinia once do frowne, I am much more afraide
Then if a burning lightning had my sences all dismaide.
If that Diana goeth forth to chace
The sauage beastes, with bended bow to tame,
With troups of Nymphes that waite vpon her grace
Whose thoughts chaste sports and exercise do frame:
And with the same with great delight do trace
The woods and lawnes in seeking out some game.
Hamadriades and Napees faire
With strowing Roses, do prepare
The way before their Queene:
The Nymphes that follow sweetly sing,
And hils and dales with triumphes ring,
And woods both fresh and greene:
But if she come vnto the wood, where my Eluinia chaceth
She makes her silent, quailes her pride, and beauties all disgraceth.
And when her bodie whiter then the snow
She washeth in the fountaine christall bright,
If thither Cynthia should but chaunce to goe,
And see those parts so daintie and so white,
For shame she would cast downe her eies I know,
And so depart, confounded at that sight:
For in those fountaine waters cleere
So braue a figure doth appeere,
As like was neuer seene:
So faire a face, such golden haire
With rarest grace are shining there
As like hath neuer beene:
And bold Acteon if he did but see there alone,
Had not beene turn’d into a Hart, but to a Marble stone.
A thousand times my song I will reply thee,
In euerie place where I doe feed my sheepe,
But hence away, for pitie now go hie thee
Vnto my Loue, and tell her how I weepe.
See if thou canst but mooue her hart
To some small pitie of my smart,
And of my little rest:
Go to my faire and fatall star,
Tell her what wounding thoughts do war
Within my painfull brest.
O happie man if that thou mightest this grace of Fortune trie,
To see Eluinia change her minde, or else thy selfe to die.
How much the sweete voice and gentle grace of this enamoured Shepherd pleased them all, I am not able to expresse, whose song was so melodious, and per∣sonage
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