¶ The complaint of Thestilis the forsaken Shepheard. +
T Hestilis a silly Swaine, when Loue did him forsake, In mournfull wise amid the Woods, thus gan his plaint to |(make. Ah wofull man (quoth he) falne is thy lot to mone, And pine away with carefull thoughts, vnto thy Loue vnknowne. (5) Thy Nimph forsakes thee quite, whom thou didst honour so: That aye to her thou wert a friend, but to thy selfe a foe. Ye Louers that haue lost your hearts-desired choyce: Lament with me my cruell hap, and helpe my trembling voyce. Was neuer man that stood so great in Fortunes grace, (10) Nor with his sweat (alas too deere) possest so high a place: As I whose simple heart, aye thought himselfe still sure, But now I see high springing tides, they may not aye endure. +Shee knowes my guiltlesse hart, and yet she lets it pine: Of her vntrue professed loue, so feeble is the twine. (15) What wonder is it then, if I berent my haires: And crauing death continually, doe bathe my selfe in teares? When Cræsus King of Lide,was cast in cruell bands, And yeelded goods and life into his enemies hands: What tongue could tell his woe? yet was his griefe much lesse (20) Then mine, for I haue lost my Loue, which might my woe redresse. Ye Woods that shroud my limbs, giue now your hollow sound: That ye may helpe me to bewaile, the cares that me confound . Ye Riuers rest a while, and stay your streames that runne: Rue Thestilis, the wofulst man that rests vnder the Sunne. (25) Transport my sighs ye winds, vnto my pleasant foe: My trickling teares shall witnes beare, of this my cruell woe. Oh happy man were I, if all the Gods agreed: That now the Sisters three should cut in twaine my fatall threed. Till life with loue shall end, I here resigne all ioy, (30) Thy pleasant sweete I now lament, whose lacke breeds mine annoy.