A sturdie bat from off an Oake I reft: (15) And with the Rauisher continued fight, Till breathlesse I vpon the earth him left. Then when my coy Nimph saw her breathlesse foe, With kisses kind she gratifies my paine: Protesting rigour neuer more to show, (20) Happy was I this good hap to obtaine. But drowsie slumbers flying to their Cell, My sudden ioy conuerted was to bale: My wonted sorrowes still with me doe dwell, I looked round about on Hill and Dale: (25) But I could neither my faire Chloris view, Nor yet the Satire which yer-while I slew.
FINIS. W. S.
¶ The Shepheard Damons passion. +
A H trees, why fall your leaues so fast? Ah Rockes, where are your roabes of mosse? Ah Flocks, why stand you all agast? Trees, Rocks, and Flocks, what, are ye pensiue for my |(losse?