(15) deare Ioy, how I doe loue thee? As the birds doe loue the Spring: Or the Bees their carefull King, then in requite, sweet Virgin loue me
FINIS. H. C.
¶ The Shepheard Eurymachus to his faire Shep-
heardesse Mirimida. +
W Hen Flora proud in pompe of all her flowers sate bright and gay: And gloried in the dewe of Iris showers, and did display (5) Her mantle checquer’d all with gaudie greene, Then I alone A mournfull man in Ericine was seene. +
With folded armes I trampled through the grasse, (10) Tracing as he That held the Throne of Fortune brittle glasse, +And loue to be Like Fortune fleeting, as the restlesse winde Mixed (15) with mists Whose dampe doth make the clearest eyes grow blinde.