Scarse had he these last words spoken, But me thought his hart was broken, With great greefe that did abound, (90) (Cares and greefe the hart confound.) In whose hart thus riu’d in three, Eliza written I might see +In Caracters of crimson blood, Whose meaning well I vnderstood. (95) Which, for my hart might not behold: I hied me home my Sheepe to fold.
FINIS. Rich. Barnefielde.
¶ The Sheepheards commendation of his Nimph. +
W Hat Sheepheard can expresse The fauour of her face? To whom in this distresse I doo appeale for grace. (5) A thousand Cupids flye About her gentle eye.
From which each throwes a dart, That kindleth soft sweet fire Within my sighing hart, (10) Possessed by desire. Nosweeter life I trie Then in her loue to die.
The Lilly in the field, That glories in his white: (15) For purenes now must yeeld And render vp his right. Heauen pictur’d in her face, Dooth promise ioy and grace.
Faire Cinthiaes siluer light, (20) That beates on running streames: