Yet is she curster then the Beare by kind, And harder harted then the aged Oake: (15) More glib then Oyle, more fickle then the wind, More stiffe then steele, no sooner bent but broake. Loe thus my seruice is a lasting sore: Yet will I serue, although I die therefore.
FINIS. Shep. Tonie.
¶ The Sheepheards sorrow for his Phæbes disdaine. +
O H Woods vnto your walks my body hies, To loose the trayterous bonds of tyring Loue, Where trees, where hearbs, where flowers, Their natiue moisture poures (5) From foorth their tender stalkes, to helpe mine eyes, Yet their vnited teares may nothing moue.
When I behold the faire adorned tree, +Which lightnings force and Winters frost resists, Then Daphnes ill betide, (10) And Phæbus lawlesse pride Enforce me say, euen such my sorrowes be: For selfe disdaine in Phæbes hart consists.
If I behold the flowers by morning teares Looke louely sweete: Ah then forlorne I crie (15) Sweete showers for Memnon shed, +All flowers by you are fed. Whereas my pittious plaint that still appeares, Yeelds vigor to her scornes, and makes me die.
When I regard the pretty glee-full bird, +(20) With teare-full (yet delightfull) notes complaine: I yeeld a terror with my teares. And while her musique wounds mine eares,