(5) The Sheepheard to asswageThe furie of the heate, Him selfe dooth safely seate By a Fount Full of faire, (10) Where a gentle breath Mounting from beneath, tempereth the ayre. There his flocks Drinke their fill, (15) And with ease repose, While sweet sleepe doth close Eyes from toyling ill, But I burne, Without rest, (20) No defensiue power Shields from Phœbus lower,sorrow is my best. Gentle Loue Lower no more, (25) If thou wilt inuade In the secret shade, Labour not so soreI my selfe And my flocks, (30) They their Loue to please, I my selfe to ease, Both leaue the shadie Oakes, Content to burne in fire, Sith Loue dooth so desire.
FINIS. S. E. D.