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Two harmless lambs are butting one the other,
And wounds are never found,
Here are no false entrapping baits,
The fond credulity
Nor envy, unless among
Go! let the diving negro seek
We all pearls scorn,
Save what the dewy morn Congeals upon each little spire of grass, Which careless shepherds beat down as they pass;
And gold ne'er here appears, Save what the yellow Ceres bears.
Blest silent groves! O may ye be
May pure contents
For ever pitch their tents Upon these downs, these meads, these rocks, these
mountains, And peace still slumber by these purling fountains !
Which we may every year
Dispraise of Love, and Lovers' Follies.
Live they that list for me:
A fool at least shall be.
Unhappy life they gain,
In day by feigned looks they live,
By lying dreams in night;
Each smile a false delight.
If void she seem of joy,
Such is the peace that lovers find,
Such is the life they lead,
Like flowers in the mead.
Though dead in midst of life,
Phillida's Love-call to her Coridon, and his Replying.
Titan shineth clear."
Who is it that I hear?
Arise then, arise then;
Arise, and keep thy flock with me.
Cor. Phillida, my true love, is it she ?
I come then, I come then,
I come and keep my flock with thee! Phil. Here are cherries ripe for my Coridon ;
Eat them for my sake.
Sport for thee to make.
To knit thee, to knit thee
A pair of stocking white as milk. Cor. Here are reeds, my true love, fine and feat,
To make thee, to make thee,
A bonnet, to withstand the heat.
To set in thy cap.
To put in thy lap.
For Sundays, for Sundays,
To wear about his legs so tall. Cor. I will buy my true love yellow say,
For Sundays, for Sundays,
To wear about her middle small.
For sweetness, for sweetness,
Sir Pan, that old Arcadian knight: Cor. Sure methinks my true love bears the bell
For clearness, for clearness,
Beyond the nymphs that Syren hight. Phil. Had my Coridon, my Coridon,
Been, alack, my swain:
Been in Ida plain :
My Coridon to play with-all : Cor. The queen of love had been excusid
My Phillida the golden ball.
Whither shall I fly ?
While she passeth by.
To-morrow is another day! Cor. Doubt me not, my true love; do not fear;
Farewell then, farewell then ;
Heaven keep our loves alway!
The Shepherd's Slumber.
Gives ear till buck be kill'd,
Sate keeping beasts a-field,
By woods and groves full fair ;
In walking in the air,
With boughs all over clad;
That ever shepherd had.
Each revel all and some;
Or may in fancy come.
In silence pass they shall; .
The order of them all;
But Venus shall not pass my pen,
Whose maidens, in disdain,
That Cupid's bow had slain.
Be-bath'd up to the ears:
And scorned lovers' tears. “ I have,” quoth he, “ more hearts at call,
Than Cæsar could command,
That runneth o'er the lawndc.
In bushes as they groan ;
To hear them make their moan.” “ Ah, sir!" quoth Honest Meaning then,
“ Thy boy-like brags I hear, When thou hast wounded many a man,
As huntsman doth the deer.
Thy mother wills it not:
Than thou should'st play the sot.”
Said Venus in her rage: “ Art thou so blind thou knowest not how
I govern every age ?
To me the boy is bound:
But he had power to wound.” “ Not so, fair goddess”, quoth Free Will:
“ In me there is a choice : And cause I am of mine own ill,
If I in thee rejoice.
e For “ lawn."